Hunting

Viggo and several bodyguards stood in the garden in front of the church, the smell of burning filling the air.

"How much can still be salvaged?" Viggo asked, his voice hoarse.

The bodyguard lowered his head. "All the documents turned to charcoal. Not a single complete paper was left."

Viggo's gaze swept over the empty street. Only a rusty garbage truck was parked not far away. A cleaner in a reflective vest was slowly tidying the trash cans by the roadside, indifferent to the commotion at the church.

"What about the gold?" Viggo retracted his gaze.

The bodyguard's Adam's apple bobbed. "It's all gone. Didn't find a single piece in the ashes."

"Then what the hell are you still doing here!" Viggo roared.

That bastard who called himself "Paul Ostrovsky" not only looted his gold but also burned down the empire of power he had painstakingly built over many years. Rage churned in his chest, and he could almost taste the blood in his throat. The damned scoundrel had reduced his life's work to ashes, just like garbage.

He yanked open the car door and slammed himself heavily into the seat.

The bodyguards immediately sprang into action, a series of short commands crackling through their earpieces. Four black SUVs lit up their red taillights, their engines letting out low growls.

The lead reconnaissance vehicle was the first to turn around, its tires crushing the meticulously trimmed lawn. Delicate tulips burst with juice under the pressure of the rubber, their petals and soil getting caught in the tire treads, leaving black tracks on the grass. Viggo's car followed closely behind, the smoke swirling above the church spire reflected in the rearview mirror.

As the convoy drove out of the garden, they met the slow-moving garbage truck head-on.

During the convoy's movement, none of the bodyguards cast a wary glance at the old garbage truck. After all, there was only a hunched-over, white-haired cleaner in the driver's seat, who looked completely harmless.

As the lead car passed the garbage truck, disaster struck.

Just as Viggo's car was about to pass, the garbage truck suddenly turned, its massive steel front slamming into the left front wheel of Viggo's car. Amidst the screeching sound of twisting metal, Viggo's car spun, its driver's side completely exposed to the garbage truck.

The garbage truck's engine roared deafeningly, pushing Viggo's car sideways and smashing it hard against the brick wall on the side of the street.

Viggo's car instantly became a sandwiched cookie, its four doors crushed and deformed. The two escort vehicles behind braked sharply, the third collided with the right side of the garbage truck, and the fourth rear-ended the third. The lead car swerved and braked sharply a dozen meters away, its tires leaving four scorched black marks on the road.

The garbage truck's driver's door opened, and Beta jumped out of the cargo box. He fired his AK-Alfa rifle, and the four bodyguards who had emerged from the lead car fell to the ground.

He turned again, aimed, and pulled the trigger, all three actions executed in one fluid motion.

Three spiderweb-like cracks bloomed on Viggo's car windshield, and behind each bullet hole, a bodyguard lay dead with a headshot. Inside the car, Viggo cowered beneath the rear seat, clutching his head with both hands, his expensive suit stained with gore and shattered glass.

Beta used the garbage truck's massive body as cover, quickly circling to the rear.

He temporarily ignored Viggo, trapped between the garbage truck and the brick wall. The old fox wouldn't escape anytime soon.

At the corner of the rear of the truck, he ran into a bodyguard holding a gun. Beta's muzzle was almost pressed against the man's chest.

The bodyguard's finger had just touched the trigger when— BANG!

The gunshot exploded in the narrow street. Amidst the muffled thud of the bullet piercing the chest, the bodyguard staggered back, bumping into a fire hydrant and slowly sliding to the ground, leaving a shocking bloodstain behind him.

Beta used the visual blind spot at the rear of the garbage truck to strike again.

The muzzle flashed, and another bodyguard fell to his knees, clutching his chest, blood gushing from between his fingers.

The bodyguards in the two rear vehicles reacted, and a dense hail of bullets poured down.

Beta retreated to the rear of the garbage truck, lying flat on the ground with the soles of his shoes pressed against the hub of the rear wheel. He lowered his body and aimed through the gap beneath the chassis of the garbage truck.

A few precise bursts of "bang bang bang" sent bullets whistling under the truck, shredding the ankles and calves of the bodyguards, turning them into bloody messes. Amidst screams, the bodyguards, deprived of leg support, fell to the ground.

Beta seized the opportunity and quickly finished off the fallen bodyguards with follow-up shots, the empty casings clinking on the asphalt.

Beta rolled to the front of the garbage truck, the heavy engine compartment providing perfect cover. He removed the empty magazine, pulled a fresh one from his lower back, and reloaded. The crisp metallic click of the bolt returning to position was exceptionally clear.

As he raised his gun and approached the crushed SUV, he found the car empty. The trunk lid was propped open high, swaying slightly in the wind. Through the shattered windows, Beta saw the last two bodyguards dragging Viggo away.

Without a moment's hesitation, Beta pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through the car body and precisely hit the back of one bodyguard's heart.

The other man shoved Viggo violently towards the alley entrance and turned to return fire. But Beta's rifle spat fire first, the 7.62mm bullets knocking the man to the ground, blood splashing in a shocking fan shape on the wall.

As Beta's muzzle tracked towards the alley entrance, Viggo's figure had already disappeared around the corner.

The next second, a piercing engine roar erupted. Viggo was rammed onto the hood of a black Dodge Charger and, amidst the roar of the V8 engine, was driven out of the alley.

The tires screeched violently against the ground as the Dodge began to brake hard. Viggo was immediately thrown out, tumbling several times on the asphalt before coming to a stop.

Beta raised his rifle, but lowered the barrel when he recognized the driver.

John Wick stepped out of the driver's seat, his signature black bulletproof suit gleaming coldly under the streetlights, his P30L pistol in hand.

John strode towards Viggo, who was slumped on the ground, yanked him up, and pressed him heavily onto the still-hot engine hood of the Dodge. Amidst the dull thud of metal and flesh colliding, Viggo groaned in pain, only to meet John's burning eyes.

John's pistol was pressed against Viggo's forehead. "Viggo, where is your son?"

Beta kept watch on the perimeter with practiced coordination, his rifle occasionally letting out short "bang bang" shots to finish off the still-moving bodyguards on the ground, empty casings continuously falling onto the road.

Viggo raised his trembling hands above his head, cold sweat trickling down his temples. "Can you guarantee you won't kill me?"

"Where is your son!" John's gun pressed harder into Viggo's skin, leaving an indentation on his forehead.

"434 Franklin Avenue! The abandoned mineral screening plant!" Viggo shouted the address in despair, then added, "They. They've already set up an ambush waiting for you."

John replied coldly, "Yeah."

Viggo slumped onto the engine hood. The residual heat from the engine roasted his back but couldn't dispel the chill seeping from his bones.

Beta returned to John's side, wisps of smoke still curling from his muzzle. "Did you get it out of him?"

John nodded briefly. "Yeah."

Beta raised his hand and fired.

With a "bang," a bloom of blood opened on Viggo's forehead. His body slowly slid off the hood, his blood leaving a trail across the metal.

John visibly froze. "You didn't have to kill him."

Beta ejected the magazine, the metallic click sharp. "Once we kill his son, do you think he'll just accept his fate? He's already sent Perkins to take our lives. Should we apologize and invite him for afternoon tea?"

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A diagram to increase Reader Boss immersion.