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Russian Mob Headquarters
Vigo received word from his subordinates that all personnel sent to handle the Smith Doyle incident had lost contact.
He shook his head in frustration. It seemed the mission had failed again.
Lately, his luck had been terrible. Every operation against John Wick had ended in disaster: first, the invasion squad was wiped out; then nearly thirty members of the Red Club were killed; the small Russian church outpost was overrun with fifty casualties; even the men guarding his son's warehouse were wiped out. And now, the twelve men sent to ambush Smith Doyle had also been eliminated.
Because of that crashed car and that dog, Vigo's Russian syndicate had lost hundreds of men—trained soldiers armed with assault rifles, not mere thugs.
At this, legal advisor Ivy asked Vigo:"Boss, what's the next move?"
Vigo didn't answer but instead looked at his brother, Abram Tarasov:"Ah, have all your men been brought here?"
Abram nodded."My crew is downstairs, but isn't John Wick's matter already resolved?"
Abram still feared the assassin known as the "Nightmare," fully aware of the havoc he could wreak.
"If my brother hadn't suffered major losses, I'd never have sent anyone here."
Vigo took a deep breath and said:"This time, our enemy isn't John Wick.""I've reconciled with Wick. This time, the target is Smith Doyle."
"But what about Wick…"
Vigo rubbed his temples. He had initially planned to kill Markus, then let his men deal with Smith Doyle. Once the Russian mob's operation was set, he could lay low. After all, he had provoked Wick with a call during Markus's killing, so leaving New York wasn't a problem.
But now, Smith Doyle's case remained unresolved, and John Wick could still get involved.
Abram looked confused:"But didn't you reconcile?""I saw that you even withdrew the bounty."
Vigo briefly explained Markus's situation, then turned to Ario, another senior member of the Russian mob:"Ario, how many men did you bring?"
Ario quickly reported:"I'm handling the stolen vehicles. Not many can fight or kill. About ten men have gathered outside."
Vigo wasn't surprised by the answer and nodded.
While Vigo arranged his next operation to eliminate Smith Doyle, Smith Doyle had already arrived at the Russian mob headquarters—a large, private club closed to the public.
Seeing four guards at the entrance, Smith walked straight up.
"Sir, this place isn't open to the public."
Smith didn't respond. He drew his pistol and shot each of the four guards in the head.
The sudden attack caught them off guard; they never even drew their weapons before their heads were blown off. The sound of the bodies hitting the floor alerted everyone inside.
Smith didn't hesitate. He pushed open the door and stormed into the main hall, drawing his gun and opening fire on the guards.
Bullets whizzed out at precise angles, each taking a life. Smith's firing rate was blinding; half the bullets from his two guns emptied instantly, killing every guard in the hall.
The first two were dead. The rest hadn't even had time to react when they were killed on the spot. The last one had barely drawn his weapon before being shot.
After neutralizing everyone, Smith immediately went upstairs.
Several Russian men were gathered there, armed with submachine guns and holding vodka.
One took a sip and said:"Has Ivanov had any trouble lately? Several brothers have come today.""The boss reconciled with that Nightmare, but he suffered heavy losses. Could he now turn his focus to other gangs to assert dominance?"
Ivanov shook his weapon."Sergey, we might need to act, so drink less. I'm worried you'll one day fail to pull the trigger."
Before Ivanov could continue, the club's alarm system blared:"Intruder alert! Security moving to second floor to neutralize the threat."
Everyone in the room immediately set down their bottles and grabbed their weapons.
The surveillance room, seeing what had happened in the first-floor hall, triggered the alarms and summoned all security personnel.
Smith Doyle, moving up the stairs to the second floor, wasn't surprised by the announcement. If the first-floor incident hadn't been discovered, Vigo likely wouldn't have survived the day.
At the second-floor entrance, four shooters heard the commotion and ran forward. Hearing the alarm, they disengaged the safeties, ready to fire on any intruder.
Smith Doyle looked at the entrance but didn't step forward. Instead, he swung his arms, sending two bullets in arcs that killed two guards blocking the doorway.
"Bang, bang, bang."
Smith fired twice more and dodged, moving down the corridor while shooting at approaching enemies.
"Bang, bang, bang."
Each bullet claimed a life, but enemies kept pouring out from the upper floor, while others suddenly charged from side rooms to block him.
Smith's precise shooting kept them at bay, but soon his pistol magazines were empty, with two clear clicks:
"Click, click."
A shooter hiding on the third-floor stairwell shouted:"He's out of ammo! Retreat!"
Smith sneered:"No bullets? That won't solve anything."
Without reloading, he smashed his weapon against the first enemy to appear, knocking him to the floor with sheer force.
But three more came after him. Two raised their weapons, aiming at Smith Doyle.
"Rat-a-tat-tat."
Smith didn't dodge the submachine gun fire. Instead, he drew a combat blade and swung at his attackers.
"Clang, clang, clang."
He cut each bullet mid-air, then advanced and decapitated two of the assailants in a single strike.