Chapter 6: Sacred Objects
Fox observed John Wick. "That scar on his face—an old injury, if I'm not mistaken. This retired 'Night Demon' isn't as invincible as he seems. He's back at the Continental. Planning a comeback? If so, I wouldn't mind the extra income…"
Smith grasped Fox's hand. "You're anxious again. The fun hasn't even begun."
…
Eddie presented John Wick with a whiskey and a napkin bearing a lip print and an address. "Compliments of the hotel."
John Wick, recognizing the gesture as from Winston (who offered a toast from his booth), considered his next move. He produced his phone and a Continental Hotel gold coin. Displaying a photo of a Dragon Ball, he requested information on the item or similar artifacts, offering the coin to Eddie.
Eddie examined the photo, surprised. The Continental's intelligence network, activated by Smith Doyle's earlier request, lacked information on this specific Dragon Ball, making John Wick's inquiry unexpected.
"What a coincidence!" Eddie exclaimed, accepting the coin. "Before today, you'd have gotten nothing. But a client just posted a similar request. Anyone seeking this or a similar Dragon Ball can contact him directly. He's right here," Eddie said, pointing to Smith Doyle.
John Wick was stunned. This differed from his expectations. He'd anticipated the hotel's ignorance or the existence of obscure documents, not this.
He walked toward Smith.
…
Fox nudged Smith, jokingly, "400W is heading our way."
Smith remained unfazed. The Assassin's League, with its millennia-long history, possessed unimaginable resources; money was insignificant. The United States, barely two centuries old, considered artifacts from its founding priceless.
John Wick approached, placing his phone on the table, displaying the Dragon Ball image. "Eddie said to contact you for information."
Fox examined the photo, curious. Smith smiled, "Seems you've acquired a Dragon Ball."
John Wick, shocked, asked anxiously, "Is the legend true?"
Smith's smile remained unchanged. "It is."
John Wick took a deep breath. "Thank you. I don't believe we've met. I'm Jonathan John Wick."
"Smith Doyle," Smith replied, gesturing to Fox. "And this is Fox."
John Wick continued, "Mr. Smith, how much do you know about this? Do you possess a similar artifact? What would it cost to acquire yours?"
Smith regarded him seriously. "We're from the Assassin's League. This is a sacred object under our protection. This isn't the place to discuss this," Smith said, pointing to the phone. "And you have pressing matters. However, know this: you are now under our observation."
John Wick paused, then said, "I do have business to attend to. I'm unsure when we can discuss this Dragon Ball."
Smith responded, "When you're ready, meet us at room 819 of the Continental."
John Wick nodded, departing to find Rusev Tarasov.
Fox, curious, asked, "What's this Dragon Ball Smith mentioned? Why is it sacred to us? And what are we observing about John Wick?"
Smith stood up. "I'll explain later. Control your expressions; don't be surprised. As for the observation—follow him and see what he does."
Fox leaned in, whispering, "I hope this ends with a surprise. Otherwise… you're dead." She playfully pinched his waist.
"Ouch!" Smith feigned pain. "Hurry, or we'll lose John Wick."
…
John Wick drove to the Red Circle Club, contemplating his encounter with Smith. He knew of the Assassin's League, an organization outside the High Table that never took assassination contracts. Their members possessed exceptional combat skills. Five years of retirement meant outdated information; he wasn't sure what changes had occurred. He suspected their motives—investigation, perhaps.
Touching the Dragon Ball hanging on his chest, his eyes hardened. "I will resurrect you, Helen."
Chapter 7: Aladdin's Magic Lamp, No: Dragon Ball
Smith and Fox observed John Wick's fight within the Red Circle Club.
Back in the car, Smith commented, "Thirty-one kills; four with daggers. Your thoughts?"
Fox, glancing at the escaping Rusev Tarasov, replied, "Decisive and ruthless. Mozambique drill—two chest shots, one to the head. No survivors. Though he killed many, his target was the one who got away."
Smith nodded in agreement. "Let's go. We've seen his capabilities. Back to the Continental."
Fox sped off, leaving John Wick, injured, while Tarasov escaped.
In room 819, Fox mused, "You're not planning to recruit him into the Assassin's League, are you? He's qualified, but would he accept our philosophy? I suspect he might even be a target."
Smith considered this, shaking his head. "No plans to recruit him yet. But your suggestion is worth considering."
Fox sighed, pouring herself a bourbon. "I hope the final answer isn't boring."
…
Time passed. John Wick, treated by the hotel doctor, rested in his room. The sound of his door opening alerted Smith. Minutes later, fighting erupted next door.
Fox, roused, dressed quickly. "Someone's breaking the Continental's rules. That's Wick's room, if I recall."
Smith, already aware of the situation (including the near-successful ambush by Perkins, thwarted only by a warning shot outside the hotel), smiled. "Rules are made to be broken. But you must pay the price."
Fox added, "Someone's in trouble. This commotion—the hotel's been notified."
The fight ended with Wick victorious. Smith, observing Perkins in the corridor, remarked to Fox, "Seems he overestimated himself."
Wick, after a phone call, emerged, holding Perkins at gunpoint. He'd obtained his information.
After subduing Perkins, Wick addressed Smith, "Smith, could you help with this… sleeping guest? I'll pay a gold coin; hand her over to the Continental at dawn. Killing is prohibited, you know."
Smith chuckled. "The Continental's rules, haha. Bring her in. I have something to tell you."
Wick retrieved handcuffs and a gold coin. Perkins, bound, was brought to Smith's room.
Smith instructed Fox, "Bourbon for John."
Fox poured a drink for Wick.
Wick downed the bourbon. "Good stuff. Charon recommended this."
Smith nodded, "John Wick, your personal business isn't finished. But first, I need to know your wish."
Wick, serious, replied, "My wish… is to resurrect my wife."
Smith, maintaining eye contact, said, "I believe you."
Fox, though perplexed, remained composed.
Smith explained, "The Assassin's League, a millennia-old organization, guards the Dragon Balls. Yours is one of seven. Gather all seven, summon the dragon, and make your wish."
Wick nodded, already aware of the Dragon Balls' power.
"Sounds like Aladdin's lamp," he commented.
Smith replied casually, "A bard's revision of the Dragon Ball legend."
Wick was surprised. "If the Dragon Balls are sacred to your organization, why were they in my home?"
Smith explained, "After granting a wish, they scatter, hiding as stones, reappearing after a time. We don't keep them locked away. When a destined individual finds one, we assess them, understanding their desires. If they're selfless, we guide them to find the others."
Wick nodded, understanding. "What if their desire is evil?"
Smith asked, "What does the assassin community think of the Assassin's League?"
Wick considered the League's legend—no assassination contracts, yet people mysteriously died at their hands. Were those who failed the League's assessment? No wonder the Dragon Ball legend is obscure; those who knew were eliminated.