c30: Illusion
There was no doubt—Wilson Fisk was not a man of mercy.
The weak were nothing more than stepping stones beneath his feet. Those who bent the knee were subjugated; those who resisted were broken alongside the weak.
After being utterly overwhelmed by the masked intruder's massive fireball jutsu, it was clear the four supervillains no longer held the upper hand.
So what now?
They couldn't afford to be discarded by Fisk.
It wasn't loyalty that tethered them it was fear. A primal, crushing fear of what awaited those who failed the Kingpin.
They had once witnessed what happened to a lieutenant who disappointed Fisk his screams, the silence that followed, and what little remained of him. That memory haunted them.
To fall out of Kingpin's favor was a fate worse than death.
They would not could not let that happen.
So
The four supervillains exchanged glances, reading the same desperate resolve in each other's eyes.
They would kill the masked man. Regain their honor. Reassert their dominance.
With everything they had left, they climbed back to the rooftop battlefield.
The Green Goblin arrived first atop his glider, but what he saw made him gasp. He nearly lost control of the aircraft, wobbling mid-air.
Right behind him came the Scorpion, skittering up the tower's exterior with his cybernetic legs, and Doctor Octopus, arms propelling him upward like a mechanized spider. They both froze in the same stunned horror.
Bullseye was last. He holstered the dart chain and drew six razored darts between his fingers, ready to unleash hell
Jingle~
The darts slipped from his hands.
His eyes widened.
Pupils dilated with pure disbelief.
He saw it with his own eyes: the most dangerous man in the U.S. underworld the Kingpin of New York, Wilson Fisk, a figure so powerful he was in contention to become mayor was being pinned to the floor...
Face down.
His head crushed beneath the boot of the masked man.
On his face.
They couldn't believe it.
Fisk was a behemoth more than a crime boss. The man was capable of holding his own in a fistfight against superhumans like Spider-Man and Daredevil. Every one of the four had personally faced Fisk in combat and each had been decisively defeated by him.
That was how he'd earned their submission—not through wealth, not through charisma, but through dominance.
And now, that very same man was sprawled out helplessly his polished cane knocked aside, his iconic white suit unscathed.
It wasn't a drawn-out battle. There was no sign of a struggle.
Fisk had been put down with a single move.
What the hell had happened?!
In truth, Fisk didn't care anymore what had happened.
The moment he saw his four elite enforcers sent flying by that jutsu a fireball with tactical intelligence and supernatural force—he knew his earlier assumption had been wrong.
This wasn't holographic projection tech. It wasn't a drone. It wasn't an illusion conjured by Mysterio or one of Stark's outdated AI systems.
No.
This was something else entirely. Some kind of metahuman, mutant, or otherworldly force with the ability to completely ignore physical attacks.
And that's what terrified him most.
He immediately raised his cane crafted from osmium alloy and once used to cave in Daredevil's ribs and took advantage of the masked man's turned back to launch a sudden attack.
In Fisk's creed, a sneak attack wasn't shameful. Dying in the hands of an enemy you underestimated? That was shameful. Losing to someone beneath you was worse than death.
But the attack never connected.
Not even a shimmer, not even resistance.
Wilson Fisk's cane passed clean through the masked man's body as if he weren't there at all and slammed into the vibranium-tiled floor.
Boom~
The force cracked the reinforced floor, fractures radiating out like spiderwebs wider and deeper than the ones left behind by Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, Scorpion, or Bullseye.
The raw power of Fisk—Kingpin was clearly superior to any of the four supervillains he commanded.
But it meant nothing now.
The masked man slowly turned his head.
And from the black-and-silver mask, his right eye, exposed through a single goggle-like lens, began to glow with an eerie crimson light an ominous, rotating triangle spinning within the pupil.
Fisk's eyes locked with it.
A mistake.
A compulsion gripped his mind, pulling his consciousness into an abyss. His vast willpower one that had resisted the persuasive toxins of Scarecrow and even the pheromones of Purple Man crumbled like wet paper.
When he awoke, he was already underfoot, face pressed into the floor, crushed beneath the masked man's boot.
The most terrifying part?
He felt no desire to resist.
No instinct to fight back. Only devotion. Loyalty unnatural, unbreakable.
"This is my master. I must be loyal to him!!"
The phrase pulsed like a mantra through Fisk's massive frame. His rage was gone, his ambition silenced. In its place—submission.
He didn't know the man's name. He didn't know his face. He didn't understand his goals.
But Wilson Fisk the Kingpin of New York, future mayoral candidate, underworld emperor knew one thing:
This man was now his master. The one to whom he would devote everything.
And in the corner of the smoke-filled office, the real mastermind—Ryan Wong, hiding behind the mask and illusion was stunned by his own success.
He had imagined how powerful a genjutsu-like illusion would be if brought into the world of metahumans and enhanced villains… but he had underestimated it.
He thought maybe it could deceive weaker minds. Fool street-level thugs, or perhaps confuse minor villains like Shocker or Crossbones.
But this?
This was Kingpin. A man who had withstood direct mental attacks from Emma Frost. A man whose will had once resisted control attempts from Purple Man and even glimpses of the Cosmic Cube.
He wasn't on the level of someone like Captain America, whose resolve was almost mythical but he was damn close. Arguably stronger-willed than half the Avengers.
And yet, even someone as mentally ironclad as Fisk fell effortlessly under the illusion.
Watching him, Ryan couldn't help but draw comparisons to Obito Uchiha's control of the Fourth Mizukage, Yagura.
Could it really be that simple?
No sooner did the thought form than Ryan tested it he issued a silent command.
Lie down.
And Fisk obeyed, collapsing without hesitation.
Ryan stepped forward and placed a boot firmly on Fisk's head, a symbolic gesture and again, Fisk offered no resistance.
He didn't even twitch.
This wasn't the legendary Kotoamatsukami, nor a divine-level illusion. It wasn't powered by the Mind Stone or augmented by Professor X's Cerebro. It was simply the raw power of the Kaleidoscope Sharingan, amplified by the bloodline Ryan inherited.
"So this is the true strength of the Ōtsutsuki lineage…"
Originally, Ryan came here only to crush Fisk, assert dominance, and then extort him for resources.
Phase one: beat him senseless and announce the emergence of the Akatsuki in this world.
Phase two: have Fisk funnel money and intel through shell companies, enriching Ryan's operations in the wake of the upcoming war.
Phase three: dominate the black-market and forge alliances using Akatsuki as an urban legend.
But now?
Why negotiate… when illusion alone is enough?
Ryan began to smile beneath the mask.
"If I can do this to the Kingpin… what's stopping me from taking over Hydra?"
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