John Wick - Chapter 66: All-Out Attack! (Part 1) (Patreon)

In the short time they had been watching, several SUVs had already driven into the plaza in front of the church.

More than a dozen people got out and hurried into the church with anxious expressions, while several others stayed by the vehicles to keep watch.

Nate recognized the leader in the suit, rushing into the church with a cane. He was the mob boss from the beginning of the second movie who had reconciled with John, Viggo’s younger brother.

No wonder they had gotten here so quickly. It looked like they had headed straight here the moment Winston made his move.

“This is the place,” John said, his eyes fixed on the church.

Nate nodded, lowered his head, and quickly sent Winston a message.

“John, we need to cut them off. Don’t let them get away. I’ll support you with this. Wait for my signal before you move.”

As he spoke, Nate pointed to the AWM in his hands.

“Got it.”

John nodded, picked up his HK416, and started toward the stairs.

“Wait.”

Nate stopped him.

He produced a Rattler short-barreled rifle and several magazines and handed them over.

“Use this. It’s small enough to hide under your clothes. That rifle’s too big and conspicuous.”

The building was still some distance from the church. It wasn’t far, but there was no reason to alert them on the way over.

With the stock folded, the Rattler wasn’t much bigger than a submachine gun. John could tuck it under his clothes and conceal it beneath the hem of his suit jacket.

“Okay.”

John took the weapon and headed out at a brisk pace, stuffing the magazines into the back of his waistband as he went.

Nate replaced the AWM’s magazine with a fresh, fully loaded one, then set up on the rooftop facing the plaza.

The scope’s rangefinder showed that the straight-line distance from the rooftop to the plaza was less than two hundred meters.

At that range, a shot with the AWM was almost effortless.

Nate settled behind the rifle. With 50% Firearm Proficiency, the AWM felt like another limb. He peered through the scope and watched the plaza below.

The SUVs outside the church were still running. Three guards stood in front of them, keeping watch.

Nearly three minutes passed.

John was already in position, crouched behind a flower bed about twenty meters from the vehicles with the Rattler ready.

The church doors opened, and a group of men emerged carrying all kinds of bags and cases toward the SUVs.

There were two large crates. They looked heavy enough that each required two men to carry.

Several other henchmen followed, each carrying two silver briefcases.

The mob boss limped at the front with his cane. His right leg seemed to have already been injured.

Well, that was unfortunate.

I’ll leave you one good leg. If you survive, you can get the other one replaced.

The plaza wasn’t large. They were already nearing the middle, with only about twenty meters left to the SUVs.

Nate settled the scope’s crosshairs over the mob boss’s right calf.

The rangefinder read 193 meters. Wind drift was negligible.

At this distance, a hit from the AWM would shatter the bone without question.

He took aim, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger.

A muted gunshot sounded from the rooftop.

Down in the plaza, the mob boss’s right leg snapped apart just below the knee.

The lower half of his calf was simply gone, hurled several meters away by the force of the bullet.

The mob boss collapsed as if the support beneath him had suddenly vanished.

He lay there with both hands raised, completely stunned, as though the pain hadn’t even registered yet.

Almost at the exact same moment, John’s Rattler opened fire.

From this distance, Nate couldn’t hear the shots. He could only see the muzzle flashes.

John was behind the flower bed, less than thirty meters from the three guards beside the SUVs.

“Pfft!”

One shot struck the rifleman holding an HK416 in the head, dropping him instantly.

Before the other two gunmen could react, John fired another short burst.

One rifleman had barely started raising his AR-15 when two holes appeared in his head and neck.

The man beside him, armed with an MP5 submachine gun, instinctively tried to retreat behind the SUV, but he was too slow.

John fired another three-round burst.

The first two rounds struck his chest. The third caught him in the head as he fell.

Only then did the mob boss’s agonized scream finally tear through the plaza.

Everything had happened in an instant. Four men were already down.

But the scream seemed to snap the bodyguards in the center of the plaza into action.

They immediately dropped whatever they were carrying, drew their pistols, and began searching frantically for the attackers.

Several others rushed toward the mob boss, who was still howling on the ground, trying to grab him and drag him back into the church.

Nate obviously wasn’t going to let that happen.

He worked the bolt, ejecting a spent casing. It bounced onto the rooftop with a crisp metallic clink.

“Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!”

Four shots came in rapid succession.

Nate blew apart the heads of the bodyguards closest to the mob boss.

Two of them had managed to grab the mob boss by the arms and drag him less than a meter before bullets struck their heads. Both collapsed without making a sound.

A fresh magazine appeared in Nate’s hand. He swapped magazines in an instant and worked the bolt.

“Pfft!”

Another bodyguard trying to reach the mob boss dropped.

John leaned out from cover as well, firing to suppress the others and add to the chaos.

He clearly understood exactly what Nate wanted. The two of them didn’t need to say a word.

John fired the Rattler in controlled bursts, deliberately keeping his shots away from the crates and the mob boss while targeting the bodyguards behind him.

Two more bodyguards went down in sprays of blood.

One of the men spotted John and raised his pistol toward his position.

But the distance was over thirty meters, and his aim was poor. Several handgun rounds struck the flower bed, kicking up nothing but dust.

John raised the Rattler and put two rounds through the man’s head.

Then John changed positions.

He sprinted to one of the enemy SUVs and used its front end as cover before leaning out and continuing to lay down suppressive fire.

The mob boss was still screaming on the ground, dragging his ruined leg behind him as he crawled toward the church entrance.

Two more bodyguards rushed over and grabbed him by the arms, trying to drag him backward into the church.

Nate calmly settled the crosshairs on one man’s forehead.

The rifle fired.

The man’s head snapped back as he fell.

Nate worked the bolt and took aim again.

The other bodyguard had just turned to run when a bullet entered through his right ear. His body spun around once before collapsing.

The mob boss was abandoned in the middle of the plaza, his mangled leg leaving a dark trail of blood behind him.

The remaining men finally broke.

Ignoring the mob boss’s furious curses, they fled toward the stone columns and steps at the church entrance.

Nate lowered his aim onto the last bodyguard in the group, placed the crosshairs over his back, and squeezed the trigger.

The man pitched forward onto the ground.

Nate shifted the rifle slightly and was about to fire again, but his next target had already reached cover. The church portico blocked Nate’s line of fire.

Less than a minute had passed, and the plaza was already littered with bodies.

Nate counted quickly.

Four were still alive.

From behind the SUV, John raised the Rattler and killed another one while also putting a round into another bodyguard’s leg.

The wounded man limped desperately behind one of the stone pillars at the church entrance.

John’s Rattler ran dry.

He reloaded quickly, taking barely more than a second.

That brief moment was enough for the last two terrified bodyguards to scramble behind the stone columns beneath the church portico.

So there were two and a half left now.

Three, counting the mob boss.

The mob boss was still lying in the plaza, but he had stopped screaming. He rolled himself over and slowly crawled toward the church entrance, groaning as he dragged his ruined leg behind him.

There was one round left in the AWM’s magazine.

Nate worked the bolt and chambered the final round, pressed the magazine release to drop the empty magazine, then immediately produced a full one and locked it into place.

He raised the sniper rifle and aimed again.

No good.

From the rooftop, the structure of the church blocked too much of his view of the enemies near the entrance.

Nate needed a different position.

He thought about it for a moment.

There weren’t many of them left anyway.

Forget the sniper rifle.

He headed downstairs to link up with John.