3528/Sparkling like a jewel

Sparkling like a jewel
Date of Scene:	23 September 2020
Location:	Office - Fisk Towers
Synopsis:	Sometimes you just hate each other, it's fun when it's mutal. Park meets Fisk for the first time.
Cast of Characters:	Wilson Fisk, Peter Parker

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Wilson Fisk has posed:
The new project well underway, but he forget something major, as he looks at his list of contacts for this beautiful new project to save the city, a photographer. He is scanned over names, portfolios, booked, booked,booked booked, booked, as he slams his hand down in rage on the desk, his thumb brushes a young child's picture. Not something Mr. Fisk would typically click on, but he scrolls down, looking at the images, not bad, and when he sees the pictures of spider-man, and then the sign off of the Daily Bugle itself."Lydia, call this Mr. Parker, I want him here, asap!" The voice calm each word rolling slowly, not mean, but filled with joyish joy, one of those friendly, older base numbers that make you want to sit around and chat.

Three hours later, dressed in a perfectly tailored red suit, MR. Fisk is standing on the balcony next to his office in the study. The chairs are around the table, a soft fire lighting up the room. It is humble; it is the setting for such a meeting with an artist; as he turns slowly, that large form is moving to one of the oversized comfy chairs with all that soft patting, his hand is resting on the side as he waits for the arrival of his guest. On the counter of the table ice water and a selection of sandwiches and pastries, meetings seem to bring up appetites in most.

Peter Parker has posed:
Peter felt a little odd if someone was asking for him. It usually meant trouble, especially if it meant JJJ. Usually he was quiet, forgettable, Norman Q. Normal. Which suited him right down to the ground.

So it was very odd to get a request from a major business mogul for a photo shoot. He's been weaning himself off the photo assignments, hoping to focus on classes and his work for KordCo.
And then the A/C unit went nuclear and they needed to replace it. So...here he was.

He'd done a little looking, but only had a general read on the guy in the short time he had. He was supposed to be a big man in the business world.

Then he saw a picture of Fisk in front of one of his businesses and JEEZ LOUISE. The guy was MASSIVE.
So, when he put his kit together, he had added the wide-angle lens.

He stopped at the front desk, a teenager who still looked like he had just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting, and said, "Uhm...Peter Parker. I'm here to meet Mr. Fisk?"

Wilson Fisk has posed:
The woman behind the desk is a perfect model like, her eyes moving up to great Mr. Parker. Her big blue eyes meet the teens holding them for a moment too long, as she is moving behind the desk. Her heels are clicking as she walks towards an elevator to open it with the swipe of her card. "Hello, Mr. Parker. Mr. Fisk has been waiting for you; he is most impressed with your work. Come with me, do you need to fresh up, towel, or a drink. Anything you wish?"

She is standing there waiting for Mr. Parker, as she is bringing him into the elevator. Having to swipe her badge once more, as one long nail is pushing a button, taking them upwards, it is a rapid trip as it opens now. From there, she is leading him towards a sizeable massive door leading to Fisk's work studio. Once, more to open it another swipe of the badge, as she stands there waiting to be sent away, anything he requested would be brought right after.

Sitting down at the table is the large man himself, Mr. Fisk, as he rises to his foot slowly, that dark skin is pulled back into a broad smile. His voice is rumble of pleasure, that base is filling the room, but there is something likable in the robust nature of the voice." Mr. Parker, My name is Wilson Fisk, and I have seen your work. I was most impressed by one so young skill, and I had to have you for my project. " With that one large hand is offered towards the guest, it is massive big enough to gripe Peter's head in one palm as if it was nothing but a toy.

Peter Parker has posed:
Peter had already gotten something to eat...and drink. He was a little nervous. He wondered if this was typical when powerful people deigned to seek out the plebes.

When Fisk stands up...and up...and up, Peter stifled a gulp.

Then he felt something else. That little tickle at the nape of his neck, the hallmark of his Spider-Sense. Something about the man was...dangerous. In his brain, all the little Spider-Soldiers jumped out of bed, grabbed their rifles, ran out to the front line, dug in and waited, safeties off, grenades handy, radio ready to call in for air support.

But WHY? Apart from worrying about what to do if the big guy FELL on him, why did he set him off?

"Uhm, well, thank you, Mr. Fisk, sir." He watched as the fist seemed to envelop his, stifling the urge to tighten up. "It's...not often I get called in for stuff like this. Especially for a Forbes 'Entrepreneur to Watch'..."

Wilson Fisk has posed:
"Indeed, welcome to my study, make yourself comfortable, I have a story to share, and then a dream to share, and then a job offer." Mr. Fisk releases the hand the touch is soft, despite the size, as he makes his way back to his oversized chair to sink into it as he nods towards Peter." Mr. Parker, I grow up in this city; I grow up in Hells Kitchen to a criminal father, that cared little for more than money and power. He brought me into his wicked web of crime, and I served time. I wish to be upfront, to lie about your past, before business is terrible form. I have, as you said, made something of myself, and now that brings me to the vision for this city."

With that, Mr. Fisk leans forward to pick up the water pouring it into his glasses, as he leans back once more, sipping it slowly, as he gathers his thoughts."I see a city on the brink of madness---a city on the verge of war, between the haves and the have-nots. Due to this and I have returned to show the have-nots that we are not losers. We can be more and rule the world. We will do this through educating, after school programs, college programs, and college prep. I think we will start in my old stomping grounds Hells Kitchen; I have brought on a brilliant lawyer and partner. I hope they agree. If they do, I will be holding a press conference, and I wish you to be the official photographer of the whole project. You would document, tape, record it all as it is happing, make sure the world sees the good we are doing so I can apply the program to the rest of the city and other cities. A good deed, unseen cause no waves of goodness." Mr. Fisk reaches into his breast pocket, taking out a little piece of paper, sliding it towards Peter."That is monthly, not annual." The number is enough to make a youth's toes curl, 20,000 a month.

Peter Parker has posed:
Peter picks up the piece of paper and looks at it. He goggles. The guy had to be loopy. Twenty grand a month to be...what? The guy's personal chronicler? His PR guy?

And then the Spider-Soldiers tense in his mind. Because they see smoke. Smoke means...trouble.

WHY is a guy as accomplished as Fisk is willing to pay this much money to a college freshman? He...
He stopped.
"I have seen your work..." That was what Fisk had said. And what had his work usually featured?
SPIDER-MAN.
He could almost hear Uncle Ben's soothing voice. *Be careful of someone who values you too much, Peter,* he had said when he had come home from 8th grade saying Nicole Freedman, the prettiest girl in school, had said she liked him and wanted to go on a date with him. He had ignored that warning, and he had wound up duct-taped to the basketball post while Carl King had shot him with a super-soaker loaded with urine.

*...they may not tell you what they REALLY want.*

"Mr. Fisk, I'm flattered. Really, I am. This is...a LOT of money. But the thing is, I have a steady job as a lab assistant for KordCo, and I also just started classes at ESU. I couldn't devote the time you would need for this sort of thing. So...I'm really sorry. I'm sure you could find any number of talented PR people who could find photgraphers who depend more on experience than luck."

Wilson Fisk has posed:
"I see, okay then the offer is rescinded. I figured a man of your skill would enjoy making his schedule, working behind the scenes setting it up, and I picked you for most of the other in your line of work are booked up, and also it was a till the project ended, it's not a forever type of work." Mr. Fisk watches Peter with a little chuckle; it is a belly laugh as he spins his laptop, open, showing skyline pictures, scrolling down, showing buildings, typical shots but with good framing."I wish to build up the youth, Mr. Parker, and you're the youth. I did not want an established person, someone who has a chance, that is counter against my program's very nature. So, that was to help you grow as a person, to help show the world your art, I thought this was the goal of all young artists, but I see this is a hobby, not a drive."

With a soft smile, as he looks over at Peter, with a nodding of his head."I did not wish to make you fear; just like with everyone else on this project, you're allowed to drop it without penalty if it is too much work or no longer to feel it. But, if you wish to discuss terms, I'm still open to hiring you; if not, that is fine as well."

Peter Parker has posed:
Peter hid it very well, as best he possibly could, but Fisk could see the micro-reaction of the brows furrowing before the face relaxed.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Fisk. Besides, photography was just something that paid the bills to start. I'm transitioning into something closer to my wheelhouse. I suppose that, should you ever need a Ph.D. in Neuroscience in six years, I'd be your guy." He smiles wryly. "I'm just glad my lab work pays the bills and tuition. I am flattered by the offer, though."

Peter takes out his digital camera, a fairly solid model, even if it looks like the case was removed and replaced. "Now, what sorts of pictures did you prefer? Something suitable for Forbes in a proper business demeanor, or something closer to the personable human element?"

Wilson Fisk has posed:
"Mr Parker, the job was nothing to do with me, it was to help the lawyer, and the others for my charity, I don't care if people know my name, this is not my project." Mr Fisk sighs softly with a shake of his head as he stands up slowly, watching Peter."This is about helping, not Forbes, or my money, or anything of the sort. Yes, I picked wrong, your a small sighted, little boy." With that, he takes out a check slowly, writing as he slides it over to Peter, with a shake of his head."I thought you understood, based on your pictures of spider-man, what a hero, was I was wrong." He writes, out 20,000 slowly, with his neat handwriting, then peters name, as he hands the boy the check."It's a fee for consulting, but if you ever understand, that the world needs help. Be in touch; she will field your call to me if you have a change of heart." With that, the large man shakes his head again as he makes his way for the door, with a little chuckle."Children."

Peter Parker has posed:
Peter blinked, then put the camera away.

This was a job offer. And apparently he hadn't been playing the game Fisk wanted to play.

Peter picked up the check, then walked towards the door. He gave Wilson Fisk a pleasant smile, one that ALMOST reached the eyes...but not quite.

He stepped out of the building a few minutes later, taking a small lighter out of his pocket. He flicked it once, the amber lick of flame popping up immediately.
A moment later, the check was burning merrily.

The man calling himself Turkish from that movie he saw last week said, "If you're in his DEBT...then you're in his POCKET. And once you're in there...YOU AIN'T EVER COMIN' OUT."

Peter waited for the last bit of flame to eat the last of the check before he dropped it.

"Wilson Fisk..." he said almost conversationally, "...YOU BOTHER ME."