Chapter Text
If I had my way Mr, Stark, you would already be tied to your bed screaming my name. - John Wick
Being a contract killer of any calibre or even being a bodyguard for certain families meant that the person would have to have some part of the criminal underworld and being a member of that underworld was not an easy or pleasant experience by any means. It was, however, necessary.
Some rules had to be obeyed and for the most part, they were. Some rules could be bent and some that were merely courtesy and could be disregarded at will, however, three golden rules were never meant to be broken. Breaking these rules guaranteed death and while tragic and terrible death wasn't enough to discourage people, the Boogeyman was. No one wanted the Boogeyman after them after all. Luckily, the rules were fairly easy to follow.
1) No business on Continental grounds.
2) A blood mark must always be honoured.
3) No public figures are to be assassinated.
The third one stemmed from when two rivals had paid to have each other assassinated, neither of them caring about the consequences. The consequences were, of course, both of them dying and a whole country was thrown into complete turmoil. Jobs were lost, houses destroyed, riots in the streets, contracts were made null and void and many families were financially ruined, even the underworld had been badly affected, many assassins had been unable to get reliable jobs in the country.
Some underworld workers went nearly a year before they were able to work again and in the criminal underworld that wasn't a good thing, not if they wanted to continue living. Reputations are how you make money. No reputation meant no work, no work meant no money, and with no money, well then where would you be?
It had been a very vicious cycle that had been incredibly difficult, almost impossible, to break. In the end, it had taken the high table getting involved for the issue to be resolved and proper order restored.
However that didn't mean that people didn't try and break the rules, they did. They didn't succeed, however, and, more often than not, they failed rather epically. In other words, every broken rule always ended with a mess of blood, body parts, and piles of dead bodies. But the main thing those bloody remains did was serve as a very clear warning to others: break the rules at your own risk.
Because of the third rule, there was one person who no one wanted to touch and that person was Tony Stark.
The man could cripple the entire world if he wanted and everyone knew it. Only a fool thought otherwise and while some of the higher-ups of the criminal underworld had even stopped several assassination attempts on the man's life, it didn't change the fact that Tony Stark was a very, very dangerous man who most likely could have handled the issue himself. He was also at the heart of many debates in the underworld. The amount of political power that man had was staggering and it was also incredibly worrying and frustrating, how could one man have that much power? Not to mention what he could do with all that power.
However, the answer to that question lies in the fact that his power wasn't limited to one country. No, Stark was capable of influencing the entire world and they knew it. All of which was frustrating enough, then the man went and turned a company from multimillion to multibillion.
All while he was developing clean energy, phones, computers, etc. You name it, he's built it and helped his company to recover from a 53 point drop in stocks while he continued to design and build. The underworld knew just how fickle the stock market could be, considering that many of the higher up members had legal business to hide their far shadier dealings. They made sure to pay their taxes as well, no one had forgotten how Al Capone got caught, to say it was embarrassing was an understatement.
Then there was the fact that Tony had managed to survive multiple kidnappings and assassination attempts by himself and from a very young age, one of them back when he was just six years old. Some of them had found it amusing that a group of adults had been outsmarted by a six-year-old. The fact that he had been so young proved how resourceful he was, and as he got older he only got better at escaping such situations.
Since most of Tony's kidnappers had been hired from the underworld everyone had known the quality of skill that they possessed, that didn't stop them from being killed afterwards for breaking a golden rule. Well, those that hadn't already been killed by their employer for failure at least.
But it hadn't changed the fact that Tony had been able to outsmart them as a child and then as a teenager. That by itself was a large testament to his intelligence, his skills and just how completely and utterly unpredictable the child had been and just how unpredictable the man would end up being. Logical? No, it wasn't likely but Winston had seen just what a little spitfire child he had been, and he knew then. Tony was one to watch and Winston hadn't been wrong.
However, this was without the fact that he had created a fully functioning AI as a teenager, that made many of them wary. Creating artificial intelligence was nothing to scoff at, so creating a learning artificial intelligence and then creating more than one meant terrifying things. The man's intelligence was beyond frightening.
A rather large number of assassins were glad and greatly relieved that he had decided to leave them alone, there was no way that a man like Tony Stark didn't know about the underworld that was filled with some of the best hitmen, assassins and bodyguards in the world. Some of the younger and greener ones may believe that they were untouchable, but the older ones knew. The people who had been doing this job for decades knew better, the fact that they were still alive was a testament to their knowledge and acceptance of Tony Stark's power. They did not want to earn Tony Stark 's ire, he would destroy them before they had a chance to blink and they knew that for a fact. They'd seen it happen, after all.
Although whether it was by legal means or not was still up for debate, there was no telling what a man like that was capable of. Which caused many of them to wonder just how far Tony Stark could be pushed, when and where was the limit? While some of them did wonder, others didn't, it wasn't wise to antagonise a man like that.
However, there was one man who didn't care for the finer details of being a hitman or a member of the underworld, as far as John Wick was concerned politics were not for him. That wasn't to say that he didn't understand politics and their intricacy, he did understand them and was very well acquainted with them, the truth was he simply didn't care for them. He had other things to worry about, such as getting the newest bullet wound fixed, the last thing that he wanted was to bleed out in the middle of New York. That and it was a completely and utterly undignified way for him to go, he was the fucking Boogeyman for God's sake! He was the one that the other assassins were wary of, he was the one that they feared.
So he wasn't going to die in the goddamn fucking gutter like a dog!
Gritting his teeth John forced himself to keep walking, once he was at the Continental he would be safe, only an idiot went against Winston. That and the medical care was some of the best around, the fact that there was a doctor always on call was just a bonus. But the main thing that John was looking forward to sleeping in a bed, sleeping in a car was not good for him or his back.
But if there were two things that John knew was luck is a fickle thing and life did not go the way anyone wanted it, no matter how much you wanted it to. So it didn't come as a shock when he found a dead body in a pool of still-warm blood in the middle of the street, the fact that it was outside of Stark industries was slightly unusual. John wanted to curse, of all the god damn fucking shitty things to happen, this was not his night.
Still, he wasn't going to allow someone to break one of the three golden rules, no matter how much it would make life easier for him. John grunted as the bullet wound throbbed in pain, reminding him just why he was walking this way, to begin with. A scowl formed on his face, he wanted a drink, no several drinks. Every one of the bourbon. What a fucking shitty night this was turning into, couldn't he have one normal night? Just one that was all he was asking for.
"Stupid fucking morons making my night more difficult." Quietly grumbling to himself John entered the main entrance for Stark industries.
The first thing that hit him was the familiar smell of copper John knew the smell very well it meant fresh blood. The entire area reeked of the coppery smell of blood, that was when John noticed all the bodies. Someone had come here in force but had met some resistance. Judging from the way that the bodies were positioned on the floor they had not been expecting such resistance either, John had no sympathy for any of them, they were the fools for underestimating a man like Tony Stark.
What was slightly unusual and possibly disturbing to anyone who wasn't called John Wick, was the rapidly growing number of dead bodies, to John it was the same number as a small army or a black-ops task force. Either one of them was a very real possibility at the moment, which meant that whoever this was wanted Tony Stark either captured alive or killed by any means necessary.
Both were very likely, but John had no way of knowing what the orders were, John knew one thing for certain. This attack would have to be reported, someone had broken or had tried to break one of the rules. John scowled this had just gotten a lot more bloody complicated, wonderful.
Making sure that he was as silent as possible John began moving further into the building, and the further John got into the building the more it looked like a massacre, the floor was sticky with congealing blood. If he had been anyone else John would have thrown up from the smell alone, and even with all of his years and his training from the marines and his years as a hitman this was still slightly disturbing to him. Brain matter splattered against a glass door, bloody handprints smeared across white walls, glass doors and even on an elevator. A severed hand was trapped in between the elevator doors, the door trying to close, repeatedly squishing the hand.
Blood was turning into a disgusting brown colour, the sound of someone choking on their blood reached John's ears. He knew that there wasn't anything he could do but grant them a quick and merciful death, maybe if he had arrived sooner. But there was no way of telling if they would have had a better chance of survival if he had arrived earlier, John looked around and quickly pinpointed where the noise was coming from, in three quick strides he stood over the body of a young man. To John he didn't look any older than twenty if he was lucky, John reached behind him and pulled out his spare gun. He looked at the young man and murmured.
"Sorry." With that he fired his gun, the bullet hitting the young man in between his eyes.
But not before John had seen the gratitude in the young man's eyes before he died, in the end, he had been grateful for the release. John knew what it was like to choke on your blood, he knew how painful it was. To feel as if every breath was a fight, to wonder if the next one you took was your last. John pushed the memory to one side, he had a job to do. He shouldn't, couldn't allow it to affect him, even though deep down John knew that it was starting to. Being a hitman was slowly destroying what was left of his humanity and he knew that was a fact and not speculation.
Stepping over rapidly cooling dead bodies was something that he was used to, it shouldn't disturb him anymore, but what was disturbing him was how young some of them were. From what he could see some of them were lucky if they were twenty, he had seen a body that couldn't be any older than fifteen, possibly sixteen at a push. In the underworld you had to prove yourself before you were sent on a mission, even then there was a more experienced agent sent with them. They didn't just let them loose on the world and hope for the best, whoever this was they were very sloppy and inexperienced or very overconfident in their abilities.
Either way, it is not John's problem, his main problem is getting to the top floor saving Tony Stark, stopping the world from falling apart and then getting the god damn bullet wound fixed. Hopefully in that order. The fact that he was in pain was just making him slightly more grumpy than normal, that wasn't to say that he was a social butterfly normally, he wasn't. If anything he avoided people as if they had the plague although to John they most likely did.
A bullet grazed his cheek caused John to take notice of the sniper on the floor above, having walls made out of glass was strange and possibly a disadvantage or maybe for some it was an advantage, John could quite easily see the advantage to having glass walls. People wouldn't be able to sneak in or upon anyone in the building, and that should push come to shove the glass could be broken and used as a weapon. John planned on doing exactly that, besides they were the ones stupid enough to get caught by him.
A savage smile began to form on his lips, blood began roaring in his ears. His heart was beating like a war drum, it was a familiar tune and one of the very few that he didn't resent on principle. As far as he was concerned, people could think that he was an uneducated and uncultured savage, but John knew the truth and that was good enough for him.
This was what he was good at, diving behind an overturned desk John looked to see if he could find a large shard of glass, once he had found a suitable piece he quickly moved from behind the desk. Firing his gun once John didn't even wait for the bullet to reach its destination before he launched the piece of glass that he found. John knew that he had hit his target when the sound of a dull thud filled the air, the pool of blood that was forming under the body told John that they were dead or they would be very soon. If it had been anyone else they would have been impressed by their performance, but John was not like normal people, he didn’t take pleasure in what he was doing. To him, it was just a job.
As John moved from floor to floor he noticed that there were far more dead on the upper floors than on the ground floor, which meant that he was nearing his target. John wasn't one to hope firmly believing that it was a waste of time, but right now he was hoping that it was going to be over soon. He was starting to get dancing black spots in his vision, which was not good in the slightest. The last thing that he needed was to lose consciousness.
"Shit! Its Baba Yaga, fuck, run!" John didn't even bother to look at the person who was trying to run away, well at least one of them had sense. Well better late than never.
That didn't mean that John was going to let them go, oh no, without even aiming or looking John shot them in the leg. He would take them back with him to the Continental, there would be some very serious questions asked. There was also the very real possibility of the high table getting involved.
"Stay, sit, good boy." The mocking tone in John's voice was not missed, not if the glare was anything to go by.
With careful steps John moved through the hallway, his heartbeat was steady; this was what he was good at. This was what he had always been good at, killing. The sound of gunshots echoed through the empty hallway, causing John to pause for a split second. Was he too late?
John didn't think the next part through, picking up his pace he kicked open the door only to pause. He had been expecting to see the lifeless body of Tony laid on the floor with a pool of blood under him, not to see Tony disarming an armed man with ease.
John felt his suit get rather tight and uncomfortable, this was rather unexpected.
"You are late, I thought the high table would have sent someone sooner." Whiskey brown eyes were hard, John was able to make out the outline of a gun. Although what type he wasn't able to say, not unless he was able to get a closer look.
John knew that Tony Stark was an attractive man, it was impossible not to know. What he hadn't been prepared for was how affected he would be, which was strange and highly irritating. This was not what he had signed up for, however that didn't mean that he wouldn't enjoy the view.
However that wasn't going to be possible, as the adrenaline wore off his body began to viciously begin to protest, then the bloodloss made itself known. John felt his world tilt and begin to darken, the next thing that John was aware of falling.
He didn't feel the arms that caught him before he hit the blood-covered floor face first.