26

As Tony Stark stepped into the Wick residence once more, he could not shake a deep sense of discomfort. The house felt foreign, its layout unfamiliar, and his eyes kept drifting upward, as if searching for something-or someone-he was not sure he wanted to find.

John noticed immediately. "Are you looking for someone?" he asked, his gaze sharp but not unkind, reading Tony's body language with ease.

Tony hesitated, then tried to brush it off. "No… okay, let's get straight to the point." He paused, then admitted, "Actually, yes. But let's not waste time."

He walked up to John, stopping just in front of him, chin lifted in that signature Stark confidence. Even though John's face was youthful, he was not short; the two men stood nearly eye to eye.

"I know you rescued him," Tony said, removing his glasses and fixing John with a steady look. "And I don't understand why you did it. You know what he did, Wick."

"Avenge your father?" John replied, his tone measured.

Tony's face tightened, the question hitting home. Of course John knew exactly who Tony was talking about.

John had never intended to hide the truth. With Tony's resources—Jarvis, S.H.I.E.L.D., and his own relentless curiosity—there was no point in pretending.

John walked over to the sofa and sat down, gesturing for Tony to join him. "You seem to have different ideas about this, Stark."

"When you found out he was alive, you could have told the government. But you didn't." John's voice was calm, almost gentle. "That's not your usual style."

Tony hung his glasses on his collar, visibly uncomfortable. "You're right. It's not my style." He hesitated, then admitted, "I want to know one thing."

John raised an eyebrow. "About your father?"

Tony fell silent. His father's shadow loomed large in his life. After inheriting Stark Industries, Tony had come to understand the realities of the arms business. He had always believed his father was a great and upright man—a founder of S.H.I.E.L.D., a visionary who wanted to make the world better.

But Ivan Vanko's appearance had torn a scar across that image, revealing a darker truth. His father had exiled his partners and claimed the reactor for himself. The man Tony idolized had not been as noble as he believed.

"I want to know more about my father," Tony said quietly. "He was strict, but I don't believe he would have expelled his partners just for the reactor."

John shook his head, rubbing the ring on his finger. "You see human nature as too noble, Stark. People are selfish. I can tell you, your father did nothing wrong."

Tony looked at him, searching for reassurance.

John continued, "This country loves to boast about freedom, but everyone knows that those who are not of our kind are treated with suspicion. Ivan's father was a Soviet scientist. Even if he betrayed the Soviet Union, who can say what's true?"

He paused, his eyes distant with memory. "It's all about perspective. To Ivan, Stark Industries are thieves who stole his father's work. To the United States, they stopped a dangerous Soviet. Back then, the world was divided. Who could trust a scientist who'd already betrayed his own country?"

John's gaze grew intense. "Are you looking for Ivan because you fear his revenge or because you feel guilty about your father?"

Tony looked away, unable to answer.

"You're Iron Man. When you realized your weapons were hurting people, you shut down the division. Now, when you think your father might have done something wrong, you want to fix it." John's voice softened. "But Stark, you're Iron Man, not a god."

He leaned back, eyes thoughtful. "I can tell you where Ivan is. He's at Taran Industries. He has no regrets about what he did, and if he ever has enough power, he will come for you."

On the railing above, a snowy owl watched with one eye open and the other closed.

"You can attack him if you want, but you'll have to deal with me too. I won't stand by and do nothing."

Tony was surprised by John's honesty. It was rare for anyone to lay out the truth so plainly.

"Aren't you afraid I'll just put on my armor, fly to Taran Industries, and drag him out myself?" Tony asked, uncertain.

John smiled, shaking his finger. "You can try, if you think you can beat me. Power comes first, Stark. If you have the strength to destroy the world but only destroy one country, people will still call you merciful."

Tony was confident facing Ivan, but John was another matter entirely. It was not fear, but a deep, unsettling sense of facing the unknown.

"Why did you help him?" Tony asked, genuinely confused. "You don't seem like the type."

John answered simply, "Because he's my uncle's friend. He's half one of us."

Tony's eyes widened. "Your uncle's friend? He's crazy enough to kill hundreds of people!"

John shrugged. "But he didn't, did he?"

Tony could not believe how easily John dismissed the threat.

John's smile was wry. "I'm not American, Stark. And for your sake, I can promise you this: Ivan will fight you, maybe in business or technology, but he won't harm civilians."

There was a condition, though, and Tony could sense it.

"You're more stubborn than I am," Tony said, exasperated. "Just because he's half one of you, you protect him?"

John's voice was calm, almost cold. "Don't act like America doesn't do the same. If Ivan surrendered his technology to the government, even S.H.I.E.L.D., would they refuse him? The military wants his armor, but you won't give it up. If it weren't for Rhodes, they wouldn't even have War Machine. If they knew Ivan was alive and willing to work for them, do you think they'd care about your feelings?"

Tony knew he was right. With enough at stake, anyone could be sacrificed.

"At least at Taran Industries, I can keep Ivan's worst impulses in check," John said, his meaning clear.

After pacing for a while, Tony finally stopped and faced John. "You won't stop me from challenging him?"

John grinned. "If you want to, go ahead. I won't stop you from fighting—or from anything else."

Tony nearly laughed. For a moment, it felt like he was talking to Rhodes.

He could not banish Ivan or send him to prison, but as long as civilians were safe, Tony was willing to let it go.

"Then tell him I'll be waiting whenever he wants to face me," Tony said, turning to leave.

Later, on the streets of New York, a luxury car sped through traffic, drawing curses from other drivers. Ferdinand was at the wheel, John in the back seat.

"Boss, you really should get a license. Driving is one of life's great joys," Ferdinand said, shaking his head. He could not understand how anyone could own a garage full of luxury cars and never drive them.

John, wearing headphones, listened to a recording Orlov had made of a conversation with Hammer. He learned that Hammer had nothing to do with his parents' disappearance, but he did have ties to the Ten Rings Gang. After Stark Industries shut down its weapons division, Hammer Industries took over much of the business. The Ten Rings had bought arms from Hammer, and while Hammer had not initiated the deals, he had turned a blind eye.

Now, with enough shares, John was the majority shareholder of Hammer Industries. He was on his way to the company's Queens headquarters. Even with the stock price plummeting, Hammer Industries was still worth billions—a skinny camel is bigger than a horse.

If his father had not accumulated shares in advance, John would never have been able to take control.

The car stopped in front of the Hammer Industries building. Ferdinand jogged around to open the door for John.

"Boss, any chance you could make me a manager?" Ferdinand asked hopefully, trying to smile his way up the ladder.

John glanced at him, took out his wallet, and handed Ferdinand two crisp bills. "Go buy yourself a better pillow, you dreamer."

Ferdinand looked at the money, then at John, a little confused—but two hundred dollars was two hundred dollars, so he pocketed it without complaint.

John expected to meet the current head of Hammer Industries, but instead, he found himself across from a striking redhead in the office that once belonged to Justin Hammer.

"Hello, my name is Natalie Romankoff," she said with a flawless professional smile.

She was beautiful, poised, and radiated the confidence of an elite executive. Her fitted skirt and white blouse, paired with black stockings, accentuated her long, perfectly shaped legs.

John rested his chin on his hand, studying her. "I thought your name was Natasha Romanoff?"

Without missing a beat, Natasha replied, "You must be mistaken."

John smiled. "It's not a good habit for subordinates to question their boss. SHIELD can't afford your salary, so you want to be my assistant?"

Natasha dropped the act, flipping her red hair over her shoulder and letting her heels click on the floor as she walked closer.

"I was hired through proper channels. Yuri Orlov thought you could use an assistant," she said, perching on the edge of the desk, her legs crossed.

"It seems Mr. Orlov cares a lot about me," John said dryly. "So why did SHIELD send you?"

"Your parents' whereabouts are unknown, and, frankly, you're a concern, John Wick." Natasha's tone was serious now. "You've been targeted."

"Watching me like you watch Stark?" John scoffed. "Should I thank SHIELD for their concern?"

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "This is serious. Your situation is dangerous. Hell's Paradise was just a pawn. There are bigger forces at play. The Ten Rings Gang looks down on Hell's Paradise. Your father had to leave New York because of this."

She leaned forward, her white shirt revealing a hint of black beneath. "We know who's behind it. He wants to bring down your father. Family is your father's weakness. That's been obvious for a long time."

"Even if you don't care about yourself, you should care about your sister Ariana."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. John's eyes hardened. "Speaking of which, I'm curious about something."

He fixed Natasha with a cold stare. "Why are you in my sister's photo frame, Black Widow?"