The only thing S.H.I.E.L.D. still found remotely interesting was the "bullet-time" ability—though even that, after investigation, was found to be passed down only through bloodline. Once confirmed, they lost interest and dropped it.
To them, most things in the Assassin League were more of a curiosity than a threat. Nevertheless, they still planted agents to try and infiltrate its leadership.
Coulson spoke up:
"As for this new leader of the Assassin League, we didn't monitor him much in the early days. We didn't expect he'd rise to the top."
"So we lack detailed psychological profiling. Still, we've received basic intel."
"Smith Dole, male, 18 years old, orphan."
"Taken in by the League's upper ranks, raised at their headquarters. Codename: GOD."
"He's been fully aligned with the League's doctrine. In the short term, he's unlikely to take the organization down a path that would destabilize society."
"Apparently, his first target as leader is the High Table."
Nick Fury smirked.
"GOD, huh? That's a bold title."
"Only 18, and already leader. The higher-ups must have great faith in him."
"Intensify observation on Smith Dole. We need to understand why he was chosen at such a young age."
"Does he possess unique abilities? Or was he selected for another reason?"
"As for the League and the High Table, just keep the usual intel flow from our embedded agents."
Coulson nodded.
"Understood."
Unless either organization showed signs of housing 084-class objects, Nick Fury wasn't too interested. His attention was elsewhere.
······
Assassin League – Recovery Room.
Fox, who had suffered internal injuries in a car accident the day before, was resting in recovery.
Smith Dole removed the wax over her eyes and mouth, then asked:
"You're awake. How are you feeling?"
Fox opened her eyes, looked at the man before her, and replied:
"A little thirsty."
Smith called out:
"Poole."
"Yes, Young Master Smith."
Poole poured a small glass of whiskey and brought it to Fox's lips.
Fox blinked in disbelief and asked:
"What… is this?"
"A talking, flying blue cat?"
Smith Dole paused, then said:
"My companion. Poole."
He turned to Poole and added:
"This is my friend, Fox."
Floating in midair, Poole greeted:
"Hello, I'm Poole."
Although Fox understood the words, she still asked, confused:
"An alien?"
Smith thought for a moment. Technically, Poole was an animal-type Earthling from the world of Dragon Ball.
"Not exactly. He's related to the Dragon Balls."
Fox nodded, still dazed. Another mystery.
"What's next for us?"
"Do we go kill Viggo together?"
Smith shook his head.
"Viggo is already dead. The Russian mob is finished."
"Oh, and I'm the leader now."
Fox sat up in shock, the hardened wax cracking around her.
"Congratulations!"
Then she asked, a bit dazed:
"How long was I out? My injuries weren't that serious. Shouldn't have taken more than a week."
Smith laughed.
"No, you just slept one night."
Then he proceeded to tell Fox about everything that had happened the previous day.
······
Elsewhere.
John Wick had recovered his beloved car and was back home, watching an old video of his wife. In his hand, he held the one-star Dragon Ball.
"Helen… wait for me."
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Smith, he immediately got up and opened the door.
To his disappointment, it wasn't Smith Dole—it was Santino D'Antonio.
"Come in."
John led Santino into the living room and said:
"Good to see you."
Santino returned the greeting with a smile.
"Likewise."
As John went to the kitchen to make coffee, Santino looked at the photos of John and his wife and said:
"I'm truly sorry about your wife, John."
John fell silent for a moment.
"Thank you."
He handed Santino a cup of coffee, and the two sat across from each other on the living room couch.
Santino looked John in the eyes.
"Listen, John."
"To be honest, I didn't want to come here."
John already knew what this visit was about. Aside from his recent vow to Smith Dole, he had once given this man a Marker—a blood oath. But with the search for the Dragon Balls now taking priority, he said:
"Please don't do this."
Santino pulled the Marker from his pocket and set it on the table.
"I'm sorry. No one gets to leave and come back without consequences."
"This blood oath isn't just a promise—it's sealed with your soul."
"I'm in a tight spot, John."
"If it weren't for me helping you complete that impossible task that night…"
"You wouldn't be here today, enjoying five years of peace."
He gestured around the house.
"All of this, in a way, is thanks to me. It belongs to me."
John stared at him and said:
"Take it back."
Santino raised an eyebrow.
"Take it back?"
"The Marker is no joke, John."
"When someone gives one, it's a soul-bound vow."
John wanted to refuse. He had just pledged himself to Smith Dole, and now to refuse Santino would look bad—word would get around, and his reputation would be questioned.
But he had retired. He didn't want to get involved in Santino's affairs. He wanted to focus on finding the Dragon Balls.
After a brief pause, John asked:
"Is it urgent?"
Santino nodded. "Very."
"No one else can do it?"
Santino picked up the Marker again and replied:
"No one but you."
Seeing that John was still reluctant, Santino sighed and pulled out his phone. He brought up a photo.
"I heard you've been looking for this."
John looked at the image of the four-star Dragon Ball on Santino's phone. He kept his expression carefully neutral and asked calmly:
"Do you even know what that is?"
······
(End of Chapter)
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