A container was being hoisted off the cargo ship.
Matt and Stick hid themselves.
For the two gifted men, night was the best time to act.
Many shady dealings took place under cover of darkness.
Stick wanted to test his apprentice. "How much have you picked up?"
Matt listened closely. "I hear a lot of heartbeats."
"Slow, steady, without a single fluctuation."
"There's another heartbeat, stronger than the rest. Different."
As he finished, Stick said gravely, "It's Xin."
He was one of the Hand's leaders.
Matt frowned and continued sensing his surroundings, despite the considerable distance.
Through heartbeats, breathing, and the rustle of clothing, he could discern even more information.
"There are some unusual people here, too."
"Their temperatures are higher than normal."
"Their skin is over forty degrees Celsius. There's one-no, two."
Had John not delivered the female driver to him, he probably would not have understood so much.
An ordinary person with that temperature should have been lying critically ill in a hospital.
But for people injected with the Extremis Virus, it accelerated their cells.
"Suppressed MP7 submachine guns." Matt realized something. "They don't want to make any noise."
Even now, Hell's Kitchen still harbored people with this kind of strength and equipment.
Matt had thought he understood the Chaste well enough, but apparently, he had yet to probe deep enough to make more people show their true colors.
Hearing this, Stick said, "We'll be even quieter."
He added, "You handle the small fry. I'll deal with Black Sky."
Matt asked, "What are you going to do?"
He still had no idea what this so-called Black Sky was.
Stick only said, "I have my ways."
Matt still respected his teacher. He said nothing more and prepared to act.
"Wait!" Stick held Matt by the shoulder, his expression grave.