New York – Russian Mob Headquarters.
Viggo Tarasov stared grimly at the video his men had sent him. His expression darkened to the extreme. He hadn't expected that, in addition to Smith Dole interfering with the John Wick situation, even Marcus—the assassin he'd hired—would betray him.
Marcus was a registered assassin at the Continental and one of Viggo's own subordinates.
Their relationship resembled that of Viggo and John Wick before Wick retired. Though a subordinate, all assassination contracts had to abide by Continental rules.
When issuing the bounty on John Wick, Viggo had first contacted Marcus to handle it, offering $4 million for the job.
He had assumed the mission failed either due to a lack of opportunity or a failed attempt.
But betrayal?
That was intolerable.
"Damn Marcus. I'll make him understand what betrayal costs."
At once, he sent orders to track Marcus's movements.
Upon learning Marcus was heading home, Viggo ordered his men to intercept—and planned to deal with the traitor personally.
Just then, Viggo's phone rang. He answered immediately.
"We've tracked Smith Dole. He's driving toward the suburbs."
"Take him out."
······
Meanwhile.
Fox was driving Smith toward the textile mill. They stopped at a T-junction red light.
"Smith, is this the final trial?"
Smith, in the passenger seat, nodded.
"Cross messaged me. The final mission has been selected. I need to go pick up the intel."
Fox's eyes lit up.
"Then if you finish this one, you'll officially become the Assassins' Brotherhood's sole God—G.O.D.!"
Smith smiled.
"Eighteen years of effort… about to pay off."
Just as they were chatting, a black SUV came barreling from the side and rammed into them. In a flash, Smith pulled Fox toward him, minimizing the damage.
Boom!
The impact slammed their car into the roadside.
The sudden collision left Fox dazed, her head spinning. Instinctively, she reached for her pistol to aim at the attacking driver—but before she could, two more SUVs struck from the front and rear. The violent hits caused her weapon to fall from her grasp.
Then, armed men leaned out of the three SUVs, SMGs aimed to unload into the car.
At that critical moment, Smith kicked the crumpled door off its hinges and dragged Fox out of the vehicle.
Ratatatatat!
A hail of bullets tore through the front seats, shredding what was left of the car.
Smith pulled Fox behind the wheel area, shielding her from gunfire.
"I'll handle them."
As he spoke, Fox reached toward the glove compartment, grabbing another weapon.
Smith sprang from cover and leaped to the side of the first SUV, slamming a foot into its B-pillar.
BOOM!
With a crunching roar, the SUV flipped violently, rolling three times before crashing down. The attackers inside were thrown senseless.
The gunmen in the other vehicles instantly turned their weapons on Smith, opening fire.
In response, Smith pulled a short blade from his system's inventory—then slashed at the incoming bullets.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Each bullet was cleaved mid-air and dropped harmlessly to the ground.
The gunmen froze, dumbfounded.
"He's a monster! Run! Start the car!"
Just as they panicked and tried to flee, Fox stood up, dual-wielding pistols, and opened fire.
Ratatatatat!
Each shot landed cleanly—headshots. The attackers dropped on the spot.
She didn't spare the drivers either—one bullet for each.
Meanwhile, from the overturned SUV, a few survivors managed to crawl out. Of the original crew, only three were still alive.
Smith lunged toward them, grabbing one by the neck and lifting him off the ground.
"Who sent you?"
Cough cough
The man's face turned beet red under the pressure, unable to answer. Smith twisted his neck and threw the lifeless body aside.
Then he turned to another survivor.
"Who do you work for?"
One of the remaining men bolted.
Bang!
A shot rang out. Fox hit him in the back of the head. He dropped instantly.
Now only one was left alive. Trembling, he confessed:
"We're with the Russian Mob! Viggo's men!"
Smith's blade flashed, cleanly severing the man's head.
"Viggo… seems you've chosen death."
Fox staggered over, leaning against Smith.
"Damn John Wick. Now we're stuck cleaning up his mess."
Smith wrapped an arm around her, clearly aware the crashes had injured her. If not for the car's quality and his quick reaction, she could've died.
He pulled out his phone and called the Brotherhood.
"Cleaner crew, Klein Avenue junction. 12 bodies. Three vehicles."
"Make it disappear."
After hanging up, he carried Fox to one of the attackers' SUVs, tossed out the corpse inside, settled Fox into the passenger seat, and drove off toward the textile mill.
As for the Russian Mob?
It no longer had a place in New York.
Viggo would die. And the entire Russian Mob would be eradicated.
······
Elsewhere.
The gates of the Brotherhood's textile mill opened. Cleaners and their team boarded garbage trucks and drove toward Klein Avenue.
Their mission: clear the scene before the police arrived.
(End of Chapter)
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