At the secluded home of Marcus, the veteran assassin was subdued and disarmed. Several of Viggo's men held him tightly while Viggo, his eyes blazing with fury over the betrayal, personally delivered a beating. Marcus's face was a bloody, unrecognizable pulp, and he was fading fast.
Viggo sat nearby on the stairs, taking out his cell phone to make a final, cruel call.
"Hello, Jonathan," Viggo said, his voice deceptively calm. "I thank you for letting my son die. I don't know how to put this into words."
John Wick listened while driving furiously toward his friend's house.
"Marcus betrayed me," Viggo continued, twisting the knife. "He broke the line for you. I will deal with him according to the rules of the Russian gang."
With that, Viggo hung up, his message delivered. He stood up, clutching a hand towel, twisting it like a rope.
Marcus, lying on the floor, coughed up blood and managed a dying plea. "You canceled the reward..."
Viggo exploded in fresh anger. "As long as the reward is still there, you still have a chance! There's a chance to kill John Wick!" he shrieked. "If you had just done your job, my son might still be alive!"
Viggo delivered a final, hateful punch to Marcus's broken face, then stood over him, methodically torturing and strangling his treacherous subordinate to death with the hand towel.
As the phone call ended, a thunderous silence filled John Wick's car. He slammed the steering wheel and executed a sharp turn, racing toward Marcus's house.
While driving, John Wick realized the full scope of his blunder, remembering the warnings from Fox and Winston at the Continental: his failure to fully neutralize Viggo had created a messy aftermath.
He then had another chilling thought: if Viggo found out about Marcus, Smith Doyle, who had saved him in the warehouse and personally killed Viggo's men, would certainly be a target as well. He quickly pulled out his phone and called Smith.
"Smith, this is John."
"John, what's wrong?" Smith's voice was calm, contrasting sharply with John's rising panic.
John Wick's sadness was evident. An old friend who had saved his life multiple times had been killed because of him. "I shouldn't have let Viggo go. Because Marcus helped me, Viggo actually brought people to kill him."
"Smith, you also saved my life and ruined Viggo's plan," John warned. "I'm worried he might attack you, too. Please pay attention to your own safety."
Smith glanced at Fox, who was currently dozing in the passenger seat, nursing her bruises. He sighed internally, then reassured the legendary assassin. "Viggo has already sent people here, John, but they've all been taken down by Fox and me."
Hearing Smith Doyle's casual confirmation of the attack, John Wick apologized again. "Sorry, Smith. I will take care of this matter and won't let him bother you again."
John Wick hung up the phone, determination replacing regret.
Smith shook his head. While John Wick was undoubtedly set on vengeance for his friend, Smith had his own plans. Viggo's assassination attempt on the "God" of the Assassin's League meant his fate was sealed, regardless of John Wick's actions. But Smith needed to deal with the League's internal matters first. Viggo's life now depended entirely on who found him first.
Smith soon arrived back at the Assassin's League Headquarters and immediately took Fox to the recovery room for assessment and care. He then proceeded directly to the conference room.
The League's inner circle—The Gunsmith, The Butcher, Cross, and Mr. X—had been waiting for him. Cross, the de facto leader during Smith's long absence, looked at Smith as he entered.
"GOD, your mission selection range has been released. Please choose one."
Cross placed a classified document in front of Smith. "The several organizations listed above are all entities that everyone believes should be eliminated, but the difficulty varies. Even our sworn enemy is among them."
Smith picked up the document. The first page contained a surprise: detailed intelligence on the Russian gang in New York, including their senior members, headquarters, bases, and main criminal activities.
Smith quickly scanned the general information and turned to the second page. If the Russian gang was the appetizer, the next enemy was a true heavyweight: Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin, from Hell's Kitchen.
He glanced quickly at the third page: the High Table, the worldwide council of organized crime. The fourth page contained information on the Hand, the mystical assassin organization—the League's ancient, sworn enemy.
Smith noted that former leader Sloan's greatest achievement was merely a cessation of the open war with the Hand. Smith, however, felt no fear; his current strength was more than sufficient to deal with any of the threats.
Cross saw that Smith had finished reading. "There are four organizations here, but you only need to choose one from the first two to complete your final assessment."
"As for the last two," Cross added, "they are to be considered the focus of your work after you become the leader of the Assassin's League."
Smith understood: one easy task (the Russian gang) and one difficult task (the Kingpin). He closed the file and stated:
"I accepted all four tasks."
Mr. X was taken aback. "Smith, you only need to complete one of them."
Smith nodded, but his decision was final. "First, we'll take care of the Russian gang. As for the other three, since they're all our targets, we will take them out one by one."
Cross, accepting the immense, new ambition of their new God, revised the plan. "Then we'll deal with the Russian gang first. However, you will deal with the Russian gang alone. The remaining three organizations will involve the full deployment and support of the entire Assassin's League, under your command."
Meanwhile, John Wick had arrived at Marcus's house. He cautiously entered, weapon drawn, checking for any remaining threats. The house was quiet.
He found only Marcus, lying in a pool of his own blood. Viggo and his men were long gone.
John Wick's face was a mask of grief. His friend had suffered horribly: his face beaten, his legs pierced by daggers, and finally strangled.
Looking at Marcus's wide-open, lifeless eyes, John Wick gently reached out and closed them. He murmured: "Marcus, I will definitely avenge you."
John Wick picked up his phone and called Winston.
"Winston, I want to know Viggo's information," he demanded.
Winston's voice, guarded but hinting at a warning, came through the line. "John, the Continental Hotel has its own rules, so I won't tell you that someone is currently holed up at his base camp."
"And I won't tell you that he has summoned all his men."
John Wick understood the coded hint immediately: Viggo was exposed and vulnerable, cornered in his headquarters. He hung up the phone.
Looking at Marcus's body, John Wick knew what he had to do. He would not rush blindly into a firefight he couldn't win. He stood up and left Marcus's house.
He had to make some preparations. He had to go shopping for guns. If he just rushed into Viggo's lair, he wouldn't get revenge; he would only lose his life.