Marvel: Ma'am, I'm your husband's boss

-----------------

He wiped the blood from his hands on Lester's body.

Fisk looked at the prisoner in the elevator, who was covered in blood and black blood.

Less than seventy people.

Sixty-eight to be exact.

There were originally seventy-two of them, but four of them concealed the fact that they were bitten by zombies. That's why there was blood on Fisk's body. He tore two zombies that pounced on him to pieces in front of these prisoners.

As for the other two, they were riddled with bullets.

However...this also proves that the virus is indeed contagious and is equally deadly to people from the Marvel world.

But in the process of going up the stairs.

No matter whether it was the blood left by the zombies from that world or the blood left by these four unlucky guys after being infected and turned into zombies, all of them lost their activity at a speed visible to the naked eye, dried up, hardened, and turned into black blood traces.

This is good news.

If you get bitten accidentally in the future, hurry back to the Marvel world, and the virus will also lose its activity, which is more effective than any possible zombie serum.

All the prisoners looked at Fisk as if he were the plague.

The scene of Fisk tearing zombies apart with his bare hands while being shot at was still vivid in his mind.

More importantly, during the fight just now, an idiot took advantage of the chaos and shot Fisk.

But at this moment, Fisk is still fine.

There weren't even any bullet holes on his body.

And the bastard who fired the shot was now kneeling in front of Fisk with a pale face.

Fisk wiped all the blood from his palms onto Lester.

He looked hesitantly at the stubborn blood stain on the back of his hand that couldn't be wiped off.

He turned around and looked around.

Finally, he picked up the heavy machine gun whose water tank was still hot.

Point the gun at the idiot who fired the shot.

Lester cleverly stuffed the bullet belt into the chamber of the gun.

"Don't kill me...please...please!"

The guy who fired the gun kept begging for mercy, tears and snot streaming down his cheeks, it was disgusting.

One of the four prisoners who turned into zombies was his younger brother, and he just fired the gun to protect his brother.

Fisk seemed to be unable to hear his pleas for mercy. He bent down and put his ear close to him, then suddenly straightened up and spit the cigar in his mouth onto the ground beside him. "Okay, I'll leave you a whole body."

As he said this, he swung the heavy machine gun in his hand and smashed the hot muzzle hard on the guy's head, knocking him down. Then he swung the machine gun again and again.

The head was like a broken watermelon, first deformed and then exploded, blood and brain matter scattered all over the ground, gathering into streams on the ground, flowing to the low-lying area of ​​the elevator, where the prisoners stood, and merging with the black blood dripping from the prisoners' bodies.

Fisk hit it a dozen times and the machine gun bent completely.

He threw the machine gun to the ground.

"Now there are sixty-seven." Fisk looked around at all the prisoners around him. Everyone had lowered their heads involuntarily before his gaze reached them.

Even in prison, the most unruly troublemaker did not dare to confront Fisk at this moment.

He smeared the brain matter that was stuck to his leather shoes on the corpse's clothes.

"After you leave the elevator, you will have seven hours to rest. Seven hours to get familiar with the guns, seven hours to memorize the map, and then... How long does it take to get to Miami from here?"

Lester shook his head.

The red-haired Russian next to him said, "If we drive, it will take about 20 hours."

“Hmm!

That is to say, after forty-one hours, you will become the sharpest knife in my hand, killing everyone I want you to kill, regardless of whether they are men, women, young or old, even if they are your brothers, sisters, or your parents, you have to shoot. "

Fisk relit a cigar, and at this moment a drop of blood fell from the ceiling and dripped onto his head. He wiped it off but couldn't wipe it off. Instead, the blood was smeared all over his face, making him look even more hideous and terrifying.

He simply didn't wipe it off, but smiled and said: "Of course, I am still very democratic. If anyone wants to withdraw now..." Fisk raised his foot and stepped on the bent heavy machine gun next to him, "Then I will send him to see God!"

"Yes sir!"

It's the red-haired Russian.

But at this moment, his eyes were full of admiration.

He has become a fanboy of Fisk.

He was also one of the few people who dared to look Fisk in the eye.

Fisk handed over the cigar in his hand, and the smile on his face became brighter. "Call me boss. No, call me Kingpin, the future king of crime, Kingpin!"

"Understood, Boss!

Yes, Kingpin!"

He turned his gaze towards the prisoners.

The prisoners immediately shouted in unison: "Understood, Boss! Yes, Kingpin!"

-----------------

Back to Hell's Kitchen.

Took a comfortable hot bath.

Fisk sat on the bed and lit a cigarette.

Cigars look very high-end, but they don’t feel very comfortable in your mouth.

Cigarettes are better.

The faint smell of tobacco also diluted the bloody smell on his body that could not be washed away even with hot water.

But right now.

He suddenly felt as if there was something foreign under his pillow.

I reached out and took out a letter.

The only name on it was the sender, Daredevil.

But there was a message written on the recipient's name: I hope you can turn yourself in, Mr. Fisk.

Fisk gave up the idea of ​​opening the letter.

But in the end, he opened the letter.

Inside are photos of Fisk now and the photo of Fisk on the tombstone.

Although no further words were left, the meaning was self-evident.

Fisk wanted to tear up the photo and the envelope together.

But after hesitating for a moment, he put the photo back into the envelope and placed it on the bedside table.

The murderous aura that had finally dissipated was finally condensed around Fisk with the appearance of the letter. The air seemed to stop flowing. This made Lester, who was sitting on the sofa outside and wiping his gun, frown and look towards Fisk's room with some fear.

He was extremely grateful that he was not Fisk's enemy.

But there is also some fear.

I am afraid that I will stand against Fisk for some reason in the future.

He made a decision silently in his heart.

Never stand against Fisk.

No matter when it is.

And Fisk has made his decision.

He wanted this Daredevil to eat the letter alive, just like eating mutton soup steamed bun, tearing it into pieces bit by bit and then eating it.

Of course, Fisk would be merciful and give him a glass of orange juice, beer, or urine to help him swallow it.

Of course, before that.

He was going to let this officious idiot lawyer.

Feel what true despair is like.

Chapter 68 Remarks on the launch

Hey hey hey, hello readers.

I am Little Quilt, and I greet you all.

This book will be available this week!

I feel very emotional. I put a lot of effort into this book. But the result is not satisfactory. I can only say that the same period is a monster. Wow!

But it doesn't matter, the little quilt is a tentacle monster. I code at least 12,000 words every day. Hehe, I can only say that I hope to defeat quality with quantity.

This book is the second real book of Little Quilt, and it is also the one with the most progress, especially the timely discovery of problems in the book and corrections. This is a good thing, but we also have to thank many readers for raising questions.

Kneel down and thank you!

kowtow!

Because of some changes in the family, Xiao Quilt actually owed a large sum of money. Xiao Quilt was strong and wanted to pay it all back within a year. So he had to work hard to make it happen. So readers, don't worry about this book being abandoned, Xiao Quilt has to pay back the debt.

Oh oh oh!

Marvel is a big subject, and it is also one of the subjects that Little Quilt is good at. I hope that the next story can follow the outline, and I hope that Little Quilt can hold on and not have a brain crash.

Thank you readers for your support!

The little quilt wants to subscribe, woo woo woo.

begging!

Give me the subscription!