Chapter 3: John Wick

On the other side of town—

John Wick had just been attacked in his home. Awoken from sleep by several men, he was beaten with baseball bats, left disoriented and bleeding. Though retired, he was once the infamous "Baba Yaga"—a legendary killer feared throughout the underworld. But even he was caught off guard.

Right before his eyes, they killed Lucy—the beagle puppy his late wife had given him—and stole his beloved car.

After the attackers left, John buried Lucy in his backyard. As he stood in the garden, he remembered his wife Helen, the love they shared, and the final gift she left him.

He made a decision—violence would be met with violence.

After learning the identity of the intruders, he returned to his house. It was time to dig up the weapons and Continental gold coins he had hidden beneath the floor.

Bang. Bang. Bang!

Swinging a sledgehammer with focused fury, John slammed it against the concrete floor again and again. Each strike heavier than the last, driven by grief and rage.

Soon, the cement cracked open, revealing a buried cache. He tossed the hammer aside and cleared the rubble.

Opening the metal case, he found it divided into two compartments.

On the left: four handguns, four magazines, two fragmentation grenades, two smoke grenades—two of the guns fitted with suppressors.

On the right: a box full of Continental Hotel gold coins, and nestled among them—a crystal ball, amber in color, with a single red star inside.

John furrowed his brow.

He clearly remembered placing a smooth round stone in that spot before his retirement—a keepsake his wife had picked up from the beach and gifted him.

"Did Helen secretly swap it?" he muttered.

It didn't seem likely, but filled with doubt, he reached toward the orb.

—

Assassin Brotherhood Headquarters

At that moment, Smith Doyle was attending a meeting when a sudden wave of information hit his mind.

Someone had just made contact with a Dragon Ball. Time to see who the lucky one was.

As the creator of the Dragon Balls in this world, Smith could always locate all seven. Whenever someone touched one, he could see what was happening through the Dragon Ball's perspective.

Moments later, he saw the environment surrounding the one-star ball—and the man holding it: John Wick.

That face. So familiar.

Smith narrowed his eyes. The Baba Yaga himself. John Wick from the Continental. Looks like the Russian mafia in New York is doomed.

Poor bastard. Alright… let's give him a little hope.

At that moment, the orb in John's hand flickered. A stream of information surged into his mind.

"Dragon Ball?"

"Collect all seven and you can summon the Eternal Dragon to grant a wish…"

He looked at the red star in the amber orb. "So this is the One-Star Ball?"

"If this is real… Helen… could I bring you back?"

He carefully slipped the Dragon Ball into his pocket.

But before seeking out the other six, he had a score to settle.

As for the wish-granting part… he wasn't fully convinced. After all these years, he'd never heard even a rumor about such a thing.

—

Back at the meeting.

Cross spoke up: "GOD, we're preparing your first official mission as the new head of the Brotherhood."

Mr. X added, "And it's not just some solo hit—we want you to take down an entire evil organization."

The Gunsmith looked at them both. "Guys, isn't a whole organization a bit much?"

The Butcher stepped in to mediate, "What if he just targets their leader? The rest can be handled by the other members."

Smith nodded. "Fine by me. Pick an organization."

He looked at the group. "So, uncles, have you chosen this evil target?"

Mr. X replied, "We're still compiling intelligence. Soon, we'll let you pick your target."

Smith shrugged. Another multiple-choice mission. Which scumbag group would it be this time? He stood up.

"Alright. I've got some things to take care of. Let me know when it's ready."

He exited the room and spotted Fox waiting on a sofa.

"Fox, we're heading out."

She stood, joined him, and soon they were speeding off in a black Dodge Viper.

Driving, Fox asked, "Where to, Smith?"

He watched the sun rise through the windshield. "The Continental. You still have some of their coins, right?"

Fox glanced over, confused. "Yeah, I've got a few left from past jobs."

"You're not thinking of taking them on, are you? Just the two of us wouldn't stand a chance."

Smith chuckled. "Relax. We're just going to watch a show. I'm not dumb enough to storm the Continental with just you."

Hearing that, Fox's curiosity lit up. She stepped on the gas.

—

Meanwhile.

John Wick's house phone rang.

Riiing. Riiing.

He answered. A familiar voice came through the receiver.

"Hello, John."

It was Viggo, the head of the Russian mob. His own son was the one who'd stolen John's car and killed his dog.

Hearing no response, Viggo continued:

"I heard about your wife. I'm truly sorry."

"My condolences."

"Maybe this is fate. Or bad luck. Or maybe just a cruel coincidence that brought us back together."

Still silence.

"John?"

"Let's not be ruled by our darker natures. Let's resolve this like civilized men."

John didn't listen to the rest. He already knew who was responsible.

And he didn't need words.

He hung up.

Viggo stared at the dead line. He sighed. "This won't end peacefully."

Then he turned to his men.

"Get everyone ready."

...

(End of chapter)

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