Marvel's Iron Lady

Stark had not attended Wilson Fisk's trial, so she had no idea what kind of evidence Matt Murdock had gathered against him. When she saw Fisk in person again, he had already been transferred from the New York City police holding cell to a real prison.

This prison was located on the waterfront of Long Island, New York—ironic, wasn't it? A prison located in one of the most expensive, affluent areas of New York. Yet, that's how absurd the real world can be. A billionaire named Leonard had established a private prison here. This was a facility designed specifically for the wealthy, particularly those rich individuals serving sentences, and it operated in compliance with federal law.

Across the world, crime rates were hitting record highs, and governments everywhere were struggling with rising costs related to their prison systems. In the land of freedom and democracy, America, the issues of high crime rates and an overcrowded prison system had become even more pressing.

With more and more criminals to house, public prisons funded by the government were falling into a state of financial shortfall and mismanagement. In such poor conditions, inmate abuse and internal violence were becoming more rampant.

Against this backdrop, the U.S. government was left with little choice but to privatize its prison system, hoping private capital could salvage the industry. The privatization of prisons essentially turned incarceration into a business. With government approval, these prisons began making money from their inmates.

Naturally, some savvy individuals turned their attention to wealthy criminals and high-ranking officials who had fallen from grace. For different types of criminals, prisons held different meanings—especially in a country like America, where there's no upper limit on sentencing laws. Some people were sentenced to hundreds of years for their crimes, condemned to die behind bars.

This, of course, presented an opportunity for capitalists—offering the wealthy a high standard of living within a limited space. Incarceration is merely a means of separating these people from society, so providing a luxurious lifestyle became a way to make money.

Take this place, for example—spanning six hundred acres, this private prison boasted a facility and amenities built for nearly a billion dollars. Here, the conditions for inmates were so desirable that most prisoners in ordinary jails would likely envy them.

Each prison cell was as clean and well-maintained as the most luxurious apartment-style hotel suites, complete with housekeeping staff. The rooms were fully equipped with all sorts of amenities—televisions, refrigerators, stand-alone air conditioners, washing machines, and even personal computers.

The prison itself was surrounded by four hundred acres of forest and offered access to a gym, a library, a chapel, swimming pools, and even barbecue parties.

In this five-star luxury prison, meals provided to the inmates were prepared by chefs skilled in various cuisines. From French haute cuisine to American fast food, no one restricted the inmates' choices.

This private luxury prison even welcomed outside tourists to come for visits or to experience life there—though the price was quite steep.

Even though freedom was restricted, everything else about this prison, from clothing to food to living conditions, was no worse than that of a top-tier hotel. The only requirement was that each inmate pay five thousand dollars per day as the price for enjoying this high-quality incarceration.

Yes, five thousand dollars—an amount that might represent a months' wages for the average person on the outside—would only get you one day here.

But for those serving time in this prison, five thousand dollars a day was practically nothing. They may have lost their freedom to leave the premises, but no one restricted what they could do inside.

To be honest, this luxury hotel-like prison even offered Wi-Fi to its inmates.

It was in this prison for the wealthy that Stark met Mr. Wilson Fisk. Here, the prison management did not restrict visitations from outsiders—as long as you could afford the visitor fees.

Outside the prison, eighty acres of neatly manicured lawns surrounded the facility, including an artificial lake.

There were soccer fields, tennis courts—basically, if you could imagine any type of outdoor recreational facility, the prison had thoughtfully provided it.

And, of course, there was the massive golf course that took up the majority of the lawn.

After all, each inmate here brought in over a million dollars in revenue for the prison every day.

Wilson Fisk, dressed in autumn attire, was leisurely swinging a slender golf club. His enormous frame contrasted sharply with the delicate club, making one wonder if that small stick could really withstand his handling.

"If my father were still alive, he'd definitely want to retire here—of course, that's assuming he'd committed a crime," said a sudden female voice, causing Fisk to pause and rest the club on his shoulder before turning around.

"I'm quite surprised, Mr. Fisk, that you managed to pull some strings to get yourself transferred here—from that other prison. What, are you on vacation?"

Fisk had spent years surviving on the streets, so anyone approaching him was bound to catch his attention and put him on alert.

"I'm just passing the time, Miss Stark. Though I didn't expect you to come all this way to see me," he said, only turning to fully face her once he confirmed that she was indeed there for him.

"Mr. Fisk, it seems you're living quite comfortably here, especially in these rather sensitive times."

"But then again, it's precisely because of these times that I was able to make a nice profit. I should really thank you for that," Stark said with a smile, her gaze fixed on Fisk's face, carefully observing his expression.

Sure enough, as soon as she mentioned being thankful, a muscle in Wilson Fisk's face twitched noticeably.

Clearly, even from within prison, he had been paying close attention to external events, keeping tabs on everything that was happening.

Fisk's face twitched sharply, but after a moment, a strange smile spread across his lips.

"Of course. Who else but the daughter of a military-industrial enterprise would seize the chaos to sell arms? Truly something only you would do."

"Stark Industries' stock rose a few points because of this mess—was it two percent? Or three?"

It was as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world, and he made no effort to conceal his disdain for such opportunistic behavior.

Laughing to himself, Fisk seemed to suddenly remember something. He stopped laughing and slowly approached Stark, coming to stand right in front of her.

"In the days to come, New York is bound to fall into chaos—so much so that I won't even bother to leave here. I've heard you've been getting quite close to the Osborn family lately. A word of advice: don't trust that old man too much."

His enormous figure cast a shadow over her in the sunlight. Leaning down, he whispered in Stark's ear.

"Oh, Norman—so you've got something on him? What do you know, Wilson?" Stark murmured, lifting her head to meet Fisk's gaze.

"If you really want to find out what's going on, why not ask that old man Osborn yourself?"

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