Fox studied John Wick from across the bar, her trained eye picking up details. "If I'm not mistaken, that scar on his face is from a real injury. Recent, too."
She took a sip of her drink. "Doesn't seem that impressive for someone they called the Baba Yaga. He came to the Continental after getting hurt, so maybe he's planning to recuperate?" She glanced at Smith with a slight smirk. "If that's the case, I wouldn't mind collecting that four-million-dollar bounty. Easy money."
Smith reached over and squeezed her hand gently. "You're getting ahead of yourself again. The fun hasn't even started yet."
Fox rolled her eyes but settled back to watch.
At the bar, Eddie was preparing John's drink. He poured the whiskey with practiced precision, then picked up a napkin. With a subtle motion, he pressed it against his lips, leaving a faint lipstick mark on the white paper. Beneath the mark, he scribbled an address.
Eddie slid the glass and napkin across to John. "Compliments of the house."
John glanced at the napkin, reading the address, then looked past Eddie to where Winston sat in his booth. The manager raised his glass in a silent toast.
John nodded his thanks. The first piece of information acquired. But he needed more.
He pulled out his phone and a gold coin, setting both on the bar. On his phone screen was a photo of the Dragon Ball, the one-star ball clearly visible.
"I need information about this item," John said quietly. "Or anything similar to it."
He pushed the gold coin toward Eddie.
Eddie picked up the phone, examining the image. His eyebrows rose slightly. "Well, this is interesting timing."
John's expression sharpened. "You know something."
"Funny thing," Eddie said, pocketing the coin. "If you'd asked me yesterday, I'd have nothing for you. But just today, someone put out a request about this exact thing. Said if anyone came looking for information about these crystal ball, they should talk to him directly."
John felt his pulse quicken. "Who?"
Eddie gestured toward the booth where Smith and Fox sat. "He's here right now. The young guy over there."
John stared in that direction, his mind racing. This wasn't what he'd expected. He'd thought the Continental might have some obscure legend in their archives, some dusty record of mystical artifacts. He hadn't expected someone to be actively looking for the Dragon Balls.
Which meant someone else knew what they were. Knew what they could do.
John grabbed his phone and headed toward Smith's booth.
Fox nudged Smith with her elbow, a grin on her face. "Four million dollars is walking our way."
Smith smiled, completely unconcerned. Money meant little to the Fraternity. The organization had existed for over a thousand years, accumulating wealth and resources that dwarfed most countries' treasuries. America itself was only a little over two hundred years old. The Fraternity had been hunting targets since before Columbus sailed.
John Wick reached their table and set his phone down, the Dragon Ball photo facing them. "Eddie said if I wanted to know about this, I should talk to you."
Fox glanced at the phone, then looked at Smith with curiosity. She had no idea what the crystal sphere was or why it mattered.
Smith picked up the phone, studying the image with a knowing smile. "It seems you've been lucky enough to find one of the Dragon Balls."
John sat down abruptly, the casual statement hitting him like a physical blow. His voice came out tight, urgent. "Is it real? The legend? All of it?"
Smith's smile didn't waver. "It's real."
John closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. When he opened them again, his jaw was set with determination. "Thank you for confirming that."
He paused, then continued. "I don't think I got your name. I'm Jonathan Wick. Most people call me John."
"Smith Doyle," Smith replied, gesturing to his companion. "This is Fox."
John leaned forward, choosing his words carefully. "Mr. Smith, how much do you know about these Dragon Balls? Do you have any of them yourself?" His hands clasped together on the table. "If you do, what would it cost me to acquire them? Name your price. Anything."
Smith's expression became more serious. He studied John for a long moment before speaking. "We're from the Fraternity. These Dragon Balls are sacred objects that we've been tasked to guard."
He glanced around the bar meaningfully. "This isn't the place to discuss this in detail. Besides, you have more pressing matters to handle first." Smith gestured to John's phone, to the address Eddie had given him. "But understand this, John Wick. You're now under our observation."
John opened his mouth to respond, then stopped. Several seconds of silence passed as he processed this information. Finally, he spoke. "You're right. I do have something to take care of first. When can we talk about the Dragon Balls? About how to find the rest?"
"When you're finished with your business," Smith said. "When everything is settled. Come to room 819 at the Continental Hotel. We'll discuss everything then."
John nodded and stood. "I'll be there."
He turned and walked out of the bar, his stride purposeful. He had a spoiled mob boss's son to find.
Fox watched John leave, then turned to Smith with barely contained curiosity. "What was that about? What's a Dragon Ball?"
"And why did you tell him they're our sacred objects?" She lowered her voice. "What exactly are we supposed to be observing?"
Smith stood up, stretching. "I'll explain everything later. For now, we need to follow him. And Fox?" He looked at her seriously. "Control your expression. Don't look surprised, no matter what you see. Can you do that?"
Fox stood as well, moving close to whisper in his ear. "This better be worth it. There better be a hell of a surprise at the end of this."
She reached out and pinched his side, hard.
Smith winced, half-genuine. "Come on, we need to move or we'll lose him."
"Fine," Fox said, already heading for the exit. "But you're explaining everything later."
John Wick's Car
John drove through New York's streets, his mind working through everything he'd just learned. The Fraternity. He'd heard of them, of course. Everyone in the underworld had. An organization that existed outside the High Table's authority, operating by their own rules. They didn't take contracts. Didn't kill for money. They hunted criminals, pure and simple.
And their members were supposed to be exceptionally dangerous. Elite fighters who could go toe-to-toe with the best assassins in the world.
But John had been retired for five years. His information was outdated. He didn't know what had changed, how the Fraternity operated now, or why they guarded the Dragon Balls.
More importantly, he didn't know why they were observing him.
John's hand moved to his chest, feeling the Dragon Ball through his shirt. The sphere was warm against his skin, almost alive.
He thought of Helen. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she'd looked at him like he was something more than just a killer.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel.
"I'll bring you back, Helen," he whispered. "No matter what it takes. I'll find all seven Dragon Balls and make that wish."
The Red Circle nightclub loomed ahead, neon lights cutting through the darkness.