The giant's shadow fell across John Wick's face as he spoke, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the library stacks.
"You look weak, John."
John met Ernest's gaze without flinching. "It's not time yet, Ernest."
"Close enough." Ernest's lips twisted into something approximating a smile. "Who's to say when you'll drop dead anyway?"
John's expression hardened. "Are you certain you want to do this?"
Greed flickered in Ernest's eyes as he lifted his chin. "Twenty million dollars. That's a lot of money."
"You have to live long enough to spend it first," John said quietly.
What Ernest didn't realize was that his every word had been overheard by Smith Doyle and Fox, positioned in the shadows between the shelves. A simple report to Winston would be enough, the Continental would handle the rest.
Ernest's hand moved. Steel flashed as he drew a dagger from inside his coat and lunged.
John seized a hardcover from the nearest shelf, swinging it up to deflect the blade. The two men collided in the narrow aisle, their struggle sending books tumbling to the floor. Ernest's dagger found its mark, biting into John's shoulder. Blood soaked through the fabric of his suit, but John managed to knock the weapon away with a vicious strike.
Ernest didn't need the blade. With his superior height and reach, he clamped one massive hand around John's skull and raised a finger to his lips in a mockery of silence.
Then he drove John's head into the bookshelves.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Each impact sent tremors through the wooden frames. Ernest followed up with a brutal kick that launched John through the end of the aisle and into the corridor beyond.
John hit the floor hard, shoulder screaming. Through blurred vision, he spotted Smith Doyle and Fox observing from the sidelines, spectators to his struggle. No surprise there. He grabbed a fallen book and, as Ernest closed in, drove it upward between the giant's legs.
Ernest's knees buckled. John didn't hesitate. He swung the book like a hammer into Ernest's exposed throat.
Smith watched the giant collapse, his lips curling slightly. Always the throat or the groin. Killers never fight fair.
His scouter flickered with data. Ernest had registered a combat power of 6, equal to John's rating, with the added advantage of size and weight. But John Wick hadn't survived this long by fighting honorably. One precise strike to the throat, and Ernest crumpled.
John stood over the body for a moment, then carefully returned the book to its shelf. His hand went to his shoulder, coming away slick with blood.
Smith stepped forward. "Keep moving. This is part of the observation."
John nodded once. He understood. Smith wasn't here for the bounty, not when he and Fox guarding the Dragon Balls. Money meant nothing when you could wish for anything. John had more immediate concerns.
He ran.
His hand pressed against the wound as he burst from the library into the night air. The Fraternity facility was too far. He needed medical attention now, or blood loss would finish what Ernest had started.
Fox raised her phone, capturing an image of Ernest's corpse. She typed a brief message to Winston: Someone jumped the gun.
The response came almost instantly: "FK!"
Within minutes, every registered killer in New York received an update. The photo of Ernest's body carried a simple caption: This is what happens when you break Continental rules.
Ten minutes remained until John Wick's official excommunication.
In the Bowery, the underground king lounged in his throne of salvaged materials and spoke to his lieutenant, Olla.
"Spread the word. The Bowery respects the High Table's decision. No aid. No service. Nothing for John Wick."
Smith and Fox trailed John through the darkening streets of Chinatown. John hammered on a nondescript door with his good hand.
"Doctor! Doctor, it's Wick!"
A small panel slid open. The doctor's eye appeared, widening when he recognized his visitor.
"Mr. Wick, no. You shouldn't be here. Time's almost up."
"I know." John's voice cracked with urgency. "Please. There's still time."
"I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't, "
John thrust a gold coin through the opening, holding it where the doctor could see. "Five minutes. Please."
The doctor's fingers closed around the coin. The door opened.
"Get in. Quickly."
As John stumbled inside, the doctor leaned out to check the corridor, and froze when he spotted Smith Doyle and Fox standing in plain sight.
Smith smiled pleasantly. "Five minutes left. Do your work, doctor."
Then he and Fox walked into the room and closed the door behind them.
The doctor looked ready to faint.
"They won't hurt me," John said quickly. "Just hurry."
The doctor snapped back to reality, gesturing frantically to his workbench. "Sit. Now."
John stripped off his jacket, revealing the gore-soaked shirt beneath. The doctor sucked air through his teeth.
"Let me see." He grabbed hemostatic gauze and began cleaning the wound. "Stab wound. Deep. Might have nicked an artery. You need stitches."
His hands moved with practiced efficiency, threading the needle. John's eyes locked on the clock mounted above the workbench, watching the second hand sweep toward the hour.
"How long?" John asked.
"Almost done. Halfway there."
"Five seconds."
John began counting aloud. "Five... four... three... two... one."
The clock struck nine. The bell tolled.
The doctor set down his instruments. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wick. I can no longer serve you."
"I understand." John's voice was flat. "Rules."
"Rules," the doctor echoed. He turned to Smith and Fox, hands raised. "I didn't break any rules. I stopped exactly on time."
Smith nodded. "Very punctual."
Excommunicado. Effective immediately. Every organization and individual under the High Table's jurisdiction was now forbidden from providing John Wick with any service whatsoever.
John didn't ask Smith or Fox for help. He moved to the mirror and, with steady hands despite the pain, began finishing the stitches himself.
At the Continental Hotel, screens flickered to life in the Information Processing Center. A new contract populated every registered killer's device simultaneously.
TARGET: John Wick + Two Dragon Balls (one-star & four-star, images attached)
BOUNTY: $20,000,000 USD
John Wick: $16,000,000
Each Dragon Ball: $2,000,000
ASSIGNMENT: Global
LAST KNOWN LOCATION: Chinatown, New York
STATUS: Excommunicado bounty now active.