Chapter 11: Gold Coins
After paying two gold coins, Smith and Fox once again entered the Continental Hotel.
"Smith, I don't have many gold coins left. Charging us each time we enter is quite expensive," Fox complained.
Hearing Fox mention the coins, Smith looked a bit speechless.
"Maybe soon, you won't have to worry about that anymore."
Fox's eyes lit up as if he had just thought of something. Then he looked at the Continental Hotel with a sense of regret.
Speaking of the gold coins, they were all minted, issued, and promoted by the Continental Hotel itself. Though well-crafted, the material cost wasn't very high. Their value could fluctuate wildly, but they were hard to obtain and very convenient to use.
To be specific:
Entering the Continental Hotel: one gold coin (for safety guarantee)
Staying at the hotel: one gold coin (1–7 days per stay)
Entering the bar: one gold coin (comes with an intelligence tip)
Doctor's treatment: one gold coin
Body disposal: one gold coin (no trace left, site and body cleaned)
Purchasing weapons, bulletproof vests, etc.: one gold coin
You could say that almost any service within the Continental Hotel started at one gold coin. Assassination services required at least one coin plus a bounty depending on the mission.
The value of a single gold coin ranged from a simple haircut at the hotel to guaranteeing your life inside its walls—or even hiring an assassin to complete a hit.
For example, John Wick—known by his moniker "Baba Yaga"—had a bounty of only four gold coins on his head. Yet those four coins were enough to tempt killers to break the rules and try to kill him inside the hotel.
Thanks to the global spread of the Continental Hotel, these coins had become the hard currency of the assassination world. As long as you had enough coins, even without USD, assassins were willing to take jobs.
Most assassins worldwide were registered members of the Continental Hotel, using its branches to accept and fulfill tasks while enjoying its services.
The Continental Hotel, being an assassination platform, also had its own enforcers—tasked with punishing killers who broke its rules. Each hotel manager had their own private security force.
Behind the Continental stood an even more powerful organization—The High Table.
The High Table was an alliance of major global criminal groups, with twelve seats in total. Its headquarters was located somewhere in the desert near Kasalanba.
These twelve seats formed the management body of the High Table and were held by powerful factions like the Camorra, the Mafia, the Yakuza, and the Triads.
Wherever there are people, there is conflict. Despite being a coalition, the High Table was full of scheming and infighting.
To Smith Doyle's Assassin League, the High Table was a filthy organization that needed to be purged.
Smith couldn't help but wonder whether HYDRA had infiltrated the High Table. Surely such a powerful and shadowy group would have at least one or two members under SHIELD or HYDRA's control.
But as a force of justice, Smith Doyle had resolved to eliminate this cancer before the major events of the Marvel Universe began—and John Wick would be his executioner.
Looking at the Continental Hotel before him, Smith Doyle's eyes gleamed with amusement.
---
Meanwhile, Viggo Tarasov, after revealing the location to John Wick, did not immediately drive away.
He was confused—how had Wick escaped from his men? He had given the kill order when Wick was completely helpless.
Returning to the warehouse where Wick had been held, Viggo found his two men shot cleanly in the head. Someone else had intervened.
Knowing the warehouse had a hidden camera, Viggo reviewed the footage—and saw Smith Doyle and Fox in the video.
Clenching his teeth, Viggo growled, "So it was you two."
These two weren't registered Continental killers, but they were known to frequent the hotel. Viggo had heard of them and even gathered intel, considering recruiting them.
Since Wick's retirement, Viggo had no trump card left. But just before trying to recruit them, he'd received a warning from Winston: Don't mess with them.
As for the Assassin League, Viggo's resources weren't enough to access any relevant intel.
"Smith Doyle, Fox… no matter who you have behind you, I'll make you pay."
Saying that, Viggo left the warehouse and drove home.
At that moment, his face was grim. If he'd known his son would cause so much trouble, he might as well have never let him be born.
His Russian mob empire could afford any car, yet his son stole one—and not just any car, but John Wick's—and also killed his dog. And even then, instead of finishing the job, he just beat up Wick and left.
He inherited none of his father's ruthlessness. A complete disappointment.
The worst part was—he only had one son. Although he had revealed his son's hiding spot to Wick, he had also stationed guards and armed them with assault rifles, hoping it might be enough.
Despite little confidence, Viggo held onto the faint hope that his men could kill John Wick.
Time ticked by slowly.
Viggo sat grimly, smoking non-stop, his ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, waiting for the fateful call.
The phone rang. He took a deep breath and answered.
After hearing the news on the other end, Viggo paused… and then hung up.
Lighting another cigarette, he took a few deep drags.
"As expected… it failed."
He had known this would happen, but still, the loss of his son brought him genuine pain.
Then he picked up the phone again—to summon all his men to headquarters.
His feud with John Wick might have ended—if Wick didn't pursue it further. But as for Smith Doyle, who ruined his plans, he would never be forgiven.
This time, he would make sure nothing went wrong.
...
(End of Chapter)
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