Soon, the three of them reached the third floor, where everything could be seen clearly.
There was no need to worry about too many things now.
Finn simply opened the curtains, and gusts of fresh air rushed in, giving the sensation of being on top of the world.
It was a wonderful feeling—light, airy—like cotton candy floating in the sky.
"You guys have a good rest. I'll go out and see if there's any other food. I'll bring something back for you," Finn said casually to the two witches.
"Okay, then make sure you choose well. And bring her favorite—big lobster," Wanda added with a teasing smile.
After saying that, Wanda dropped onto the comfortable bed, stretched out like a cat, and closed her eyes slowly. It seemed that today's events had finally worn her out.
"I didn't expect you to be that kind of person. Interesting."
Agatha, the Dark Witch, was stunned for a moment at Wanda's bold tease, but she quickly caught the drift, gave her a meaningful look, and lay down in a similar relaxed fashion.
Watching the two witches settle in, Finn let out a helpless smile and walked out swiftly. He didn't have any real interest in getting food.
That earlier sentence was just an excuse to get away from them.
In reality, he wanted to take advantage of the night to move discreetly. What happened earlier still weighed heavily on him. Maybe Wilson Fisk—Kingpin—had sensed something. Or maybe it was something else entirely.
Either way, it had planted a deep sense of unease in Finn.
"We need to find out tonight. If the other side discovers what we've done, we'll be the ones in trouble."
His voice was hoarse, his tone low and cautious. He quickly disguised himself, leapt from the third floor, and transformed into a cloud of black aura that vanished into the night.
New York City was still lively as ever. Even at night, it was bathed in lights—bright, chaotic, pulsing with energy. Golden hues lit up the skyline, and there wasn't a shred of silence in sight.
It was nothing like the quiet stillness of rural America—or anywhere else.
At that moment...
On top of a tall building in Manhattan...
Finn's figure materialized, surveying the cityscape below. Everything appeared calm at first glance—almost too calm.
But he didn't linger. He moved swiftly toward neighborhoods with higher crime rates—places like Hell's Kitchen, the Bronx, and certain alleyways around Harlem. Dark corners. Black markets. Speakeasies that catered to more than just a drink.
He waited, prowled in the shadows like a predator.
Ten minutes passed.
Nothing.
"Was my intuition wrong?"
Finn frowned, disappointed. He had planned to investigate Kingpin's men tonight, but there was nothing suspicious so far.
But just as he began to question himself—
WEE-OOO!!
A piercing siren echoed through the city. Finn turned in its direction and spotted police vehicles chasing a small black car down the freeway.
Explosions rang out—bright flashes of fire illuminated the night. Civilians scattered, ducking for cover behind cars and dumpsters. Nobody wanted to die in someone else's war—not in a city that had already seen gods fall and aliens invade.
"Looks like I was right after all."
Finn's eyes narrowed. He leapt from the rooftop, transformed into a black blur, and shot toward the source of the chaos.
The car in question was crammed with armed thugs, each one scarred and hard-eyed. They fired recklessly from the windows—pistols, submachine guns, anything they had. They mowed down anything in their path, completely disregarding the people around them.
But then—
BOOM!
An invisible force slammed down onto the car like a massive weight, crushing the roof and disrupting the tires.
The vehicle spun wildly, crashing into a roadside barrier with a deafening rumble.
Smoke poured out of the hood, but miraculously, there was no explosion.
"Sh*t! Did those cops hit us with a freakin' bazooka?! What the hell was that?"
"Shut the hell up and move! If we get caught, the whole op is screwed!"
The criminals bolted from the wreck, ducking into the maze of back alleys nearby while continuing to shoot wildly behind them.
The police tried to follow, but the alleyways were too narrow for the cars, so they poured out and continued on foot.
Meanwhile...
The criminals ducked into a dead end and cursed their luck. They were just about to turn back and look for another route—when they noticed something.
A figure stood at the end of the alley.
They hadn't even heard him arrive.
The dim lighting made it difficult to make out his features, but one of them still shouted—
"Who the hell are you? Get outta here, or I swear I'll put a bullet in your face!"
The man in front of them didn't flinch.
"Are you working for Kingpin?"
Finn's voice was calm—eerily so. He stepped forward without hesitation.
"I said, back the hell off!"
The thug pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The bullet passed right through Finn's body—as if he were smoke.
The wall behind him chipped from the impact. Finn, untouched, continued walking forward.
Closer. And closer.
As the streetlight finally revealed his face, the criminals recoiled.
"What the—?!"
"Shoot him! SHOOT HIM!!"
They unloaded every round they had. Gunfire echoed through the alley, a thunderous roar in the night.
But Finn remained untouched.
He moved like a phantom, blinking in and out of shadows.
By the time they emptied their magazines, Finn stood right in front of them.
Their guns dropped to the ground as terror overtook them.
"Please! Don't kill us!"
Finn ignored their panic.
"Let me ask again—are you working for Kingpin?"
The men exchanged nervous glances before nodding frantically. They knew they'd be dead if they lied.
"Good," Finn said, his voice devoid of warmth. "What has he been planning?"
None of them answered.
Whether out of fear or loyalty, they froze.
Finn's eyes turned icy cold. He reached out and lifted one of the men by the throat. With a subtle squeeze, the man went limp—dead in an instant.
"Still not talking?"
His voice dropped into something even darker.
The remaining thugs collapsed to their knees, horror painted across their faces.
"Alright, alright! I'll talk, just don't kill us!"
"Yeah, we'll tell you everything! Just let us go, please!"
Finn didn't reply.
A black mist curled around his feet, creeping across the concrete like a living shadow.
"Enough stalling. Speak. Now."
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