Into the Frying Pan Part 2
April 2010
Outside of Aruello's chop shop
New York
6:31 AM
*Creeeeaaaak*
*Psssshhhhh*
A blue and white passenger bus stopped in front of a car repair shop and after the doors pulled apart with a mechanical hiss, John- with crimson blood stains still present on his white undershirt- exited the long automobile.
*Step* *Step* *Step*
Once his soles firmly rested upon the concrete sidewalk, the retired hitman paused for a moment to allow the almost empty MTA coach to leave. After the folding doors of the public vehicle shut with another hiss, the bus drove off and left the Soviet as one of the very few occupants of the street.
Civil twilight bathed the surroundings in a dim blue light and apart from a gray Toyota that cruised by him, the surrounding area was completely devoid of people.
The bearded man spun around and walked toward the seemingly innocuous establishment.
When John entered the car mechanic shop, several employees curiously glanced at the ex-assassin as he walked toward the restricted area in the back. The more senior employees recognised him and gave the ex-marine welcoming nods.
"Mornin' John." A security guard politely greeted the Soviet with a nod. "Whatcha need?"
"...Hello Carlvin." The former hitman greeted the longtime employee with a nod of his own. "Is Aurelio in?"
"Yeah, boss is in today. Had a rough night?" Carlvin politely inquired, glancing at the bloodstains on the long-haired man's cotton shirt.
"...Yeah, you can say that." John affirmed in a subdued voice while the guardsman sifted through his loop of keys, the metal openers softly jingling as they bumped against one another.
"I see." Aurelio's employee remarked when he finally found the correct key to the metal door. "Alright, see you John."
The security guard inserted a silver key to the doorway and twisted, unlocking the steel door with a solid click. Carlvin pushed open the door for the retired hitman and John gave an appreciative nod before stepping through the blue entryway.
As the steel sill closed behind the Soviet with a resounding thunk, the retired assassin pushed through an opaque plastic curtain serving as the final barrier between the legitimate and illegal sections of the shop. Almost instantly John was greeted with the sight of workers either renovating or gutting expensive and vintage cars.
The high pitched screech of a circular saw grinding through the hull of a car followed the long-haired man as he walked toward the chop shop's owner. A bottle of Peligroso Añejo sat upon a white tablecloth atop the hood of a forest green Chevelle and Aurelio took a sip when he saw the former marine come toward him.
"...Is it here?" John inquired as he took a seat beside the vintage vehicle the Italian is using as a table.
"It was." The technician honestly answered after grabbing a spare glass and pouring the bearded-man a glass of tequila. "Iosef Tarasov nicked it."
______________________________________________
Just half an hour earlier…
*Screeeeeeeccchhhh*
Aurelio had expected many things to happen today, a new shipment of vintage cars that needed to be fixed up or gutted, new parts he ordered from his supplier arriving, or the continental giving him more roughed up cars to fix. But even if you gave him a million guesses, seeing Viggo's brat pull up in a Boss 429 he knew all too well wasn't on the list by a long shot.
Loud hip hop music uncharacteristically blared from the vehicle's speakers before Iosef killed the engine and the Russian and his group of friends stepped out of the muscle car.
"Я эту пиздючку, пожалуй, себе оставлю! (I think I'm going to keep this motherfucker!)" The heir to the Tarasov mob loudly proclaimed before laughing in excitement at the prospect of his new toy.
The Italian took a sip of coffee for one last caffeine boost before dealing with his boss's son, something that he felt he would need.
"Yo Aurelio!" Iosef called out as the mechanic set down his paper cup and began walking toward him. "I want a new VIN number and some clean papers."
"Where did you get that car?" Aurelio calmly demanded, resting both hands onto his hips once he got close enough to fully confirm that the automobile the Russian brought in was indeed his old friend's car.
"The fuck you mean where did I get this." Iosef snapped at the technician's question, annoyed that the Italian didn't immediately agree. "Just do what I tell you and we'll be out."
"I asked you where the hell did you get it." The mechanic irritability repeated himself, indignant at the Russian's nonchalance about taking John Wick's beloved car.
"Who gives a shit?" The Tarasov heir apathetically responded with a blase shrug and in that moment, the chop shop owner's stomach sank when he realized his boss never informed his little boy about his most dangerous executer.
Even if the hitman is currently dead, Aurelio would rather hang himself than to personally sully the former hitman's cherished vehicle.
"Alright, get outta here," the Italian mechanician hurriedly demanded of the brown-haired Russian, having decided he is not going to deal with this situation this early in the morning. "Get out right now."
"Did you lose your shit Aurelio?" Iosef incredulously questioned the technician after he turned around and started walking away. "We own you."
"What did you say?" Aurelio spun on his heels and calmly asked Viggo's son, cold anger blooming at the younger man's audacity. "What did you say to me?"
"We own you." The young Russian pretentiously repeated in a lower voice when the Italian walked closer.
"You don't own me, punk." The mechanic leaned in and spat back without missing a beat. "I work with your father, alright?"
"The owner of the car, did you kill him or what?" Aurelio inquired, deciding he wanted the brat to answer one last question before kicking him out.
"No, but we sure as hell fucked up his daughter and dog. " Iosef unconcernedly replied before chuckling. "Little bitch sent Stephan to the hospital after smashing his face in with her bare hands."
"You fucked up his daughter and dog? That's what you did?" The chop shop owner smiled and laughed as if killing the animal and brutalizing the girl was the funniest thing he's heard all day. "You fucked up his daughter and dog. That's crazy shit, man."
Both men continued to laugh for a couple of seconds before the Italian quickly pulled his arm back and socked the Russian in his face, sending the younger man sprawling on the ground. While the punch hasn't broken anything, that doesn't mean it wasn't every bit satisfying.
*Pow*
*Click*
"Oh look at you. That's great" Aurelio mockingly remarked as Gregori, one of Iosef's buddies, drew his pistol on the technician. "You're gonna come into my shop and pull a gun on me."
"Ahh that's great, man." The mechanician continued almost jocularly before snatching the baseball-cap wearing mobster's Beretta and pressing the steel barrel into his forehead. "Come on. Now, either you kill me right now, or get the fuck outta my shop."
Before Gregori could either lose his nerve and shoot the technician in anger, Victor- another one of the heir's friends- stopped him.
"Viggo, is not going to like this." The taller Russian gravely warned the Italian after he pried his friend's firearm away from Aurelio's forehead.
"How do you know what Viggo likes or doesn't like?" The mechanic challenged the taller Russian and walked toward the Chevette. "I'll tell him something he's gonna understand."
"You got a fucking pair on you, old man!" Iosef angrily barked after he pushed himself off the floor, fully ready to swing at the chop shop owner but Victor held him back. "Guess we'll be taking out business somewhere else."
Aurelio only sighed and shut the hood of the car he spent the morning working on. That boy doesn't know the kind of wolf he forced out, nor does he understand the consequences it'll bring. John… is not a forgiving man.
______________________________________________
Present time
"...Viggo's son." The hitman asserted, his words were framed more as a request for confirmation than a factual statement.
"Yeah." The Italian nodded and sipped his glass of Tequila. "So, what are you gonna do?"
The retired assassin just silently reached for his glass of Mexican alcohol and downed the entire shot.
"...I'm gonna need a ride." John swallowed and calmly requested, setting down his now empty glass.
"How about this one?" Aurelio suggested before rapping the hood of the Chevelle. "Spent all of last night working on it."
The Soviet nodded and the technician immediately tossed the keys to the sports car to his longtime friend.
"...Thank you, Aurelio." The ex-marine stood up and the Italian cleared the shot glasses and bottle off the vehicle.
"Don't mention it John." Aurelio responded as the long-haired man climbed into the vintage car. "And good luck."
______________________________________________
Several hours later
9:07 PM
*Brrrriiiing*
The mechanic looked up and stepped from the car engine he was working on when he heard the rotary phone beside him ring. And after the old landline rang a second time, the Italian cleared his throat and picked up the telephone.
"Aurelio speaking." He politely said into the phone, fully expecting the call to come in sooner or later.
"I heard you struck my son." The calm voice of Viggo flowed through the old phone's speaker. While most people would assume the mob boss isn't angry, the mechanic knew better; he knew the mob boss was furious at him.
"Yes sir, I did." Aurelio honestly replied while knowing lying to his boss is the absolute worst thing he could do at the moment.
"And may I ask why?" The Soviet mob boss coolly demanded not even a second after the mechanician responded.
"Yeah, well, because he stole John Wick's car sir." The technician quickly answered his boss's inquiry. "He also uhh… beat his daughter and… killed his dog."
"...Oh." Viggo verbalized before unceremoniously cutting the call.
After the line went dead, Aurelio placed the receiver back into the cradle, grabbed a glass of water, and downed a big sip. A storm is approaching, and he hoped to god John and his daughter would come out the other end alive.
______________________________________________
One hour later
Viggo's Mansion
10:12
*Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep**Beep*
*Click*
Viggo unlocked his personal safe and when the vault opened with a click, reached for the dusty old phonebook sitting on the bottom shelf. The book's brown cover is tattered from age and the Soviet brushed off the thin film of dust collected from years of disuse before carrying the rolodex to his landline.
Not even a mere half an hour ago, he had to… discipline his son for the grave mistake the boy made. Had Iosef done what he did to anyone else, the mob boss wouldn't have minded. But the man his heir had wronged was John Wick and the Baba Yaga didn't acquire his name by being merciful to the people who vilified him.
______________________________________________
Half an hour earlier
*Pow*
"Прибери. (Clean it up.)" Viggo ordered as he tossed a white towel over to his son's hunched form. After the punch to the stomach, the boy had puked the shot of vodka he drank moments prior onto the laminated wood floor. The mob boss wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell.
"Should I go?" Avi, the Soviet's personal assistant and close friend, asked as the Soviet took off his black suit jacket.
"Нет, вы остаетесь. (No, you stay.)" The patriarch of the Tarasov mob muttered to the American.
"Viggo, English please. Come on." The suit-wearing assistant pleaded with his boss, not understanding what his boss said.
"Stay goddamnit!" Viggo snapped while unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves.
"Urgh… What did I do?" Iosef groaned as he wiped away the shot of alcohol he vomited.
"Ты объебался в края (You fucked up.)" The well-dressed crime boss reprimanded whilst stepping toward his downed child.
"We did what you asked!" The brown-haired Russian angrily grumbled before his father hoisted him up by his armpits. "No one saw shit!"
"I'm not talking about Atlantic City." The Tarasov head solemnly informed the younger man while forcefully wiping something off his heir's face.
"What then?" Iosef queried moments before furrowing his brows upon realizing what his parent was talking about. "You mean Aurelio's? So I stole a fucking car!"
*Pow*
"Aw, fuck, Viggo." Avi winced out as the kingpin punched his son a second time. "Christ, Viggo."
"You stay!" The bearded Soviet whirled around and commanded his assistant the moment he made moves to leave the room.
The kingpin cleared his throat and walked over to the chair he dumped his suit jacket on. After he put on the black blazer, the mob boss uncorked an expensive bottle of vodka.
"Hahh… It's not what you did son, that angers me so." Viggo sighed and poured out a cup of crystal clear alcohol. "It's who you did it to."
"Who?" Iosef queried in disbelief at his father's words. "That fucking nobody?!"
"...That 'fucking nobody'… is John Wick." The suit-wearing crime boss revealed as a dismal expression crept into his face.
"He was once an associate of ours." The Tarasov patriarch continued after sipping his glass of vodka. "They call him… 'Baba Yaga.'"
"The boogeyman?" His heir commented before climbing to his feet.
"Well, John wasn't exactly the Boogeyman." Viggo answered his heir's question. "He was the one you send to kill the fucking boogeyman."
"Oh…" Iosef breathed out, finally realizing the scale of his mistake. He had indeed crossed the wrong man and for the first time in his life, the young Russian was in mortal danger.
"John, is a man of focus." The kingpin added on while stepping closer to his son. "Commitment, and sheer will. Something you know very little about."
"I once saw him kill three men in a bar, with a pencil." The Soviet stopped walking when his face was just inches away from the younger Russian. "With a fucking pencil."
Viggo walked toward Avi and made a pretend stabbing motion at the American's temple, making his right hand man flinch.
"Then suddenly, he asked to leave one day." The gray-haired crime lord continued. "I had expected him to ask a couple years earlier when he brought home a little Japanese girl, but he asked when a woman came into the equation. So, I made a deal with him. I gave him an impossible task. A job no-one could have pulled off."
The Tarasov Patriarch paused his exposition to pour out another glass of vodka.
"The bodies he buried that day laid the foundation of what we are now." Viggo solemnly declared, downing his second shot of alcohol. "And then, my son. A few days after his wife died, you steal his car, brutalize his daughter, and killed his fuckin' dog."
"Father, I can make this right!" Iosef shakily proclaimed whilst stepping toward the elder Soviet.
"Oh? How do you plan that?" The bearded kingpin curiously inquired, looking his son in the eye.
"By finishing what I started." The Tarasov heir almost confidently said, almost.
"Did he hear a fucking word I said?!" The crime boss turned toward Avi and shouted in exasperation.
"Папа, я всё исправлю! Пожалуйста- (Dad, I can do this! Please-)" The brown-haired man started but was quickly interrupted by his father hugging him.
"Iosef, Iosef, listen!" Viggo hissed through his teeth before grabbing his son's hair and leaning into Iosef's ear. "John will come for you, and you will do nothing because you can do nothing. So get the fuck out of my sight."
With that, the Tarasov Patriarch shoved his heir off him and sighed as he watched the younger Russian stumble out of the office, scared shitless by the potential consequences of his actions.
______________________________________________
Present
John's home
*Brrriiingggg*
The old corded telephone in John's basement let out a shrill ring, announcing to the retired hitman that someone was asking for him.
The Soviet rose from his kneeling position and walked toward the ringing landline, the powdered concrete scattered across the ground crunching with every step he took.
"Hello, John." Viggo's voice came through the phone's speaker when the ex marine held the receiver to his ear.
The former hitman didn't return his ex-boss's greeting and his fingers more forcefully clenched around the black handset.
"I've heard about your wife and I'm sorry. My condolences for you and uh… your daughter." The mob boss tried again after a few moments of silence. "It's uh… seems to be fate, or happenstance, or just bad fucking luck caused our paths to cross again."
Once again, John didn't respond to his former superior. He glanced at the open briefcase he dug out of the hardened cement. A case that represented the bloody past he buried and one he swore to Helen he would never open again.
"Sniff I… I was so scared… I thought… I thought you wouldn't come back."
"I will John! I will!"
"Dad? What's wrong? Wha… What happened to Mom?!"
"Arf! Arf!"
"Заткни эту ёбаную собаку! (Shut that fucking dog up!)"
"John?" Viggo calling his name pulled the long-haired man back into reality and ended the deluge of flashbacks. "Let us not resort to our baser instincts and handle this like civilized men to move o-"
*ClaKing!*
The retired assassin slammed the retro phone down and cut off the crime lord, having heard enough of the kingpin's words.
*Step* *Step* *Step* *Crunch* *Crunch*
John turned toward the direction of the footsteps and found Yoru standing at the foot of the staircase. The purple-haired girl had a white nose cast wrapped around her nose and wore a forest-green T-shirt alongside a pair of blue jeans.
"Dad." The assassin-in-training began after quickly glancing at the opened receptacle on the floor in front of her, taking note of the weapons and gold coins the box held. "Are we expecting anyone tonight?"
Despite both Wicks' familiarity with a wide assortment of small and medium arms, the household had a noticeable dearth of any gun safes and firearms.
"Yeah." The bearded Soviet confirmed with a nod. "Go prepare."
Yoru nodded at her father's orders and walked toward the open receptacle. She squatted down and pried a P30L with a silver slide from the confines of the case.
"May I use this?" The Japanese teenager queried after racking the German pistol's slide several times. When John nodded in confirmation, the teen grabbed a spare magazine from the storage trunk and left the basement.
______________________________________________
Twenty minutes later
*Click*
*Step**Step**Step**Step**Step**Step*
Yoru looked over to her father as the front door to their home unlocked with a click. From his tie and undershirt to his suit coat and trousers, the Soviet's dressed head to toe in midnight black. The ex-marine's long locks were held close to his scalp with some hair gel and he gripped his P30L in his right hand.
Similarly, the assassin-in-training is also dressed in a black hoodie and styled her long purple mane into a simple ponytail. The Japanese teenager wore a kevlar vest beneath her black hooded sweatshirt and crouched low to the ground with her own pistol in hand.
"You ready?" John mouthed to her as a beam of light illuminated the wall in front of them.
"Yeah." Yoru mouthed back with a nod and set her eyes on the three beams of light coming from the mouth of the staircase.
*Step**Step**Step**Step**Step**Step*
'I am ready.' The violet-eyed girl thought to herself as the footsteps loudened. 'I've trained for years to become an assassin. I've spared no amount of effort into my time with The Director and practiced with guns until my hands and eyes hurt. I am ready for this. I am ready for this. I am-'
A nudge broke the Japanese teenager from her thoughts and she looked back to the Soviet.
'You don't have to kill them.' The bearded man mouthed, recognizing the inner turmoil and hesitancy his daughter was experiencing. 'Just incapacitating is fine. I'll finish them off.'
Yoru nodded and once one of Viggo's men rounded the corner and shined his flashlight onto them, the father-daughter duo rushed into action in unison.
*Bang* *Bang**Bang*
John fired a round into that man's head and the teen simultaneously dove across the ground and squeezed off two shots into the other mercs' knees.
*Bang Bang*
Before either man had even a second to scream in pain, the retired hitman silenced them both with well placed headshots.
*Thud* *ThumpThumpThump* *Bang*
The body of the gunman closest to the staircase tumbled down the flight and John briskly moved toward the entrance of the stairway to shoot another gangster attempting to raise his pistol at him.
*Bang* *Bang* *Shatter*
As the lifeless corpse of their squadmate collapsed to the floor, the henchman downstairs opened fire upon the Soviet, the bullets barely missing the ex-assassin and shattered the glass baluster.
The suit-wearing man quickly rushed down the wood steps and vaulted over the steel guardrails, squeezing off a shot upon landing on the wooden floorboards.
*Thud*
*Bang*
"Arrrgh!" The man screamed in pain after the nine-millimeter bullet shattered his knee and caused him to collapse face-first onto the ground.
*Bang* *Thud*
John executed the masked intruder with another shot just as Yoru softly landed beside him.
The violet-haired girl took a glance at the corpse on their living room floor and slightly winced. But the Japanese teenager didn't dwell on the dead body for too long and quickly surveyed her surroundings. After a couple of seconds, Yoru raised her handgun and shot a merc that was rounding a corner.
*Step**Step*
*Bang*
"AHHH!" the mercenary screamed and staggered whilst his left hand moved toward his injured shoulder.
*Bang* *Thud*
John quickly followed up by putting a round in between the man's eyes and before the carcass had time to hit the ground, the Soviet turned around and moved toward the front of his home.
Yoru followed her father as the former assassin leaned his back against the wall and reloaded.
"Cover me." The ex-marine mouthed as he inserted a fresh magazine into his German pistol.
Once the hitwoman-in-training nodded in confirmation, John let the empty magazine clatter to the ground.
The father and daughter pair didn't have to wait long for someone to investigate, a flashlight beam quickly lit up one of the walls a few seconds later.
The moment the retired hitman spied the barrel of a Glock coming around the corner, he raised his arms and slammed both hands into the masked merc's gun.
*Thump*
Immediately after forcibly driving the henchman to point his pistol toward the floor, the Soviet rammed the barrel of his P30L into the ski-mask wearing man's throat and dragged him into Yoru's line of sight.
*Bang**Bang*
The Japanese girl quickly squeezed off two rounds into the mercenary's knee and shoulder, granting John the opportunity to force the gunman to collapse onto his injured leg for a swift execution.
*Bang*
Just as the former marine threw the gangster's lifeless body to the ground, he and his daughter spied another henchman climbing up the stairs.
*Thump*
*Step**Step**Step*
The merc tried to raise his pistol and fire at the retired hitman, deeming the elder Wick to be a greater threat than the Japanese teen- however, the ex-marine and his child were faster.
*BangBang*
*Shatter*
The two bullets simultaneously punched through the spiral staircase's glass balusters, leaving two holes with spiderweb cracks spreading all over the pane before nailing the masked mercenary, one in the henchman's forehead and shoulder respectively.
*Thud*
"Living room." The Soviet quietly whispered to the violet-eyed girl as the body of the gunman lifelessly crumpled to the floor.
Yoru nodded at her father's order and the father-daughter duo silently rushed into the foreroom of their New York home.
Two minutes later
Two flashlight beams shone across the living room, illuminating lamps and couches as a pair of masked gangsters walked through their target's estate. After hearing several gunshots and screams echoing throughout the house, they are understandably tense, each tightly gripping their Glock pistols as they scanned the area around them for any sign of the Wicks.
*Step* *Step* *Step*
One of the two mercenaries broke away and walked around a thick shelf, hoping to cover more ground and potentially spot one of the targets before either could sneak up on them.
*Step* *Step* *Step*
Then, without warning, John and Yoru suddenly rushed out of cover and engaged with the men on their respective sides, the ex-hitman taking the right and the purple-haired girl taking the left.
*Bang* *Pow*
The bearded man quickly put a bullet into his opponent's collar before striking the masked gunman in the neck with the barrel of his handgun.
*Thump*
The Soviet then grabbed his opponent's right arm with his left hand and hooked his pistol wielding arm around the man's limb. John threw the mercenary over his shoulder and the henchman let out an agonizing scream when his lower back cracked upon impact.
*Bang**Bang*
*Pow*
At the same time, the Japanese teenager kneecapped her adversary and once he fell onto his knees, she landed a spin kick on the larger gangster's head. Her heel violently collided with the merc's chin and sent the unconscious man crumpling onto the wooden floorboards.
*Thud*
*Bang* *Bang*
John executed his opponent and shot at another gangster that rounded the corner. The suit-wearing man missed and the intruder expeditiously ducked behind a wall for cover.
The retired marine looked over to his left and saw his daughter just standing over the merc she knocked unconscious. Yoru had her P30L pointed at the masked henchman's head ready to execute him, but her finger stayed still and didn't pull the trigger.
The ex-hitman tapped on the floor twice and the violet-eyed teen looked over to her father. The Soviet motioned toward the entrance of the living room and the assassin-in-training immediately understood what her father wanted.
Yoru nodded and both Wicks quietly strolled toward the wall the mercenary was hiding behind. Once there, John crouched and the Japanese girl followed suit.
*Pew* *Pew*
*Bang* *Bang* *Click*
The former assassin stepped forward with his back facing the mercenary and the intruder ducked out of cover at the same time. Both men fired their pistols at each other and since the masked man expected the Soviet to be standing, his shots missed and the bullets embedded themselves into the floorboards. The retired hitman managed to graze the henchman's neck muscles but his pistol ran dry before he could make a kill shot.
*Shoop* *BangBang*
Yoru slid out of cover leg first the moment she heard her father's German pistol run dry and kneecapped the masked merc.
*Thump*
"AUGGHH!!" The gangster let out an anguished scream after the 9mm bullets shattered his knees, causing him to lose all sense of balance and fall onto his injured patellas.
*Pow*
The violet-haired teenager quickly climbed to her feet and followed up with a roundhouse before the gangster could react. Her foot collided with the back of the man's cranium, knocking him onto the ground proper.
*Bam* *Snap*
Then the hitwoman-in-training stomped on his wrist, breaking the joint with a crisp snap.
*Clatter*
The gunman's grip on his pistol loosened after he let out another scream of pain and Yoru briskly kicked his silenced Glock away. The polymer framed pistol clattered across the wooden floorboards just as a gunshot rang out in the living room.
*Bang*
John took full advantage of the few seconds his daughter brought him and slapped a fresh magazine into his H&K handgun. The instant the steel slide of his P30L clicked into place, he finished off the downed hitman.
Yoru looked at the Soviet and he motioned at the Japanese girl's gun, signaling that it is time for her to reload. The purple-haired teen nodded and swapped the almost empty magazine with a fresh one before depositing the nearly-spent mag into her hoodie pocket.
The suit-wearing hitman stood up and gestured for the younger Wick to follow him. Yoru nodded and walked behind her father.
The former marine turned into the kitchen and the moment he spied a flashlight beam illuminating the wall beside him, he halted his steps and grabbed the mercenary's arm when the limb revealed itself.
*Pew*
The masked gangster uselessly fired a shot off as John dragged the merc into the teenager's line of sight.
*Bang*
Yoru quickly put a bullet into the man's shoulder before whirling around a second later to put another into an incoming henchman, hearing his oncoming footsteps when the gunman rushed to aid his teammate.
*Bang*
"AUGGGH!!" The mercenary screamed in pain as he clutched at his shoulder after the lead projectile tore through his linen jacket.
Before the ejected brass casing had time to fall onto the ground, the purple-haired teen rushed at the injured man and harshly grappled his gun-holding hand.
*Pew*
The gunman let off a shot as the hitwoman-in-training wrestled his right arm and pointed his Glock 17 at the ceiling. The nine-millimeter bullet uselessly embedded itself in the concrete walls and kicked up a thin cloud of paint and concrete dust upon impact.
With fluidity that can only be obtained from over half a decade of training, the teenager knocked the Austrian pistol from the gangster's hand and rammed the barrel of her pistol into his solar plexus.
*Clatter* *Pow*
The man choked and spittle flew out of his mouth as the violet-eyed teen pulled her hand back and hooked her fingers around his leather belt. With strength no-one would expect from a girl of her stature, Yoru threw the masked man over her shoulder and slammed his lower back onto the wooden floorboards.
*Thump*
The Japanese teen quickly followed up her slam with a chokehold after smashing the merc into the ground, fastening her right elbow around his neck and further reinforcing her hold with her left forearm.
"Ack… gak…ca." the henchman choked out while the purple-haired teenager strangled him. The masked man tried to pry her arm away from his throat but the hitwoman-in-training just further tightened her hold, putting more pressure onto his pharynx and blood vessels.
Whilst the gangster struggled within her grasp, Yoru looked over to her father. The Soviet lightly panted as he stood above the body of the man laying on their kitchen table. The ex-assassin had snapped the man's neck with a vicious karate chop while the hitwoman-in-training was asphyxiating her opponent.
"That's all of them, right?" The purple-haired girl queried after feeling the masked gangster pass out inside her grip.
Yoru loosened her hold on the merc and after the henchman's body crumpled to the ground, the ex-marine silently stood for a few seconds and nodded when he's only met with silence.
*Ding Dong*
The sound of the front door ringing reverberated throughout the room, and the two Wicks looked at each other. Their little firefight with Viggo's men had attracted some unwanted attention. The Japanese teen's eyes widened in alarm but the Soviet shook his head and motioned toward the front door, signaling that he'll be the one to deal with it.
The assassin-in-training nodded and climbed to her feet. After slightly adjusting her loose-fitting hoodie, the father-daughter pair strode toward the entrance.
The silhouette of a person could be seen as alternating flashing blue and red lights shone through the frosted glass of their main entryway. The retired hitman hid his pistol behind his back before slowly opening the door to reveal a police officer.
"Evening, John." The cop politely greeted as the lights of his service vehicle illuminated his face with flares of alternating warm and cool lights.
"...Evening, Jimmy." The ex-marine greeted the deputy and Yoru followed suit. "Noise complaint?"
"Noise complaint." The policeman affirmed John's suspicions with a small nod.
The radio on the officer's belt chattered unintelligibly as the American looked over the suit-wearing man's shoulders. The Soviet and his daughter looked behind them toward the unconscious merc lying on the floor.
"So… you uhh, working again?" Jimmy falteringly inquired after taking off his hat and holding the campaign cap to his chest.
"No." The former assassin promptly denied. "Just sorting some stuff out."
"And your daughter?" The deputy questioned upon noticing the P30L the teenager clutched within her dominant hand.
"...She's helping." John answered after glancing at his ward. The violet-haired teen's right hand is completely still but the long-haired man noticed a slight tremor in her left.
"Alright, I'll leave you two be then." The cop commented before turning around and walking toward his patrol car. "Night John."
"Night Jimmy." John replied and shut the front door.
*Click*
"You okay?" The ex-marine asked his ward as the flashing lights of Jimmy's police cruiser faded when the officer drove off.
"…Yeah." Yoru answered after taking a deep breath. "Yeah… I'm fine."
"Your hand is shaking." The bearded man pointed out, his words neither contemptuous nor disappointed.
"My right hand isn't shaking." The violet-eyed girl countered, briefly glancing at her gun-toting limb. "You know The Director has made sure my hands are as steady as rocks when shooting."
"...Not your right, your left." John shook his head and clarified.
"I guess it is." The assassin-in-training admitted once she looked toward her other appendage. Her brows furrowed as she clenched her left fist to halt the shaking.
"It's fine. It's your first time." The retired hitman consoled the Japanese girl upon noticing the younger Wick's frustration with herself. "We all have to start somewhere."
"Hahh… I couldn't muster up the nerve to kill any of them." Yoru lamented with a sigh after raising her German pistol up to inspect it. "All I could bring myself to do was to shoot to incapacitate."
*Bang*
"That is fine." John calmly asserted after executing the unconscious gangster on the floor. "You still have four years to prepare."
"Yeah… I suppose I do." The violet-eyed girl concluded whilst the elder Wick walked into the living room.
"How will we clean up the mess?" The teenager asked while staring at the corpse now leeching blood into the floorboards. "We don't have nearly enough peroxide in the house for all the blood."
"I'll call someone." The ex-assassin stated and a gunshot subsequently rang out from the foreroom. "I'll be in the basement if you need me."
*Bang*
Yoru nodded and carefully made her way toward the staircase leading up to her bedroom, narrowly avoiding the cooling dead bodies, crimson pools of blood, brass spent casings, and glittering shards of shattered glass littered across the ground. Adrenaline no longer coursed through the purple-haired teen's veins and all the death that occurred around her just left her feeling drained.
'Not even The Director's training made me feel this tired.' The Japanese girl thought as she ascended the steps. 'I… I'll have to get used to this if I want to become an assassin.'
Yoru never truly grappled with the significance of taking a life before today and what happened today had truly struck at her resolve. Seeing the men's bodies fall to the ground didn't affect her much because she was acting on autopilot- The Director had deeply instilled the importance of action before thought into her- but now the violet-haired teen's mulling over what occurred over the past few minutes, the death of the masked henchmen unsettled her.
'But I suppose that's normal.' Yoru thought as she stepped over the carcass of another gangster. 'Normal people feel things when seeing people die for the first time. Only the mentally-ill would feel nothing.'
And before the violet-eyed teenager knew it, she'd arrived at the door to her bedroom. Yoru banished her train of thought for the moment and pulled on the dark oak door.
She stepped inside and once the entrance to her room was sealed from the outside world, the Japanese girl peeled her black hoodie off herself and let the bloodied sweatshirt fall onto the floor. Afterwards she did the same to her clothing articles. The hitwoman-in-training then undid the rubber band that held her long purple mane into a ponytail and shook her head to allow her long locks of violet hair to freely spread across her back.
Finally, Yoru slipped into a pair of cornflower pajamas and collapsed onto her bed.
'But… what would become of me once I kill someone?' The violet-eyed girl pondered while her body sunk into her mattress. 'Would I become unrecognizable to the people around me?'
The Japanese teenager continued to ponder and brood as she silently laid on her bedding and eventually, her thoughts wandered to her younger twin.
'Would… would Ai even want me to be around her if she knew I've killed people?' Yoru asked herself, the darkness and noises coming from downstairs being her only answer.
Ai had always been a sensitive topic for the purple-haired girl and one she never properly dealt with, only surfacing on the darkest and loneliest of sleepless nights. The assassin-in-training felt immense guilt when she left her little sister behind with their mother but John had no way of bringing the youngest twin with them.
Adopting the purple-haired teenager already required several rules to be bent and taking Ai in was impossible at the time. However, their mother Ayumi Hoshino was arrested for theft two years after Yoru's adoption and the younger twin was sent to an orphanage. Although, from the conversations she managed to overhear, Mr. Shimazu lost track of her when she ran away to Tokyo.
By the time the Yakuza boss managed to find her again, the purple-haired teen had gotten into a contract of sorts and adoption was now out of the question.
"Please forgive me, my friend." The assassin-in-training overheard while eavesdropping on a conversation between her father and Mr. Shimazu. "But now she's legally binded in a contract, there is no clean way of bringing her over to the United States."
"I see." The ex-hitman remarked, disappointed at the news but not at his friend. "Thank you Koji. I appreciate you doing this for me."
The violet-haired teenager reached her hand out and grasped the second pillow on her bed. Yoru pulled the cushion into an embrace and in the same way she used to comfort her little sister after a nightmare, began caressing the head of the goose-feather headrest.
'Ai… I miss you.' The Japanese teen thought as she closed her eyes with her arms wrapped around the pillow.
The teenager let herself drift into unconsciousness, not finding an answer to her worries. But tomorrow is a new day, and the first domino in a long chain has fallen.