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Whether or not to bail was a personal choice. If Constantine truly felt bored and decided to leave, Noah didn't care. Besides, if it were genuinely boring and unplayable, wouldn't Noah himself bail too? Back when he used to run game dungeons, Noah bailed all the time.
Once that clicked, Constantine showed a bit of interest. Since he could leave whenever he wanted, and nothing major was happening at the agency, he could naturally cut loose. As for his fiancée? He'd go see her after he'd had enough fun—or if he bailed early.
Noah had no idea what was going on in this guy's head. Otherwise, the word scumbag would've come out without hesitation.
Completely unaware of Constantine's thoughts, Noah simply told Wick to handle the cleanup, then planned to rest. Honestly, having two Keanu Reeves look-alikes wandering around in front of him gave Noah a strange feeling. It was probably the difference between his younger self and his middle-aged uncle version.
Noah thought Constantine looked a bit cooler.
Eh? Since I don't like how he looks? And this guy's a suit-wearing thug—why not give him a tight suit, fix his hair, throw on a black trench coat, and finish with sunglasses? Noah thought, staring at Wick while he was on the phone.
But the more he thought about it, the more he felt Constantine might be more suitable. This guy didn't even need to shave or get a haircut. Just sunglasses and a black T-shirt, and he'd be done.
Of course, it was just a thought. Noah didn't think Constantine would agree to something like that. This world hadn't seen The Matrix yet, and Noah doubted it ever would. The Savior was probably out of luck.
The High Table's cleaners were fast. Not long after Wick ended the call, they arrived. After taking twelve gold coins from Wick, they removed every body from the room and thoroughly cleaned the damaged items.
Once everything was settled, the old man leading the team enthusiastically doffed his hat toward Wick and Jason, saluting them.
"Mr. Wick, Mr. Bourne, I never expected you two to know each other. It's an honor to serve you. By the way, Mr. Wick, can I expect your call again in the future?"
"We'll see, Charlie." Wick didn't elaborate.
The old man didn't mind. He smiled, bowed again to Wick and Jason, then turned and left. The process was clean and simple. The level of professionalism, though, wasn't something most people could replicate.
"Wouldn't it be much better if the agency had a similar process?" Noah said from the side, looking at Constantine, whose hat completely shadowed his face. "Instead of leaving the bodies for the owner to deal with?"
"It's an idea. If they're willing to pay, I can even help them turn it into a monster specimen," Constantine replied.
After so many years, Constantine had learned how to be bad—thanks to Noah. Drawing inferences from one instance to others was second nature now.
Their conversation didn't draw any attention. Once the cleaning crew left, everyone returned to their respective living rooms to rest.
The next morning, they all got up early. Noah had said he was taking Wick to see Fury.
Under normal circumstances, Noah would've just teleported straight to Fury's office. He knew the location perfectly. But with Wick around—and with Noah in a playful mood—he had no intention of exposing his special identity.
So they took Wick's car and headed toward S.H.I.E.L.D.
That was when Wick's phone rang.
He took it out. An old-fashioned monochrome screen, the one he used for work. There was no name, but he answered immediately.
"I never thought you'd be back at work, John."
The voice belonged to a middle-aged man with a Russian accent, tinged with anger. It was Viggo—the head of the Russian gang whose son Constantine had killed. An old acquaintance of Wick's.
Wick said nothing.
"You know what?" Viggo continued, talking to himself. "I don't know what misunderstanding made my little idiot bother you. But why did you kill him? Why? Couldn't you even give him a chance to introduce himself?"
Wick frowned.
A chance to introduce himself?
What a joke. At the time, he was the one getting beaten half to death. Still, Wick didn't explain. He didn't say a word.
"Alright, Wick. I know you won't talk, so I won't ramble. I just found out that place belonged to you. Otherwise, I wouldn't have called, and I wouldn't have sent a bunch of idiots to bother you. But I have a gift for you."
"A very nice gift."
The call ended.
Wick put the phone away. He knew exactly what that "gift" meant. For someone as rich and ruthless as Viggo, the best solution was a bounty.
It made Wick sigh.
At this point, he could only rely on the people sitting behind him if he wanted peace. If his dog had died, he might've returned to work. That was his last connection to his wife.
But the dog was still alive.
So Wick wanted to listen to her. To find his own path. To live well, with his dog.
That belief was why he chose to cooperate with Noah and the others.
Only by solving these problems could he find peace.
It didn't take long to reach the New York S.H.I.E.L.D. branch. Honestly, S.H.I.E.L.D. had been lucky. Since it wasn't in Manhattan, it avoided being wiped out by Noah and the aliens.
Because Noah had given advance notice, Coulson was already waiting. He looked the same as ever. Thanks to Noah's countermeasures, he hadn't died.
With Coulson leading the way, the group entered without obstruction.
"Your Excellency Fenrir," Coulson said, glancing at Wick, "is the gentleman behind us who looks exactly like His Excellency Constantine… a brother to Your Excellency the mage?"
"He has nothing to do with me," Constantine replied coldly. "Don't think we can't hear you just because you're whispering. My surname is Constantine. His is Wick."
"Wick? John Wick?"
Coulson finally remembered. Wasn't this the man Noah had assigned Jason to monitor? Coulson hadn't been responsible for that project, so he'd never seen him.
Now that he had, it was hard not to be intrigued. Two people who looked exactly alike were interesting no matter how you looked at it.
"By the way," Noah cut in, noticing Constantine's expression darkening, "what's Fury doing right now?"
"The Director is meeting with the Captain," Coulson replied quickly.
"Captain?" Noah paused. "Steve Rogers?"
"That's right. Captain America Rogers. One of our ships was hijacked by pirates on the high seas, so the Director dispatched a special operations team. However, the Captain seems to have something to report, so…"
Noah froze.
A S.H.I.E.L.D. ship hijacked by pirates?
That sounded like an international joke. But Coulson's serious expression told him it was real. There was only one explanation.
His jinx had activated again.
This was clearly the plot of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Noah just hadn't expected it to happen now—right when he wanted to enjoy life.
As they walked, Noah recalled the sequence.
If nothing's changed, Fury learned about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s internal issues and still chose not to inform Steve. Natasha's suspicious behavior got noticed. If nothing's changed, they should be confronting each other right now.
Noah treated plots as references, but they were still valuable. What he was most curious about was whether Fury was still shameless enough to lie straight to Steve's face.
If only there had been a camera back then.
The five of them soon arrived outside Fury's office. With Coulson leading, they passed nearly every security checkpoint. Their guns were confiscated, but no one cared.
When they entered, Fury was already arguing with Steve. He didn't even notice them at first.
That was when he said, shamelessly, "You know what? The last time I trusted someone, the cost was… I lost an eye!"
"…Uh," Noah said, "am I interrupting your… bullshit?"
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