Hell's Kitchen had gone a long time without any large-scale crime.
The once-rampant human trafficking had also been severely curbed.
That had a great deal to do with the imprisonment of Kingpin, the ruler of Hell's Kitchen.
Prison.
Wilson Fisk, who was gradually fading from people's memories, was working out.
He had the exercise room to himself, with a lackey he had recruited in prison helping him.
Calling it help was generous. The man was mostly keeping watch.
Fisk set down the heavy barbell, breathing a little hard.
A prison guard entered the exercise room. "Come with me."
A gleam flashed in Fisk's eyes. He glanced at his lackey, then followed the guard out.
Along the way, some inmates looked at him with hatred, while others gazed at him in admiration.
He ignored them all.
He reached a closed room where people were already waiting.
Ray and Dax.
Fisk looked at the two FBI agents and sat down opposite them, his wrists still shackled.
Ray had risen rapidly through the bureau on the strength of Kingpin's arrest.
He also understood that if he wanted more criminal intelligence, he had no choice but to turn to Fisk.
"Long time no see." Naturally, Fisk recognized the man who had helped bring him in with the police that day.
And this was the moment he had been waiting for.
A chance to use this meeting to regain his freedom.
Fisk lowered his eyelids, calculation swirling in his eyes.
Hatred lingered there too, deep and unrelenting.
John Wick.
He silently repeated the name etched into his memory.
Since the Underworld Forces couldn't bring that man down, he would use the forces of justice to make him lose everything, just as he had!
Dax stared at him. Fisk merely took it as a sign of