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Fury was incredibly reliable. It took him only half an hour to bring Noah everything he needed.
For pistols, Fury thought for a long time before finally handing over M10 series pistols, the kind currently used by the military. Noah didn't bother researching the bullets. To him, they all looked the same. Jason and Wick, however, seemed very satisfied.
Most importantly, Fury produced two senior agent IDs and handed them to Noah and Constantine.
These IDs came with investigative authority and limited enforcement rights.
To be precise, they were fake IDs. Everything on them was fabricated, except for the photos.
"Arthur Morgan? John Marston?"
Noah looked at his own ID, then at Constantine's. His expression turned strange.
He felt like Fury had been playing some kind of game lately. His sense of naming had become oddly specific. But⊠that game shouldn't even exist yet at this point in time.
Coincidence?
Or something else?
"Why did you give us these names?" Noah held it in for a while before finally asking.
"Red Dead Redemption," Fury replied naturally. "A novel by Jack Marston. It's about a group of cowboys and their redemption. Very interesting. I like it, so I used it. You should read it if you have time."
"âŠ."
Jack Marston?
John Marston's son?
That kid who kept pestering Arthur to go fishing all day?
Noah rubbed his chin.
Did the Van der Linde gang really exist in this world a hundred years ago?
He stopped thinking about it almost immediately. He was already used to things like this. Still, he couldn't help wondering whether the original owner of his current name had ended with a wolf or a deer.
Constantine didn't care at all.
To him, any name was fine. Even his original one.
After settling everything, Noah and the others left.
Throughout the process, Wick stayed silent.
He was genuinely confused about who these people were, and why they had such a close relationship with an organization of that scale. To be honest, he felt both worried and relieved.
He worried that if Noah changed his mind in front of such a massive organization, his situation would only get worse. But if they truly kept their word, then with an organization like that backing him, Wick would never have to worry again.
With mixed feelings, Wick drove them once more.
This time, their destination was the Continental Hotel in New York.
The Continental Hotel was the High Table's hub, a place that connected assassins across the world. Inside, only specially minted gold coins could be used. Almost all assassins were protected there, except those officially wanted by the High Table.
There was a single absolute rule.
No matter who you were, or how deep the grudge, no fighting was allowed inside.
The hotel also provided service of an exceptionally high standard. It was a place countless assassins yearned for.
Noah was curious simply because he had never been there before.
To be honest, the hotel was dangerous. Almost every well-dressed personâor even the shabby onesâinside was a top-tier assassin.
"Welcome, Mr. Bourne, Mr. Wick."
The concierge was a black man named Charon. He was also an extremely capable assassin, though he had chosen a more stable life.
"Three rooms."
Jason didn't waste words. He tossed three gold coins onto the counter.
"Eighth floor. Good view."
"No problem, Mr. Bourne, butâŠ" Charon didn't immediately take the coins. His gaze shifted to Noah and Constantine. "These two gentlemen areâŠ?"
"Arthur Morgan. John Marston."
Noah stepped forward, smiling slightly.
The moment he spoke, Charon felt his breath tighten.
It was as if he were standing in front of something inhuman. Something terrifying.
Charon was an assassin. He was intimately familiar with all kinds of killing intent and presence. Yet facing this man named Arthur Morgan, he felt fear.
Real fear.
How long had it been since he last felt this way?
He couldn't remember. As an assassin, fear was something he shouldn't even feel anymore.
Charon forced himself to calm down.
This was the Continental Hotel.
"Welcome, Mr. Morgan, Mr. Marston." He managed a stiff smile. "You must be readers of Red Dead Redemption. An excellent novel. Your rooms are on the eighth floorâ815, 816, and 817."
"Thank you."
Noah nodded calmly, completely unaware of the pressure he had just placed on Charon.
Wick noticed the abnormality, but said nothing.
After briefly asking whether the hotel's owner had changed, Wick received his key as well. His usual room was 818, right next to theirs.
As Wick turned to leave, Charon suddenly called out to him.
Clearly, he wanted to speak privately.
"Mr. Wick," Charon said in a low voice, "for the safety of our guests, there's something I must inform you of."
"Someone has placed a bounty on you. They hate you deeply. The reward is extremely high. They even announced that if you're killed inside the hotel, the assassin will receive double."
"I understand," Wick replied, sighing. "I expected it. Thank you."
"Goodbye, Mr. Wick," Charon said. "Here, you are absolutely safe. At least for now."
Wick didn't say more. He picked up his luggage and led his dog toward the elevator.
Along the way, he saw many familiar faces.
Some looked at him normally.
Others didn't.
Wick knew what that meant.
He didn't care much.
If Noah and the others hadn't appeared, he would already be dead. Even if he survived, his dog wouldn't have. He remembered clearly how close they had come to hurting it.
Now, the bounty made perfect sense.
In Wick's mind, since things had reached this point, there was only one option.
Kill them all.
And for the sake of his future, he would help the people in front of him. At the same time, he would make preparationsâjust in case they ever went back on their word.
"I have to say," Noah said after they settled in and naturally gathered in his room, "this place isn't bad."
"It's alright," Constantine replied, dropping onto the sofa and pulling off his hat. It had been pulled so low it nearly covered his face. "Damn it. I actually have to hide my face. Never had to do that before."
"Because you think you're handsome?" Noah glanced at him. "Enough nonsense."
He turned to Wick.
"Later, take us to see the manager. Winston, right?"
"Yes," Wick nodded. "He manages this place. He knows a lot. My relationship with himâ"
"I know," Noah said with a smile. "Don't worry. Our purpose isn't what you think."
He paused.
"A structure this large exists for a reason. What we need to do is maximize that necessity."
Constantine rolled his eyes.
For some reason, he felt like this guy who looked exactly like him was walking the same path he once did.
Existence has necessity.
Wasn't that how he'd been fooled back then?
Noah had his own plans.
He disliked this assassin organization. It had completely deviated from his understanding of assassinsâpeople with discipline, conviction, and creed.
He had two options.
Destroy it entirely.
Or take control of it, and find a new agent.
After long consideration, he chose the second.
This organization was massive. Its chains of interest and power were deeply intertwined. It was a terrifying entity.
At first, Noah really did intend to erase it.
But now, he had a different idea.
Fury was already rebuilding something to replace SHIELD. That meant Fury wouldn't be able to return to his original level anytime soon. Noah didn't want that. A weakened Fury was a problem.
Of course, Noah had no intention of handing this organization to Fury.
It didn't align with his thinking.
As for who should manage it instead?
He had some immature ideas.
Whether they would succeed didn't matter yet.
That was for later.
What Noah didn't know was that, at the same moment, Fury himself was also feeling uneasy. He had found what seemed to be conclusive evidence that SHIELD's interior was far from clean.
Just as Noah had said, SHIELD was already in grave danger.
And Fury was preparing a dangerous move.
He intended to see whether he could shut down Project Insightâthrough the World Security Council.
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