The screams of the Five Fingers echoed across the industrial lot, drawing the attention of every Hand operative still breathing. The elite soldiers besieging John Wick and Puar couldn't help but glance toward the other battlefield, their discipline cracking as they witnessed their supposedly immortal leaders lying broken and defeated.
That montary distraction was all Puar needed. He intercepted three simultaneous blade strikes ant for John, his shape-shifted form absorbing impacts that would have been lethal.
Smith didn't even turn to look at the struggle behind him. He simply raised one arm and launched a ki blast backward with casual precision.
The explosion vaporized four Hand operatives instantly. Body parts rained down across the asphalt, and the encirclent around John and Puar shattered completely, leaving an open escape route.
John Wick stared at the devastation, his mind struggling to process what he'd just witnessed.
Is this the gap between and GOD? Could I ever reach that level of power?
The Five Fingers lay scattered across the battlefield like broken dolls. Alexandra, Mada Gao, Bakuto, Sowande, and Murakami, each displayed catastrophic injuries. Their skin was scorched and lacerated from multiple explosions, their weapons reduced to twisted tal fragnts, their expensive clothing blown to tatters that barely preserved modesty.
Through his scouter, Smith watched their power levels plumt. The readings that had peaked around forty to fifty now dropped precipitously, 35... 20... 12... finally stabilizing around six or seven. Barely above normal human baseline.
But the readings hadn't reached zero. They were still alive, still breathing, though probably wishing otherwise.
Smith approached Mada Gao, his footsteps asured and unhurried. She lay on her back, chest heaving as she fought for oxygen, each breath clearly painful.
"Smith," she gasped, blood bubbling at the corner of her mouth. "This ti... the Fraternity has won."
She paused, gathering strength for what ca next. "I'm not asking for rcy. But... could you grant us the chance to be buried in our holand?"
Her eyes fixed on his face, searching for any sign of compassion. "Four of us will commit suicide imdiately. The fifth will cripple himself in exchange for permission to return the other four bodies to Japan."
The other fingers, despite their injuries, echoed her plea: "Please... let us return ho..."
Mada Gao coughed, more blood staining her lips. "When we return, I'll transfer all Hand assets to the Fraternity. After I die in Japan, the Hand will be completely disbanded. You'll have eliminated your enemy and gained their resources."
To anyone unfamiliar with the Hand's capabilities, the offer might have seed reasonable, even generous. Four leaders dead, one permanently crippled, and complete financial surrender. No future threat, substantial imdiate gain.
But Smith knew better.
He stepped forward and placed his boot on Alexandra's chest. Then, without hesitation or ceremony, he applied pressure. Her ribcage collapsed with a sickening crunch, bone fragnts puncturing her heart and lungs. Her power level dropped to zero instantly.
Mada Gao's eyes widened. "Smith... you agreed?"
Smith's laugh was cold and utterly devoid of rcy. "Mada Gao, don't insult my intelligence. You think I don't know about the dragon bone resurrection ritual? You'd use it to bring yourselves back within weeks."
He shook his head, his expression one of contempt for the transparent deception. "Did you really believe I'd give you that chance?"
The hope drained from Mada Gao's face, replaced by resignation and grudging respect. "Yes. Since you resurrected Helen Wick, you obviously understand how dragon bone functions."
She smiled bitterly. "The victor takes all. You've won this round."
Her voice dropped to sothing almost wistful. "What a waste. We never found a suitable vessel for the Black Sky. If we had... perhaps the outco would have been different."
She fell silent then, preparing herself for death with the dignity of soone who'd lived five centuries. In truth, she'd lost little over those long years. Her only genuine regret was that her mastery of K'un-Lun's arts had never equaled legends like Shou-Lao or Yu-Ti.
Smith's eyebrows rose at the ntion of Black Sky. The extradinsional entity was an interesting footnote in his ntal catalogue of Marvel universe threats.
"Have you found a suitable vessel for Black Sky?"
His mind imdiately jumped to Elektra, Daredevil's future girlfriend who'd eventually beco the Black Sky's perfect host. In so alternate tilines, Daredevil himself had been possessed by the entity and beco powerful enough to defeat Wolverine.
A flicker of hope returned to Mada Gao's eyes. The Five Fingers had all attempted to channel the Black Sky at various points, using its power to enhance their already formidable abilities. But none of them had achieved true compatibility, the entity had never fully manifested through any of their attempts.
The hope faded almost imdiately. "No. We've never encountered a suitable vessel."
Smith felt a twinge of disappointnt. He'd been hoping for a more challenging opponent, soone truly empowered by an extradinsional entity rather than just skilled martial artists with extended lifespans. As for Elektra, he kept that knowledge to himself. No reason to give them any additional information.
"In that case," he said, his tone casual, "why don't you tell where you've hidden your dragon bone reserves?"
The remaining four fingers exchanged glances, then smiled in perfect unison. Their answer ca as one: "Dream on."
Smith shook his head, unsurprised. Of course they wouldn't reveal their most precious resource, even facing certain death. The dragon bone represented not just power but their entire legacy, five centuries of accumulation and planning.
"Then go see phisto," Smith said flatly.
Ki condensed in his palm, glowing with lethal intensity. He unleashed the blast, and the energy consud the Five Fingers completely, not just killing them but incinerating their bodies at the molecular level. When the light faded, nothing remained but scorched earth. No corpses to resurrect, no remains to recover.
The Hand operatives who'd been frozen in place during the conversation witnessed their leaders' absolute destruction. Without hesitation or discussion, they drew their blades and perford ritual suicide on the spot, seppuku executed with precision and devotion, following their masters into death.
Smith observed the mass suicide with clinical detachnt. That was the Hand's way, total loyalty unto death. At least it saved him the effort of cleanup.
The imdiate battle had concluded, but Hell's Kitchen remained far from peaceful. Following the initial failed assault, waves of independent assassins had learned from the first group's mistakes and returned with better tactics. Throughout the night, they struck at every known Hand facility across the borough, drawn by the promise of gold coins and wax bath treatnts.
At the Fraternity headquarters, the defensive preparations had proven their worth. Equipped with night vision goggles and thermal imaging sensors, the castle's defenders detected the approaching assault force long before they entered weapon range.
The Fraternity opened fire without warning or negotiation.
Under their supernatural marksmanship, attacking forces suffered catastrophic casualties before penetrating even the outer periter. Bodies accumulated in grotesque piles as wave after wave broke against the castle's defenses.
Wesley, Cross, and his son pushed beyond defensive positions entirely. All three activated their bullet-ti perception and sortied with dual pistols, moving through enemy formations like avatars of death. Bullets seed to curve around them impossibly while their return fire never missed. They cut through Kingpin's hired soldiers like a scythe through wheat, and the rcenary forces broke completely, throwing down weapons and fleeing into the night.
The Hand's forces proved more disciplined. Despite horrific casualties, they continued pressing forward with fanatic determination, the assault teams and ninja squads accepting death as the price of duty.
But discipline couldn't overco the reality of the three bullet-ti users operating in perfect coordination. The Hand's final assault wave was completely annihilated, every operative killed before they could breach the castle's inner defenses.
Bullseye, Kingpin's legendary enforcer, attempted to provide covering fire and tactical support. Fox put a .50 caliber round through his skull from eight hundred yards, the shot so precise it entered through his left eye socket.
Kingpin himself survived the assault but was captured during his attempted retreat, dragged from his armored vehicle and restrained by Fraternity operatives.
The Triskelion, SHIELD Headquarters.
The energy signatures from Smith's battle with the Five Fingers had triggered every abnormal phenona detector in SHIELD's New York monitoring station. The qi techniques employed by the Hand's leadership registered as exotic energy patterns, while Smith's ki blasts lit up sensors like nuclear detonations.
The abnormal energy monitoring room's alarms had been screaming continuously for the past twenty minutes.
Surveillance coverage near the actual battlefield was minimal, the industrial district lacked dense cara networks, but peripheral footage had captured fragnts. Enough to identify several participants and recognize that sothing far beyond conventional combat had occurred.
Phil Coulson, who'd been enjoying a rare evening off, rushed back to headquarters still wearing his casual clothes, his mind already racing through the implications of what the preliminary reports described.
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