✨ 300 gems = 1 bonus chapter
✨ 500 gems = another bonus chapter
***********
Shang-Chi and Peter both thought there was a fire when they heard the commotion in the kitchen and rushed out to check. For May, it was nothing short of a public spectacle—almost like a large-scale execution. The Christmas roast chicken had become a blackened monument to culinary disaster.
This was the only household John had ever seen that could turn a simple roast chicken into charcoal. Yet the chaos was oddly heartwarming. After Peter and Shang-Chi ran out, John slipped into Peter's room and quietly placed the half-assembled Lego set right behind the door, then waited for the perfect moment.
When Peter finally returned and opened the door, his Lego creation was knocked over, scattering pieces everywhere. May tried to comfort Peter, who was torn between frustration and disbelief, while shooting John a glare sharp enough to melt steel.
John did his best to stifle his laughter, but it spilled out, filling the house and mingling with May's exasperation and Peter's protests. For a brief moment, both adults realized they hadn't laughed so freely in a long time.
When it was time to say goodbye, Peter gave John a look of pure resentment, which only made John's mood lighter. After making sure Shang-Chi had ordered a stack of exercise books online, John ended his Christmas visit with a sense of satisfaction. Of course, he had now been quietly labeled as the "Great Demon King" by the children. The house rule about Lego had also evolved: it was no longer just "do not carry Lego around," but "do not let Lego appear when John is in the house."
*****
Leaving behind the warmth and bustle of May's home, John walked alone through the quiet, affluent neighborhood. The festive laughter and music from the street faded as he approached his own house, which stood out in darkness among the brightly lit homes nearby. He paused for a moment, looking back at the glowing windows of other families, then opened his own door and stepped inside.
He turned on the lights, filling the empty house with a sudden, sterile brightness. Sitting on the sofa, John considered whether he should get a Christmas tree to liven up the place. He stared at the empty corner for a long time, but in the end, he did nothing. Where would he even find a Christmas tree in the middle of the night?
Morning arrived. The children woke to find their stockings stuffed with gifts from Santa Claus, their laughter echoing through the neighborhood. John, however, stared at his own Santa—an old, worn figurine on the mantle—unmoved.
A knock sounded at the door, growing more insistent by the second.
"I know you're in there. Don't think you can just stay silent and get away with it," came a familiar voice through the door.
Before his uninvited guest could resort to breaking it down, John opened the door.
Tony Stark stood there, straightening his tie and spreading his arms with a grin. "Christmas surprise!"
John eyed him with suspicion. "Let me guess—you're here to stir up trouble. You'd better have brought a Christmas gift, or I'll show you the true meaning of 'mischief.'"
"Of course I brought something," Tony replied, producing a box of strawberries.
John hesitated between slamming the door and simply kicking Tony out but finally let him in with a look of disdain. "Your sincerity is even less than Peter's."
"Who's Peter?" Tony asked, genuinely puzzled.
"A little brat," John replied without missing a beat.
Tony blinked, then shrugged and followed John inside.
John knew exactly why Tony had come. "New armor?" he asked, giving Tony a look that suggested he was wasting his time. "What advice do you think I can give you?"
"You're John Wick," Tony said, placing the strawberries in the refrigerator. He paused, surprised by the sight of the empty shelves. "This is a fair competition, right?"
"To be precise, not really," John replied bluntly. "Did you forget you blew a hole in my wall?"
Tony winced and quickly changed the subject. "Let's talk about something else. How's your progress with new energy?"
"You should ask my assistant," John said, waving him off. "And next time, make an appointment."
Tony puffed up with pride. "I'm already preparing to switch to new energy."
"Congratulations." John, expressionless, took the box of strawberries from the fridge and handed it back to Tony. "Consider this my gift to you."
Tony stared at the box, confused. Hadn't he just brought this himself? Why wasn't John surprised? Was it possible John's progress with new energy was even faster than his own?
"You don't seem surprised," Tony pressed, trying to read John's expression.
John sneered. "Do you really think I need to be surprised? It's just new energy. Ivan already has it ready and is just waiting for the connection."
Tony felt the pressure mount. He hated losing—especially to Ivan, his old rival. John's reminder stung. "What we lack isn't energy, but government contracts competing for our business," John added, letting the words hang in the air.
Tony understood. With the magic crystals that could replace nearly any element, material restrictions no longer existed. If Ivan could not develop new energy, it would be a problem. Now, new energy and new armors were both on the horizon. Tony's competitive streak flared. He would not allow himself to fall behind.
Before leaving, Tony paused at the door. "Are you really planning to spend the holiday alone?"
John rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't mind if you invited me to your party."
Tony laughed and left, the rivalry between them as fierce as ever.
A short while later, another knock came at the door. John opened it to see Hattie standing there, her expression as calm and determined as ever.
"How about I just give you a key?" John said, resigned. "It's Christmas. You don't expect me to work, do you?"
Hattie nodded without a hint of mercy. John leaned against the doorframe, sighing theatrically. "Can you drive?"
"You'll love my driving," she replied with a mysterious smile.
*****
The sports car sped through snowy Manhattan streets, Hattie at the wheel and John in the passenger seat. He glanced at her, then at himself, feeling oddly out of place. A sharp drift brought them to a stop in the garage, and John climbed out, shaking his head at Hattie's fearless driving.
It turned out this was not about work—at least, not in the usual sense. Instead, it was something that required John's personal attention.
On the top floor of Taran Industries, John entered the office and found himself face-to-face with a woman who looked strikingly familiar.
"Nagini, what are you doing here?" He blurted, confusion clear on his face.
The woman looked equally puzzled. "Nagini? Who is that?"
The man beside her stepped forward. "This is Dr. Helen Cho. We had an appointment, Mr. Wick."
John blinked, then nodded. "Right, Dr. Wu. I'm just amazed there are people in this world who look so much alike."
He studied Helen Cho, who bore an uncanny resemblance to his old friend Nagini. Could they be related by blood? Helen made a mental note of the name Nagini but did not press the issue.
"We were originally looking for Mr. Watson Wick," Helen explained. "But we learned you're now in charge of Taran Industries."
Dr. Wu had tried to contact John's father, but with him out of New York, he had turned to Orlov, who directed him to John as the new decision-maker. After a long search, they had finally found the right person.
Helen Cho presented her proposal with sincerity. "The Regeneration Cradle," she said.
John listened carefully, recalling the technology from somewhere—Avengers: Age of Ultron, perhaps. The potential was enormous.
"This invention could revolutionize medicine. I know Taran Industries isn't involved in the medical field, but I hope—"
Before Dr. Wu could finish, John nodded. "Alright."
Helen's face lit up with joy. "Thank you, Mr. Wick."
John continued, "I'll fund your research lab, but I want exclusive rights to the Regeneration Cradle technology, except for your own use. The lab's expenses will be considered an investment, and I'll take shares in your research institute."
Helen agreed, understanding that nothing came for free. She had her own condition: Taran Industries must fully support the development and application of the Regeneration Cradle.
The deal was struck. As they shook hands, John could not resist asking, "Did your great-grandmother or great-grandfather have any siblings?"
Helen was surprised by the question but admitted she did not know much about her family history.
John felt a twinge of regret. Perhaps one day he could ask Nagini, and maybe he would discover which of her sisters Helen Cho was descended from. If Nagini's curse was hereditary, Helen might even be at risk.
The news that Taran Industries was entering the medical field did not sit well with financial magazines. In the past six months, the company had gone from arms dealing to energy and now medicine. It shattered the company's old image.
But for John, this was just another day.
*****
Then, as the new year of 2012 approached, another piece of news exploded across the world.
On television, a man appeared, claiming responsibility for a terrorist attack. His fingers were covered with rings. Behind him, the flag of the Ten Rings fluttered.
Mandarin.
John stared at the screen, eyes narrowing. "What are you planning, Wenwu?"
***********