An Iron Resolve Ch. 101 (Marvel)(Time Travel)

A/N: Wilson Fisk POV, because let's be honest, he's the only villain of this bunch who deserves one.

-x-X-x-

Wilson Fisk had always known it might come to this, back when he’d accepted Hammer’s invitation. He was not dealing with particularly strong men at the end of the day. No, Justin Hammer and his compatriots were all weak and soft, having had everything in their lives handed to them.

Justin Hammer had inherited Hammer Industries from his father. Ward Meachum had inherited Rand Enterprises from his father. Peter Scarborough’s father had been an old friend of August D’Angelo, the CEO of Roxxon, and that hire too had been pure nepotism. Even Darren Cross had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the riches of the Cross Family making sure he would get everything he needed in life to excel and succeed, eventually catching the eye of Hank Pym.

Fisk was not like them. He was not cut of the same cloth. That wasn’t ego speaking, it was simple truth. How could he be? He, who had killed his own father before he was even twelve years old. He, who had gotten his hands dirty time and time again, all in the name of business, of strength.

No
 he’d always known it would come to this. That was why, once their final conversation is over and the services of the Hand have been secured, Wilson Fisk takes the clandestine device he’d used to communicate with the others
 and smashes it into the wall again and again and again.

He breaks it into the smallest of pieces in an explosion of violence that would have likely frightened those weak, soft businessmen if they could have seen him now. But there’s no one else. Just him, all by his lonesome, destroying the one piece of physical evidence that can tie him to the rest of the conspiracy. Once the device is in fragments, he flushes them down the toilet and sits back down on his bed in his cell, back straight and head held high.

Even the money he’d contributed to the hiring of the Hand could not be traced back to Fisk. The others didn’t realize it, but he’d effectively paid ‘his share’ with their own money. He’d bought parts of their companies a long time ago through middlemen and subsidiaries. And now he’d liquidated those assets, so if anyone bothered to try to follow the paper trail, it would always come up one way
 with four men paying the Hand to kidnap the Stark Child. Not five.

Why had he done this? Why was he cutting ties? Simple
 he didn’t believe they could succeed. Not even with the Hand’s backing did he think they would succeed. Don’t get him wrong, the Hand were a very dangerous organization. He’d had his dealings with them in the past and he knew how far their reach went.

However, the Hand were old. And in this modern era, new had begun to beat old every time. Oh, Fisk was certain that the Hand and the other businessmen would prove to be quite the problem for Pepper Stark and Stark Industries. They likely wouldn’t succeed in capturing Morgan Stark, though the end result would be the same either way. Whether the attempt on the Stark Child worked or not, the Hand and the cabal of businessmen would fall upon Stark Industries’ radar, and from there war would be had.

Controlling Tony and Pepper Stark through their child? Perhaps, but Fisk certainly wouldn’t expect it to work for long. It was far too dangerous. That’s why he’d gone this route instead. Let the Starks and the Hand fight. Let the others get caught up in the ensuing crossfire and destroyed. Wilson Fisk remained safely locked up. Behind bars. Tucked away out of harms way.

One the dust settled and everything was over, he would push forward with his plans to move himself out of Ryker’s and back into the city. While he’d effectively turned this prison into his own personal fortress, where no one made a move without his say-so, he still missed his freedom. More than that, he missed Vanessa.

He would get back to her. He would return to power and then return her to his side. And he would rule New York City’s Underworld once more as its undisputed Criminal Kingpin. But first-

Fisk suddenly perks up, his head twitching as he hears an unexpected sound coming down the hallway outside his cell. Specifically, it’s the sound of high heels on concrete floor. Brow furrowing, the incarcerated businessman rises to his feet, towering at his full height as the owner of those high heels arrives at his cell.

He’s not prone to surprise, but in this case
 Wilson Fisk is very surprised as he looks at Pepper Stark’s newest personal assistant, standing there in a suit jacket, blouse, pencil skirt, and heels
 while also wielding, of all things, a sword.

Staring at him with malicious intent, the woman slices her sword through the door of his cell
 cutting it open with ease. Fisk narrows his eyes as she grins a little, stepping into the room with him.

“My name is Hela. You should know the name of your executioner before you die.”

It takes a man like Fisk only a moment to put the pieces together. Clearly, Pepper Stark knows something. And the only way that would be possible is if


“Justin Hammer’s supplier of clandestine tech. It was Stark Industries all along, wasn’t it?”

Hela pauses, tilting her head to the side. Fisk sighs, resisting the urge to cover his face with his palm.

“To think, I felt a smidgen of respect for him because of that. I should have known better.”

It was so very frustrating, dealing with such incompetence. Not just from others, but on his own end as well. Fisk had to admit, he’d made a mistake by not double-checking Hammer’s work, so to speak. Frankly, he’d made a mistake putting even an iota of faith in the other man for even a single second.

“You should have, yes. You were a fool.”

His self-proclaimed executioner seems to take some glee in belittling him, her smile turning into a wolfish grin as she stalks ever closer. That sword at her side is deadly, and it would seem so is she from the impression he’s getting. But


“Perhaps your Mistress and I can make a deal. I never had any intention of going along with their plans any further. It was always my belief that she would triumph over those fools and crush them and the Hand. For my part, I am willing to pay reparations
 if she is willing to overlook my transgressions and recognize my claim to New York City.”

There was no harm in admitting when you were beaten. Even if he killed Hela here and now, she would only be the first of many assassins. And given she’d managed to get all the way to his cell without triggering a single alarm or alerting a single guard, it was obvious that Pepper Stark had a way into his castle, a way past all of his defenses. He wasn’t safe here, but more than likely he wouldn’t be safe anywhere
 unless he bent the knee.

Hela pauses for a moment, the PA blinking in surprise at his words. Then, she scoffs.

“Fool. This isn’t a negotiation. I said it before. I am your executioner, not an emissary. You die here and now for even thinking of harming a hair on the child’s head.”

The child. Ah, a personal connection. As Hela stalks forward, Fisk realizes there’s no reasoning with her. She’ll have to die and then he’ll have to get out of here sooner than intended and try to go to ground until he could find a way to open a new line of communication with her Mistress.

To that end


“If you’re so worried about the child, why are you here? The Hand have been taking children in the night for hundreds of years
 you should be with her. Protecting her.”

His words have the intended effect of making Hela snarl and rush him. That’s no easy feat in high heels, and even as she goes for an overhead swing at his neck, Fisk reaches out and grabs her by the wrist, tossing her bodily into a nearby wall. He tries to follow that up by rushing her before she can recover, but while she is momentarily dazed, she manages to slip away before he can properly get his hands on her.

What follows is a truly brutal fight. Fisk is a large man. He always has been. He is also a violent man
 he’s always been that too. Hela, meanwhile, is a woman, and women are inherently weaker then men. But to be fair to her, most men are inherently weaker than Fisk as well.

Unfortunately, Hela is decidedly slippery. Even in the small space provided by his cell, she proves to be highly maneuverable. His blows, each of them strong enough to shatter bone and rip flesh, continually miss the woman as she somehow darts back and forth with extreme flexibility while still wearing high fucking heels of all things.

And then there’s the sword. That impossibly sharp sword swings out again and again, slicing bits and pieces of him off. Cuts soon line his orange prison jumpsuit, blood seeping from dozens of wounds. Still Fisk doesn’t falter though. Still he stands, still he fights. This much is not enough to kill him. He refuses to die here, to this woman. Especially not from something like blood loss.

She’s smart enough to realize she can’t go for a killing blow without over-extending. The moment she puts herself into his reach for such a thing, he’ll have her. She should have brought a spear
 or really, a gun.

He can wear her down. He can exhaust her. And when she’s finally weary, he’ll crush her skull. Then comes the truly hard part. Then comes his escape, both from Ryker and from the Starks. He-

Fisk’s eyes widen as the bitch suddenly does exactly what they both knew she shouldn’t and steps all the way into his personal space in order to slam the entire length of her blade into his body. His immense bulk means only the tip goes out his back as a bit of blood leaks out the side of his mouth. Then, a cruel smirk on her lips, Hela twists the blade ruthlessly, destroying his organs all along its path.

A killing blow, no doubt. He’ll need immediate medical attention, which will make escaping Pepper Stark and her next attempt on his life highly improbable. Perhaps that’s why Hela did it
 because one thing is certain, she’s not getting away from him now.

Fisk’s massive hands close around Hela’s throat as she tries to pull her sword out of his gut. She’s just doing more damage to his insides, even as he slams her up against the wall, dazing her. He begins to crush her throat, sneering as he prepares to snap her neck. Her eyes blazing with fury and rage, she struggles against him till the last, but even then her struggles are starting to-

“Wilson?”

Vanessa’s voice. A distraction, he realizes only a moment later, but a moment is all Hela needs. His head turns, his grip loosens
 and the damn bitch slips out of his grasp, yanks her sword out of his gut, and kicks him hard in the wound.

Fisk is sent stumbling back until he falls onto his bed, a large and luxurious amenity that he’d had brought in once he’d taken over Ryker’s Island. As he lays there, bleeding profusely from his wound, Hela’s sword, covered in his blood, comes down point first on his neck
 skewering through and severing his spine.

His last moments are painful and agonizing as he dies hard. And yet
 he’s not sure he would have it any other way. He only hopes
 that Vanessa
 will be safe


-x-X-x-

Hela growls as she arrives back in Pepper Stark’s office, cleaning her blade. It had been a worthy kill, she now realizes. He had been a worthy opponent, for all that his actions had enraged her all the same. Still


“You helped me. You said you wouldn’t.”

Pepper smiles at Hela and shakes her head.

“No I didn’t. I simply said we would not give you any of your powers. You were the one who said you would require no aid beyond a single blade. Speaking of which.”

Hela frowns as Pepper snaps her fingers and the Vibranium Sword she’d been given falls apart in her grasp. It had been a good weapon, but it had no history to it. No name, no past. A single-use blade for an execution. She could accept that. At the same time though


“And yet you aided me all the same.”

She didn’t know why the strange woman’s voice had unnerved her target so. But there was no denying she would have died without the assistance. He would have killed her, even as he would have surely died from his wounds as well. A warrior’s death for both of them. Part of her is happy to still be alive, but part of her is displeased to be denied such a death from a worthy foe.

“Yes. I did.”


 Heh. Hela snorts, realizing she’s not going to get anything more than that. The King and Queen of Midgard would not let her die so easily. Of course not. She was their prisoner, their pawn, their trophy. She was proof of their strength and power, that the All-Father himself had entrusted her to them. Tch
 fine.

“Then I demand the right to be sent after more of your foes. This ‘Hand’ and the other men who threatened your daughter’s freedom. Let me kill more of them for you.”

Pepper
 smiles. It’s not a nice smile as she shakes her head with a chuckle.

“It’s much too late for that, Hela.”

What? Hela can only blink as Pepper waves a hand and a dozen screens appear throughout the room. What she sees are signs of destruction
 alongside social humiliation.

“The Hand has been destroyed already. Their leaders have been killed, each and every one of them. Their rank and file have been treated on more of a case by case basis. Some were allowed to live. Some were even allowed to keep their freedom. Those who were not worthy of either died as well. As of today, the Hand no longer exists. JARVIS and I have made sure of it.”

Of course. JARVIS. Such power
 tch, Hela still felt stupid for thinking that the Genius Loci was confined to the Stark King’s Tower. She knew better now of course after working under Queen Stark for some time, but it was still
 difficult to accept the truth. And yet, more proof of JARVIS’ power was right in front of her.

“As for the businessmen, they too have been destroyed. All of them are going to prison, save for Harold Meachum, who is properly dead this time. Their crimes have been exposed, not just towards Stark Industries, but against many others as well. None of them will ever see the light of day again.”

Hela frowns at this.

“I don’t understand. Why not kill them? Do you not fear retribution down the line?”

But Pepper’s cold smile just widens and she shakes her head.

“From Wilson Fisk? Yes. From the Hand? Yes. But from these men? No, they’re too weak for it. Too soft. And ultimately, at the end of the day
 living with their failure, living behind bars without the creature comforts they’ve taken for granted all their lives
 will be a much worse fate for them than death.”

That was
 true. It’s hard for Hela to accept of course. She’s the Goddess of Death after all. And yet, something in Pepper’s words resonates with her after her long imprisonment on Niflheim. She’d been raised as Asgard’s Crown Princess, having everything she could ever want. She wasn’t weak or soft of course, she was a warrior as well, but she never worried about food or drink or comfort. Not until her exile. Not until a thousand years on a barren rock.


 Yes. Pepper Stark was right. These weak, soft men would suffer greater in Midgardian Prison then if they were just killed now. This
 this was good. Hela feels
 satisfied.

“Of course, we’re really just getting started.”

Eyes snapping to Pepper, Hela frowns.

“What?”

Grinning, Pepper waves her hand again and brings up some more screens. On these ones are things Hela doesn’t truly understand. Midgardian Bureaucracy was needlessly complex and entirely opaque to her.

“With those men going to prison and the Hand destroyed
 all that they owned, all that they controlled, and all that they had is up for grabs.”

Ah. Now Hela understands what Pepper is talking about. The Queen of Midgard is right. They ARE just getting started. After all, now that their enemies lie defeated before them, it’s time to handle the most important part of all
 the plunder.

-x-X-x-

A/N: Did Fisk get an onscreen death while the entirety of The Hand got dealt with off-screen? Yes. Am I still salty about how much of a lame duck villain organization The Hand turned out to be in The Defenders Netflix TV Series? Whaaaaat... nooooo...

That said, if you've watched The Defenders, you know as well as I that the MCU's version of The Hand deserves zero screen time, lmao.