"Gun, grenade, smoke bomb… and a small box?"
In an abandoned factory on the outskirts of New York City, John sat in a dim corner, inspecting the contents of a large black bag.
These were taken from the man he had killed.
John had originally assumed there would be cash or valuables inside—after all, the guy looked like your typical robber. But judging by what he was seeing now, the man was no mere thug. More likely, he was some kind of arms smuggler.
John casually examined the guns, grenades, and other small weapons piled before him.
Just the basics.
Useless in a world filled with super-powered freaks.
He tossed them aside onto the dusty floor, his gaze falling on a small box nestled at the bottom of the bag.
He opened it.
Inside was a glowing stone, faintly pulsing with energy.
An energy source, no doubt. John had never seen one like it before, but it definitely didn't look like something as potent as an Infinity Stone. If it were, there's no way it would've ended up in the hands of some random low-level thug.
He was still examining it when—
"Are you sure you saw him go in here?"
Footsteps and muffled voices echoed from outside the factory.
The footsteps were light but staggered. Not just one person—several, and trying to move quietly.
If it weren't for the surrounding silence, John might've missed them.
This place was remote. No one ever passed by here. The conclusion was obvious: they were looking for him.
And he wasn't invincible. Not yet, anyway.
He didn't know how many of them were out there.
No need to take them head-on. That would be stupid.
If he could take them out effortlessly from the shadows, why fight fair?
John's eyes narrowed.
He quickly tucked the energy stone back into its box, then slipped the box inside his jacket.
Silently, he moved into deeper cover, blending into the factory's dark recesses. He'd observe first.
Moments later, five or six men entered through the broken main entrance, guns raised, scanning the space cautiously.
After circling around and finding nothing, one of them cursed under his breath.
"Damn it! He ran away!"
"Eagle, look!" a skinny man shouted, pointing at the abandoned black bag on the floor. "That's Amit bag!"
Eagle, the largest of the group and clearly their leader, stepped forward quickly.
"Is the box still in there?!" he asked, eyes wild.
The thin man rummaged through the bag, then shook his head.
"No! Everything else is here, but the box is gone. Looks like the clown came for that specifically."
Eagle's face went pale. "Shit! If that thing's gone, Madame. Gao will have our heads!"
Madame. Gao?
John, hiding above them in the metal rafters, perked up.
Of course he knew the name. Marvel lore 101.
One of the five fingers of the Hand. Dangerous. Ruthless. Incredibly powerful.
So this wasn't just some random gang.
"But we've done so many jobs for Madam Gao," another man chimed in. "She won't kill us over one item, right?"
"Are you kidding me?!" Eagle snapped. "Crossing her is like crossing every gang on Queen Street. Do you understand that?!"
"Eagle, this guy's new. Don't get mad," the skinny one interjected quickly.
Eagle grunted but didn't reply.
They all fell into a tense silence.
Finally, Eagle muttered, "This happened in broad daylight. Middle of the busiest block. It's already on the news. I'm sure Madam Gao knows."
He exhaled heavily. "The only reason she hasn't ordered us dead yet is because it's not delivery day."
"Then what now?" the skinny man asked. "That clown wore full makeup. How the hell do we find him?"
"You're asking me?!" Eagle exploded. "How the hell would I know!"
He dropped down onto a concrete block, elbows on knees, muttering curses to himself.
The others stood awkwardly, unsure what to do.
Then, a ding echoed through the empty space.
Everyone turned.
The skinny man pulled out his phone. His face turned white.
"Eagle… she just did."
"What?"
"Madam Gao just issued a kill order—for the clown."