300 gems = bonus chapter
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John's agenda for the day was a simple stroll through this city, a metropolis seemingly always on the verge of destruction. He had seen some Marvel-related films, though not all of them, and consequently, some characters remained unfamiliar to him. Daredevil, for example: Matt's identity as the vigilante was merely a name revealed by Ferdinand from Hell's Kitchen. This was quite normal, he supposed. In this sprawling universe of superhero sagas, there was an unending procession of heroes. His viewing had primarily focused on the Avengers series, so he knew about figures like Tony Stark and Thor and the original Avengers team. Beyond that, his understanding faltered.
Meanwhile, the FBI was watching him, and SHIELD was also monitoring his movements. There were also forces from Hell's Kitchen, and potentially Hydra, lurking in the shadows. He had, quite unknowingly, become one of those individuals caught in the center of New York's swirling undercurrents, a single man miraculously entangled with all the significant powers at play.
Inside an art gallery, John held an introductory brochure outlining the theme of the current exhibition.
"Rarely seen." The woman in the dark purple dress spoke, her voice smooth.
When John realized she was addressing him, he turned his head and looked at her. "Pardon?"
"It is uncommon to see young people such as yourself interested in these works of art." The woman smiled with a dignified air. "Should not young people prefer more fashionable pursuits?"
"I am not young," John laughed. "I merely look young."
"It is hard to tell," the woman said, her interest piqued by John's words. "Do you like this painting?" When John heard this, he looked up and saw the canvas depicting sparkling waves upon the sea. He shook his head. "No, I do not like it."
"I am just passing the time for myself." He chuckled. "Much like a woman's desire to shop, men also need something to occupy their desires. Appreciation of art is the least expensive pastime."
"You are a very interesting person." The woman pursed her lips and smiled. "What about that painting?" She gestured towards a stark, paper-white canvas beside them. "You can stand before it and take a closer look." The woman did not elaborate, instead allowing John to experience it for himself.
John walked over and stood before the immense blankness. He observed the painting quietly, without making much movement.
"How is it?" The woman came to stand beside John. "What do you see?"
"This painting is very expensive," John stated seriously.
"That is true." The woman was amused. "This painting is called 'Snow Rabbit.'"
John also smiled. "It is indeed appropriate."
"How do you feel?" the woman asked him. For her, the value of a painting did not lie in the artist's fame, nor in the technique, or even in the painting itself. It was the feeling it evoked. The moment she saw it, she felt an immediate, intoxicating rush.
"The feeling it gives me…" John's words trailed off on his lips. Snow? Blankness, nothing more. It was like sitting on a high tower, isolated from the world. What was that sensation like?
The woman looked at him, and John shook his head and laughed. "Forget it. My friend has asked me for tea." He extended his hand and said to the woman, "Thank you for showing me the paintings."
"You're welcome any time." The woman touched his hand lightly. Just a stranger in an unfamiliar gallery.
John left the gallery. As he was departing, he passed by a man. He stopped and looked back at the man. The man's body appeared bloated, yet it possessed an astonishing muscle mass.
"Wilson Fisk."
John's eyes were deep. He reminded himself, the game has already begun. He continued to leave, not stopping this time.
**********
Darkness was falling. Under a yellow sign, John was drinking black tea.
"What are you reading?"
The uncle opposite him looked at the text and said, "The Old Man and the Sea. One of my wife's books."
"I have other books to recommend, but I do not know if you would like them." John still did not know the name of the uncle before him, but they would occasionally meet for tea and casual conversation. Sometimes they would not say a word, simply greeting each other upon meeting and saying goodbye when they left. This kind of relationship was very comfortable.
"Of course," the uncle said with great interest. "Tell me the name, and I will go and have a look."
"That book cannot be bought here," John said. "I can bring it to you. It is about magic and adventure."
"Is it magic?" The uncle took a sip of tea. "I think it will make me fall in love with fairy tales again."
After saying that, the two of them fell silent once more. At this moment, someone pushed the door open and entered. It was a woman, or rather, a girl. She looked young, but she was dressed in a provocative and alluring manner.
"Hey Jack, I am starving." The girl greeted the proprietor. John glanced at her but did not continue to pay attention. The girl also looked at their unique combination. A Black uncle and a white youth?
"I am older than you, little girl," John said without looking back. The girl was a little surprised that the other person actually knew what she was thinking.
"No, it is just written on your face." John gently set down his teaspoon. He drank the last bit of tea. "It is time for me to leave."
"Goodbye." The uncle bid John farewell.
The girl also noticed the book her uncle was reading. "Did he catch his fish?"
The uncle could discern the girl's occupation at a glance, but he would not discriminate against her and said with a smile, "The fish is still in the sea."
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Manhattan area. Continental Hotel.
A pair of high heels clicked against the ground, making an assertive sound. The black-haired woman with snow-white skin came to the front desk and stopped.
The Black gentleman at the front desk saw the person approaching and smiled. "How can I help you?" The woman did not speak. With two slender fingers, she placed a badge, different from an ordinary gold coin, on the table and pushed it forward. When the receptionist saw this item, his smile faltered slightly.
"I need to see the manager of this hotel," the woman said calmly. "As soon as possible."
Facing the judge who held authority over the hotel, the receptionist said in a deep voice, "Please wait."
The hotel system is divided into three major forces. The first is the hotel system itself, based on hotels and their services. The second is the High Table, composed of twelve top underground forces in the world. The third is the Adjudicator, a system independent of both the hotel and the High Table, responsible for judging the various forces. They possess an exclusive army drawn from the entire underground alliance, which is used to eliminate hotels and underground forces that repeatedly break the rules.
When the manager of the New York hotel heard who had arrived, he put down the telephone and looked at the reward notice. "She is here for you."
The reward was for the leader of the Ten Rings Gang, the one John had released. This incident had not only frightened the major hotels but had also made the members of the twelve High Tables unable to remain complacent. They all speculated about where this madman had come from, daring to directly offer two billion in gold as a reward. Even the High Table could not suppress this matter. Because that was gold, the hard currency of the entire world. Even the hotel system relied on the existence of gold. The other party obviously understood this and dealt directly in gold. Many assassins pursued the leader of the Ten Rings Gang; even though they knew they could not kill him, they were still driven by a glimmer of hope.
The manager arrived soon and met the female adjudicator who had come to the rooftop garden of the hotel.
The adjudicator got straight to the point. "A huge bounty was issued in a New York hotel, which violated the hotel's rules." The hotel manager was an elegant middle-aged or elderly man. He stated innocently, "Sorry, as far as I know, this does not break the hotel's rules."
"He brought money and issued a reward. That target is not on our pardon list." The manager shrugged. "I have no right to refuse."
"But his reward bypassed the hotel system first," the female judge was no pushover; she said coldly, "He went beyond the hotel to post the reward, which disrupted our order."
"You should know that order is the greatest factor in the stability of a hotel."
"The High Table has strong opinions on this, including your position, Winston." The female adjudicator's eyes were sharp. "We need to reconsider your qualifications as a manager."
"You cannot do this." Winston could not accept it. "There are only two outcomes for canceling the bounty. One is that the issuer cancels it voluntarily, and the other is that the issuer is unable to pay the bounty."
"Then find the issuer." The female judge took out her pocket watch. "You have three days to cancel the reward, before eight o'clock in the evening three days from now."
This superior attitude made Winston feel sick. But the power represented by the Adjudicator was terrifying.
"This is the decision of the High Table." The female adjudicator said before leaving, "You need to be quick."
She was not afraid that the other party would disobey. It concerned the manager's position, and Winston had no choice but to comply.
After she left, Winston looked down at the people crossing the street below and murmured, "Oppression does not win the hearts of the people."
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