International Waters
John Wick guided the Fraternity's yacht through calm seas, salt spray misting across the bow. Smith stood near the railing, scanning the horizon. Empty ocean in every direction, exactly what he needed.
"We're still in territorial waters, Chief," John said from the helm. "High seas are another twenty minutes at current speed."
Smith considered the distance. The ocean stretched endlessly, and any approaching ships would be visible miles away. Still, better to err on the side of caution. "Continue to international waters. No witnesses."
John Wick nodded, curiosity flickering across his face. He'd watched the Dragon Balls scatter in seven different directions after granting his wish, none had fallen nearby. So why return to this location? But he'd learned not to question Smith's decisions without invitation.
Twenty minutes later, the yacht crossed into international waters. John cut the engines, and the vessel drifted on gentle swells.
"We've cleared the boundary, Chief. No other ships in visual range."
"Good work." Smith walked to the center of the deck. "Stay put. This won't take long."
He closed his eyes, feeling for his ki. The energy responded immediately, flowing outward to envelop his body. His feet lifted off the deck, slowly at first, then rising with increasing confidence.
John Wick's professional composure shattered. His jaw dropped, eyes widening as his boss hovered ten feet above the yacht. "What the, "
Smith rose higher, twenty feet, thirty, testing his control. Then he angled forward and released a surge of ki.
He shot across the water like a missile.
The displacement of air nearly knocked John off his feet. He grabbed the railing, watching Smith's form shrink into the distance, trailing a wake of disturbed water beneath him.
Smith pushed harder, pouring energy into flight. Wind roared past his ears. The ocean blurred beneath him. He felt like a jet fighter without the machine, pure speed, pure freedom.
This is incredible. Better than any technology.
He accelerated further, testing his limits. The energy expenditure increased dramatically, he could feel his ki reserves depleting with each burst of speed. At maximum output, he'd drain himself completely in minutes.
Need to find the efficiency curve. A sustainable cruising speed that doesn't compromise combat capability.
Smith spent the next thirty minutes experimenting. He varied his velocity, monitored his energy consumption, practiced sudden direction changes and emergency accelerations. Gradually, he identified the sweet spot, a speed that felt fast, covered significant distance, but left his ki reserves intact for extended periods.
At this pace, I could fly for hours without exhaustion. In an emergency, I can triple my speed for short bursts.
By the time he circled back to the yacht, his ki was nearly depleted. Not dangerously low, but enough that he'd need rest before attempting serious combat.
John Wick had regained his composure somewhat, though his eyes still tracked Smith's descent with barely contained awe.
Smith landed lightly on the deck. "Impressed?"
"Chief..." John hesitated, then asked carefully, "Could I learn that? To fly like you?"
Smith studied him. John Wick was peak human, possibly the most dangerous baseline assassin alive. But ki control required more than physical conditioning. It needed an energy source to manipulate.
"Not with your current capabilities," Smith said. "Train harder. Reach the absolute human limit first. After that..." He shrugged. "We'll see what's possible."
John's expression flickered through surprise, realization, then determination. It's learnable. Not a mutation, not a superpower, a technique. "I'll train harder, Chief."
"Good." Smith gestured toward the helm. "Take us back."
Triskelion – SHIELD Headquarters
Phil Coulson stood once again before Director Fury's desk, his latest report on Smith Doyle complete. Fury reviewed it silently, then looked up.
"Your assessment after meeting him?"
Coulson organized his thoughts. "Smith Doyle confirmed the Fraternity isn't developing super soldier serum, which aligns with our analysis. However, recent intelligence shows they're purchasing advanced scientific equipment, laboratory-grade materials, research machine, high-end computational systems."
"They're building a research facility?" Fury's eye narrowed.
"Appears so. My assessment is they're attempting to study Smith's mutation, understand what makes him different, possibly replicate it." Coulson paused. "We haven't identified which scientist they've recruited. It's possible they've hired externally, maybe even been scammed by someone claiming expertise they don't possess."
"Can we infiltrate?"
Coulson shook his head. "Difficult. We know about the equipment purchases, but nothing else. No scientist identified, no research team roster, no facility location confirmed. The Fraternity's previous scientific capability was minimal, bullets, guns, basic chemistry for their wax bath. They're definitely hiring outside talent."
"Which gives us an opportunity," Fury mused. "If we can identify and approach their scientist before the Fraternity secures them..."
"Possibly." Coulson shifted his weight. "Though Smith Doyle expressed resistance to government oversight. He's concerned about being treated as a lab specimen. Understandable, given his capabilities."
"Is he a threat?"
"Not inherently. Based on the Fraternity's history and operational philosophy, I don't believe Smith will develop anti-human tendencies. They're selective about targets, focused on high-value criminal elimination. More vigilante than villain."
Fury drummed his fingers on the desk. "So we don't need containment. But leaving someone with his power unsupervised carries risks." He leaned back. "Could we recruit him? Bring him into SHIELD as an agent?"
Coulson's eyebrows rose. "The Avengers Initiative?"
Fury said nothing, which was answer enough.
Coulson considered it. "I tested the waters during our meeting. He declined to assist SHIELD operations. However, given the Fraternity's objectives and method, recruitment isn't impossible. It would require time, relationship building, demonstrating that our interests align."
He added, "Smith also suggested we abbreviate our name. Said it's too much of a mouthful."
A rare smile crossed Fury's face. "SHIELD. Has a better ring to it."
"I thought so too, sir."
"Continue monitoring him. Maintain contact, build rapport. If an opportunity arises to demonstrate our value, take it." Fury's expression hardened. "And Coulson, given his power and experience, Smith Doyle is likely stronger than Captain America. Possibly significantly stronger. Handle him carefully."
"Understood, Director."
Stark Industries Headquarters – Los Angeles, California
Pepper Potts paced the length of Tony Stark's office, anxiety etched into every movement. It had been three days since Tony's convoy was attacked in Afghanistan. Three days of silence, uncertainty, and escalating dread.
The bodies of Tony's military escorts had been recovered from the attack site. But Tony himself? Missing. No body, no confirmation of death. Just... gone.
Rhodey had called yesterday with cautious optimism. No body means there's still hope. The military's conducting search operations. We'll find him.
But how long could she cling to hope when every hour brought no news?
Happy Hogan entered the office, his usual cheerful demeanor absent. Pepper turned immediately. "Anything?"
Happy shook his head. "Nothing yet. Military's still searching, but the area's massive and hostile. It's like finding a needle in a haystack."
Pepper's hands clenched into fists. "We can't just wait. There has to be something we can do." She looked at Happy desperately. "You have connections, right? Underground channels? Someone who can help find people?"
Happy hesitated, thinking. "There used to be an organization, the Continental Hotel network. Best intelligence operation in the underworld, global reach, connections everywhere. If anyone could find someone, it was them."
"Used to be?" Pepper's hope faltered.
"They got taken over recently. Some kind of internal power struggle. An organization called the Fraternity absorbed their operations, shut down the hotel system, integrated their intelligence network." Happy rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "If there's still a capable channel left, it'd be them. They inherited the Continental's resources."
Pepper processed that. An assassin organization. Not exactly comforting. But if they could find Tony... "How powerful were they? The Continental, I mean."
Happy thought back on what he'd heard from his contacts. "They were at the top of the food chain. Controlled about eighty percent of organized crime worldwide, not by muscle, but by being the middlemen. Everyone went through them."