John Wick - Chapter 101: AA12 and the Can Opener (Patreon)

The elegant Italian man standing across from Nate had been silent for quite a while.

The atmosphere was starting to get a little awkward.

“If you don’t have a Gatling gun... an RPG or a Stinger missile would work too,” Nate suggested tentatively.

John’s eye twitched, while the young Sommelier actually leaned back in disbelief.

“And if those are out of the question, a Claymore mine would work...”

The Sommelier merely patted his chest, still unable to find the words.

“Seriously, how do you not have any of this stuff...?”

The Sommelier let out a long breath and stared at Nate in silence.

“You’ve at least got hand grenades, right?”

“Oh! Those we have!”

The Sommelier reacted as though he had finally grabbed onto a lifeline. He was so relieved that even his tone changed.

He crouched down and rummaged through the cabinets before pulling a case out from beneath the counter. Inside were ten grenades, each individually sealed in transparent packaging.

Five SOHG offensive grenades and five F1 defensive grenades.

“These have been sitting here for over two years. No one ever buys them. I was starting to think I’d never sell them.”

“Tell me about them.”

The Sommelier immediately launched into an explanation.

“The SOHG offensive grenade is American-made. It’s a modular offensive grenade, and multiple units can be linked together to increase the explosive force. It uses a thermobaric filler, giving it more than four times the destructive power of an ordinary offensive grenade.”

“As for the F1, that’s an old Russian design. Its cast-iron casing produces more lethal fragments, with an effective casualty radius of twenty to thirty meters. Very powerful, and perfectly suited to your requirements.”

He paused before adding, “Although, Mr. Lin, if you’ll forgive me for asking... are you planning to go fight in Syria?”

The Sommelier no longer looked nearly as stiff. It was as though something inside him had finally snapped loose, leaving him visibly more relaxed.

His British accent remained as refined as ever, but Nate could clearly hear the teasing in his voice.

“He’s paranoid about not having enough firepower. Try to understand,” John explained from the side.

“Oh~”

The Sommelier understood immediately.

“Can I order the other stuff?” Nate asked, still unwilling to give up.

“The hotel’s regular suppliers don’t carry those items, but I can personally make a few inquiries for you. I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll do my best.”

“That’d be great. Thanks.” Nate smiled. “Try to arrange whatever you can from the list I gave you. And if you’ve got anything else interesting, bring it out. Let me have a look.”

“How about an AA12?” the Sommelier asked.

“You have one of those?” Nate immediately perked up. “Tell me about it.”

In practically any game, the AA12 would qualify as a seriously powerful weapon.

The Sommelier had finally entered his area of expertise, and his confidence returned almost instantly.

“The AA12, also known as the Mississippi Storm. Twelve-gauge. Its overall length is only 991 millimeters, yet it weighs a hefty 7.3 kilograms.”

“And you have quite a selection when it comes to ammunition. Four types of specialized rounds, in fact.”

“1. FRAG-12 High-Explosive Round. Equipped with stabilizing fins and high-energy explosives. It effectively turns this shotgun into a miniature grenade launcher with a range of 150 meters. Its two-meter lethal radius ensures that any ‘guest’ hiding behind cover will have nowhere left to hide.”

“2. Fragmentation Round. Once the shell detonates, it releases a large number of pre-formed fragments. The aftermath can become rather messy.”

“3. Armor-Piercing High-Explosive Round. If your enemy is hiding behind a door or a car, allow him to sample this particular ‘dessert.’ It can easily penetrate a ten-millimeter steel plate before detonating. Elegant, and utterly unforgiving.”

“4. Incendiary Round, also known as Dragon's Breath. I’ve also prepared a special ‘fire-starting liquor’ for you. It can project an eight-meter stream of flame out to a distance of twenty-five meters. It works particularly well on guests wearing soft body armor.”

“A 32-round extended drum, four specialized ammunition types, and our exclusive ‘Constant Recoil System.’ Together, they give you an almost unlimited margin for error.”

Nate stared at the magnificent weapon, his eyes practically glowing.

My God. Compared to the real thing, games were way too conservative.

The joke about using one of these shaving years off your life suddenly didn’t sound like much of a joke.

“You seem quite pleased with it.” A genuine smile appeared on the Sommelier’s face. “How much ammunition would you like?”

“How much do you have?” Nate asked, swallowing.

“About two hundred rounds of each type. As you know, this weapon draws far too much attention, and the ammunition is extremely expensive. It almost never sells.”

“I’ll take all of it. And seven more drums.”

“No problem, sir. It’s rare to see an order this large.”

Looks like paying for all that specialized ammunition in gold coins wasn’t going to be cheap.

“Come to think of it, if you have something like this, why don’t you have a Gatling gun?” Nate asked, genuinely puzzled.

By now, he had developed something of an obsession with getting one.

The Sommelier fell silent for a moment.

“Perhaps... because we have no desire to become terrorists.”

“Still feels like I haven’t had enough. Something’s missing.”

Nate laughed and quickly changed the subject.

“Got any assault rifles with some real punch?”

The Sommelier smiled.

He slowly opened the glass display case and carefully lifted out a short, thick black firearm. Despite its compact shape, there was something distinctly beastlike about it.

“Allow me to introduce our ‘Hibernator.’ The ASH-12.7.”

The Sommelier cradled the bullpup rifle in both hands, gently running one hand over its cold metal receiver.

“This Siberian spirit has discarded every unnecessary flourish. After its custom modifications, it weighs only five kilograms even with all its accessories. Compact as it may be, every bit of its power has been compressed into that small frame.”

He gently placed the rifle on the velvet cloth.

“5.56-millimeter ‘toothpicks’? Elegant. Fast. But they simply lack punch.”

“This ‘Hibernator,’ on the other hand, chews 12.7×55-millimeter ‘grapes.’”

He reached beneath the display case and produced a row of enormous brass cartridges. He rolled them between his fingers before placing them on the counter with a series of deep metallic clinks.

“Hardened steel-core armor-piercing rounds. If one of your guests happens to be wearing heavy armor, serve him this ‘dessert.’ At two hundred meters, it can easily penetrate a sixteen-millimeter steel plate. If you need to open a can, this will make the job effortless.”

The Sommelier raised the rifle with both hands and narrowed his eyes like a wine taster, sighting through the holographic optic toward the distant lights.

“To accomplish all of this, we fitted it with a ‘Tomahawk’ heavy barrel. We sacrificed a little portability in exchange for tighter shot placement.”

“Combine that with the ‘Titan’ flash hider, a custom sniper stock, and an FN PUREVIEW holographic sight, and within its two-hundred-meter effective range, shooting it feels like gliding across ice. Smooth enough to be intoxicating.”

Nate took the rifle and gently worked the action.

A crisp, heavy metallic clack rang out.

The Sommelier watched him with an approving smile.

“Of course, it does have a few quirks of its own. Those enormous cartridges mean the magazine capacity is limited to twenty rounds.”

“Its rate of fire is only five hundred rounds per minute, which isn’t particularly fast. And that massive caliber naturally produces substantial recoil and muzzle rise. Switching to semi-automatic fire does make both much easier to control.”

“So, Mr. Lin, would you prefer to let it sleep peacefully... or wake it and let it roar at your enemies?”

Nate didn’t hesitate.

“I’ll take it. Ammunition and magazines too. As much as you have.”

The Sommelier nodded with satisfaction and smiled.

“Very good, Mr. Lin. Would you care for dessert?”

“The finest cutlery. Fresh out of the oven.”

Nate waved his hand.

“I’ll take all of it!”

After quite a bit more back and forth, the two finally left the Sommelier behind. Everything they had purchased would be delivered to Nate’s room shortly.

Nate never bothered asking how many gold coins he had spent in total.

But judging from the curve of the Sommelier’s smile, his paycheck this month was going to be very impressive.

“Nate, what are you planning to do with all that heavy firepower?”

“Sleep with it. Helps me rest easier. Besides, it’s for emergencies. Did you forget what we’re supposed to be helping Winston with?”

Nate checked his phone.

It was almost seven.

“John, what floor is the hotel restaurant on?”

“Fourth. The first floor has the lobby and bar. Management stays on the second floor, staff quarters are on the third, and guest rooms start from the fifth floor.”

“That’s actually a pretty good layout.”

They took the elevator to the restaurant on the fourth floor.

Nate was just about to call Elena and ask if she wanted him to bring anything upstairs when a gunshot suddenly rang out from above.

It was immediately followed by the sounds of a struggle and something heavy crashing to the floor.

Every diner in the restaurant craned their necks and stared upward.

“John... our room is on the fifth floor, right?”

“Yeah~”

John’s answer was unusually serious.

“Then what the fuck are we waiting for?!”

Nate rushed over and hit the elevator button, only to see that the elevator was already heading downstairs.

John moved first.

He slammed through the stairwell door and charged upward, taking three steps at a time.

Nate drew his gun and followed right behind him!