300 gems = bonus chapter
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Hell's Kitchen
Matt was back on the streets, fighting crime as Daredevil. The chaos in Hell's Kitchen had only grown, with smugglers, pimps, and human traffickers carving up the territory. Every night, the city seemed to grow darker.
After rescuing an innocent woman from a shipping container, Matt waited until she was safely gone before lingering in the shadows.
"Fisk," he whispered, recalling John's warning.
After a long night, Matt returned to the law office the next morning.
"You have to check this out, Matt," Fudge called, beaming as he showed off a new printer. "This thing prints in Braille!"
"Let me guess—John Wick sent it?" Matt asked, recognizing the gesture immediately.
Fudge nodded. "Did you forget what he promised last time? Oh, and he told me to tell you, but I forgot. Sorry."
Matt smiled faintly. "It's fine, Fudge. You make the decisions here."
Fudge leaned in, lowering his voice. "I think we underestimated Mr. Wick. He's the major shareholder of Hammer Industries now. That's Hammer Industries, Matt! I know you're not a fan, but this could be our big chance."
He hesitated, then added, "The only problem is, there's something off about his head. If not for that, I think I'd fall for the guy myself. You have no idea how many women are drawn to this mysterious rich kid who came out of nowhere."
Matt raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with him?"
"Who, John Wick?" Fudge shrugged. "No idea. That's just what his driver told me. Maybe it's some kind of mental illness."
Matt fell silent. He had always sensed something unusual about John—something almost magical.
"Wilson Fisk. We should investigate," Matt said at last, determined to find out who had driven a man to suicide out of fear.
"Wilson Fisk? Isn't he with United Company?" Fudge's eyes lit up. "Yeah, I know who that is."
Matt's mind was made up. He would get to the bottom of this.
*********
Elsewhere, Dr. Selvig had been approached—no, recruited—by SHIELD. He was now part of Project Pegasus.
When he saw the blue, energy-filled cube, he knew he was in over his head. He had to cut off contact with Jane and devote himself to the project.
Fury was in charge, and Barton was stationed there as well, a sign of just how important this was.
"How's the troublesome Wick kid?" Fury asked Natasha during a check-in.
"Same as always," Natasha replied. "Any progress?"
Fury shrugged. "Better than nothing. You have to finish your assignment. You were the best person to watch over him, but the mission can't wait."
Agents like Natasha were rare, and Fury had to use his best resources wisely.
It was a miracle the old popsicle from Antarctica was still alive. SHIELD was treating the matter with the utmost seriousness—not just because the man was a super soldier, but because he was a symbol of America and a founding figure of SHIELD.
Coulson had returned, practically glowing with excitement. Natasha did not even bother with a greeting. She went straight to Fury and asked, "Where is he?"
"Calm down, Coulson," Fury said, giving him a sidelong glance.
Coulson was such a fan that he had a complete set of collector cards. Fury genuinely worried the man might sneak in and wake the old popsicle in the middle of the night.
Natasha crossed her arms, watching the scene unfold with a smirk.
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Vacation days always slip by faster than you expect.
It had been two months since John had left the magical world behind. He had grown accustomed to frequenting teahouses, ordering a cup of tea, and scrolling through his phone. The routine was not exciting, but it was comfortable.
Today, the weather was perfect. The sun was warm, the temperature just right. John sat in his favorite teahouse, so familiar now that even the owner had been shooed out.
"What's the matter?" John asked, picking through the biscuits and popping one into his mouth. "I don't recall ever driving without a license."
Across from him sat two familiar faces from the FBI—Ray and Dex.
"How long are you going to keep staring at your suspect?" John asked, growing impatient. "My patience has limits."
"Mr. Wick," Ray said seriously, "you are in a very dangerous situation."
"Even if you refuse to tell us how you escaped that car explosion, we still have to warn you about the risks."
"All the perpetrators are dead," Ray continued. "The car was found burned to a crisp, with three bodies inside. And we found a fourth man who shot himself in the street."
Even Ray was shaken by the body count—four lives lost in a single night.
After more than half a month of investigation, they still had no clue who was behind it all. The only lead was John.
"We're arranging protection for you. We need your cooperation," Ray said. This was not just his opinion but the FBI's official stance. John's life was too important to risk.
John, however, seemed unfazed. He looked at Dex with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Want to play a game?"
He pulled a gold coin from his pocket and smiled. "If you can catch it, I'll do whatever you ask."
Dex's jaw tightened. He had failed twice before, and it gnawed at his pride.
This time, he was ready. "I accept."
Dex shot Ray a look, then took off his coat and prepared himself.
John smiled and flicked the coin into the air. Dex moved instantly, reaching for the coin as it rose. Just as his fingers brushed the edge, John's hand darted in, snatching the coin away with two fingers right before Dex's eyes.
The coin spun between John's fingers as he grinned. "You're welcome to try again next time, Agent Dex."
Dex's eyes flashed with frustration, a wild hunger for victory burning in them. Three times now, he had failed. No one had ever managed to toy with him like this.
Ray stared at John. "Mr. Wick, I hope you understand how serious this is."
"I hope you do too, Ray." John placed the coin in his palm, then opened his hand to reveal it had vanished. "I'm not the one who should be afraid."
"It's him."
John did not say who he meant. He just smiled and said, "The game has begun."
You are not the only one who can play games.
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