The meeting place was exactly what you'd expect if a bunch of ninja assassins ordered interior design from the "Doom Fortress & Sons" catalog.
Stone walls. Torches flickering like they were trying too hard. Some kind of waterfall flowing behind a paper screen. And incense—so much incense it smelled like a dragon farted in a Buddhist temple.
Leonardo strutted in behind Don Salvatore like a peacock in a mafia parade, flanked by a small army of Salvatore goons. These guys had names like Tony Two-Thumbs, Vinnie No-Eyes, and a dude just called "Meatball."
Leonardo leaned over to one of them. "Ten bucks says someone here tries to kill us."
The guy just grunted. Classic Meatball.
From the shadows emerged figures clad in red robes—faces masked, movements silent. The Hand. In the flesh.
The lead ninja stepped forward and bowed, speaking in a voice that sounded like he gargled gravel for breakfast.
"We thank the House of Giovanna for honoring the pact."
Don Salvatore stepped up with the confidence of a man who'd slapped death in the face and billed him for dry cleaning. "You pay, we deliver. End of story."
Leonardo, meanwhile, was scanning the room like an anime protagonist who could feel a boss fight loading. Something was off. His ears twitched. His sixth sense—or maybe it was just genre awareness—screamed: This is a trap card.
And then it happened.
Boom.
A ripple of black mist surged through the air like a demonic fog machine cranked to max. Out of it stepped five figures cloaked in shadowy, rune-lined robes—wands raised, eyes glowing with unholy energy.
One of the ninjas barely had time to scream before his chest exploded into ash and flame.
"Ohhh... no no no. This isn't just ninjas and mafias anymore," Leonardo whispered, ducking behind a stone pillar.
One of the attackers snarled something in ancient Latin before sending a bolt of green energy through Vinnie No-Eyes, who disintegrated like a discount Voldemort stunt double.
Leonardo's eyes widened. "Wait. Was that—? Nah. No way. That was definitely an Avada Kedavra. What kind of crossover episode is this?!"
Don Salvatore was shouting orders, guns were blazing, but bullets were barely slowing the attackers down. One of them deflected a bullet mid-air with a flick of his wand and melted a guy's face with purple fire.
Leonardo ducked again. "Okay, okay, think. Think! This ain't normal magic. This ain't David Blaine pulling a coin outta someone's ear. This is dark magic. Wizard war crime tier."
He peeked around the corner just as a wall exploded, showering him with debris. Another ninja dropped dead, throat slashed by a glowing, cursed blade.
The attackers were organized, fast, and brutal. This wasn't random.
Leonardo's eyes narrowed.
"These guys aren't just dark wizards. This smells like... a hit. A hit on both sides."
He caught a glimpse of a symbol glowing faintly on one of the attackers' cloaks—a serpent wrapped around a black phoenix, etched in silver.
It pulsed. Familiar. Wrong. Powerful.
His mind clicked. His jaw dropped.
"No. Freakin'. Way."
He spun back to face you.
"Yes, you again. I know I said this was gonna be weird, but we just took a sharp left turn into Dark Wizard Illuminati Territory. That symbol? I've seen it. In the books. You know, the ones about the guy with glasses and unresolved trauma."
A fireball exploded near him, and he yelped, scrambling into cover.
"Okay! No time for lore dumps! TL;DR: There's a group of wizards out there who followed a certain slick-haired megalomaniac who wanted to 'liberate magic'—by killing muggles, wizards, and apparently ninja crime syndicates. Cool. Coolcoolcool. I'm in a Marvel x Wizarding War AU with trigger-happy magic racists. Great."
He reached for a pistol one of the goons dropped. Not exactly a wand, but hey—when in Rome, shoot the Death Eaters.
A masked attacker came charging at him, wand raised.
Leonardo smirked, took aim, and blam—one shot through the knee.
"Not today, Voldy simp."
He ducked again as two more spells flew past.
"I am way too handsome to die in a side quest," he muttered.
Don Salvatore was fighting tooth and nail, flanked by the last of his men. They were holding their own, but it wouldn't last. Not against magic users like this.
Leonardo's eyes scanned the battlefield. Then his mind clicked again.
"The crates! The opium crates! Maybe I can set them on fire, cause a distraction—classic anime escape tactic!"
He bolted across the hall, dodging spells like a bullet-dodging Italian Spider-Man. He found the fuse, yanked a lighter from a corpse, and lit the trail.
BOOM.
The explosion rocked the compound, engulfing the crates and part of the wall. Smoke filled the room. Screams echoed. Confusion spread like a virus.
Leonardo grabbed his stunned uncle. "Time to go, old man!"
They bolted through the smoke, slipping out a side tunnel just as more spells began tearing through the burning wreckage behind them.
As they escaped into the cold night, Leonardo collapsed on the ground, chest heaving, bloodied but alive.
Don Salvatore looked at him, breathless. "You're insane."
Leonardo grinned, coughing. "Yeah, but I'm genre-savvy insane."
He looked up at the moon and whispered, "Magic, ninjas, mafia... All I need now is a talking owl and a post-credit scene."
He smirked at the sky.
"This is gonna be fun."