That night, John flew back to New York.
The first thing he did after landing, of all things, was get into a police car.
"This is Agent Dax, Mr. Wick," an FBI agent named Ray Nadeem introduced.
Sitting in a chair, John sighed. "I thought I could wait for my driver to pick me up."
He glanced at Agent Dax. There was something dangerous about the man.
Ray, on the other hand, gave off a sense of justice.
It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. Or rather, John didn't dislike people like that.
"We need your assistance investigating a gang-related case in Hell's Kitchen," Ray said.
Ray Nadeem was an agent with a strong sense of justice.
His family put considerable pressure on him, with living expenses piling up and his career going nowhere.
None of this had broken him, but it left him desperate for an achievement that would earn him more.
"Hell Paradise. I assume you're familiar with it," Ray said gravely. "We have intelligence that you went to Hell's Kitchen, and the person who took you there was your driver, Ferdinand, a former Brooklyn street thug."
"I need my lawyer." John idly played with his silver ring. "Until my lawyer gets here, I don't want to talk to you."
That attitude gave Ray a headache.
Yet there was nothing he could do, because it was all within the bounds of the law.
Even the most vicious criminals in prison had the right to call a lawyer.
"I know you're not a bad person, Mr. Wick," Ray said heavily. "You might not know this, but a gang disappearing wasn't the only thing that happened that night. There was also a major deal involving illegal goods."
"Hell Paradise used people's bodies to transport drugs. A deal was taking place right then."
"I need your help figuring out what happened that night and who was there," Ray said earnestly.
He appealed to both emotion and reason, hoping to persuade John.
John took out his phone and dialed a number.
After a short wait, someone answered.
"Are you busy?"
Hearing a muffled grunt from the other end, John's expression turned strange.
On the other end, Matt was out as Daredevil. He spun through the air and knocked down a knife-wielding street thug with a kick.
"What is it?"
"The FBI came looking for me." John shrugged. "But you seem busy. Guess I'll have to call Fudge."
Matt was about to answer when a club struck him in the lower back. He grabbed it, disarmed his attacker, and sent the man flying with a kick.
The call ended. Breathing hard, Matt scanned his surroundings with his senses, checking for anyone else.
He reached up to touch his arm, rubbing wet blood between his fingers.
Equipment, huh?
He began to consider John's suggestion. As Daredevil, fighting crime at night, injuries were unavoidable.
His current outfit was nothing more than black clothes and a simple hooded mask.
It offered virtually no protection.
A suitable combat suit would help Matt fight criminals more effectively.
But among the people he knew, almost no one could make something like that.
John dialed again. This time, the call connected quickly.
"Nelson Murdock Law Firm."
"I imagine my lawyer would be willing to deal with some persistent FBI agents for his employer." Hearing Fudge's voice, John chuckled. "Of course, we pay by the case."
Fudge perked up the moment he heard John's voice.
After their last trip to the police station, John had sent the Lawyer Firm a substantial fee.
Fudge was determined to hold on to a rich heir like him.
Saying he would be right over, Fudge hung up.
Ray had watched John's attitude throughout, leaving him both angry and helpless.
Someone this uncooperative gave him a tremendous headache.
Dax looked hostile as he stared at John's face, a trace of bloodlust flashing in his eyes.
John took it all in. With a flick of his finger, he sent the silver ring into the air under the two FBI agents' gazes.
Dax moved.
His left hand blurred.
Just as he was about to touch the ring, another hand moved faster, plucking it from between his closing fingers.
Dax kept his fist clenched in midair, staring unblinkingly as the Silver Ring rolled back and forth across the backs of the other man's fingers.
"You seem rather restless, Agent Dax."
John looked at him with a faint, teasing smile, flicking the ring up again as if in provocation.
This time, it flew toward Dax's face.
The Silver Ring grew larger before his eyes. Dax reacted quickly, drawing his hand back.
Closer.
A smile almost appeared on Dax's face.
The next second.
A hand beat him to it, a finger slipping through the ring.
Just like that, right before his eyes, the visual acuity Dax took such pride in was defeated once again.
Dax couldn't believe it.
He had lost both exchanges.
John rubbed the ring and said meaningfully, "You think you're fast, but someone else is faster, Dax."
Ray couldn't make sense of their exchange. All he saw was two men playing a ring-grabbing game, with one winning and the other losing.
There was a knock at the door.
Fudge had gone out of his way to comb his hair before coming. Fortunately, he hadn't had time to put gel in it.
"From this point onward, I will represent Mr. John Wick in all matters."
Wearing a blue suit and a yellow-and-red striped tie, Fudge said solemnly, "Provided my client is not implicated in a crime, he has the right to refuse any unreasonable request."
"Oh, thank God. You're finally here, my dear lawyer." John stood and pressed down on Fudge's shoulders, seating him in the chair he had just vacated.
"The law protects everyone," John said with a smile.
"These two agents would like to know about my visit to Hell's Kitchen that day. I believe my lawyer knows all about it."
Ray opened his mouth, hesitated, and finally let out a sigh.
Dax was still caught up in his recent defeat. John could see the bloodlust and madness in his eyes perfectly clearly.
The man was suppressing his instincts.
John waved, opened the door, and left the police station.
Fudge cleared his throat. He could already tell this would be a fierce battle.
Still, John had enough loyalty not to abandon Fudge at the police station.
He called Ferdinand.
"B-Boss?" Ferdinand sounded a little panicked.
John grew suspicious. "You're not doing anything illegal, are you?"
"If you are, we might as well have Fudge sort it out for you too."
"No. Of course not." Ferdinand gave an awkward laugh. He was standing outside his own front door, his eyes bloodshot and a baseball bat in his hand.
"Boss, what do you need?"
"I'm at the police station in New York. Come pick me up." John had no desire to walk home.
At the mention of needing the car, Ferdinand's heart lurched. He stammered, "Boss, you're back in New York already?"
"There wasn't much to do in New Mexico," John said casually. "Some cowboys and Native American chiefs. I don't smoke weed."
Ferdinand swallowed and opened his mouth. "All right. I'll be there soon."
The call ended.
Ferdinand stared at the empty parking space, despair written across his face.
Was he going to lose this job after all?
The police station in New York.
Fudge walked out with his head held high and his chest puffed out like a victorious rooster.
Behind him, Ray couldn't help sighing.
Dax recovered from his defeat.
"See? That guy's as slippery as an eel."
FBI Agent Joe held a cup of coffee, gloating over their misfortune.
Ray had taken over John Wick's case from him.
This was the Underworld President's son. Any scrap of information that slipped through his fingers could earn Ray a promotion and a raise, make him bureau director, and send him straight to the pinnacle of success.
"Ray, let me give you some advice," Agent Joe said, shaking his head. "We've seen how much the Underworld President values his family."
"If he finds out we're testing his son, you should remember what happened with his daughter."
Ray fell silent.
Ariana Wick.
The Underworld President had once unleashed his anger for his daughter's sake.
And that time, not only the FBI but intelligence organizations from multiple countries had suffered heavy losses.
Why did the FBI repeatedly tolerate John Wick's rudeness?
Why didn't they dare coerce or frame John Wick?
Members of the Wick family carried an untouchable status in the United States.
"John Wick." An unreadable glint shone distinctly in Agent Dax's eyes as he repeated the name.
"You handled that perfectly, Fudge." John shook hands with him.
Fudge smiled. "Just doing my job."
"I think the Lawyer Firm could use some new equipment. I remember the printer being a little old."
"If you don't mind, I could provide a new printer," John said with a smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Wick." Fudge didn't refuse.
He saw it as an opportunity to strengthen his connection with John.
Who wouldn't like a rich heir who paid well and caused so little trouble?
The two waited for John's driver to arrive.
Fudge felt a faint surge of anticipation. Every man dreamed of luxury cars.
As Fudge waited eagerly, a pickup truck pulled up in front of them.
Fudge: "..."
John: "..." Are you kidding me?
After getting out, Ferdinand didn't dare look at John. His gaze darted away. "Boss, I'm here to pick you up."
"Don't tell me you sold my car?" John didn't care about one car, but if it had been sold without his permission, perhaps he needed to consider replacing his driver.
Ferdinand hurried to explain. "My younger brother drove it away, boss."
"I promise he'll return it tomorrow." He was terrified of losing his job.
John only asked, "Did you give it to him?"
"No, absolutely not!" Ferdinand said. "I swear, he took the keys from my room and left."
"Then you should make him pay for it, Ferdinand." John didn't press the matter. He walked over to the back seat and looked at Ferdinand in silence.
Ferdinand caught on and hurried over to open the door with fawning eagerness.
Fudge looked at John, then at Ferdinand.
In the end, he accepted the fact that there would be no luxury car.
Inside the pickup, Ferdinand smiled ingratiatingly. "I'll take you home, boss."
"No." John looked out the window and said flatly, "Go to your place."
His place?
Ferdinand's heart sank.
Had that idiot brother of his angered the boss?
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