Chapter 14 – The Monkey vs. The Bear

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Jack strolled casually through the alleyway, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his guide trembling beside him. They stopped in front of a metal door, rusted and dented from years of use.

The grunt nervously knocked. "It's me!"

A small peek window slid open, revealing a pair of suspicious eyes. "Who's behind you?" the guard grunted.

Jack sighed dramatically. "Oh my God, this is taking too long."

Before the grunt could respond—

BANG.

Jack's foot slammed into the metal door. The sheer force ripped it off its hinges, sending it flying into the warehouse. It crashed into a wall several meters inside, bending like cheap aluminum.

Silence.

Every single gang member inside the warehouse froze. Jack stepped through the doorway, dusting off his robes. "Knock knock." 

The warehouse was packed—almost a hundred thugs littered the place, some sitting around a ring of makeshift gambling tables, others handling stolen goods, weapons, and cash.

A few were already reaching for their guns. Jack walked toward the center of the room, his golden eyes scanning the crowd with amusement.

Then, he shouted. "Who's the leader of this sorry little territory?"

Murmurs ran through the gang. Then—a chorus of weapons clicking. Guns were drawn. Some carried pistols, others had heavier firepower—shotguns, SMGs, even an assault rifle or two.

One of them barked, "Mutant! Put your hands up!"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Mutant?" He chuckled. "Hoooh, buddy, I ain't a mutant. But who cares about labels? Now…" He tilted his head. "Which one of you is in charge?"

A deep, guttural laugh echoed through the warehouse. The crowd parted, and a towering figure emerged. The man was built like a bear, his muscles rippling, his chest broad enough to crush a man between his arms.

Thick hair covered his arms and neck, and his eyes gleamed with animalistic confidence.

Jack grinned. "Oh, cool. You guys have a zoo exhibit."

The gang boss cracked his knuckles, stepping forward. "What do you want, freak? You think you're the only mutant around here?"

Jack ignored the question, picking his nose instead. "So you're the leader, right?"

The boss's eye twitched. "Yeah. What of it?"

Jack stretched lazily. "Alright then. I just need to defeat you."

The boss let out a deep chuckle. "Why the hell would I fight you?"

Jack smirked. "Oh, you don't have to."

He shrugged. "But if you refuse, all your men are gonna call you what you really are."

The gang members exchanged glances.

Jack lifted a finger. "A coward."

He raised another. "A spineless sack of mashed potatoes."

Another. "A sewer rat who got too fat off trash."

Another. "A Walmart-brand Sabretooth."

Another. "An overgrown Build-A-Bear reject with mange."

Another. "A factory-defective Chewbacca that got recalled for being too ugly."

The gang members started snickering.

The boss's veins bulged.

Jack grinned wider. "Oh, I got more."

The boss roared. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

And then—he charged.

The boss moved like a truck, his massive body barreling forward with terrifying speed. His mutant ability wasn't just strength—his body was denser than a normal human's, his bones thick like steel, his muscles absorbing impact like reinforced armor.

Jack?

He just stood there.

The boss swung his massive fist.

It could have crushed a man's skull instantly.

But Jack tilted his head slightly.

The punch missed by a hair's breadth, the wind from it rustling Jack's robes.

Jack sighed. "Too slow."

The boss snarled, swinging again—faster.

Jack leaned back slightly, dodging effortlessly.

A third punch. A fourth. A fifth.

Each one missing by inches.

Jack never moved his feet—he only tilted, dodged, and weaved, barely making an effort.

The gang members watched in horrified awe.

One of them muttered, "Boss is swinging like a madman, but… he ain't landing a hit?"

Another whispered, "He's playin' with him."

The boss, now completely enraged, roared and lunged, trying to grab Jack.

Jack finally moved.

He sidestepped at the last second, tripping the massive man with the lightest flick of his ankle.

The boss slammed face-first into the concrete.

Silence.

Jack yawned. "Bored now."

The boss pushed himself up, breathing heavily.

His rage boiled over.

With a bestial snarl, he went fully on the offensive—a flurry of attacks, swipes, lunges.

Jack sidestepped them all effortlessly.

He wasn't even blocking.

He was just dodging, his body moving like he was flowing with the wind.

The gang members watched in disbelief.

"This guy ain't even fightin' back."

"He's making Boss look like a fuckin' joke."

Jack finally exhaled.

And then—he moved.

He stepped forward, lifting his palm—

And lightly tapped the boss on the forehead.

BOOM.

The air itself rippled as the boss's entire body whipped backward, crashing into a stack of crates.

The wooden boxes exploded on impact, splinters flying everywhere.

The boss didn't get back up.

Jack flexed his fingers. "Alright. That was fun."

He turned to the gang members, dusting off his sleeves.

"So. Who's in charge now?"

Nobody spoke.

Then—one by one, they all dropped to their knees.

Jack grinned.

"Good answer."

The warehouse was silent, the air thick with disbelief.

Jack stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders as he turned to the now-kneeling gang members.

"Bring me a map."

One of the gangsters—still visibly shaken—scrambled over to a nearby table, grabbing a folded city map before rushing back. Jack took it, unfolding the paper with a lazy flick of his wrist.

Meanwhile, a few of the gang members were checking on their former boss. One of them hesitated before looking up. "He's… dead."

Jack didn't even glance over. He simply sighed. "Life is just a cycle, you know. One moment, you're on top of the world, stuffing your face with stolen money and bad decisions."

He flicked the map open, squinting at it. "Next moment? You're lying face-down in a pile of splinters, questioning all your choices."

The gang members looked at each other, processing his words with deep confusion. "...What the hell does that have to do with anything?" one of them muttered.

Jack ignored them, tapping his finger on the map. "Mark my territory."

One of the thugs quickly grabbed a marker and outlined the grid of their old turf.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

A gangster cleared his throat. "Boss Volkov was just a lieutenant. He only controlled this part of Hell's Kitchen."

Jack hummed. "And even then, he still had to report to someone, huh?"

The thug nodded quickly. "Yeah. The commanders. There's six of them, and they report directly to Kingpin himself."

Jack's lips curled into a toothy grin. "Oh? So we're barely scratching the surface, huh?"

Without another word, he touched his earring.

Ruyi Jingu Bang materialized instantly, expanding into his grip.

Jack grabbed hold of it and vaulted onto the very tip of the staff.

Then—it grew.

In a single burst, the staff extended toward the sky, piercing through the warehouse roof like a spear through paper.

The gangsters below gawked, shielding themselves from falling debris. Jack shot upward, higher and higher, until he finally emerged into the open air. His golden eyes gleamed as he looked down at his newly claimed turf.

A smirk formed. "Yeah. This'll do." Jack took a slow breath, closing his eyes. Then—he moved. Using the tip of his staff, he drew an invisible boundary in the air. With each motion, golden energy flickered, tracing the edges of his territory like a divine brush painting over the city itself.

The moment the final stroke was made—The air rumbled. A golden barrier erupted, its glow stretching across the perimeter of his new claim. It shimmered like a divine wall, unseen yet present, an undeniable force.

Then, Jack laughed. It started as a chuckle. Then a giggle. Then—it became a full-blown, manic cackle. "KEKEKEKEKEKEKE!" The sky itself trembled with his laughter.

And then—he spoke.

His voice carried across the entire city, as if the very heavens had chosen to broadcast his words.

"BY MY ORDER, THIS BARRIER SIGNIFIES MY CLAIM ON THIS TERRITORY—AND I AS ITS GUARDIAN!"

His words boomed through the streets, shaking windows, rattling car alarms, making even the air itself vibrate.

…

Kingpin sat inside the back of his luxury car, his fingers steepled in deep thought. The sudden rumble of energy made him look up. Then—he heard the voice. Loud. Commanding. Claiming a part of his city.

His grip tightened. "Turn the car around." His driver hesitated. "Sir, we have a meeting with—" "Turn. The car. Around." Fisk growled.

…

Inside the SHIELD secret base, a technician nearly choked on his coffee. "Sir! We have an extreme energy fluctuation in Hell's Kitchen!"

Nick Fury, standing at the command deck, narrowed his one good eye. "Talk to me." The technician brought up the readings. "It's… golden energy. Unknown origin." Fury's expression darkened. "Trace it. Now."

…

A group of young students sat in their classroom, working on a morning lesson. Then—they all heard it. The teacher's marker froze against the whiteboard. Students exchanged glances, whispering, confused.

In his office, Professor X gripped the arms of his wheelchair. He closed his eyes, focusing on the voice—and recognized it instantly. "That young man… again."

…

Tony was half-asleep, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his feet propped up on the couch. Then—he heard it. His eyes snapped open. "JARVIS, tell me that wasn't just in my head."

"No, sir. It is very much real." A holographic screen lit up, voice analysis running.

100% MATCH.

Tony stared at the results. His face slowly twisted into disbelief. "…You have GOT to be kidding me." 

JARVIS continued. "Shall I set coordinates to the location?"

Tony rubbed his face, sighing. "Yeah, yeah. Fire up the suit."

…

Jack let out a satisfied exhale, looking down at his golden barrier, his own personal declaration to the world. Then, he stepped off the staff.

He plummeted.

Then—Ruyi Jingu Bang shortened, bringing him back down in a controlled descent.

He landed back inside the warehouse, his feet touching the ground lightly. The gang members stared at him, utterly stunned. Some still had their mouths open.

Jack grinned. "Alright, then."

He tapped his staff against the ground, the golden glow from outside flickering briefly.

"Now that the formalities are done…"

He turned to the trembling gangsters.

"Let's talk about your new jobs."