John Wick - Chapter 65: An Unexpected Development (Patreon)

John’s car still needed another two days to have its damaged wheel repaired, so the two of them had no choice but to take Nate’s Cadillac to Little Russia.

Nate drove while John sat in the passenger seat.

The car was quiet.

John had never been the type to start conversations, and even though his [Grief] had weakened considerably, that hadn’t changed.

Still, he was doing a lot better than the cold, emotionless “Yeah” machine from the movies.

They still had more than half an hour to go, so Nate decided to say something to break the silence.

“John, what are you going to do once the bounty is lifted?”

John thought for a moment.

“Keep living. Remember the love I had.”

Yep. That was about as John Wick an answer as you could get.

It somehow said everything and nothing at the same time.

“Helen must have been a wonderful person.”

“She was.”

A faint smile gradually appeared on John’s face.

“Helen was... wonderful. Truly wonderful.”

“Those were five good years.”

There was a trace of nostalgia in his eyes.

Nate glanced at him from the corner of his eye, unsure what to say next.

So he changed the subject.

“Winston mentioned that someone still holds one of your blood contracts.”

He already knew the answer, but asked anyway.

“Who?”

“Santino D’Antonio.”

John frowned as he said the name.

“Now that you’re back in the game, is he going to come looking for you?”

John was silent for a moment.

“Yes.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“...No. A blood contract is complicated.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

John nodded.

“Thanks.”

Nate remembered Santino’s face.

One second, the man had been sitting comfortably in the Continental eating foie gras. The next, John had put a bullet through his head and sent him sprawling.

You got to use that blood contract to screw John over when I wasn’t around.

Now that I’m here, if I still let you pull that off, what was the point of me showing up?

Nate already had an idea of how to deal with him.

“We’re almost there.”

They stopped the car one block from the church.

Nate was about to get out when John stopped him and handed him several things.

It was the holster for John’s HK P30L, along with several spare magazines.

“Oh, right!”

Nate quickly pulled the AREX holster and magazines out of his system Backpack and handed them to John.

By now, John had gotten used to Nate making things appear out of nowhere.

Once they had finished gearing up inside the car, they got out and made their way onto the roof of a building beside the church, where they found a concealed position and settled in.

The two chatted casually while they waited.

As they became more familiar with each other, John gradually started talking more.

“Hey, John. Did you know Viggo before all this?” Nate asked.

“He was... I suppose you could call him my former employer.”

“My last job before retirement was for him.”

“I even spent some time working as his bodyguard before that.”

“Then why didn’t his son recognize you?”

“...”

John was completely stumped.

After thinking about it for a long time, he finally said,

“I don’t know.”

“Fair enough. Looks like his son got hit with plot-induced stupidity.”

“What?”

John clearly didn’t understand the joke.

Bzz. Bzz.

Both of their phones vibrated at the same time.

Nate took his out and checked the message.

Winston’s people had already searched the dock and the apartment. All they had found were the usual drugs and stacks of U.S. dollars.

Nothing that looked like Viggo’s real leverage or anything important enough to be what they were after.

Just in case, Winston had also stationed people at several less likely locations.

But the main focus was now on the teahouse and the church.

Winston told them to be ready.

According to reliable information, Viggo had just boarded a flight from Minsk to New York.

Now all they had to do was wait.

Nate pulled an HK416 from his Backpack and handed it to John, followed by several magazines.

There was no telling how many people might show up.

A handgun alone might not be enough.

But with Nate around, firepower was the last thing they needed to worry about.

What kind of boss personally handed rifles to his own escort?

Probably not many.

Nate took out the AWM and began assembling it.

They had been in such a rush that he hadn’t had time to install all the accessories after buying it.

The 50% Firearm Proficiency granted by [Eagle Eye] allowed Nate to put the AWM together with the practiced ease of an experienced gunsmith.

Even John looked impressed by how quickly he worked.

Nate inserted the magazine and worked the bolt.

Click-clack.

He ran a hand along the cold barrel of the massive rifle and couldn’t help thinking how incredible all of this was.

Getting transported into another world really did have its perks.

In his previous life, he had been reluctant to waste AWM ammunition even in video games.

Now he could hold the real thing in his hands, and ammunition wasn’t even a concern.

Lily had given him a full hundred rounds.

He could afford to burn through a few.

First, though, he needed a reference point to zero the scope.

Nate extended the suppressed AWM over the edge of the rooftop and picked a corner of a distant building.

He fired.

The report was barely louder than a .22, and in an open area like this, it was almost impossible to hear from a distance.

No good.

The shot was slightly left.

Nate adjusted the windage knob and fired again.

Better.

That would do.

He stored the AWM in his Backpack.

With a thought, the huge sniper rifle immediately appeared in his hands again.

“That... is incredibly convenient,” John said from beside him.

The envy in his eyes was obvious.

Nate raised the rifle and looked through the scope.

“Don’t worry. As long as I’m around, you’ll never have to worry about running out of guns.”

Then he stopped.

“Wait...”

Through the scope, he saw several cars approaching from the far end of the road, heading toward the church.

“Are those cars coming here?”

John leaned out slightly and took a look.

“Looks like it.”

Nate froze.

He checked his phone.

It had been less than fifteen minutes since Winston’s message.

“No way. Since when is the flight from Minsk to New York that fast?”