To John, anything that did not immediately threaten his life was no big deal.
Knowing someone was targeting his parents, John would not stand idly by.
Judging by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tone, they seemed to be targeting him as well.
Then he might as well spend this vacation out in the open.
He did not believe they could sit still while he strolled around town so brazenly.
Lure the snake out of its hole.
A little tension and excitement might be nice on this rare vacation.
Since he was looking for thrills, he might as well go all the way.
Early the next morning, he stood before the mirror and tapped his clothes with his wand.
His suit and waistcoat turned into casual clothes. He cycled through several outfits before finally settling on the brown one.
He had to admit that magic offered conveniences technology could not.
"This young face really does lead to misunderstandings."
He was thirty, yet still had the face of a high school student. A wealthy woman would pay a million for that skincare method.
He opened the garage, where rows of luxury cars waited for his favor.
Unfortunately, John did not have a driver's license.
As an upstanding, law-abiding citizen, John would never drive without a license.
Right. Never.
New York was a diverse city.
You could see people of every race.
Rivington Street.
Dark-skinned guys wearing chunky gold chains, with half their asses hanging out, gathered together for what they grandly called street rap.
Suddenly, a speeding sports car scared one young fellow into awakening his ancestral talent for rap, sending him into a record-breaking torrent of words.
A yellow Lamborghini stopped outside a bakery with a roar of its engine.
The luxury car drew every eye, and John stepped out in casual clothes, swinging his long legs free.
"Kowalski Bakery. I used to come here as a kid."
His first stop was a trip down memory lane.
Standing at the entrance, John took a deep breath.
The aroma of baking and the uniquely shaped bread attracted passersby.
The bread inside came in strange shapes.
Some looked like shaggy monkeys, while others resembled rhinos, platypuses, or dodos.
Only John knew that all those odd shapes were fantastic beasts from the magical world.
The shop had been open for more than eighty years. Given the United States' relatively short history, it practically qualified as an antique.
Its baking skills had been passed down through three generations.
There was no way to establish why a Muggle bakery sold bread shaped like fantastic beasts.
Its loyal regulars had long since grown accustomed to those shapes and flavors.
The shop's glass door opened, and a long line stretched outside.
There was a reason this bakery had stayed open so long.
Women loved the quirky, adorable shapes, while men loved the low prices, generous portions, and delicious taste.
John had barely joined the line when he heard hurried footsteps approaching behind him.
"May, hurry!"
A ten-year-old boy pulled May along by the hand, his face flushed from running, and rushed into line behind John.
The boy tried to peer past the long queue at the delicious bread inside.
The woman called May had long brown hair and wore an ordinary striped shirt and glasses with clear frames, yet looked anything but dowdy.
With her beautiful face and a stunning figure her clothes could not hide, the woman stood panting lightly, drawing furtive backward glances from the men in line.
John glanced back too. The boy was standing on tiptoe, counting the delicious bread in the bakery.
"Oh no, the shaggy monkey bread is almost gone."
He saw that only three were left.
The shaggy monkey bread bursting with jam was his favorite. The boy quickly closed his eyes and prayed that he would get some.
Perhaps his prayers worked.
As the line grew shorter, those adorable shaggy monkeys remained.
Only two people were ahead of him now.
The middle-aged American woman at the front stood wavering over her choice, leaving the boy's heart in his throat.
He muttered, "Don't pick the shaggy monkeys, don't pick the shaggy monkeys. Please, God."
He had even brought God into it.
That made it hard for the woman to turn him down. Hearing his muttering, she glanced back with a friendly smile, bought a few rhino-shaped jam rolls, and left.
The boy smiled, giving her a grateful look.
Only one person remained before his turn.
And there were still three shaggy monkey rolls.
He was already imagining himself and Aunt May having one each.
Brimming with anticipation, he heard the person in front speak.
"I'll take these three."
Reality struck the boy's young heart like a sledgehammer.
The boy stared blankly as the three shaggy monkey rolls went into a bag. The person ahead even turned to glance at him.
For some reason, he thought he saw a hint of mischievous amusement in the man's eyes.
After buying his bread, John came outside and leaned against his luxury car to enjoy it.
It was soft, and there seemed to be jam inside.
He saw the boy come out.
Despite failing to get the bread he wanted, the boy did not throw a tantrum. He was surprisingly composed.
Disappointed as he was, he did not cause trouble for his guardian.
On that point alone, the ten-year-old already outshone far too many children.
The boy spotted the man who had bought all three rolls and gazed longingly at the bread in John's hand.
Seeing his disappointment, May could not bear it either.
"Peter, wait here a moment," she told the boy.
"Sir," May said, walking quickly up to John, "could I trade you for one of your rolls?"
John raised an eyebrow. He lowered the bread he had taken a bite of and looked the pretty auntie up and down.
Though auntie was not quite right. Compared with him, she was only about ten years older, wasn't she?
An older sister?
"I don't mind trading, but why should I?"
He watched May quietly.
May gave him an open, confident smile. "I thought you might enjoy trying another flavor."
"How considerate of you," John said with a chuckle. "That's not a very good reason."
"But there was something you said that I really liked."
John held out the bag of bread. "You came to me to make a trade, not to demand something."
"I like equivalent exchange," he said with a shrug. "So I agree."
The boy was overjoyed to hear him agree.
"Thank you so much, sir!" The boy took the bag and said happily, "I'll give you my rhino bread."
Seeing Peter happy made May happy too.
"Thank you, sir," she said gratefully. "Peter loves this bread. When his mother was still around, she used to bring him here to buy it."
As she spoke, she looked at Peter tenderly.
In this city, she and Peter had only each other to rely on.
"It's nothing that deserves special thanks. Just an equivalent exchange."
John lifted the rhino bread in his hand and gave it a little wave. "You paid a price too."
May found him interesting. He kept talking about equivalent exchange.
Just as John was about to say goodbye to this unusual "mother and son," trouble arrived.
"Hey, nice car." A bald, dark-skinned man swaggered over with a bowlegged strut. "Now we need to settle up about you scaring my brother back there."
The young fellow in his "fashionable," half-ass-baring outfit stood beside his big brother, his leopard-print underwear exposed.
Others around them were quietly surrounding John.
May and Peter were caught in the crossfire. When the men spotted May, they let out disrespectful whistles.
Their unfriendly eyes roamed freely over her body.
It was deeply offensive.
"You hitting on her?" The bald leader snickered and put a hand on John's shoulder. "Let's be honest. I'm the only one who deserves her."
"I'm calling the police."
May pulled Peter away from the approaching thugs and took out her phone, threatening firmly, "You'd better leave right now."
"Fiery. I like it." The thugs leered at May.
Ignoring the bald man, John asked, "Has this place always been this rough?"
"No. This isn't Hell's Kitchen," May retorted.
At that, John looked at the bald man holding his shoulder and said seriously, "You heard her. This isn't Hell's Kitchen."
"You should be glad it isn't," the bald man said, leaning toward John's ear with a vicious grin. "Maybe if you give me your car, I'll let you walk away in one piece."
"All right." John immediately took out his car keys. "If that'll guarantee our safety."
A smile spread across the bald man's face as he reached to take them.
Then John seemed to notice something and exclaimed in delight, "Wait, look what I found."
Under the bald man's bewildered gaze, John took a pencil from May's pocket.
"May, you didn't tell me you were carrying this."
His faintly reproachful tone baffled May. "It's just a pencil."
It was not a weapon.
"This is a pencil!" John stressed.
He spun the pencil nimbly between his fingers, then turned and said casually, "Now, you'd better hand over your money."
The seemingly deranged statement left the low-level thugs dumbfounded.
How much had this guy drunk to get this wasted?
It wasn't even dark yet, and he was already dreaming?
The bald man laughed in anger. "I think there's something seriously wrong with your head."
"You probably won't believe me," John said with a solemn expression, "but this thing in my hand is very dangerous."
"Fuck!" The bald man glanced around, saw no police, and moved to teach John a lesson.
The spinning pencil stopped, and John gripped it backhanded.
Moving fast enough to leave an afterimage, he drove it through the bald man's outstretched palm and pinned it to the luxury car's hood.
Before the scream could escape, John leaned close and whispered in his ear, "See? Now you and the car are attached."
"You're crazy! You're a lunatic!"
The bald man yelled, drawing everyone's attention.
John swept his gaze over the thugs stunned by the sight. Grinning, he slowly pulled out the pencil embedded in the hood.
As it scraped through the wound in his palm and squeezed out blood, the bald man screamed again.
Blood ran down the yellow paint, leaving a horrifying trail.
These thugs only bullied locals. They had never encountered someone truly ruthless.
They practically stumbled over themselves fleeing, abandoning their big brother.
May and Peter stared in shock.
The man who had seemed so harmless had turned into an obsessive, deranged lunatic in the blink of an eye.
They could not help stepping back.
Before you continue