John Wick - Chapter 120: Blast! (Patreon)

John had already set up his rifle on the roof of a small building about a hundred meters behind and to the right of the hotel. From there, he had a clear view of the hotel’s main entrance.

He kept the rifle trained on the street and glanced at the watch on his wrist.

10:13 PM.

The bounty wouldn’t go live for another half hour.

His partner’s plan was bold, but John actually thought it was pretty good.

For the first time in a long while, he could feel his blood starting to boil.

Movement appeared near the hotel entrance.

John looked through the scope.

It was Nate.

He had actually left the hotel early.

Through the scope, John watched Nate stroll down the street as if nothing were wrong, his backpack in one hand and his phone in the other.

A huge crowd of assassins followed not far behind him.

At a rough count, there were already sixty or seventy of them.

More assassins continued pouring out through the hotel doors and joining the group.

Their numbers were still growing.

Some kept their hands behind their backs.

Others had them tucked inside their jackets.

John knew exactly why none of them had attacked yet.

The bounty wasn’t active.

If they killed Nate now, they wouldn’t get a cent.

The young man in the white suit had already walked quite a distance.

Through the scope, John saw Nate turn around and smile in his direction before putting away his phone.

John understood.

His finger slowly settled on the trigger.

The crosshairs locked onto the assassin closest to Nate.

Nate put away his phone.

He had just been messaging Winston.

The men Winston had left behind in Rome were already heading toward him.

Nate had simply replied, “Okay.”

By now, nearly all the assassins inside the hotel had come out.

Nate looked at the crowd in front of him.

There had to be more than a hundred people.

“Aren’t you going to make a move?”

Nate paused before continuing.

“How about this? I’ll give you one last chance.”

“Before this starts, anyone who wants to leave can leave now.”

The assassins stared at him warily.

No one answered.

No one left.

Nate said nothing.

Neither did they.

An eerie silence settled over the street.

Nate didn’t seem bothered.

He nodded and raised his voice.

“Fair enough. We’re about to start killing each other anyway. No point wasting words.”

“But standing around like this is pretty boring.”

He lifted the backpack in his hand.

“How about some entertainment?”

“Catch.”

Nate hurled the backpack into the crowd.

It crossed the twenty-meter distance with surprising speed as [Flying Star] kicked in.

One unlucky assassin had his view blocked by the people in front of him and never saw it coming.

The heavy backpack slammed into him and knocked him flat.

The surrounding assassins immediately backed away.

Several even drew their guns.

But they still didn’t dare fire.

All they could do was aim at the unlucky man lying on the ground.

He finally managed to get back up.

He pushed the backpack off himself and unzipped it.

Inside were ten grenades.

Before he could even raise his head, he saw a square object glowing red attach itself squarely to the backpack.

The young man in the white suit muttered something he couldn’t understand.

The assassin opened his mouth to shout.

Bang!

A bullet from John tore through his head before he could get the words out.

His body collapsed.

Everyone’s attention instantly shifted toward the gunshot.

But several people standing near the corpse had already realized what was happening.

They turned and ran.

The problem was that more than a hundred people were packed into a narrow street.

Those farther back had no idea what was happening.

Everyone was pressed together so tightly that the ones trying to escape could barely move.

“GRENADES!!!”

Someone finally screamed from inside the crowd.

By then, Nate had already activated [Adrenaline Rush].

He shot out of the blast radius several times faster than an ordinary person, slipped behind a wall, covered his ears, and crouched.

BOOM! BOOM!!!! BOOM!!!!

The deafening explosions rolled across the street along with the shockwaves.

Even behind the wall, Nate felt his heart jump from the impact.

Five SOHG offensive grenades had been linked together.

The shockwaves alone were terrifying.

And they made the fragmentation from the five F1 grenades even deadlier.

Five offensive grenades.

Five defensive grenades.

And one enhanced magnetic bomb.

John saw the entire scene clearly from his position above.

The flash from the explosions momentarily stunned him.

Through the scope, John saw the powerful shockwave carry the shrapnel through the packed crowd like Death swinging a scythe, blooming into a grotesque flower of flesh and blood.

The first casualty was the unlucky assassin with the backpack. When the magnetic bomb detonated, he was blown apart, flesh and bone reduced to ash in the heat. At least he had the easiest death of them all. John’s bullet had already killed him before the explosion began.

The five offensive grenades detonated almost simultaneously, shockwaves spreading violently in every direction and throwing everyone within twenty meters off their feet.

This wasn’t like a movie where someone got blasted through the air and stood back up afterward.

This was raw, destructive force.

The shockwaves tore through internal organs and shattered bones. The people hurled into the air were already dead before they hit the ground, blood streaming from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths, their organs pulped by the force. Some had their legs blown off. Others lost half their heads, blood and brain matter tracing grotesque arcs through the air.

Then came the five defensive grenades.

Offensive grenades relied mainly on blast pressure, which limited their effectiveness in open spaces. Defensive grenades were different. Their bodies were packed with hundreds of steel balls and fragments that sprayed outward like shotgun pellets when they detonated.

The moment the shockwave tore open the formation, thousands of steel balls and fragments swept across the street at the speed of sound.

The tightly packed crowd became the perfect killing ground.

Fragments ricocheted and rebounded between bodies. A single small shard could punch through three people and still retain enough kinetic energy to keep going.

One assassin’s carotid artery was sliced open, blood spraying from his neck like a fountain and splattering the people beside him. Another had his jaw torn away, his tongue still twitching. Another had his entire face shredded by steel balls until his features were unrecognizable.

Screams, cries, and calls for help blended together.

Then the later explosions drowned them out.

Nate remained crouched behind the wall with his hands over his ears and his mouth open.

Even so, the blasts left his ears ringing.

The ground trembled beneath him.

Heat rolled around the corner, carrying the smell of smoke and blood.

The entire sequence lasted less than three seconds.

But in those three seconds, the crowded street had been transformed into a slaughterhouse.

Nate peeked around the wall.

A layer of dust covered his white suit, but he hadn’t been injured.

The scene in front of him looked like hell.

Bodies covered the street.

Some were intact.

Others weren’t.

Blood pooled across the pavement and ran through cracks in the asphalt.

Those who had survived the blast were in even worse shape.

Some lay on the ground screaming.

Others tried desperately to crawl away despite their injuries.

A few simply stood frozen in place, staring blankly ahead with blood running from their ears.

More than half of the hundred-plus assassins had been taken out in an instant.

Most of the survivors were injured.

Whatever little morale they had possessed was gone.

Nate brushed the dust from his white suit and stepped out from behind the wall.

He pulled out his phone.

10:15 PM.

Thirty-two minutes remained before the bounty officially became active.

Nate looked toward the building where John was positioned.

Then he flicked both hands.

Two metal playing cards slid from his sleeves.

Their golden edges reflected the streetlights.

Nate snapped his wrists.

The cards streaked through the air like twin golden lines and buried themselves in the heads of two surviving assassins.

He flipped his hands again.

Two more metal cards appeared.

Nate started walking forward.

“I gave you a chance.”

His voice was quiet.

Almost as though he were trying to convince himself.

But his pace kept increasing.

A walk became a jog.

The jog became a sprint.

Golden cards flew from his hands one after another.

The surviving assassins who could still fight saw the white figure charging toward them.

Before some could even raise their weapons, cards struck them down.

Others panicked and tried to run.

A card buried itself in the back of one assassin’s head, sending him crashing into the man in front of him.

Both fell into the blood-covered street.

John watched everything through his scope.

The crosshairs followed Nate’s movements.

He saw Nate rush into the crowd like a streak of white lightning.

Golden cards flashed through the air, dropping one assassin after another.

A card slashed one assassin’s throat open, and he clutched desperately at the wound.

Nate followed with another card.

The man collapsed backward.

Nate stood in the middle of the blood-soaked street.

His white shoes stepped into a pool of blood, staining the edges a disturbing shade of pink.

John stared for a moment with his mouth slightly open.

Then he drew a deep breath.

His finger rested firmly on the trigger as the scope began searching for anyone Nate had missed.

He spotted an assassin crouched behind a car.

The man raised a trembling pistol and aimed at Nate’s back.

Nate didn’t even turn around.

His wrist flicked.

A playing card flew.

John pulled the trigger at the same moment.

A muted gunshot sounded.

The bullet and the card struck almost simultaneously.

The assassin’s head burst like a watermelon, spraying blood and brain matter across the car window.

Two more assassins stepped out through the Continental’s entrance.

They had barely cleared the doors when they froze at the sight in front of them.

Nate looked at them without expression.

[Intimidation] activated.

An overwhelming killing intent locked onto the pair.

Combined with the nightmare unfolding in the street, it broke them instantly.

They spun around and scrambled back into the hotel.

John checked his watch.

10:21 PM.

Twenty-six minutes left.

He worked the bolt.

The spent casing ejected with a metallic clink and landed on the concrete beside his foot.

John carefully swept the street through his scope again.

There was no one left alive on the street.

More than a hundred assassins had been wiped out by the two of them in only a few minutes.

Nate drew a deep breath and started walking back toward the Continental.

“System?”

[I’m here.]

“Upgrade.”