Billionaire in Kingsman with a Marvel System

Vigo Tarasov, known for his ruthlessness, didn't hesitate when John Wick informed him that someone outside was about to throw a grenade into the room. Without doubting him, Vigo believed John Wick immediately. Looking at the office door with a dark expression, Vigo said, "Fine, as you said, just take care of them. I don't care if you kill everyone out there. Just leave me your contact information. If you make it out of here, I'll get in touch afterward."

Vigo's cold-blooded attitude made John Wick pause for a moment. He then smiled and remarked, "So, to clear your name, you're selling out both your men and your enemies?"

"Ha ha ha," Vigo let out a sinister laugh, narrowing his eyes. "Someone wants me dead and is already making a move. What do you think I should do—kill them first or let them kill me? Help me take out my enemies, and we'll consider it proof of your intention to collaborate with me. After all, isn't that what subordinates are for? To take bullets for the boss? These small fries—Russia is full of them. All I have to do is spread the word, and there'll be plenty of impoverished Russian soldiers eager to come to New York."

"FK, maybe that's why I'm just a hitman," John Wick muttered under his breath, cursing his situation.

Lowering the gun that was pointed at Vigo's head, John Wick said, "Looks like you've been planning to strike out on your own for a while. So, congratulations, Mr. Tarasov—you just saved your life."

Suddenly, the phone on Vigo's desk rang, and Sunday's voice came through John Wick's earpiece. "Mr. Wick, this call is from Mr. William Devonshire."

"Got it," John Wick said to Vigo, "Go ahead, answer it. It's my boss."

Vigo walked over to the desk, picked up the phone, and calmly said, "Hello?"

A distorted, deep voice came through the receiver, "Hello, Mr. Tarasov. If Pushkin and his top enforcer, Ted Renson, were to be taken out, what would you be willing to offer me in return?"

"Anything," Vigo said after a ten-second pause.

"Excellent. Now, let's record this. Could you repeat that, Mr. Tarasov?"

This request made Vigo hesitate. But standing nearby, John Wick lifted the hem of his jacket, revealing the gun in its holster, and gave Vigo a look that clearly said: *Say it, or die*.

Vigo knew what John Wick meant. But in truth, he had already been considering getting rid of Pushkin. Before he rose to power, he had been Pushkin's dog. But five years had passed, and after helping Pushkin take over New York's underground market, Vigo was tired of being treated like a dog. Now, with someone willing to kill Pushkin for him, Vigo's own ambitions could come to fruition. He knew he could make ten times as much money once he was free of Pushkin.

Resigned to his fate, Vigo shook his head and said, "I, Vigo Tarasov, am willing to give anything to get rid of Pushkin."

A moment later, the recording of Vigo's words played back through the phone. "Clear as day. Congratulations, Mr. Tarasov. You're about to become the head of the Russian mob on the East Coast. It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Tarasov. Finally, we'll be taking your son as a guest for a few days. Don't worry—we'll take good care of him. Goodbye."

"FK!" Vigo cursed into the now silent phone, then turned to John Wick, seething. "This is your idea of good faith? A recording wasn't enough? Now you're going to use my only son as leverage?"

"Sorry, but precisely because he's your only son, he's the only thing that can make you cooperate," John Wick replied, glancing at the furious Vigo. He changed the magazine in his gun and walked to the office door, half-turning back to Vigo. "Stop pretending. Your tone was too cold. To you, that useless son of yours is just a tool for carrying on your family name."

Vigo chuckled darkly, but instead of anger, he laughed heartily. "Don't worry. Those idiots from Russia are just muscle-bound fools. All they do is kill, do drugs, and mess with women. They only contact Pushkin at the end of the month to deliver money. It's only the 21st, so I'm sure you'll have nine days to take care of Pushkin, right? As for my men, just make sure you eliminate the few key guys who've seen me today, and no one will know I was even here. Finally, do you need me to tell you where my son is?"

"No need," John Wick replied. He positioned himself behind a wall, waiting for Sunday's instructions. A minute later, a live feed from the hallway camera appeared on his glasses, and Sunday's voice came through the earpiece. "You can proceed now."

Taking a deep breath, John Wick opened the door, and with his right hand, he extended his gun out of the doorway, shooting two guards in the head as they slowly approached.

The distinctive muffled sound of a suppressed gunshot echoed in the hallway, "Thud, thud."

Before the two guards even hit the ground, John Wick darted out of the room, using their falling bodies as cover. With three quick shots from his dual M1911s, he took out the remaining five guards, leaving them no chance to fire a single shot.

Vigo Tarasov, who witnessed the entire scene, felt his heart race in terror. He muttered to himself, "Boogeyman... this guy really is the Boogeyman."

Half an hour later, John Wick walked through a sea of corpses. Standing by the third-floor window, Vigo watched in horror as John Wick carried the unconscious body of his son, Iosef Tarasov, out of the nightclub.

Reaching the 1969 Mustang, John Wick opened the trunk and casually tossed Iosef inside. He then brushed off his suit, dislodging the deformed bullets embedded in it.

The sound of bullets hitting the pavement rang out with a metallic "Clink, clink, clink." Satisfied, John Wick patted his suit, feeling grateful that while being hit still hurt, the suit had proven effective against small arms fire.

He got into the car, started the engine, and tapped his earpiece.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Wick?" Sunday asked.

"Even though I know you'll report to Mr. Devonshire, I'd still like you to let him know the job is done if he's awake. As for Vigo Tarasov's brother, Abram, I don't think there's any need to deal with him right now."

"Understood, Mr. Wick. I've already found a place to hold Iosef. You can take him to Pier XX. I've rented a secluded warehouse online. It's equipped with converted shipping container dormitories. The conditions are decent, and once you lock the container from the outside, Iosef won't be able to escape."

"Got it," John Wick replied. He drove to a 24-hour convenience store, buying enough food and water to last Iosef two weeks. Then, he drove to the warehouse Sunday had mentioned. He parked, opened the trunk, and carried the unconscious Iosef into the container dormitory.

He tossed Iosef onto the small bed inside the dormitory, the sudden pain rousing him from unconsciousness with a groan.

John Wick glanced around the dormitory. It had a bed, a bathroom, and a few fist-sized ventilation holes. Seeing that Iosef was waking up, John Wick didn't say a word. He simply walked out, secured the door with chains, and reinforced it with several iron bars. Once satisfied that Iosef wouldn't be able to escape, John Wick got into his car, revved the engine a few times, and drove away.

As Iosef slowly regained full consciousness, the first thing he heard was the distinctive roar of a Mustang's engine. The seven days he spent locked up would scar him so deeply that in the future, whenever he saw or heard a Mustang, he would be reminded of this day and fly into a rage.

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