John Wick - Chapter 47: A Fierce Battle (Patreon)

John fired several more shots toward the distant rooftop.

The two dark figures ducked back out of sight again. Nate could no longer see them. They had moved to new firing positions.

Nate crouched close to the base of the wall, keeping his breathing shallow. Fine chunks of brick trickled down from overhead and landed on his shoulders.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at John beside him.

John was down on one knee, using the car and the shattered brick wall as cover. The stock of the HK416 was planted firmly against his shoulder, the muzzle aimed past the corner of the building while his eyes remained fixed on the outline of the distant rooftop.

Five hundred meters.

Nighttime.

A 2x optic.

Nate turned his attention back to the immediate threat.

Faint footsteps, partially masked by the sound of car engines, were closing in from three directions.

Headlights swept back and forth across the open ground in front of the building.

Nate exposed half his head for a quick look, then immediately pulled back.

Several dark figures were advancing from the direction of the vehicles, guns raised as they searched the area. They were spread well apart.

Others stayed behind the cars, using them as cover while keeping their weapons trained on the building.

From the quick glance Nate had taken, most of the dozen or so men were carrying submachine guns. A few had pistols.

He hadn't seen any rifles.

John remained where he was.

He switched the HK416 to semi-automatic and gave Nate a slight nod.

Nate understood.

An unspoken coordination had already formed between them.

He knew exactly what he needed to do.

Nate rose from his crouch and pressed himself sideways against the wall, moving several steps closer to the corner.

He held the Rattler in his hands with the stock folded.

Its compact profile made it far easier to handle around tight corners.

He didn't immediately peek out.

First, he listened.

Directly beyond the corner, someone stepped on loose gravel.

More than one person.

A rifle shot cracked from the distant rooftop.

A bullet struck the second-floor balcony above them, blasting apart a section of brick and sending debris raining down.

Nate instinctively ducked his head.

Suppressive fire.

The shot wasn't meant to hit either of them. It was a warning.

We're watching you.

Don't stick your head out.

The snipers had gone to work.

John ignored it.

His gaze never left the distant rooftop.

Nate saw him make a tiny adjustment with his shoulder before pulling the trigger.

Three shots.

Short and precise.

A little over a second later:

Bang!

The sniper fired.

The round missed, striking the ground about three meters in front of John. Gravel sprayed up and rattled against the car.

John immediately pulled back, changed position, and set up the rifle again.

“I'll cover you,” he said.

Nate nodded.

He took a deep breath and leaned around the corner.

The first two gunmen had already crept within fifteen meters.

One carried a submachine gun with a weapon light mounted on it. The other held a pistol.

Both were advancing slowly with their weapons raised.

Nate brought up the Rattler from a standing position, keeping it tight against the wall.

He pulled the trigger.

His weapon was loaded with subsonic ammunition.

The muzzle velocity might have been lower, but at this distance, the rounds still hit much harder than handgun ammunition.

The first bullet punched through the right man's shoulder.

The next several tore through his neck and chest.

As he fell backward, his finger remained on the trigger of his submachine gun, sending rounds wildly into the sky.

The second man spotted Nate and raised his pistol.

Nate was faster.

Three shots.

The man dropped.

The killers farther back immediately opened fire.

But Nate was already behind the corner again.

Bullets hammered into the brickwork, spraying fragments everywhere.

Nate had deliberately aimed at the second man's torso.

Blood had sprayed from the impacts.

Good.

No body armor.

That made things much easier.

More footsteps were approaching.

Nate dropped to one knee and leaned out again.

This time, his muzzle was already aimed farther ahead before he exposed himself.

The instant he cleared the corner, he fired.

Three men with submachine guns were advancing in a tighter formation than the first pair.

The Rattler's rate of fire was around seven hundred rounds per minute.

Nate simply held down the trigger and swept from left to right.

The results were immediate.

Automatic weapons were brutally effective at this range.

One man dropped while clutching his leg.

Another took multiple rounds through the abdomen.

The third was hit through the neck, his gun falling from his hands.

Nate brought the muzzle back onto target and finished off the man hit in the abdomen.

He fired again at the wounded man clutching his leg, hitting him in the arm.

Nate tried to fire once more.

Click.

Empty.

The wounded gunman lay on the ground and fired his submachine gun one-handed in Nate's direction.

His aim was terrible.

Every shot went wide.

Then the group behind the cars unleashed another barrage of suppressive fire, forcing Nate back into cover.

He pressed the magazine release with his right hand and flicked the Rattler sideways.

The empty magazine dropped free.

A fresh one appeared in his hand almost immediately.

He slammed it into the magazine well and worked the charging handle.

The entire sequence was smooth and effortless.

With his Firearm Proficiency now at 40%, the Rattler felt more natural in his hands than ever.

Nate didn't stop moving.

He prepared to peek out again.

Another sniper shot cracked from the distance.

This time the bullet struck a rock directly in front of the corner.

The round ricocheted.

It whipped past Nate's pant leg and buried itself in the wall.

“Fuck!”

They were even using ricochets now?

A burning sensation spread along the outside of Nate's calf, but he had no time to check it.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The HK416 barked nearby.

John had fired again.

Another three-round burst.

This time, instead of immediately ducking back, he stayed exposed just long enough to fire two additional shots.

Nate waited behind the wall.

The distant sniper didn't fire again.

“Got one,” John said.

The words had barely left his mouth when the second sniper fired.

The bullet struck the doorframe beside John, blasting wood splinters and flakes of paint into the air.

John leaned out and fired twice in response.

Then he pulled back and glanced at his right shoulder.

A splinter of wood was embedded in his suit jacket.

He didn't bother removing it.

He simply shifted position and set up the rifle again.

At night, John could roughly sense where the threat was coming from.

But the distance was too great, and the weapon in his hands wasn't suited for the job.

It was difficult even for him.

Several guns were still trained on their position outside.

Trying to peek out and observe directly was too dangerous.

Then Nate had an idea.

He remembered a trick from a movie he'd seen in his previous life.

Nate pressed the Rattler against one point in the concrete wall and fired several rounds into it.

The bullets punched through, creating a small hole.

Nate peered through it.

The enemy's numbers had dropped considerably.

But there were still at least five of them.

The earlier exchange had frightened them badly enough that none dared advance.

They stayed behind several vehicles with their weapons trained on Nate's position.

The man who had been shot in the leg was still lying in the open ahead of them.

His ammunition was gone.

He could only lie there screaming.

None of his companions dared go out to help him.

Nate showed them no mercy.

He lay flat on the ground, remaining entirely behind cover.

Then he pressed the Rattler against the pavement, extended only the muzzle beyond the wall, and fired one-handed beneath the vehicles by feel.

Several rounds passed under the cars.

Many struck the vehicles themselves.

Plenty missed.

But one round punched straight into a man's ankle behind one of the cars.

The man screamed and collapsed.

Nate immediately leaned out.

One shot.

Headshot.

Then he kicked against the wall, twisting his body back behind cover in one smooth motion.

Nate remained behind the wall with his weapon ready.

Suddenly, he heard an engine start.

Something was wrong.

Nate looked through the small hole in the wall.

Someone outside had started a black SUV.

The vehicle swung halfway around.

Its front end was now pointed directly at them.