Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 740 The Suit-Wearing Thug (Second Update)

Salomon understood but didn't support Vanessa taking Kingpin's blood debts upon herself; she was courting death.

She was just an artist, never had killed anyone, never committed a crime, and didn't know how to use a knife or a gun. She was completely unaware of Wilson Fisk's crimes. They had never had a proper conversation; Salomon could see through this superficial thinking immediately. Today's party was entirely Vanessa's wishful thinking, and Athena must have realized this too, which was why she agreed to help her good friend. The woman stated that she had made this decision after careful consideration, and whatever the future held, she intended to face it with him, even if it meant facing the torment of her conscience every second; even death could not separate them.

"Hell has opened its gates to me," she said, as if to make herself feel better.

Having said all he could say, Salomon nodded politely and pulled Bayonetta away from her compatriots.

Vanessa watched their departing figures disappear into the crowd, then closed her eyes in anguish. Her gallery had only been able to operate because of her good friend Minerva's connections with the powerful and influential; otherwise, no one would have paid any attention to an unknown Italian painter struggling to make a living in New York. But she knew that from this moment on, she would never again have the right to step into Minerva's private apartment. This was her last chance to connect with high society; after this, she would have no further ties with Salomon, Minerva, or their group, and would receive no more help. For the sake of her partner's safety, Vanessa forced a smile and, with a pale face, rejoined the party.

If she was unaware of Wilson Fisk's blood debts before, she was now beyond redemption.

"Are you alright?" Wilson Fisk politely said goodbye to his conversation partner and walked towards Vanessa. He considerately patted Vanessa's back and whispered in her ear. He naturally knew why his partner had insisted on hosting a party despite her illness, so he tried his best to display his charm, engaging in conversation with people of all statuses and leaving a good impression on everyone attending the charity auction.

"I'm sick and tired of these kinds of occasions. It's not as fun as going to the amusement park!" He deliberately used a rough, gruff accent and profanity, making Vanessa's lips curl into a smile. This mob godfather, who had risen from the ashes of Hell's Kitchen, had been navigating all sorts of social situations for years, even high society, and he was only saying this to make Vanessa happy. It was hard to imagine a tall, muscular man, like a mammoth, dancing ballet on tiptoe, but if Vanessa wanted to watch, Wilson Fisk wouldn't mind putting on pink ballet shoes and performing a few moves himself.

Vanessa chuckled and tugged at his collar, pleased with Wilson Fisk's performance today. She had personally chosen the diamond brooch to make him appear more refined. If he made a good impression, business would naturally follow after the party. The powerful needed hyenas to intimidate rivals and suppress dissent, and Wilson Fisk was the mop they needed to clean up the bloodstains. The Hell's Kitchen incident had already introduced him to some, showing him as a shrewd and discreet mob boss. "I'm afraid we'll have to endure a few more hours, darling. Charity auctions are long and tedious, but we need to perform better."

"Okay, if it's for your sake, I think I can tolerate it," Wilson Fisk asked. "Don't we really need to let the organizers know? Wouldn't that be impolite?"

"I've already spoken with the organizers," she said. "They were very friendly."

"Really? That's good." Wilson Fisk secretly breathed a sigh of relief, letting go of his malice. Actually, while Vanessa and Salomon were talking, Wilson Fisk had been glancing at the balcony out of the corner of his eye, and naturally saw Vanessa's terrible expression after Salomon and Bayonetta left. He had done a quick investigation into the organizer's background before attending the charity auction, but he didn't know much—but now that his partner was unwilling to pursue the matter, Wilson Fisk couldn't continue. He stayed with Vanessa for a few more rounds before finding an excuse to go to a quiet corner and make a phone call to his men. He was busy enough with Hell's Kitchen; his business was frequently disrupted by a masked man, his partner, the Hand, was no pushover, constantly trying to get a bigger slice of the pie, and a group of unknown individuals had even visited his mother at the nursing home. Even so, he still wanted to thoroughly investigate the organizer's identity.

Salomon was naturally unaware of Wilson Fisk's thoughts, and even if he did, he would simply scoff and not take it to heart. It was nothing more than a criminal organization; the Immortal City's founding goal was the nation, and Wilson Fisk's influence didn't even warrant a mention in the internal affairs department's records. Neither his military force nor his power posed a threat to the Immortal City.

"You want to see me?" Hearing this voice, Wilson Fisk turned around abruptly and saw Salomon standing at the corner of the fire escape on the next floor. He had silently moved there, listening intently as Wilson Fisk gave orders to his men.

"Maybe." Wilson Fisk put his phone back. "I'd like to know who exactly has the status to host such a dinner party."

"This dinner is to celebrate Aunt Vanessa's discharge from the hospital," Salomon winked. He stayed purely out of a sense of kinship between Athena and Vanessa; he had already escorted Joan of Arc and Bayonetta to their hotel room upstairs. "My foster mother and Vanessa are friends, so she'll naturally offer her assistance."

Wilson Fisk smiled, and Salomon promptly shook the outstretched hand.

"She mentioned a young Baroque artist to me, and it must be you." Wilson Fisk was somewhat surprised by the young man's height. He had only observed him from afar before and didn't have a direct understanding of him, but now he could see the bulging muscles under Salomon's suit at a glance, and felt as if he were facing a ferocious beast.

"Wilson Fisk".

"Salomon Damonette. Although I don't quite understand abstract art, I still think Vanessa is a gifted painter." Salomon just smiled. Wilson Fisk's childish handshake trick was no match for him. Fortunately, Wilson Fisk only went so far as to crush the guy's hand bones right there.

"You've practiced boxing?" With Vanessa not around, Wilson Fisk initiated the heated discussion.

Salomon responded with a bloodthirsty smile. "No-holds-barred fighting, you're responsible for your own life," he said. "But I prefer another sport."

"What?"

"Fire." The words had barely left his lips when a bullet pierced the glass, grazing Wilson Fisk's scalp and embedding itself in the wall. Wilson Fisk instinctively ducked, retreating to a safe corner, but the sorcerer stood there calmly. Wilson Fisk immediately assumed a fighting stance, facing the sorcerer; his mind raced in an instant. Salomon was bathed in a soft, white moonlight, the shards of glass on the ground resembling stars.

"At least one kilometer."

"What exactly do you want?" Wilson Fisk calmed himself down. That bullet hadn't been far from Salomon's head. If Salomon was telling the truth, the person who took that 1000-meter sniper shot was definitely a sharpshooter. He asked himself honestly, if he were in Salomon's position, even if he trusted that sharpshooter completely, he wouldn't give them the chance to put his head in the crosshair. Besides, sniping is highly unpredictable, and shooting oneself is suicidal.

This guy is fucking insane!

"Just a warning, Wilson Fisk. I was notified immediately when you ordered your men to investigate me and my foster mother before the banquet." Salomon's voice was almost softer than the sound of glass shattering on the floor. "Don't try to use the children in the orphanage as bargaining chips. This time it's because of the friendship between my foster mother and Vanessa, but next time it might not be so."

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(End of this chapter)