Whether Coulson was bluffing or not didn't matter much to John Wick. He had already decided to leverage S.H.I.E.L.D.'s influence within the U.S. to track down and hunt demons. As long as he could get an identity that cleared him of police interference, cooperating with S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't out of the question.
As for whether he would actually join S.H.I.E.L.D., that was something he planned to discuss with William first.
Following Coulson out of his villa, John Wick saw more than a dozen black SUVs parked on the street outside.
Seeing dozens of men in black suits and sunglasses, John chuckled, "You guys sure come prepared."
"Of course. S.H.I.E.L.D. is a global organization," Coulson said with a grin. "We may not match Mr. Devonshire's Kingsman in terms of elite combat power, but Kingsman only oversees England. We, on the other hand, operate worldwide. So when it comes to intel, I'm confident we have the edge."
"Let's hope so." Climbing into the vehicle, Wick added, "Help me find Viggo's son, Iosef. Then I'll agree to work with you. Any future demon-related issues—you can come to me."
"Finding someone isn't difficult," Coulson replied smoothly, though his seasoned instincts prevented him from committing too firmly. "Give me a bit of time. If Iosef is in New York, we'll have him in front of you before sunrise."
"And if he's not in New York? Or even out of the country?"
Coulson paused, then realized this wouldn't be as simple as it seemed. A creeping suspicion crept in—he'd just walked into a trap.
Still, his experience handling these situations was vast, and he had a keen sense for reading people. "Truthfully, if this involves supernatural forces or alien civilizations, S.H.I.E.L.D.—with its hundreds of thousands of personnel—can still be at a disadvantage."
"That's why my superior, Nick Fury, upon learning that you might be a supernatural entity, chose to take the risk of upsetting Mr. Devonshire to recruit you. He wants you with us, to reduce the casualties piling up on our side."
Coulson's tone turned solemn. "We're facing monsters that no ordinary human can fight. And all we want is to protect our people and families from that kind of danger. Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made."
His words stirred John Wick. For a moment, he almost agreed to join.
But that fire of idealism lasted only a few seconds.
To make a killer like John Wick pledge loyalty, you needed more than good intentions—you needed overwhelming strength, or real, tangible benefits.
After all, Wick already had tens of millions in the bank and more blood on his hands than most battlefields. If you didn't offer him something real, he wouldn't even look your way.
And let's be honest—William Devonshire looked a hell of a lot more promising than some government agency.
Half an hour later, the group arrived at a private airstrip. As they boarded a transport aircraft, John Wick immediately noticed a massive metal cage inside. A burly bald man sat restrained within.
"This guy doesn't need much of an intro," Coulson said, accepting a folder from a subordinate. "He's the werewolf who got away from you."
He flipped the file open. "During capture, this guy used his claws and fangs to kill six of my agents. And those six? They're already showing signs of lycanthropy."
"So, Mr. Wick, according to how Mr. Devonshire handles werewolves, we don't consider them human. Just beasts."
"Devonshire's attitude toward werewolves?" Wick asked curiously. "What's the story there?"
"Hah, you really are new to the supernatural," Coulson laughed, then gestured for a document.
Wick flipped through the file. It detailed how William had deployed a massive covert force to eliminate over four thousand werewolves in a single night years ago. For years afterward, he continued to issue underground kill orders on werewolves—offering fifty Devonshire gold coins per head.
Now Wick finally understood why Coulson had previously said he didn't want to get involved.
Anyone faced with such a vengeful, wealthy, and powerful individual would be terrified of becoming their next target.
"Looks like your boss and mine really aren't on equal footing. Otherwise, your guy's either brave—or stupid."
"As for what their actual relationship is, I couldn't say," Coulson shrugged. "All I know is my boss is one of the very few people who've pissed off Mr. Devonshire and lived to tell the tale. So, Mr. Wick, I'd say we're almost allies."
Wick responded with a polite nod, though he didn't really buy it.
Coulson didn't mind. Whether or not Wick believed him wasn't important. All that mattered was that Nick Fury had crossed William—and William hadn't killed him. What other consequences there may have been were far above Coulson's pay grade.
Coulson had no idea that the only reason William hadn't "handled" Captain Marvel—Fury's biggest backer—was because he hadn't yet been able to bring himself to cross that line. Otherwise, Carol Danvers would've long ago become a permanent sparring partner in some high-impact "training sessions."
"Sir."
Coulson was handed a note by a subordinate. One glance and his brows furrowed slightly.
Putting on a composed face, he said, "Alright, Mr. Wick. Let's wrap this up quickly so my boss can report something positive to the World Security Council. Then we'll pay a visit to Viggo Tarasov—maybe he'll tell us where his precious son is hiding."
"You haven't found Iosef?"
"No worries. Iosef's small potatoes," Coulson said bluntly. "Once his father—the big Polar Bear gang boss—is dead, we'll toss a million-dollar bounty on Iosef's head. If he's still on this planet, someone will drag him to you within the week.
And for a man like you, a million dollars probably isn't even worth mentioning, right?"
John Wick, who had always been the one receiving bounties, had never once considered placing one himself. It hit him then—he had become the very kind of person he used to resent: rich, connected, and able to move the world with a flick of a checkbook.
But if Viggo refused to give up his son, and Sunday, S.H.I.E.L.D., and the Continental Hotel couldn't find Iosef… then yeah, maybe a bounty was the best shot.
Resolved, Wick walked to the center of the aircraft, stopping in front of the metal cage. Coulson followed, watching intently.
Wick activated the magic circle on his chest. As holy light surged into his body, the werewolf inside the cage instantly roared and transformed, agitated by the energy.
When the glowing "丰" glyphs appeared in Wick's eyes, the werewolf cowered in fear, unable to make eye contact—as if just seeing the symbols might burn out his retinas.
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