Despite the looming danger, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents held their ground. Though tense, they didn't panic. Instead, they continued methodically carving holy glyphs into their remaining rounds.
After a few more seconds of driving, the sound of wings became louder. Shadows zipped past the windows, dark forms slicing through the air above them.
"BANG!"
A shadow smashed straight through the windshield of the lead vehicle.
Thankfully, the experienced driver didn't slam the brakes in a panic. Instead, he tapped them twice to trigger the brake lights and warn the cars behind before fully stopping the vehicle. His calm reaction prevented a pile-up.
Tires screeched in unison.
Though several vehicles collided, no one was seriously injured.
"RAT-TAT-TAT! RAT-TAT-TAT!"
Gunfire erupted from the lead vehicle, accompanied by a burst of flame. A winged shadow bolted upward, disappearing into the dark sky before the agents could bring it down.
Coulson yelled into his radio, "Out! Form a defensive circle! Where's our backup?!"
Then, turning to his men, he barked, "Spread the vehicles out! Headlights facing outward—we need illumination!"
Even as he shouted, more agents were already firing into the air.
Gunfire thundered across the street. But after ten seconds, not one demon had fallen. No flash of banishment. No screaming flame in the sky.
"Crossfire! Maintain suppression fire!" Coulson shouted.
"AHH!"
Just as the fire slackened, a shadow swooped down, snatched an agent who had been reloading, and soared into the air.
"RAT-TAT-TAT! RAT-TAT-TAT!"
Others opened fire instinctively, tracking the shape above.
"HSSSSS!!"
A low, guttural hiss filled the air—and then a ball of light burst into the sky as the demon was banished, confirming a kill.
In that moment, Coulson's entire team got a full view of the winged demons. Dozens of them—bat-like wings, dark red skin, grotesque and grinning as they spiraled through the night.
"God…"
Even the previously confident agents froze, hands trembling, staring up in dread.
"RAAAGHHH!!"
The demons surged downward all at once, snarling and shrieking. Only then did the agents shake off their fear and pull the triggers again, filling the air with holy bullets.
Dozens of gun barrels lit up as ten or more winged fiends were banished in bursts of divine flame, illuminating the street like daylight.
But the holy bullets were running low.
As soon as the fire paused, the demons struck again, swooping down to tear through agents with claws and teeth.
John Wick, out of ammo, clenched his jaw and prepared to push his holy magic to its limits. Just as he was about to unleash it—
WHOOSH!
A portal opened right in the middle of the chaos.
Through it stepped Wong, the heavyset sorcerer, who immediately launched a spell that blasted a nearby demon out of the sky.
Behind him, more mystic mages surged through, slinging arcane bolts that burned the creatures from the air.
In the distance, the flame-eyed skull demon—clearly a high-ranking fiend—locked its gaze on John Wick. Greedy. Hungry.
Then it noticed Wong looking back.
Without hesitation, the skull demon vanished into the darkness.
The moment it disappeared, the city street's power returned. One by one, the lampposts flickered back on.
Just as Coulson was about to thank Wong—and try to establish a diplomatic connection—he noticed the sorcerer staring at John Wick with a deep frown.
Wong raised his hands and traced symbols in the air. A glowing golden magic circle appeared above John's head, then cast a Detect Evil spell directly into his body.
"AHHH!!"
John screamed as pain tore through him. Black smoke poured from his crown, forming the spectral visage of a grinning devil.
"Mephisto…"
The mages recoiled in alarm. Their expressions turned instantly hostile. Hands went to spell components.
But just then, the holy circle on John's chest activated.
FOOM.
Divine light surged through him, clashing with Mephisto's energy and searing his soul. John collapsed, writhing, but alive.
"Holy Light?!" Wong was stunned. "Holy Light and hell energy—both inside one man? How is that even possible?"
Face dark, he muttered, "No wonder these demons risked exposure to capture you."
He turned to his fellow mages. "Take him to the Sanctum. This must be reported to the Sorcerer Supreme immediately."
"Wait! Wait a second!"
Coulson stepped forward, putting himself between the sorcerers and John.
"John Wick is a S.H.I.E.L.D. asset. You have no authority to detain him."
But recognizing that Wong had saved them all, he softened his tone. "If you need information, you can speak to Director Fury. We'll cooperate—within reason."
Wong pointed to where the skeletal demon had stood. "That projection wasn't just any demon—it was at least high-tier. If these creatures get their hands on the Spear of Longinus, and manage to use the Holy Light—something that hasn't appeared on Earth in over a millennium—they could tear open the dimensional veil.
And if that happens, we won't be looking at just a few demons. We're talking full-body incarnations crossing over.
Forget New York—the entire United States could become another Hell. Can you afford to carry that burden?"
John, who had still been seething from the pain, suddenly felt his anger replaced by something far colder: fear.
He gritted his teeth and rasped, "The Holy Light in me… it's from the archangel Gabriel. And the Mephisto part—wasn't voluntary."
Now the mages froze.
"Gabriel?" Wong's eyes narrowed.
Sensing the tension lift, John pressed on, "Two days ago, I was attacked. My soul left my body, and just as it was ascending… Mephisto intercepted me. We made a deal. I gave him the part of my soul tied to envy.
But later—somehow—he gave it back. And then this magic circle from Gabriel appeared on my chest."
"My soul is whole again—but it's tainted. Every time I use the Light… it burns me."
"That's even more impossible!" one mage barked. "Mephisto is the greediest of the Seven Lords of Hell. He'd never return a soul he already devoured."
"You must come to the Sanctum," Wong said grimly. "It's the only place strong enough to contain this… infection. Until we find a solution."
The tension was thick when—
"Wong."
A calm voice echoed in every mage's mind. Everyone fell silent.
"This is William Devonshire's mess," the voice said. "Let that little bastard clean it up himself."
"…Yes, Master Ancient One." Wong's shoulders slumped slightly.
______
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