Unexpected

In the back alley of the Red Circle Club, beneath the dim yellow light, a gray-haired Russian mobster leaned against the doorframe, puffing away on a cigarette.

As its ember flickered, John's P30L silently pressed against the back of his head. "Good evening, Francis."

The low greeting made the old guard shudder.

As he slowly turned around, Beta's gun butt came swinging down with a rush of air. There was a dull thud, followed by a quick finishing blow to ensure the old guard would enjoy a long, deep sleep.

"I could've talked him into leaving," John said, a trace of regret in his voice.

Beta checked the lock without looking up. "And then what? How would he explain to his boss that two professional hitmen strolled right past him?"

The metal hinges creaked softly as the back door swung open.

John gripped his pistol and stepped into the dim hallway first, with Beta close behind. Keeping their tactical formation, the two disappeared into the club.

The back entrance of the Red Circle Club led straight into the staff area.

The dim hallway connected to the showers, restrooms, and changing rooms. It was the peak of business, and all the dancers were busy out front, leaving the back area silent.

John put away his pistol and drew a knife. He crept up to the corner, grabbed a mobster who was playing on his phone, and choked him as the sharp blade slid precisely between his ribs. The man didn't even have time to react before slumping beside the urinal, eyes wide with shock, breath gone.

Beta kept watch with his gun, scanning every corner.

John covered the wound with the victim's jacket, then yanked out the knife, trailing a string of blood droplets. The two exchanged a glance and switched formation without a word. Beta took the lead with his gun, while John followed with his knife.

A locker snapped shut in the changing room, followed by the rush of water and off-key humming.

Beta rested his right index finger lightly on the trigger guard, his muzzle trained on the source of the sound. He signaled with his left hand. Like a ghost, John crept closer. The moment the mobster at the sink looked up, John knocked him to the floor with a heavy punch.

Just then, the door to the adjoining shower room suddenly opened. A mobster wiping his hair with a towel froze in place, his gaze shifting from his unconscious companion to John.

Before he could make a sound, Beta's suppressed rifle gave a soft pop. The bullet pierced his forehead, and he fell backward. John rushed forward, caught him by the collar, and gently lowered the body to the floor.

After quickly clearing the shower room and confirming it was safe, Beta nodded to John.

John stared at the bloodied captive. "You were at my house. I remember you. Where's Iosef?"

"Сукаблядь!" The captive spat curses through a mouthful of blood.

John drove a vicious knee into the man's groin. The mobster let out a bloodcurdling scream and crumpled to his knees.

John tore off the belt of his bathrobe, wrapped it around his neck, and dragged him into the sink with a heavy slam. As he twisted open the faucet with one hand and plugged the drain, John shoved the man's face into the water as it rapidly rose.

Bubbles gurgled at the surface. John watched his wristwatch and counted six seconds, then hauled the man up. "Where's Iosef?"

"Basement level two. The pool." The man coughed violently, his face smeared with snot and tears.

Grabbing him by the hair, John slammed his face into the porcelain sink. "You killed my dog!"

Beta added, "And smashed Helen's glassware."

Before the words had left his mouth, he raised his hand and pulled the trigger.

The suppressed rifle gave a dull pop, and the bullet pierced the man's skull. Blood splattered across the mirror in an abstract pattern. The body crumpled onto the black tile, and the spreading pool of blood reflected the ghastly white lights overhead.

John exchanged a glance with Beta.

Beta pulled open the rusted iron door to the staff passage. The metal hinges groaned. "What are we waiting for?"

John bent to pick up the phone beside the body, then hurried after him.

They crossed the dim hallway and pushed open the last fire door. The underground pool area opened up before them. Blue lights shimmered across the water, while deafening electronic music reverberated through the enclosed space.

The two crept up the steel stairs to the VIP viewing gallery. John paused, peering through the glass railing. Iosef was floating lazily in the middle of the pool, surrounded by four or five women in the mist. Several of his men were in the water too, their arms around women.

"Split up?" Beta asked John.

John nodded.

Beta turned and slipped into the shadows of the equipment room. The hum of the ventilation ducts soon swallowed the sound of his footsteps. John continued along the viewing gallery, the holster's snap making a faint click in the gaps between songs.

Beta's figure vanished completely into the shadows at the stairwell corner. He was only a few panes of shimmering glass away from Iosef. Dazzling spotlights shifted constantly as they refracted through the pool, draping the entire area in an otherworldly dance of light and shadow.

A woman in a high-cut swimsuit sauntered along the edge of the pool.

She gently pushed a tray laden with drinks onto the water, then slid gracefully into the pool. The water washed over her curving figure, and she swam toward Iosef, pushing the floating tray ahead of her. Droplets gathered at her collarbone, sparkling like diamonds under the spotlights.

Iosef raised his champagne glass high. The alcohol had made his voice an octave louder than usual. "Another round!"

His men roared with laughter, and the clink of their glasses rang especially clearly through the misty space.

Beta trained his scope on Iosef.

A gunshot suddenly rang out from the second-floor VIP area.

Beta instinctively raised his gun toward the sound. John Wick was locked in a fierce struggle with a burly man beside the railing, their figures appearing and disappearing beneath the flashing lights.

Distracted for just a second, Beta turned back—and saw that Iosef had already slipped beneath the water like a cunning snake, swimming quickly toward the ladder just a short distance away.

The entire pool area erupted into chaos: women screamed, bodyguards roared, and glassware shattered, all mixed with the deafening background music into an overwhelming wall of sound.

Beta promptly pulled the trigger. His suppressed rifle gave a series of dull pops. The bullets pierced several layers of tempered glass, and spiderweb cracks raced across the panes, shattering them one after another.

He tried to track his target as he flickered in and out of view among the crowd, but Iosef's bodyguards displayed astonishing professionalism. Some deliberately formed a human shield with their bodies. Others grabbed panicked women in bikinis to use as shields. One even flipped over a floating serving table to create an obstacle.

Every bullet could only tear through splashing water. None could reach the slippery target.