DC hero at Marvel

John Wick quickly regained his composure, locking eyes with the armored man before him, showing no hint of fear or hesitation.

"Just kill me," he said calmly.

Having been in this line of work for so long, he had long since accepted life and death.

In his mind, he recalled a face that wasn't particularly beautiful but was filled with warmth. And a dog, lively and full of spirit.

He closed his eyes.

"Oh, really?"

Anton looked at the man in front of him.

Drawing from Batman's experience, he judged that this man had the aura of a seasoned assassin.

There are two types of assassins.

One is unprofessional and easy to interrogate; the other is highly professional, impossible to break even with severe torture.

This man was undoubtedly the latter.

"Everyone desires to live, especially people like you. You live in the darkest corners of the world, yet you crave light more than anyone else."

Anton's voice was calm and steady. "Admit it. You want to live more than anyone."

John Wick didn't respond.

"Woof!"

Suddenly, a sharp bark made him open his eyes.

Staring at Anton, he couldn't suppress his rage, which ignited in his eyes like a spark that quickly spread.

"Your dog is fine," Anton said, bringing the dog, which was also bound, in front of John Wick. Smiling, he continued, "But I can't guarantee it will live longer than you. In the East, there's a dish called dog meat hotpot. It's spicy but not overwhelming, numb but not harsh, with a rich flavor that you never tire of. I wouldn't mind letting you try it before you die."

John Wick's face twitched.

"The Continental Hotel."

Seeing that Anton wasn't bluffing, he no longer acted tough. "I'm from the Continental Hotel. There's no direct contact between assassins and employers, so I don't know who hired me to kill you."

Anton pressed, "You may not know, but someone does."

"The one who oversees everything at the Continental is Winston. He controls all the assassins, and he assigns the contracts."

Since his cover was blown, John Wick stopped hiding the truth.

Besides, his identity wasn't a secret in New York; many gang figures knew him.

Anyone could find out he was from the Continental just by looking at him.

John Wick felt unlucky.

He wasn't afraid of death, but he desperately wanted to save this dog.

This dog had been given to him by his fiancée! You could even call it a token of love.

"The Continental Hotel, John Wick…"

Anton immediately associated the person before him with the dog.

What kind of strange mix-up was happening in this world?

He doesn't even look like Keanu Reeves.

As he pondered what to do with John Wick, he felt uncertain.

Love the job, live the job.

If he weren't in the role of Batman right now, he'd kill John Wick without hesitation—even the dog wouldn't be spared.

However, wearing Batman's armor, he had to play the part well.

The no-kill rule.

That's Batman's most defining trait.

Stopping violence with violence is very different from stopping it with death.

If Anton was to play Batman, he had to respect Bruce Wayne's principles.

The no-kill rule was the core of Batman's character.

Some say a Batman who kills is no different from the Joker.

Anton didn't entirely agree but admitted there was truth to it.

After all, with Bruce Wayne's years of training, becoming the Joker would be too easy.

These extremes were thought-provoking.

Seeing the armored man in deep thought, John Wick gradually calmed down, silently waiting for his final fate.

Bang!

Suddenly, a sharp blow struck him, and he passed out again.

This time, when John Wick opened his eyes, he found himself in the same place, still bound.

His dog was also tied up nearby, snoring softly.

He felt slightly relieved.

In front of him, the armored man was gone, and a young man and an old man were conversing.

John Wick immediately recognized the man as the famous director, his target.

"He came to kill you?"

J. Jonah Jameson's face darkened. His years of experience and keen intuition quickly pointed to the mastermind.

"Life Foundation!"

Jameson gritted his teeth with rage. "I underestimated them, Anton. Lay low for a few days, and I'll make them pay."

"No need," Anton said with a smile. "I'll handle it. All you need to do is clean up afterward."

"Clean up?"

Jameson was surprised, sizing up Anton. "What can you do?"

"If I couldn't do anything, do you think this man would be here, captured?" Anton countered. "John Wick, the King of Assassins in New York—do you think he's just some petty thief?"

"John Wick?"

Jameson was stunned.

He looked at the battered man in front of him. With his bruised and swollen face, he hardly looked like New York's top assassin.

His gaze shifted downward.

"The man may not be impressive, but he keeps a good dog," he finally commented.

"He's yours to handle, however you want," Anton said. "Old man, after midnight, notify the NYPD to come clean up Wall Street in the Financial District."

"The Continental?"

Jameson, who had deep connections in New York, was more familiar with this place than anyone.

Hearing the address, his pupils contracted, and he turned to stare at Anton.

"You're going to mess with the Continental?"

"As you can see, yes," Anton replied, meeting his gaze.

"Anton, the Continental has never been the issue. Behind it is the High Table. The High Table isn't our enemy—or anyone's. They only respect the rules."

Jameson stressed, "Remember, our enemy is Life Foundation."

Even though there was no proof that the Continental's contract came from Life Foundation, Jameson didn't need verification.

"You're right. The Continental isn't my enemy. But since they took on a job they couldn't complete, they'll have to pay for it."

Anton hinted, "Besides, I'm not going there for the Continental."

Jameson frowned.

He vaguely understood Anton's point.

However, he still couldn't figure out where Anton's absolute confidence came from.

He opened his mouth but ultimately said nothing.

Watching Anton leave the basement, he saw him get into John Wick's Mustang through the monitor and sighed, realizing his grandson had truly grown up.

Vroom!

The 1969 Ford Mustang drove away from the villa.

Jameson turned his attention back to John Wick, contemplating.

"The King of Assassins in New York, John Wick, I've heard a lot about you."

Jameson stroked his chin.

He pulled out an old-fashioned revolver, pointing it at John Wick's head.

John Wick looked calmly at the barrel.

"I heard you were planning to retire. Interested in a new job?"

Suddenly, Jameson's eyes lit up as he lowered the gun and said, "If Anton can take down the Continental, you'll stay and work for me. If he can't, I'll kill you."

It was an unfair deal.

John Wick had no choice, but he could feel Jameson's intense confidence.

"Why?"

John Wick looked at Jameson, puzzled. "If he only has the skills he just showed, he has no chance against the Continental."

"He's my grandson."

Jameson revealed, "My grandson has grown up. So, I trust him."