The 21st Precinct, the very station where Detective Sergeant Jack operated, was about to become the epicenter of a massive internal investigation. The Precinct Chief—the same man who had summarily dismissed Jack's plea for assistance and enforced the city-wide stand-down order—was now Jack's primary target.
Leveraging the sheer, unprecedented success of a single night's work—the decisive elimination and "capture" of both Hammerhead and Tombstone—Jack and his powerful contacts were preparing to strike.
Jack knew that with his uncle's backing and the undeniable evidence of collusion implied by the Chief's actions (sealing the precinct while two major crime bosses operated freely), he was poised to leapfrog years of bureaucracy.
If he played his cards right, he might not just get a promotion; he could genuinely become the new Precinct Chief of the 21st, a hero representing the 'clean' face of the NYPD.
The person behind the Chief—the high-ranking official who issued the stand-down—was too politically entrenched to be brought down in one swoop. But Jack was thinking three steps ahead.
That higher power, realizing their pawn had failed and their operation was exposed, would likely abandon the disgraced Chief and, in a twisted act of self-preservation, might even offer Jack a temporary push as a show of "goodwill" and an attempt to control the emerging narrative.
Jack finished his cryptic communication. He had been speaking into the phone using a series of clipped, almost musical tonal shifts and seemingly random numerical groupings. The entire conversation was incomprehensible, devoid of any discernible linguistic structure.
"Boss, that was definitely some kind of cipher or pre-arranged code," Yuriko whispered to Huang Wen, her eyes narrowed. The sound had triggered faint, uncomfortable memories of structured, military communication she had been subjected to long ago.
"Code words, huh?" Huang Wen raised a slight eyebrow. Jack was proving to be a far more complex character than just a cop with a well-connected uncle. Ordinary family favors didn't require that level of secure, non-verbal communication.
He quickly dismissed the thought. Now was not the time for investigation; it was time for celebration.
"Alright, everyone listen up! You all worked hard today," Huang Wen announced, his voice carrying an infectious cheer. He looked at the group of students—they were physically drained, slightly bruised, but their faces were alight with raw, unrestrained exhilaration. "This calls for a proper Chinese celebration! My treat. We're heading straight to the best hot pot restaurant in the city for a feast!"
"YES!" The students erupted in a unified roar of approval.
Though the fight had been swift and under control, it had been a genuine trial by fire. Their confidence had soared, proving that the countless hours spent sweating in the martial arts school weren't just for exercise, but had real-world, life-saving application. They felt invincible. They felt useful.
"Ring! Ring!"
The collective joy shattered instantly as a generic, tinny cell phone ringtone pierced the air. Max, who had been laughing the hardest, his face flushed with the pride of contribution, instantly wilted. His shoulders slumped, and a familiar look of dread—the look of a bullied employee—returned. He fumbled nervously, picking up the call.
"Hey, it's you. There's a crucial circuit failure here at the office. The server room is going dark. Drop whatever garbage you're doing and get over here right now to fix it," a haughty, utterly disrespectful voice barked through the phone, the noise loud enough for everyone close to hear.
Max's face turned from bright red to an ashy white. The excitement was drained, replaced by the crushing reality of his miserable, demanding job. He tried to speak, but his voice hitched.
"Give it to me, Max." Jack's voice was suddenly cold, all the celebratory joviality gone. He placed a firm, reassuring hand on Max's shoulder, a gesture that was both protective and commanding. Max, conditioned to obey authority, handed the phone over instinctively, barely comprehending.
"Hello? I assume I am speaking to Max's supervisor?" Jack asked, his tone polite, but with an underlying edge of steel that made the supervisor's annoyed voice pause.
"I am his supervisor, yes. And who the hell are you to interrupt my work call?" came the annoyed, arrogant voice from the other end.
"Oh, this is Detective Sergeant Jack from the New York Police Department, 21st Precinct," Jack stated smoothly, his expression softening only for Max, whom he gave a reassuring wink.
"Max has just finished assisting in a major crime operation. He displayed remarkable bravery and is currently cooperating with our follow-up investigation. Your company will absolutely need to find someone else to handle your little circuit problem tonight."
Jack paused for dramatic effect, then delivered the final, career-defining blow. "By the way, in a couple of days, we will be coming to your company's headquarters to formally present him with a Medal for Exceptional Bravery and Service to the City. Please ensure your corporate media team and leadership are prepared to arrange the appropriate coordination and publicity for this significant public event."
There was a moment of stunned, absolute silence on the other end of the line. Then, the supervisor's voice returned, transformed. It was fawning, excited, and entirely opportunistic.
"R-really?! Of course! Officer, that is fantastic news! Our company will arrange everything right away! Max, he's always been such an outstanding, dedicated employee of the month for us, you see…"
"Good. I have urgent matters to attend to. You should be able to catch the initial news reports about the massive organized crime bust soon enough," Jack said casually, before hanging up without waiting for a reply.
He handed the phone back to Max, who stared at it like it was a live grenade.
"Jack, wait… won't this entire story… get exposed? I didn't exactly call the police, and I certainly don't deserve a medal!" Max whispered, shaking slightly.
Jack threw his head back and laughed—a genuine, roaring sound of approval. "Who is going to contradict the official police narrative, Max? Isn't this the truth?" He gestured around at the gathered students and the piles of unconscious gangsters.
"The Hammerhead and Tombstone gangs were indeed meeting here tonight, planning illegal activities, and you, Max, were right here, you did stumble upon them. You cooperated with our ongoing, secret investigation, allowing us to complete this massive operation. Did you not just fight? Did you not just put those thugs down?"
"That's right, Max! You were hitting them just as hard as the rest of us! No holding back!" Zhong Qiang shouted, slapping Max on the back.
"Yeah, man! You were absolutely terrifying! Nothing like the scared guy who showed up here six months ago!" another trainee agreed cheerfully.
Max looked at the genuinely smiling, proud faces of his classmates, then down at the phone in his hand, which represented his old life of servitude and disrespect. He looked at Jack, the high-ranking cop who had just protected him and given him an unearned, brilliant future.
Suddenly, a massive, overwhelming wave of warmth surged up from his core, washing away years of quiet humiliation. His vision blurred, and his eyes immediately reddened. He quickly wiped his tears away, looking at Huang Wen, wanting to express the complex, powerful gratitude swirling inside him.
"Don't say anything, Max," Huang Wen said gently, reading the emotion perfectly. He smiled warmly, looking from Max to the rest of the group.
"From this night forward, you are not just classmates. You are comrades-in-arms. In our Chinese culture, you are Tóng Mén, brothers who fought side by side in true battle. Since they, your brothers, say it is the truth—that you earned that medal—then that is the truth! The Wing Chun school stands by its own."
Huang Wen then glanced over at the anxious figure on the rooftop.
"Let's go eat hot pot. We'll leave Bullseye here to keep an eye on things and wait for Jack's people to arrive. He seems perfectly suited for that task, maintaining order in the dark."
"Of course, Master! It would be my honor to… maintain order," Bullseye sputtered, trying to force a smile as he glanced nervously between the still-breathing Risfisk and the deadly-silent Yuriko.
Jack immediately put his arm around Max's shoulder, guiding him toward the promise of warmth and food. The other students gathered around them, a cohesive, laughing unit. After tonight, the bond forged in shared adrenaline and victory was unbreakable.
Max felt an emotion he had never experienced before—the profound joy of belonging, of being protected and valued. His body trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the realization that his life had irrevocably changed.
Meanwhile, on the dark, silent rooftop, Bullseye immediately pulled out his concealed phone, dialing a private, encrypted number.
"Boss, Bullseye reporting. The situation is resolved, though unexpectedly complicated. Hammerhead and Tombstone are confirmed deceased. Mr. Huang Wen's students have contained the remaining forces. He is in full control."
A calm, deep chuckle emanated from the speaker. It was Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin.
"Excellent, Bullseye. This outcome truly exceeds my expectations. With those two troublesome rivals removed from the equation, all I need to do is manage the disruptive element that is Mr. Negative, and I will have near-complete, unified control over the entire New York City criminal underworld." Fisk's voice was relaxed, almost celebratory. "The first major stage of my grand plan will be complete."
Bullseye swallowed hard, glancing at the now-empty street corner where the fight had occurred. "Boss, there is something vital I must emphasize. Mr. Huang Wen's personal power and, more importantly, his influence, far exceed our previous estimations. He literally plucked all metal weapons from the air, and he has rapidly established a highly reliable, high-ranking information and protection network, now including the NYPD."
"You refer to Sergeant Jack, do you not? The young man whose uncle is the First Deputy Commissioner?" Kingpin mused, clearly already aware of the key information. "I haven't managed to fully map his entire family's reach yet, but I assure you, it doesn't matter."
Bullseye pressed the issue, his duty overriding his fear. "Boss, he is slipping far outside the constraints of the arrangement. He could become an uncontrolled variable, especially since he now has channels of information outside of our own organization."
Kingpin paused, the calm silence more menacing than any threat.
"Bullseye, I never once harbored the delusion that I could control Mr. Huang Wen," Kingpin finally stated, his voice laced with the cold logic that governed his empire.
"The relationship between Rhys and Mr. Huang Wen is genuine: that of a student and a teacher. It has already benefited me tremendously, unintentionally. The stronger he becomes, the more stable my son's protection. Why would I worry? We have no conflict of interest."
He continued, his words slow and perfectly weighted. "Mr. Huang Wen may not enjoy dealing with me directly, but he is a pragmatist. He understands better than anyone that a unified, organized underworld is infinitely preferable to a chaotic, bloody, and unpredictable dark world. His school, his home, his Chinatown—it is all safer under a single, strong hand, even if that hand is mine. For now, he is a beneficial force of nature, steered by the invisible hand of my son's relationship with him."
"Okay, Boss. I believe… I understand the strategy," Bullseye conceded, a reluctant admission of Kingpin's foresight. He took a deep breath, replacing his fear with cold professionalism, and ended the call.
Bullseye remained alone on the rooftop, keeping vigil over the defeated armies. He knew Kingpin was playing a dangerous, long-term game, allowing an unchecked, incredibly powerful force to grow in his city simply because that force happened to protect his son. But what happens, Bullseye thought, when the Teacher eventually decides he no longer needs the Kingpin's cooperation?
The streets below remained silent, the only sound the distant siren of Jack's approaching tactical team, ready to claim the spoils of a battle they hadn't fought.