"One... two..."
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" The manager raised both hands in surrender, ultimately choosing survival. He shouted, "Inside is the entire East Coast network under Viggo's control, along with names and evidence of American government officials who've been compromised."
As soon as he said that, his entire body went limp and he collapsed to the floor in fear.
"Sunday, can you open this safe?"
William had acquired a copy of this information from Viggo seven years ago, but had never needed to use it—because he had never been pressured by the Americans to that extent. Unlike Viggo, who had to expose himself for a little cash.
However, seven years had passed, and much of that network was probably obsolete by now. And even if Sunday had the tools to cut the safe open, without William's teleportation capabilities, they wouldn't arrive in time.
Fortunately, this data was like Viggo's lifeline. Using it to lure him in shouldn't be difficult.
John Wick casually shoved bundles of cash next to the safe and lit them on fire. Once the flames began rising, he quickly left the building.
Even though this was the Queens slums, churches were still equipped with fire sprinkler systems, and the blaze was extinguished before it could spread.
Viggo, who received a call shortly afterward, confirmed that nothing had been removed from the safe. Still, he was caught in a dilemma—if he went in person, he might fall into an ambush by John Wick; if he didn't act and the materials were leaked, the entire Polar Bear gang on the East Coast would be annihilated by the American government.
And without his power base, he'd be doomed anyway.
Fortunately, this was a poor district, and unless you paid for emergency services, no one but the cops would bother coming. And those local cops had long been bought off by Viggo.
Just as he was about to go himself, he suddenly remembered that the safe could only be opened by him. Whether the contents had burned or not, there was no reason for him to show up in person. He simply needed to send a trusted subordinate to retrieve the entire safe—avoiding any risk of being ambushed.
From a nearby high-rise, John Wick watched and waited. But Viggo never came.
Instead, he saw a group of over twenty thugs recklessly using a forklift and other tools to forcefully extract the safe from the basement, without a care for the damage to the building.
They planned to load it into a heavy-duty pickup truck and drive off.
"Fuck," John Wick cursed under his breath, frustrated by Viggo's caution.
"Sunday, help me plan an escape route. We're hijacking that truck."
"No problem, Mr. Wick."
Upon replying, a Kun-class aircraft took off from a base in Yellowstone National Park and rushed to New York.
Twenty minutes later, as the convoy was about to leave the slums, John Wick—already in position—leapt out from an alleyway.
Wielding two Glocks, he opened fire on the five-vehicle convoy.
"Bang bang, bang bang!"
Four quick double-taps. Eight explosive rounds struck four of the escort vehicles, blowing them up instantly, giving the thugs no chance to fight back.
Holstering his Glocks under his arms, John drew his M416 from his back and unleashed a fierce burst into the pickup's windows.
"Ratatata! Ratatata!"
Two controlled bursts. The stunned men inside the pickup were dead before they knew what hit them.
Pointing his weapon at the dazed driver, John shouted, "Out of the truck, or you die."
"I-I surrender! Don't—don't kill me!"
"Go back and tell Viggo—the safe is with me."
He knocked the driver out with a rifle butt, then drove the pickup away, following Sunday's guidance to a clearing in Queens.
Dodging along the way, he arrived at the designated location two kilometers away—a barren, crumbling wasteland. As John wondered why Sunday had led him here, a hatch suddenly opened in the empty lot. In his earpiece, Sunday's voice instructed him to drive the pickup into the Kun aircraft.
A minute later, he backed the now-empty pickup out of the ship and tossed a grenade into the cab. Sprinting aboard the Kun, the aircraft rose dozens of meters in two seconds—just as the explosion rocked the earth below.
Struggling against the urge to vomit, John lay on the deck of the aircraft, trying to recover for several minutes.
"Is this safe of any use to Mr. Devonshire?"
"Yes, Mr. Wick. Seven years ago, Mr. Devonshire received a similar data set from Viggo. I believe he'll be pleased to have an updated version."
"Good."
Now that he'd not only seen but ridden the legendary Kun-class aircraft, John Wick's respect and loyalty toward William deepened even further.
His boss had just received a prize that cost his subordinate so much risk—surely that deserved a generous reward.
And since he still couldn't find Iosef, John Wick thought maybe William would personally issue orders to track him down.
With full confidence in William, John Wick began wondering: what would he do once his revenge was complete?
Go back to the old life?
That idea lasted all of a few seconds before he tossed it aside.
But besides killing, there wasn't anything he was good at. For a moment, John Wick felt lost.
He didn't know how much time had passed when Sunday finally said they had arrived at his home.
Snapping back to reality, John instinctively ran his hand through his hair—only to feel a slight chill.
Looking at his wedding ring, he was suddenly struck with the memory that Helen, the one who used to wait for him to join her for dinner, was not only gone but in heaven—and that when he had the chance to reunite with her, he had hesitated.
At that moment, Mephisto's image surged into his mind, and an uncontrollable wave of hatred overwhelmed him.
"Mephisto..."
"I will kill you."
"Aahh! Aaahhh!"
As soon as he spoke, John Wick felt as if his soul were burning—waves of excruciating pain surged through him, and black smoke began to rise from his head.
Mephisto, who had just lost track of John Wick, instantly sensed the overwhelming hatred directed at him.
With a sneer on his lips, he muttered mockingly, "Hate me, hate me more, John Wick. The more you hate me, the more delicious your soul becomes... and the more power I gain. Once I—"
Just as he fantasized about devouring John Wick's soul in one gulp, Mephisto suddenly let out a furious snarl: "Bastards! Damn you winged freaks! That soul is mine—mine!"
Back on the Kun-class aircraft, black smoke poured from John Wick's head, but at the same time, a holy white light radiated from his chest.
The anti-demonic magic circle embedded in his chest—drawn from the Archangel's necklace—began to glow, absorbing divine energy from the heavens.
As that holy light entered his body, it began aggressively purifying his soul, which had been tainted by Mephisto.
"AAAHH! AAHH!"
The burning pain this time was ten times worse than before, causing John Wick to faint from the agony.
A second later, he was jolted awake again—then fainted—then awakened once more.
Over and over it went.
But the more pain he felt, the faster the holy light surged into his body—completely unconcerned with whether John Wick could endure it.
______
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