Chapter 31: Golden Union's Treatment Plan
Inexplicably, this crazy idea appeared in Ryan Wong's mind.
He shook his head slightly, trying to dismiss it, but instead of vanishing, the thought rooted itself deeply, like a parasitic vine curling around his will.
Even someone like Wilson Fisk the Kingpin himself whose physical strength and strategic cunning pushed the upper limits of ordinary human potential, was utterly helpless when trapped within the illusion woven by the Kaleidoscope Sharingan, the distorted reality bending to Ryan's will like puppets on strings.
So, what about Hydra?
Couldn't they be manipulated too? Could they not also be shackled within illusion?
The more Ryan considered it, the less insane it seemed. This wasn't mere fantasy it was a viable plan. A subtle mental infiltration of one of the most dangerous and decentralized terrorist networks in the Marvel Universe.
After all, controlling Hydra from within wasn't just efficient it was poetic justice.
The only tactical question left was: how many minds could he subjugate at once when adopting the persona of Uchiha? How many operatives could he simultaneously trap in his genjutsu web, like Emma Frost projecting psionic illusions through Cerebro?
That would require testing preferably in the field. Not now. Later.
Still, illusions were undeniably overpowered in the Marvel world. Especially when most of the Earth-based heroes relied on brute force, gadgets, or standard telepathy. Only a few Loki with his illusion casting, or the Mind Stone once wielded by Vision and previously by Loki's scepter could rival the level of mental domination Ryan could conjure.
Because of this, Ryan resolved firmly: unless absolutely necessary, he must never reveal this ability lightly.
Not only would it make him a target a threat every telepath, sorcerer, and strategic AI would flag for deletion but it would also diminish the element of surprise. This was his trump card, his contingency plan, like Batman's files on the Justice League or Nick Fury's secret protocols.
So, he would hide it. Keep it in reserve. Let the world think he was just another enhanced.
Even though all of this raced through his mind in mere moments, in real time, barely two seconds had passed.
Ryan turned his head calmly and saw the four low-level supervillains small-time mercenaries tied to the Maggia crime families crawling away from the shattered window, stunned and disoriented from the brief exposure to the illusion.
After a beat, he stepped forward and gently tapped Kingpin's (Jin Bin's) head with his foot, "Get up."
Wilson Fisk groaned, pride bruised far more than his body, but Ryan didn't mock him. He wasn't a sadist like Bullseye or Joker. He didn't torment for amusement.
He believed in purpose calculated control, not humiliation.
Even when dealing with Fisk, a man whose hands had long dripped with the blood of Hell's Kitchen, Ryan showed restraint. A face like Fisk's had already hit rock bottom he didn't need to grind it further into the pavement.
Even if, metaphorically, Ryan had already stepped on it a few times.
Hearing Ryan Wong's command, Wilson Fisk (Kingpin) immediately rose to his feet. Then, with measured and deferential steps, he moved toward the masked figure played by Ryan and stood quietly at his side, assuming a posture more befitting an old-world butler than a feared crime lord.
This wasn't just compliance it had a ceremonial weight to it.
Fisk had often seen this kind of display among ancient warrior clans and mafia circles it was the gesture of recognizing a superior. Like when Ra's al Ghul's League of Assassins offered silent bows to their Demon's Head. Now Fisk, ever the pragmatist, mirrored that action instinctively.
As a result, Bullseye was stunned into silence.
It was shocking enough to see someone actually overpower Kingpin, who once held his own against the likes of Daredevil and Punisher. But this wasn't defeat it was submission. Conquest.
What kind of person could subjugate Wilson Fisk?
Bullseye's confusion wasn't unique. The same bewilderment was written across the faces of the four minor villains in the room mercenaries who had served under Hydra, the Maggia, and even worked contracts with Taskmaster.
Then the answer came, swift and chilling.
Kingpin bowed his head toward the masked man. And only after the masked figure gave a nod of permission did Fisk step forward, his voice devoid of ego: "This is my master. Everything that happened earlier was merely a test of my strength. You may relax."
"Master?!!!"
The collective shock nearly shattered the room's tension. Their jaws dropped. They had heard others call Fisk "Boss," "King," even "Your Excellency" in whispered tones but Fisk himself calling someone "Master"? That was unheard of.
Looking at their reactions, Ryan Wong instantly recognized that the previous illusion display wasn't enough to secure obedience from this group.
He saw awe, confusion, and even fear on their faces but not submission. Not the sort that Fisk had shown.
And without loyalty, chaos brews.
Ryan had no intention of wasting illusions on these bottom-tier thugs. He still wasn't sure how many minds he could simultaneously dominate with Sharingan-level genjutsu. It would be foolish to expend such power here on nobodies when threats like Doctor Doom, Norman Osborn, or even Amanda Waller lurked behind political curtains.
Fisk, however, sensed Ryan's intention before he even moved.
He stepped forward and before Ryan could act dropped to one knee, head bowed. "Master, allow me to correct this. These four untrained dogs are my responsibility. Let me punish them."
Ryan raised an eyebrow, impressed. He recalled from SHIELD's dossier on Fisk: "A man whose physical prowess reaches peak human limits. Ruthless, calculating, but with an iron sense of order."
So far, that assessment proved accurate.
And if his enemies could discipline their own underlings, so much the better. Ryan stepped back a half-step, giving Fisk full space to act.
Fisk's eyes narrowed like twin spotlights. That fierce gaze equal parts judge and executioner scanned the mercenaries. They began to shiver uncontrollably.
Fear wasn't logical anymore. It had become muscle memory.
"Lester... Come here."
Fisk's voice was like a glacier grinding across stone. Heavy, slow, crushing.
Bullseye Lester—startled. As if under compulsion, he took a step forward.
SLAP!!!
With terrifying speed, Kingpin seized Bullseye's skull and smashed it to the ground. His massive hand held him firm, pinning him like a predator claiming territory.
"BOSS!!" Bullseye thrashed like a caught animal, trying to wriggle free but it was no use. Fisk was an immovable wall.
Crouching, Fisk's voice lowered to a cold growl. "You attacked the Master twice. I'll forgive you... after two punches."
Bullseye froze. Shock turned into fear, then blank resignation.
The others stared in horror. This wasn't an act. Fisk had truly sworn loyalty to the masked man. That realization settled into their bones like winter chill.
And through their fear, another realization emerged.
The Golden Union hadn't weakened. He had evolved.
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