John Wick: A greater Punishment Ch.3 (Patreon)

Chapter 3

Two men dressed in rather opposite fashions stood opposite to one another, deep underground in the streets of their city. One of the men was clean-shaven and dressed in an impeccable suit, while the other one was dressed in a long worn-out black overcoat with a pigeon resting on his shoulder.

These two ordinary-looking men were in truth, perhaps the two most powerful men of the city.

“I do hope you have a good reason for calling me here?” spoke the man dressed in the suit, a slight annoyance visible on his face as they stood in the city’s filthy underbelly.

The man with the pigeon laughed as he casually replied.

“Ohh, I have a very good reason for calling here, Winston. Believe me a very good reason,” and the man called Winston’s eyes narrowed before he spoke up again.

“And I believe this has something to do with the special itinerary from yesterday that was canceled,” and the pigeon man, or more specifically the all-famous Bowery King, nodded his head.

“Indeed, now may I ask you. Are you familiar with the name Henley Winston?” and the manager of the New York continental nodded.

“I believe I am, I have heard of a rising star that goes by that name, and I believe he was the gentlemen you arranged to meet with me yesterday,” said the man before his eyes narrowed at the uncrowned King standing in front of him.

“Yes, you are right. He was set to meet you yesterday, yet someone interfered before such a meeting could happen. Don’t you find it intriguing that the boy has been missing ever since,” said the Bowery King, and the manager of the Continental continued to stare at the man opposite to him before he sighed and nodded his head.

“It does. It bothers me quite a bit, yet I am also intrigued by your interest in all this. So can we skip all these riddles, Alfred,” said Winston Scott, seemingly done with all this foreplay.

“Haha, well then, I will get straight to the meat,” and with that, the man called Alfred reached into his pocket, took out an envelope, and passed it to Winston Scott.

“I believe you will find the contents of this envelope quite intriguing,” and with that, the man got busy petting the little white bird in his hand. Winston frowned at those words before he opened the envelope, and his eyes widened as he saw the files in the folder.

His hands shook slightly, and the skin around his eyes tightened as he rifled through the envelope's contents with haste, his face contorted through a flurry of emotions before the man finally looked at the uncrowned King of New York’s underbelly.

“This cannot be true,” said the man, and there was a deep prayer in his voice, yet the Bowery King simply shook his head, dashing all hope of acceptance of his earlier prayer. Winston Scott gulped and closed his eyes once more as he tried to control his tumultuous emotions.

“How did you find out,” finally, the man questioned after a minute, his voice now cold as ice, and there was a certain glint in his eyes. A glint that had been absent for over at least three decades, and those blue orbs glistened darkly, promising devastation to the world.

“He first came to my attention a couple of years ago when there was a huge breakout at one of the Triad’s compounds. I had my men investigate and found out that the Triads were running a human trafficking ring, a child trafficking ring,” and the man’s hands tightened at those words. Even in their fucked up world, there were limits they never crossed. They were men, and no matter what children were never to be involved in the business of men.

Never!

Winston Scott’s temper flared up as well at that, as his old friend continued.

“And surprise, the survivors spoke of a youngling who had done something which many assassins couldn’t dream of doing. He dismantled the whole Triad single-handedly,” and Winston’s eyes widened as he remembered the incident from over half a decade ago. They had thought a rival was responsible for this, yet it was a single child.

“I began to look into the rumors, and then I found him, our new rising star. Henley Winston, the name was clearly made up,” the man shrugged before his voice adopted a nostalgic tone.

“But those eyes. I couldn’t get them out of my head. I knew I had seen them before but couldn’t connect the dots. Until recently, that is,” said the man before he looked towards the manager of the Continental. Their eyes locked onto each other.

“They are the same as the ones I am staring at right now. The same eyes possessed by your daughter,” and he saw Winston Scott’s fists ball at his words. His eyes shook and filled with emotions as the man reeled from the shock of the words he had just heard.

“And are you a hundred percent certain of this? Because if you are, then I am afraid you do understand the consequences this type of information will bring,” said Winston Scott, his voice even as he looked straight at the unofficial Adjudant of the High Table.

“I am. It’s there in the envelope. The DNA matched. Henley Winston is the son of John Wick and your daughter Helen. He is your grandchild,” and Winston’s heart hardened as he heard those words. And the man closed his eyes, and there was a certain wetness in them as he thought about his daughter and her son.

“What do you want, Alfred? You could have hidden this, and I never would have known. Why bring it to me? Why show it all to me?” questioned the manager of the Continental. Alfred was quiet for a minute or so before he finally replied.

“Change, Winston. I want nothing but change. The same change you once dreamt of in your youth,” and Winston frowned at those words.

“Then consider your wish granted,” said Winston as he turned away from the Bowery King as began to walk off into the distance.

“It seems like Jon’s retirement will have to be postponed for some time.” Whispered the man as he vanished into the shadows, leaving the Bowery King standing there. Alone and laughing.

“Hahahaha, how long has it been since I have seen that look? Ooho that takes me to old times. Things are going to get so much more interesting!”

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Henley came to a halt in the blind alleyway, his eyes continually scanning the surroundings as he memorized all the details, observing all the cracks, hiding spots, weaknesses, and footholds. The Harbinger entered the alley with a smile on his face.

“So, tell me, why you and your men have been tailing me all this time?” Henley questioned as he placed his hands in his pocket.

“Ahh, it seems you aren’t fond of small talk. Then I will get straight to the point as well,” began the so-called recruiter as his eyes narrowed on him.

“I believe, as I mentioned earlier. I am a Recruiter who works under the person who stands above everyone in our world. The only person who sits above even the High Table,” and Henley’s eyes narrowed at those words.

This man was claiming to be working for the Elder. The elder was a mysterious figure, and many thought him to be nothing more than a legend, yet this man had just confirmed his existence. Yet the question still remained.

Why was this so-called Elder interested in him?

“You still haven’t answered my question. What do you want from me?” spoke Henley once more, annoyance clear in his tone. The man smiled as he spread his arms apart.

“I believe I have. I am here to recruit you on behalf of the Elder himself. He has chosen you,” spoke the man, and Henley frowned.

“For a job? I believe your Elder can find people far more suitable than me for any of his tasks,” and the man shook his head.

“NO. NO. No. Not for a job but for a position. But as a servant, you have been chosen to act as the Elder’s sword and shield,” and Henley’s body stiffened at those words as his mind flashed to old memories, memories he had buried deep down.

The man rattled the door to those horrors, and if the glint in his eyes was anything to go by, the man knew it all too well. And Henley’s temper flared as he glared at the man.

“And what if I don’t want to do it? What If I say no?” said Henley, and he watched as the man faltered in surprise, his eyes widening as he gaped at him before suddenly anger appeared on that face.

“Do you have any idea what you are saying? Hundred would kill themselves for an opportunity like this, and you deny it!” said the man, perplexed, but Henley just shrugged.

“Then choose one of those hundred. My answer is no. Tell your master that I am going to do my own thing. He can look for someone else,” and with that, he began to turn away to leave the alley, when suddenly he saw a red dot appear on his chest followed by a dozen or more appearing on his whole body.

“I am afraid you have a slight misunderstanding,” began the Harbinger, his voice suddenly cold as ice as Henley turned to look at the man.

“You have already been chosen, and your will is irrelevant to the question,” the man glared at him.

Henley’s fists balled inside his pocket as his grip tightened around his weapon.

“And what if I unchoose myself,” snarled Henley, and the man shook his head.

“I believe the only other way you will be leaving this alley will be in a body bag. I think it would be better for you if you just comply with the order,” and then Henley looked around and found himself surrounded by a dozen or so fully armed men, with each wearing kevalr wests and helmets with guns pointed at him.

“Ahh, let me tell you something Harbinger. The only one who decided what’s best for me is myself. So, why don’t you go screw yourself,” and the harbinger sighed as he spoke out in a resigned tone.

“I am afraid, then you have left me no choice,” and Henley sprang into action immediately, as he took out the special powder he always kept with himself and threw it to the ground, as the words left Harbinger’s mouth.

“FIRE!”

BOOOM!

BANG.BANG.BANG.BANG.

Shots were fired as thick black smoke covered the alley, and the Harbinger’s eyes widened, and before the man could react, a silhouette appeared right under him. As Henley stood there, a gun in his hand, aimed up at his chin.

“Here’s your fucking bad news!” snarled Henley as he pulled the trigger on his custom FN five-seven.

BANG.

And blood splattered everywhere and bathed him in red as the so-called Harbinger fell limp and lifeless.

“He is got the Harbinger! Block the alley entrance. He cannot be allowed to escape!” came a voice through the radio in the Harbinger’s neck as shots began to be fired continuously. Henley took out the earpiece before he removed the man’s coat and covered himself with the bulletproof coat.

He ran towards the wall and, in a display of inhumane dexterity, jumped off of a dumpster before he used a crack in the wall to jump higher, and just as he emerged out of the smoke, he found himself looking at six soldiers hanging down there from a rope.

He took out his gun and aimed it, and before the men could react, the ropes holding them were cut, and each of them fell to the ground, vanishing into the smoke below.

Henley himself dropped into it as well, and then seconds later, the alley was filled with grunts of men and the sound of shots being fired.

And as the smoke cleared and the rest of the enforcer’s squad moved in, all they found were the bodies of half a dozen dead enforcers and a single harbinger with no trace of their target at all.

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