The small pink bear leaped from Natasha's shoulder and pointed an insistent, fuzzy finger at the book.
John didn't touch the cover. Instead, he ran his hand over the space just above it. As if moved by an unseen force, the book opened. The pages began to turn on their own, flipping with impossible speed, a blur of paper that seemed to go on forever. Thousands of pages passed in just a few seconds before it finally stopped, revealing a single letter tucked between the leaves.
He picked up the letter, casually setting the book aside.
It was addressed to him. As he read, he could hear Ariana's voice in the words, the familiar way a little sister confides in her older brother, telling him about her job after graduation.
"A reporter?"
John thought for a moment, then looked up at Natasha.
She seemed to know what he was about to ask. "Ariana is a reporter now," she confirmed. "She often covers stories in conflict zones."
He hadn't expected that. With their family's wealth, Ariana could have easily settled into the life of America's upper-crust elite. Instead, she chose to chase stories across the globe. It made sense, in a way. After being forced to give up Hogwarts because of her Obscurial nature, after being sheltered and cared for at home for so long, the freedom of that profession must have been an irresistible call. She was a freelance writer, unrestricted, reporting only on the things she felt needed to be said.
John looked at the date on the letter; it had been written over a year ago, around the time he first arrived in New York. That meant Ariana knew he was here. She must have been with their parents when they went traveling. She wrote the letter, but for some reason, never sent it.
He put the letter away, resolving to investigate this thoroughly.
Natasha saw the determination in his eyes and knew he wouldn't let it go. "What do you need me to do?" she asked, already a step ahead.
"Ariana isn't in danger, I'm sure of that. The late delivery of the letter probably means she didn't send it herself." John's fingers found a small, hand-folded paper animal on the desk—a little rabbit. He stared at it, his gaze calm. "The bear will stay with you. If anything happens, notify me."
He needed to find out where Ariana was now. With Natasha, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, tracking the letter's origin wouldn't be complicated. She agreed without hesitation.
The little bear climbed back up Natasha's leg, this time allowing the contact. The creature possessed a surprising intelligence; if something had truly happened to Ariana, it would have sensed it.
***
The holiday ended.
With May waving him off, Peter headed back to Midtown High. The moment he was gone, May couldn't wait to deal with that evil board game. Her surprisingly strong frame erupted with astonishing power as she hauled the enormous box—containing a mountain of plastic shaped like a Saint Seiya figure—into the storage room to be hidden away. May was already terrified of having to be the "God" (Game Master) for the two persistent kids again. The game used its own currency, but you could also just pay with cash—a feature that made her question the sanity of its inventor.
Peter, now at school, was blissfully unaware that his favorite game had been confiscated. He and Ned were back in their usual routine. Ever since he'd beaten up the school bully, a rumor had started to spread: Peter Parker's godfather was an underground boss.
That silly kid Ned had even foolishly asked if Peter had to kiss a ring. Peter wasn't sure. John did wear a ring.
Wait! Since when did he have a godfather?
Midtown High wasn't a prep school, but the teachers were dedicated. As the dean, a man whose bald spot was his most prominent feature, was scolding students for running in the corridor, he saw Peter, and his expression melted into a kind, fawning smile. Anyone would smile at the student whose family had replaced every desk and chair in the school.
The school's leadership had all heard about the Future Talent Fund established by Taran Industries. And the dean knew that the famous John Wick was Peter's godfather. Only then did he realize they had a diamond in the rough at Midtown. Thinking of this, the few remaining hairs on his head seemed to radiate a benevolent light.
He didn't realize how unsettling it was for a man who usually disciplined students to suddenly beam at a child like that.
Ned trembled, the fat on his belly rippling. He leaned close to Peter and whispered, "Did you get caught doing something?"
Peter frantically shook his head. He hadn't done anything wrong! Had someone complained to the dean? The thought made him restless all day. His teachers looked at him as if he were a winning lottery ticket. His math teacher even subtly asked if he needed a 'little gadget' for 'pest control' and how much something like that might cost. Peter was so scared he practically fled the room. How would he know where to buy a weapon?
By the end of the day, everyone except Ned was keeping their distance. Ned, however, thought it was the coolest thing ever. He knew John was a wizard. What could be cooler than a wizard godfather?
Peter was speechless. "If you had to go on his morning runs, you'd know how awful he is."
"How bad can he be?"
Peter didn't notice the voice that replied was different from Ned's. He kept complaining, "His greatest pleasure is bullying people, and he loves to throw them around like a shot put. The worst part is, every time he comes over, he takes apart my LEGOs!"
Getting more worked up, he kicked a trash can. "He must be doing it on purpose!"
"Yes, I am," a familiar voice confirmed.
Peter froze, his body stiffening like a startled marmot.
Ned swallowed hard, already trying to abandon his friend. "My grandma baked burritos. I gotta go."
John just chuckled. "No rush. You can eat burritos anytime."
His hands fell on the shoulders of the two students. "How about we go enjoy the sea breeze? Take in the scenery?"
Their bodies screamed no, but the great demon king before them wasn't one for reason.
With Peter in his left hand and Ned in his right, John wondered when he'd find a third to complete his set.
He said he would take them to see the sea, and he wasn't wrong. They stood by the coast, the wind brushing against their cheeks. If it weren't so terribly cold, it might have even been refreshing. As it was, Peter and Ned felt like they were about to freeze into popsicles. They rubbed their hands together, secretly glancing at John and exchanging looks, arguing silently about who should speak up.
John just pushed their heads apart. He squinted, his gaze sweeping across the water.
And there, on the sea, was Fisk.
The man who should have been under surveillance in a hotel was meeting someone. It seemed Killian's death had made him very uneasy. John hadn't forgotten that among the people who had conspired to assassinate his parents, there was still one who hadn't shown up.
On the yacht, nothing was better for avoiding attention. Fisk stepped aboard, his gaze falling on the person opposite him.
"Killian is dead," he said. "You can take over everything of his."
(End of Chapter)
***
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