25

Money is a powerful thing.

Justin Hammer understood this better than most. For years, his wealth and connections had opened doors and smoothed over every mistake. But now, those advantages had evaporated. The Iron Soldiers were out of control; even the War Machine he had borrowed from the military had become a liability, and the final explosion at the Stark Expo had led to catastrophic losses.

Each Steel Soldier was worth a million dollars. The ones that exploded could have bought entire companies, and the damage to New York City was incalculable. This was no longer just a business disaster; it was a national crisis, on par with a terrorist attack. Hammer's friends and allies abandoned him overnight. Within his own company, the board began carving up whatever value remained. Hammer, once the proud leader of Hammer Industries, was now utterly powerless.

From the moment he chose to rescue Ivan Vanko, trading a "civet cat for a prince," he had been walking blindly toward the abyss. There was no denying he was a successful businessman, but he was never a wise man.

Now, at the police station, Hammer found himself living out the old saying about falling trees and scattered monkeys. Once a dignified CEO, he now faced the very real prospect of prison. He was not the mastermind behind the Expo disaster, but Ivan was dead, the Iron Soldiers destroyed, and all the blame had landed squarely on Hammer's shoulders. The military wanted answers, and the lawsuits were piling up.

He had lost everything after a single phone call to the police. "I'll be back. I'll get it all back, I swear!" Hammer growled, glaring fiercely at the opposite wall.

The other prisoner in the cell, a man picked up for drunk driving, looked around nervously. He had no idea why he was sharing space with someone so angry and important.

Hammer punched the wall in frustration, then winced in pain. He still had some money and shares left, but his lawyer had made it clear: the situation was dire. His assets were shrinking by the hour, and the facts were against him. Jail time was all but certain. This was the best outcome he could hope for after all the fighting.

He hated Stark for humiliating him, and he hated Ivan for betraying him and landing him in this mess. And he hated Pepper Potts, the woman who had called the police. When he got out, he vowed he would not let any of them go. Even if Jesus himself came down, he would not be able to protect them.

"Justin Hammer, come on out."

The cell door opened. A police officer stood outside, calling his name. Hammer's bravado vanished. He stood, heart pounding, and followed the officer out. Was this it? Was he being sent to prison already? He expected a bureaucratic process, more paperwork, and more humiliation.

Instead, he was led into a small, empty room with a single table and two chairs. The person sitting opposite him was hidden in shadow.

Hammer expected an interrogation, but the officer simply closed the door and left. Now, there were only two people in the room.

Hammer wore a plain detention uniform, but the man across from him was dressed in a sharp suit and polished shoes, exuding the same pride and confidence as when he had orchestrated Ivan's prison break. On the table between them sat a key and a cup of melting ice cream, its creamy sweetness filling the air.

"Organic lemon-flavored ice cream flown in from Italy. You like this, right?" the man said.

Hammer eyed the key, then unlocked his handcuffs. He sat down, hunger gnawing at him, but he kept his eyes on the man in the shadows, trying to place that familiar voice.

"We haven't seen each other in ten years, Justin Hammer."

The man leaned forward, his features emerging from the gloom. Hammer's mind flashed back to the old days, to secret arms deals and dangerous clients.

"Lord of War, Yuri Orlov?" Hammer's voice trembled. "What do you want from me?"

Orlov didn't answer directly. He gestured to the ice cream. "It's melting."

Hammer hesitated, but hunger and circumstance forced his hand. He took a spoonful, the creamy sweetness a small comfort in a world turned upside down.

Orlov's reputation preceded him. Even now, as a legitimate businessman, his influence was terrifying. Stark was Iron Man, a man of rules. But Orlov was not bound by such things. Behind him stood powers that could plunge New York into chaos with a word.

A week ago, Hammer might have bluffed or fought back. Now, with his money and allies gone, he had no choice but to submit. Orlov had proven he could reach Hammer anywhere, even inside NYPD headquarters.

The ice cream was a message: Orlov knew his preferences, his habits, maybe even his secrets. Hammer felt like a commodity, his value determined by whatever price Orlov was willing to pay.

He forced himself to eat, every bite heavy with resignation.

Orlov watched him carefully, reading every flicker of emotion. In truth, Orlov had no idea what Hammer liked to eat. Ivan had mentioned it in passing, and Orlov had simply made a guess. But for Hammer, it was proof of how thoroughly he had been studied and outmaneuvered.

To get Hammer's shares, Orlov knew he would need to use every tool at his disposal.

"I think you've seen this," Orlov said, sliding a phone across the table. On the screen was a chart showing Hammer's stock price in free fall. Lawsuits from victims of the Expo disaster, public outrage, and a tidal wave of negative press all pointed to one conclusion: Hammer Industries was finished.

Hammer's hand shook as he gripped the spoon. "What do you want?" he demanded. "To humiliate me?"

Orlov gave a cold smile. "I'm not that petty. Honestly, I didn't want to see you at all. For years, Stark and Hammer monopolized the Defense Department's contracts. Now, Hammer has lost all trust. The company is on the brink of bankruptcy. But I can give you a chance to bring Hammer Industries back to life."

Hammer's face twisted in anger. "Even if something happens to Hammer Industries, Taran Industries can't acquire it. Hammer is a family business, passed down from father to son, just like Stark. I won't sell my shares. Hammer Industries belongs to me!"

Orlov's eyes narrowed. "Don't think I don't know what you want. You're after the defense contracts. But Taran's technology can't match Hammer. If you want to swallow us up, it's impossible."

Orlov laughed. "If someone hadn't told me to buy Hammer Industries today, I wouldn't even be here. Do you really think Hammer Industries, after losing the Defense Department's trust, is still worth anything?"

He leaned in, voice low and threatening. "You have a choice: sell your shares to Taran Industries or die in prison. You know I can make it happen."

It was a naked threat, and Hammer knew Orlov was serious. Death or compromise. The ice cream melted, time slipping away.

Hammer's resolve wavered. "Even if you get my shares, you still can't control Hammer Industries."

Orlov's response was chillingly simple. "Who do you think I'm working for?"

Wick.

At the mention of that name, Hammer shuddered. The spoon fell from his hand. "Isn't he out of New York?"

"Yes, but his son is very interested in you," Orlov replied, recalling his own recent encounter with John Wick. "That kid is different from his father."

Hammer's mind reeled. He had only ever heard of the Wick family's daughter. When did Watson Wick have a son? Clearly, the old man was more cunning than anyone realized.

He tried to bluff. "He's just a kid, and you're willing to compromise for him?"

Orlov's patience ran thin. "You're exhausting me. That kid is not someone you can push around. The black marks from back then will haunt us forever."

Seeing Orlov's growing impatience, Hammer relented. "Fine. I need you to guarantee my safety and minimize my sentence."

"Agreed." Orlov picked up the fallen spoon, scooped up a mouthful of ice cream, and fed it to Hammer himself. "Eat the ice cream. Then sign the contract."

Hammer swallowed the ice cream, his pride gone.

Meanwhile, John was at home, sorting through his father's safe. As a financial mastermind and underworld boss, his father had always done things differently. Everything was still in place, which meant his father could return at any time. But John had no idea where his parents had gone.

After gathering documents and putting them away, John picked up his phone and dialed a number he'd gotten from Orlov. No one answered. It seemed his parents had gone somewhere far away.

He was about to try another number when his eyes caught the Thief-Detecting Charm he had drawn earlier. He walked to the door and opened it.

"Oh, I was just about to knock," said Tony Stark, standing on the threshold without his armor.

Tony's gaze swept the room, and John was not surprised to see him.

"Come in," John said with a grin. "I'm glad you knocked this time, instead of just flying in."