Man's Best Friend [John Wick x Male Reader]

Chapter 12 - Conscience Willingly Fucked Off

The building was big. A whole other league compared to the barn. You knew this. You were prepared for it. You were also prepared for the large number of guards and subsequently, captives, that were in the building.

You shoved the ear piece into your ear and smiled as John whispered over the comms.

"You almost ready?"

"Yup. Locked and loaded bud. Make sure you've got your balaclava on and keep your knife on hand. No impromptu weapons. No taking off your gloves. If you bleed onto the floor, contaminate it with someone else's blood. Ideally I'd put a hair net on you too but the ponytail better do its job."

You could practically hear John grin at that.

"Yessir," he mumbled.

"Be careful, Johnny."

"You too," he replied gravely, despite his obvious excitement. You felt the same.

You remained quiet as you both circled to opposite sides of the building. John planned to enter through one of the fire exits and your trademark was apparently going to become climbing to the second floor and entering through a window.

You huffed as you hauled your body weight up the drain pipe and groaned as you stretched to grab the protruding bricks outside one of the windows. It wasn't very dignified but it got the job done. Thankfully the window wasn't locked, so you simply pulled the iron pane towards you and slipped inside.

"I'm inside," You whispered, and almost immediately you heard quiet shots and thuds echo om the First floor.

You huffed, amused at how blatantly overeager John was, and peaked around a corner, seeing two guards carrying small assault rifles. You grasped the Tariq in your hands firmly as you aimed down the hallway and shot both men in the head.

You grimaced at the mess, when you walked past them, pausing when you heard the distinct crackle of a radio coming from one of the bodies.

You grabbed it, bringing it to your ear.

"Assailant on the ground floor. We've lost him. He's either hiding or on the second floor. Do not, I repeat do not, swarm the lower floors."

You attached the handheld radio to your belt and moved forward, peaking into rooms as you went. Most of the doors were locked, but those that did open had obviously been rooms used as cells, if the ratty blankets and buckets in the corner were any indication.

A lone guard marched down the hallway and caught sight of you, freezing, before attempting to raise his gun. Your reflexes were faster, however, and soon the man was bleeding on the floor, a hand desperately clutching at his neck.

You looked at him impassively as you passed, keeping and eye out for any other wandering guards. The guards seemed to split evenly across the four floors and you'd reckon they'd have just over ten guards per floor. A bullet whirred past your head and you ducked and rolled behind a laundry trolley. You heard the heavy footsteps of multiple men running towards you, and grabbed your knife, holding it in your non-dominant hand.

You peered over the laundry trolley, and another bullet flew past your face. You grinned near maniacally behind the balaclava as you peered down the small sight of your gun, shooting the three men in their legs. They fell loudly, and the sound of gunshots resonated through the hallway.

They'd pulled their triggers as they'd fallen and now, only one remained pressing down on his thigh with gritted teeth and a feral look in his eyes.

You clicked your tongue and he looked up, reaching for a gun with his other hand. You shot the offending hand and he screamed, trying and failing to shuffle away from you.