When Dragon Balls Descend Upon Marvel

Siberia, Russia.

John Wick exited Ivan Vanko's home with a light heart. Compared to the others, obtaining this final Dragon Ball had been surprisingly easy.

No favors owed. No promises made. Just an increased offer—$100,000—and the Dragon Ball was his.

John couldn't help but smile.

"Helen, we're about to be reunited."

With all seven Dragon Balls collected, he only needed to return to the Assassin Alliance headquarters in New York. There, with the spheres gathered, he could finally make his wish.

The thought made him want to teleport straight home.

Wasting no time, he used Alliance channels to begin his journey back to New York.

En route, he messaged his allies:

Major changes are coming to the High Table. Stay out of it. Don't get involved.

······

Elsewhere.

The High Table reconvened another Elder Council—but it went poorly.

Though they confirmed Smith Doyle was the only one with supernatural strength, none could propose a successful strategy. Their previous attempt—with elite forces—had failed.

Some suggested using missiles, but in New York? That was suicide. Launching a missile would be classified as terrorism. The Assassin Alliance wouldn't even need to act—anti-terror units would erase them.

Others proposed peace talks—but no one held hope.

Just as the meeting continued, the Assassin Alliance launched a three-pronged assault.

Smith Doyle, with Fox and other Alliance members, arrived in Italy to strike the Mafia head.

Overlooking the target villa, snipers had already taken position at strategic high points, aiming to neutralize guards and cut off escape routes. Fox was locking in targets.

At the gate, Smith didn't bother ringing. He leapt the walls effortlessly.

Security perimeters meant nothing to him.

He walked straight in—and was immediately spotted by patrolling guards.

"Stop! Who are you?!"

Smith didn't reply. He simply snapped his fingers.

"Pop! Pop!"

Headshots. Two guards dropped dead.

Smith looked toward the sniping direction and smiled, then strolled calmly toward the villa.

Through Fox's scope, he saw Smith's grin and smiled too—then resumed picking off mafia enforcers.

Smith advanced. Bodies fell around him, sniped with precision. Once inside, the snipers lost line of sight, but he needed no help.

A mafia thug confronted him—Smith punched him straight into a wall.

"Hah!"

"Too weak. Can't even warm me up. Afraid to pull the trigger?"

He bulldozed through the villa—no one could last a single exchange.

Meanwhile, Marktum, one of the High Table Elders, was mid-meeting when a breathless guard rushed in.

"What is it?! Can't you see I'm in a meeting?!"

The guard whispered urgently:

"Smith Doyle is here. The outer guards are down. He's inside the villa."

Marktum's expression shifted.

"Apologies. The Alliance has attacked. I must deal with this."

Simultaneously, the Russian and German Elders also reported assaults—Mr. X and Wesley had launched attacks on them. A triple-strike.

Back in Italy, Smith's rampage continued.

A door opened. Marktum emerged, surrounded by fully armed operatives.

"Mr. Smith, perhaps we could talk."

Smith smiled coldly.

"Marktum, what is there left to say?"

The Elder grimaced.

"Everything is negotiable. We don't have to be enemies. The High Table can offer anything—just stop this war."

Smith shook his head.

"Nothing you offer matters to me."

"The world is filthy. It needs cleansing."

"Rōgafūfūken! (Wolf Fang Fist!)"

He launched forward.

The marble floor cracked beneath him. Bullets flew—but Smith evaded all.

He struck with inhuman speed—snapping necks, shattering bodies, breaking bones.

"AHHH—"

"SMASH!"

Marktum panicked and fled toward a panic room.

Smith cut down every guard en route, then caught up before the door could close.

"HAAH!"

One punch.

Marktum's body crashed into the steel door and slumped, lifeless.

Smith pulled out his phone and called Fox.

"Marktum is down. Have the team clean up. Leave a guard detail."

"Understood, GOD."

Fox switched channels:

"Team Three, stay to secure the perimeter. All others—move in and clean house."

······

(End of Chapter)

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