Fox stared at the strange device on Smith's face, her mind still reeling from everything she'd learned tonight. Dragon Balls. Wish-granting dragons. And now some kind of futuristic scanner that could measure how strong someone was?
"Let me try it," Fox said, reaching for the Scouter. "I want to see how strong I am."
Smith turned to face her and pressed a button on the device. Numbers flickered across the green lens, then stabilized.
POWER LEVEL: 6
"Six points," Smith said. "Same as John Wick."
Fox blinked. "Is that good or bad?"
"It's a couple points higher than the average person," Smith explained. "You can compare for yourself."
He removed the Scouter and handed it to her. Fox adjusted it to fit her head, the device sitting snugly over her left eye. She turned to look at Smith.
The numbers jumped wildly for a moment before settling.
POWER LEVEL: 9
"Nine," Fox breathed. "You're at nine. That's fifty percent higher than me."
She swept the Scouter toward the church, watching as it picked up multiple signatures. The display showed human outlines with numbers floating above them.
"This guy's a five. Oh God, there's someone at three. That's pathetic." She found John Wick moving through the building. "John's at six. How is that possible? I could take him in a fight, no problem."
Fox pulled off the Scouter and handed it back to Smith, confused.
Smith put it back on and adjusted the settings. "The detector measures biological energy. Raw physical power and vitality. The higher your energy, the higher your combat rating. Generally, if your power level is 1.3 times higher than your opponent's, you'll dominate the fight completely."
"But," Smith continued, "the reason you think you could beat John Wick easily is because of our training. The Fraternity teaches techniques that the Scouter can't measure. Skill, experience, tactics. Those don't show up as numbers."
Fox nodded slowly, understanding. "So it measures potential, not actual combat ability."
"More or less. It's useful for getting a baseline reading on someone's raw power."
Inside the church, the gunfire had stopped. John emerged, followed by two frightened women who'd been held in the basement. Smoke began pouring from the building as flames spread inside.
"John set a fire," Fox observed through her scope. "That's going to hurt Viggo badly. Cash, records, evidence. All burning."
Smith nodded, watching as John took up a position in an abandoned shipping container outside the church. He was setting an ambush.
"You know what?" Fox said. "I'm starting to respect this guy. His tactical sense is solid."
John settled into his hiding spot, completely unaware of Smith and Fox on the rooftop watching him.
Minutes later, several SUVs screeched to a halt outside the church. Viggo Tarasov emerged with his men, his face already red with fury. He stormed into the church basement, then came back up and shot the priest who'd let John into the vault.
"Damn it!" Viggo's voice carried across the street. "Everything's ash! Everything!"
His advisor, a thin man in an expensive suit, shook his head. "Viggo, you know what was down there. The money doesn't matter. It's the evidence you need to worry about."
"I don't care about—"
The staccato crack of an assault rifle cut him off.
John Wick stepped out from behind the container, a Coharie Arms CA-415 raised to his shoulder. His first burst caught one of Viggo's men center mass, dropping him instantly.
Viggo dove behind a car. "Return fire! Kill him!"
His men pulled their weapons and started shooting wildly in John's direction. Bullets pinged off cars and containers, most of them missing by feet. John, meanwhile, moved with surgical precision, using vehicles for cover and taking carefully aimed shots.
Another of Viggo's men went down. Then another.
Fox watched through her scope, shaking her head. "These idiots couldn't hit water if they fell out of a boat. Look at them. They're just spraying and praying."
"John Wick is former Marine Corps," Smith said. "He earned the title Baba Yaga through skill and determination. You don't survive in this business without being exceptional."
He paused, watching John drop another target. "Fun fact: before John retired, he worked for Viggo's organization. Was completely loyal. Then he wanted out, so Viggo gave him an impossible task. If John completed it, he'd be free."
"And John completed it," Fox guessed.
"Exactly. And now Viggo's idiot son has dragged John back into this life. Bad decision."
The firefight continued for another minute. John had killed eight men when his luck ran out. One of Viggo's drivers started a car and gunned the engine, ramming directly into John's position.
The impact launched John through the air. He hit the ground hard and didn't move.
Fox lowered her scope. "Well, your test subject is about to die."
Smith smiled. "He'll be fine."
"You sure about that? He's not moving."
"Just watch."
Warehouse - Twenty Minutes Later
Viggo's men dragged John's unconscious body into an old warehouse and tied him to a chair. They stripped away his weapons with professional efficiency. Three knives. Four pistols. Two grenades.
And one orange ball.
Viggo picked up the Dragon Ball, turning it over in his hands. "What the hell is this? A kid's toy?"
He tossed it carelessly onto the pile of weapons.
From their position outside the warehouse window, Smith watched but didn't activate the Dragon Ball's information transfer. Viggo didn't deserve to know what he was throwing away.
Fox crouched beside Smith, both of them completely silent. "He's not killing John. Why isn't he killing John?"
"Because he's an idiot," Smith whispered back. "First rule of dealing with dangerous enemies: finish them immediately. No speeches. No gloating. Just a bullet to the head."
"But he's not doing that."
"Nope. And it's going to cost him everything. His empire. His son's life. His own life."
John started to wake, his head rolling forward before snapping back up. His eyes focused on Viggo.
Viggo gestured for one of his men to bring him a chair. He sat down directly across from John, relaxed and confident.
"John," Viggo said, "let me be clear about something. My men are going to cut you into pieces. Very small pieces. But before that happens, I want to talk."
At this time, Viggo's men placed a chair opposite John, and Viggo walked forward and began his long speech.