Smith noticed the cold sweat beading on John Wick's forehead and said nothing, letting the silence speak for itself.
Fox was internally screaming. Since when did the Fraternity become mystical guides for wish-granting artifacts? And Dragon Balls that could grant any wish? That sounded insane. But John clearly believed it. He'd seen something, touched something, that convinced him it was real. Was it really that crystal ball?
John wiped his forehead and spoke, his voice steady despite the sweat. "I just want to bring back my wife, Helen. That's all. Have I passed your test?"
Smith's smile was unreadable. "The observation is still ongoing. The assessment continues."
John stood, understanding the dismissal. "Then I hope I pass. But right now, I need to finish my business. The people who killed my dog and stole my car need to answer for what they did."
It wasn't just about revenge anymore. John understood that giving up now would guarantee he'd fail Smith's test. And even if he walked away, Viggo and his son would remain threats. Loose ends that would interfere with his search for the Dragon Balls.
He had to see this through.
Smith nodded. "Go handle your affairs. We'll continue watching."
John left the room without another word.
The moment the door clicked shut, Fox made sure the hallway was empty before rounding on Smith.
"Is any of that real?"
Smith's smile widened. "Which part?"
Fox gestured wildly. "All of it! The Dragon Balls, the wishes, the sacred guardian nonsense. Did you just make all that up, or—"
"It's real."
Fox's eyes went wide. "So the Dragon Balls actually exist? They can really grant wishes?"
Smith nodded.
"Holy shit." Fox sat down heavily. "And the rest? The Fraternity being guardians, observing people, all of that?"
"That part," Smith said, "will become real soon enough."
Fox was quiet for several seconds, processing. Finally, she asked, "If it's true, don't you want to make a wish? Bring someone back? Get something you've always wanted?"
Smith shook his head. "I don't need to."
Fox opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. "You really are something else, you know that? Most people would kill for a chance like this, and you're just... not interested. I guess that's why you're GOD."
Smith didn't explain further. How could he? The Dragon Balls were created from his power, tied to his strength. Shenron couldn't do anything Smith himself couldn't eventually accomplish. And with his knowledge of the Marvel Universe's future, he already had the ultimate advantage.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Winston's number.
The manager answered after two rings, his voice thick with sleep. "Smith, it's extremely rude to call an elderly man at this hour."
"Winston, someone violated the Continental's rules," Smith said without preamble. "As a concerned customer, I thought I should help you clean up the mess."
The sleepiness vanished from Winston's voice instantly. "You're certain? Who broke the rules?"
Smith glanced at Perkins, still handcuffed to the chair. "Perkins went after John Wick's bounty. Tried to kill him inside the hotel. Your hallway cameras will confirm it."
Smith drew his pistol and fired once.
The gunshot was deafening in the small room. Perkins's head snapped back, and she slumped in the chair, dead before she could make a sound.
On the other end of the line, Winston was silent for three seconds. "I see. I'll handle the cleanup."
Smith hung up and holstered his weapon. "I didn't feel like babysitting her until dawn. We have places to be."
Fox rolled her eyes. "You knew she was awake. She heard everything we said about the Dragon Balls."
"Her heartbeat gave her away," Smith confirmed. "Fear and excitement. Bad combination. She would have been a problem."
"So you killed her."
"She broke Continental rules. Winston would have done it anyway. I just saved him the trouble." Smith headed for the door. "Come on. We're going to Little Russia."
"To watch John some more?"
"Exactly."
Little Russia - Orthodox Church
Smith and Fox arrived before dawn, scouting the area around the church. The building served as more than just a place of worship. It was one of Viggo's main strongholds, a place where he kept evidence, blackmail material, and cash reserves.
John would come here. Smith was certain of it.
They found a rooftop across the street with good sightlines and settled in to wait. Fox set up a spotting scope while Smith pulled something from his pocket.
The Scouter looked strange in the pre-dawn light, its green lens catching the glow from nearby street lamps.
Dawn
"Smith, he's here," Fox said, eye pressed to the scope.
John Wick walked toward the church with that same purposeful stride, carrying a large canvas bag. The bag clinked as he moved. Full of guns, no doubt.
The first gunshot echoed across the street.
Then another.
Then a rapid succession of shots, each one precise and final.
Smith activated the Scouter and aimed it toward the church. Numbers flickered across the display as it scanned the building, reading energy signatures and calculating combat effectiveness.
Most of Viggo's men barely registered. Power levels of 2 or 3. Ordinary thugs with guns.
Then Smith found John Wick's signature.
POWER LEVEL: 6
Smith raised an eyebrow. That was higher than he'd expected. Higher than most trained soldiers. John Wick was operating at a level that put him above normal human limits, at least in terms of combat skill and efficiency.
Through the church windows, Smith could see John moving. Every shot found its target. Every movement was economical, efficient. No wasted motion. No hesitation. No dramatic speeches or emotional outbursts.
Just clean, professional killing.
It was beautiful in its brutality.
Fox lowered her scope and noticed what Smith was wearing. "What is that thing? I've never seen it before."
Smith tapped the Scouter. "Combat power detector. It reads energy signatures and converts them to numerical values. Lets you measure how strong someone is."