High Table Headquarters – Desert Near Casablanca
Seated at one of the twelve positions around a grand round table, a Middle Eastern man wearing a turban spoke with a measured tone. "I assume many of your businesses have recently been destroyed by Kingpin from Hell's Kitchen."
The large round table represented the twelve seats of the High Table. At present, only ten seats were occupied, while the remaining two members had joined via video call.
This was a rare gathering of the High Table's elders, convened to address the recent retaliation from Hell's Kitchen.
The missing members were the Marquis—who was currently on the run—and the deceased members of the Antonio family.
"That damned Marquis! Why isn't he here? I wanted to discuss compensation with him," a Russian elder bellowed, his voice filled with frustration. "It's all because of his arrogance that we've suffered so much loss!"
"That's precisely why we must retaliate," interjected a Korean elder, his features strikingly similar to a well-known celebrity. "Kingpin is openly challenging our authority, making us look weak to outsiders."
"Peace is valuable, peace is profitable," an Asian elder chimed in from the video call. "Aren't we all in this for business? Besides, wasn't it the Marquis who broke the rules first?
He encroached on Kingpin's territory and picked a fight with his protégé. I think we should send someone to negotiate. I also heard that Kingpin's protégé is interested in joining the High Table."
"Are we just letting anyone join now?" scoffed an elderly man clad in samurai robes, his tone dripping with disdain.
"I've heard that Kingpin's protégé is a mutant who wields magic," said Elder Makutum. "Not to mention, he now commands John Wick and Marcus—two legendary assassins—as well as a pair of immortal mercenaries."
With his right hand, Makutum picked up a remote and played surveillance footage on the large screen. It showed Chen Ye in action in Hell's Kitchen—flying, stopping bullets mid-air, conjuring explosive magic, and moving with terrifying speed and strength.
As the video ended, the elders exchanged glances. Some were skeptical, some were shocked, and others remained unreadable. But none could deny the raw power displayed on screen.
"Kingpin really struck gold, having such a formidable protégé," one elder commented, a hint of envy in his voice.
A booming laugh erupted from the elder representing Hongmen. "Hahaha, now this young man—he intrigues me. I'd like to meet him."
Sensing the shifting mood, Makutum seized the opportunity. "There are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests. This world has always belonged to the strong."
He glanced around the room. "I propose we talk to Kingpin. We all know his power, so there's no need for me to elaborate."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the council.
"Very well," another elder finally conceded. "Let's vote. Peace or war?"
The results were tallied swiftly: six votes for peace talks, two for war, and two abstentions.
"Makutum, you will handle negotiations with Kingpin," the presiding elder decreed. "This meeting is adjourned."
Fisk Tower
Kingpin sat on a luxurious Italian leather sofa, his imposing frame relaxed as he took a call.
"Kingpin," came Elder Makutum's voice through the line. "It's time to back down, don't you think? You've made quite a spectacle in Hell's Kitchen these past few days.
Do you really believe the High Table is a pushover? Are you truly willing to go to war over a godson? Besides, your godson is unharmed. You do know the High Table has its own enforcers."
A thick cloud of cigar smoke curled through the air as Kingpin took a slow drag. "Makutum, we've been acquainted for a long time. And yet, you ask if I'd go to war over my godson?"
He exhaled, eyes cold and unwavering. "Let me clarify—because my godson is unharmed, I'm merely teaching the High Table a lesson.
Hell's Kitchen is my domain. We come and go as we please.
If anything were to happen to my dear godson, I would personally ensure that every last one of you at the High Table was buried alongside him."
There was silence on the other end of the call.
Kingpin let the moment linger before adding, "And as for war… are you even worthy?"
Makutum took a deep breath. He knew better than to escalate this further. The High Table was a coalition of powerful families, but their interests were not always aligned. None of them would risk their own fortunes to avenge the Marquis.
"Name your terms," Makutum finally said. "What will it take to settle this?"
Kingpin smiled, swirling the wine in his glass. "It's simple. I want a seat at the High Table. The Continental Hotel in New York will reopen in Hell's Kitchen, fully funded by the High Table. My people will manage it.
Additionally, you will compensate both me and my godson for our emotional distress and cover labor costs for Hell's Kitchen. Five hundred million dollars."
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!" Makutum sputtered. "The twelve seats of the High Table are backed by ancient families. You can't just take one! And do you have any idea how much it costs to rebuild a Continental Hotel?!"
Kingpin took another sip of his wine, unfazed. "Then let's go to war."
Makutum gritted his teeth, knowing full well that Kingpin wouldn't make empty threats.
"Relax," Kingpin continued. "I'm aware of your traditions—the one-on-one duel. The winner gets any promise from the High Table."
Makutum's expression darkened. "You want your godson to challenge the Marquis?"
"Exactly," Kingpin confirmed. "Once the Marquis loses, his family's assets will fund the hotel's reconstruction and the compensation. That way, the rest of the High Table won't have to pay a dime."
Makutum's pupils contracted. Kingpin wasn't just demanding a seat—he wanted to wipe out an entire High Table family.
"But you know the prerequisite for initiating a duel is to be part of one of the Twelve Families," Makutum countered. "Chen Ye isn't part of the High Table."
Kingpin chuckled. "Not a problem. I've already had my people wipe out the Antonio family in New York. That name no longer exists in this world. From now on, Chen Ye represents my Fisk family. The High Table seat will go to him. I'm too old to join."
Makutum was silent for a long moment.
Finally, he relented. "Fine. I will secure his seat and arrange for the duel. But the Marquis's family is powerful—we may not intervene."
Kingpin's smile widened. "Sixty-forty split. I take sixty. However you divide the remaining forty is none of my concern."
Makutum exhaled sharply before nodding. "We will intervene—provided your godson wins."
Kingpin simply leaned back, a knowing glint in his eye. "He will."