Meanwhile…
Russian Mob – Headquarters
Viggo had just received a report from his subordinates: the team sent to deal with Smith Doyle had gone completely missing.
Shaking his head in disappointment, he muttered that the mission had clearly failed again.
Things really hadn't been going his way lately. His attempts to take down John Wick had all failed one after another: first, the infiltration team was wiped out; then, nearly thirty men were killed at the Red Circle club; then, their Little Russia church stronghold was uprooted, resulting in nearly fifty more deaths; after that, a warehouse full of guards meant to protect his son was taken out. And now, another twelve men ambushed while trying to kill Smith Doyle were lost.
All this chaos—because of a damn car and a dog—had cost his Russian mob over a hundred men. These weren't just random street thugs, either. They were trained operatives, professionals with assault rifles.
At that moment, the legal advisor, Ivy, turned to Viggo and asked:
"Boss, what's the plan now?"
Instead of replying, Viggo looked toward his brother, Abram Tarasov, and asked:
"Abram, did you bring all your men?"
Abram nodded and replied:
"All my shooters are downstairs. But I thought the issue with John Wick was settled?"
Abram was still deeply afraid of the assassin known as Baba Yaga. He knew all too well what the man was capable of. If it weren't for the serious losses his brother had taken, he wouldn't have sent any of his men.
Hearing John Wick's name, Viggo took a deep breath and said:
"This time, the enemy isn't John Wick."
"I've made peace with him. The one we're dealing with now is Smith Doyle."
"But with John Wick…"
Viggo sighed. He had originally planned to kill Marcus, the traitor, while having his men take care of Smith Doyle. Then, after stabilizing the mob's operations, he could disappear for a while.
But his mistake was making a taunting phone call to John Wick after killing Marcus. It would've been fine if he'd just left New York. But now, with Smith Doyle still alive, there was a good chance Wick would get involved again.
Abram frowned and asked:
"But didn't you already reconcile with him?"
"You even withdrew the bounty."
Viggo gave a brief explanation about the Marcus situation, then turned to another high-ranking member of the Russian mob, Ario.
"Ario, how many men did you bring?"
Ario quickly replied:
"I'm in charge of handling stolen cars, so I don't have many fighters. Only about ten men, they're already outside."
Viggo nodded, not surprised by the answer.
…
While Viggo was organizing his forces to take down Smith Doyle once and for all…
Smith Doyle had already arrived outside the Russian Mob's headquarters, a private club that wasn't open to the public. It was a large compound.
Seeing four security guards at the entrance, Smith walked right up to them.
"Sir, this is a private—"
Before they could finish, Smith pulled out his pistol and shot each of them in the head.
The sudden attack left them no time to react—they didn't even draw their weapons before dropping dead.
The noise drew the attention of those inside. Without hesitation, Smith pushed through the doors and entered the main hall, immediately opening fire on the guards inside.
Bullets flew at deadly angles—each shot taking a life.
His dual pistols fired rapidly, half the rounds spent within moments. Every guard in the hall was killed on sight.
The first two dropped instantly, and before the others could react, they too were gunned down. One man managed to draw his weapon but didn't even get to pull the trigger.
With the hall cleared, Smith charged upstairs.
…
Upstairs, several large Russian men were hanging out, micro SMGs slung over their shoulders and vodka in hand.
One of them took a swig and said:
"Ivanov, doesn't it seem weird? A bunch of guys showed up today."
"The boss made peace with the Boogeyman, but he lost a lot of men. Maybe he's gonna use other gangs to make a statement."
Ivanov gripped his weapon and said:
"Sergey, we might be moving soon. Go easy on the booze."
"I'm afraid you won't be able to pull the trigger when it matters."
Just as Ivanov was about to respond, the club's alarm system blared.
"Intruder alert. All security to the second floor!"
The men immediately set down their bottles and rushed out with weapons drawn.
The security control room had spotted the massacre downstairs and triggered the alert.
Smith Doyle, now climbing the stairs to the second floor, wasn't surprised. If the carnage downstairs hadn't been noticed by now, Viggo wouldn't have made it this far in life.
At the second-floor entrance, four gunmen were already in position, safeties off, ready to fire as soon as they saw movement.
Smith didn't charge in. Instead, he tossed two bullets in an arc that struck down two guards instantly.
Bang! Bang!*
Then he dashed forward, gunning down enemies in the hallway.
Bang! Bang! Bang!*
Each bullet claimed a life, but more enemies poured out of rooms. They opened fire from multiple angles, but Smith's deadly accuracy kept them pinned down.
Soon, however, his pistols clicked empty.
Click. Click.*
A burly man hiding at the third-floor stairwell shouted:
"He's out of ammo—go!"
Smith smirked in disdain. Ammo or not, they weren't ready for him.
Instead of reloading, he threw both pistols like missiles, knocking the first man flat with a brutal impact.
Three more enemies rushed out, two of them immediately opening fire with SMGs.
Ratatatat!*
Smith didn't dodge. Instead, he pulled a machete from behind his waist and charged.
Clang! Clang! Clang! *
He slashed bullets out of the air, and with a single stroke, decapitated two enemies.
...
(End of chapter)
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