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 momentary distraction was all Puar needed. He intercepted three simultaneous blade strikes meant 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 encirclement 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 me and GOD? Could I ever reach that level of power?
The Five Fingers lay scattered across the battlefield like broken dolls. Alexandra, Madame Gao, Bakuto, Sowande, and Murakami, each displayed catastrophic injuries. Their skin was scorched and lacerated from multiple explosions, their weapons reduced to twisted metal fragments, their expensive clothing blown to tatters that barely preserved modesty.
Through his scouter, Smith watched their power levels plummet. 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 Madame Gao, his footsteps measured 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 time... the Fraternity has won."
She paused, gathering strength for what came next. "I'm not asking for mercy. But... could you grant us the chance to be buried in our homeland?"
Her eyes fixed on his face, searching for any sign of compassion. "Four of us will commit suicide immediately. 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 home..."
Madame 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 seemed reasonable, even generous. Four leaders dead, one permanently crippled, and complete financial surrender. No future threat, substantial immediate 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 fragments puncturing her heart and lungs. Her power level dropped to zero instantly.
Madame Gao's eyes widened. "Smith... you agreed?"
Smith's laugh was cold and utterly devoid of mercy. "Madame 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 Madame 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 something almost wistful. "What a waste. We never found a suitable vessel for the Black Sky. If we had... perhaps the outcome would have been different."
She fell silent then, preparing herself for death with the dignity of someone 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 mention of Black Sky. The extradimensional entity was an interesting footnote in his mental catalogue of Marvel universe threats.
"Have you found a suitable vessel for Black Sky?"
His mind immediately jumped to Elektra, Daredevil's future girlfriend who'd eventually become the Black Sky's perfect host. In some alternate timelines, Daredevil himself had been possessed by the entity and become powerful enough to defeat Wolverine.
A flicker of hope returned to Madame 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 immediately. "No. We've never encountered a suitable vessel."
Smith felt a twinge of disappointment. He'd been hoping for a more challenging opponent, someone truly empowered by an extradimensional 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 me where you've hidden your dragon bone reserves?"
The remaining four fingers exchanged glances, then smiled in perfect unison. Their answer came 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 Mephisto," Smith said flatly.
Ki condensed in his palm, glowing with lethal intensity. He unleashed the blast, and the energy consumed 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 performed ritual suicide on the spot, seppuku executed with precision and devotion, following their masters into death.
Smith observed the mass suicide with clinical detachment. That was the Hand's way, total loyalty unto death. At least it saved him the effort of cleanup.
The immediate 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 treatments.
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 perimeter. 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-time perception and sortied with dual pistols, moving through enemy formations like avatars of death. Bullets seemed 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 mercenary 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 overcome the reality of the three bullet-time 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 phenomena 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 camera networks, but peripheral footage had captured fragments. Enough to identify several participants and recognize that something 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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