Elsewhere.
Back at the villa, Tony Stark stared at the recovered and reassembled Mark I suit. His thoughts drifted to the man who had saved him—Smith Doyle.
Pepper had mentioned there was a file on him in the system. Tony gave the order directly.
"JARVIS, show me everything on Smith Doyle."
"Yes, sir."
As JARVIS responded, Doyle's profile appeared in front of him. Tony began browsing through it.
"Hunter? That codename could use some rebranding."
"A historic organization called the Assassin's League? Didn't expect that. Eighteen years old and already the leader? Reminds me a bit of myself."
"Their ideals aren't bad either. Sounds like a modern-day Robin Hood situation."
When he saw references to the High Table and the Continental Hotel, Tony's expression turned serious.
"So the underworld had something this toxic hiding in it. Good thing Doyle cleaned house. I wouldn't have let them stick around either."
Still, the file felt incomplete. Based on what Tony had personally seen, Smith Doyle was far more formidable—he could fly, and that guy named Pool had unusual abilities too.
"JARVIS, search for all available data on Smith Doyle. Everything."
"Sir, that may involve breaching secure systems."
"I don't care. Just don't leave a trace."
Shortly after, JARVIS reported back.
"Sir, I've compiled all available data."
Tony started reviewing the new files and video footage.
"Now this is more like it."
"Small-caliber weapons don't even leave a mark. That strength, that speed—this is the Doyle I remember."
"Super soldier serum? Not nearly enough to explain him. How the hell did he get so strong?"
Even so, Tony felt the intel still fell short. The man he'd seen in action was even more terrifying than the reports described.
To Tony, Smith Doyle wasn't just a savior—he'd saved him twice. And they shared similar values. In Tony's eyes, Doyle was more than an ally. He was family.
He set the files aside. He'd bring Doyle back once the new armor was ready.
But the arc reactor in his chest wasn't going to cut it anymore. That old unit was built under dire conditions. He needed a new one—an upgraded arc reactor.
Tony got to work immediately.
The next day.
One order from Smith Doyle, relayed through the Intelligence Department, reached assassins all over the world.
The Continental Hotel was officially renamed the Assassin Brotherhood. All previous bounty features remained—safe zones, weapons, intel exchange. The original gold coins would no longer be in circulation, serving only as access tokens. A new Brotherhood-exclusive coin would be issued.
A special service was announced: the Wax Bath. Designed to treat knife wounds, cuts, fractures, and non-lethal gunshots. Full recovery within 24 hours.
Price: one new coin plus $100,000 USD.
Every assassin who read the message froze.
The safe zones they'd thought gone for good were back. That alone was shocking. But when they saw their old coins were now worthless—except for access—many were annoyed.
Still, the High Table had been destroyed. No one dared push back.
Then came the Wax Bath. Assassins everywhere were stunned.
But if Doyle announced it so boldly, it had to be real.
For killers, this was a game changer. Injuries that used to take weeks or months to heal could now be gone in a day. Survivability just skyrocketed. Many had been killed not by enemies, but by not healing fast enough before being hunted down.
With the Wax Bath, everything changed. Some even saw business potential—bodyguard work for rich kids, adrenaline junkies, or injured athletes. Plenty would pay millions for 24-hour recovery.
The only question now: how do you earn the new coins?
The answer came quickly. A second message lit up phones worldwide.
Bounty target: members of the Hand.
Coin rewards:
Regular members: 1 coin each
Mid-level leaders: 3 coins each
Hand ninjas: 5 coins each
Available globally. Active immediately.
Known locations: Midland Central Finance in NYC, Hell's Kitchen, Gokai Tower in Tokyo
Daily updates at noon.
Every assassin who once worked under the Continental received the alert. Just as they were wondering how to earn the new coins, an opportunity dropped right in their laps.
In Morocco, regional head Sofia stared at her phone and told her assistant:
"Send a team to New York. Time to make our stance clear."
In Osaka, Koji Shimazu frowned at the screen. The underground world had barely calmed down—and now, another war was about to erupt.
"John saved my daughter and me. I won't make things harder for him."
"Akira, tell every assassin in Japan: complete this bounty with full force. That's my personal request."
"And mobilize everything we've got. We're going to Tokyo to wipe out the Hand there."
Then another message came in—this one a link from the Assassin League.
The link opened to a full list of Hand members. The names scrolled endlessly. At the bottom, one final note:
Most members are currently gathered in New York.
That final bit of info detonated like a bomb across America's underworld.
Everywhere you looked, in alleys, bars, and safehouses, one sentence echoed louder than all the rest:
"Let's go make some money."
New York's assassin population swarmed toward Hell's Kitchen. Even local gangs and contract killers were getting ready to move.
As for the Hand's Five Fingers, Smith Doyle hadn't put a bounty on them. They possessed Kunlun-style qi techniques—way beyond what ordinary assassins could handle. Sending people after them would be suicide.
—End of chapter—
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