All around him was blurred, even after he blinked. His ears rang mercilessly. He had no sense of what happened or where he was as he came to. He shifted his leg slightly, the volt of pain that radiated up his limb and spine making him stretch out to compensate. His foot kicked his new comrade in the hip, lying prone amidst the rubble, making him groan and attempt to push himself up. Jamie was met with the ceiling of the elevator bumping him in the back, his head shooting up involuntarily and helmet clinking against the metal. "You alright?" John asked.
"Are we dead?" Jamie responded.
"No, but we have to get moving." John ordered.
The two quickly found a small gap between the floor and ceiling, wiggling their way through it on their forearms. Upon rising, they found themselves in a moist, mold-riddled room with a few gun boxes stuck around the walls. "I don't suppose there's a staircase down here?" John asked.
"No. That's only the bad news. Wanna hear the worse news?"
"If it can get any worse."
"There's an elevator at the other side of this sewer up ahead. The problem is that's where we keep Killer Croc."
"Do your employers not see the problem in keeping all of the most powerful people in the underworld in one place is a horrible idea?"
Jamie paused at that, mulling it over before replying, "Honestly, it never even crossed my mind. But we can redesign this prison as soon as we get back to the surface."
John took the lead and went to a large, metal door with a unique pull system, at first trying to pull back on it before Jamie corrected him and pushed it down. John nodded before taking point again, heading down a narrow, winding corridor. In the wake of the next door, a skull and crossbones was painted on the left, the words "STAY OUT" sprawled underneath, and a cache of bones filling the holes in the brick wall to the left. "Oh, man..." Jamie hushed.
"Safeties off, Jamie." John replied, heading through the door.
A stream greeted them on the other side, pouring down a brick basin and dumping into a deeper, fast-flowing river lie ahead in the subterranean cave. The smell of rot was strong, far stronger than waste should have been. It was the rot of flesh, bodies left to be mangled and consumed by the sole inhabitant. Jamie covered his mouth and gagged, commenting, "Oh, man, I remember why I hated coming down here now."
John strolls ahead, peering around the corner at the widening of the stream and looks over the surroundings. Water dumped down from the massive pipes jutting from the walls on the opposite side. Before him was a steel walkway that hung over the water, torn upward and broken in his wake, a void and suspension chains from the ceiling the only things left. The right path leading them to the drainage area of the river of waste, filtering underneath a large, rectangular landing. In the center of the landing was another rusted door, blood seeping down it and across the landing into the water, the small window on it shattered. "It's fairly straight forward, come on." John called out.
A reptilian growl and the stirring of water caught John's attention, finding no sign of what he had heard. He looked back to a terrified Jamie, the guard pursing his lips and holding his finger to them, getting only a nod from John. John tested the walkway with the weight of his foot, slowly pressing onto it and feeling no give or sway to his step. The two slowly paced their way down the walkway, paying attention to every drip, every creak, and every sound around them. The two made it halfway, to their right another path further into the depths of the sewer. John gazed down it as he heard another hiss from within, Jamie creeping his way past. The scuttle of a brick across the grate at their feet brought John back, the seemingly thunderous crashing crescendoing into the brick crashing into the water with a deep, sucking plop. The two stared at the ripples in horror, unsure of their next move. After several tense moments, Jamie sighed, whispering, "Man, that was cl-"
The ground beneath them erupted, shooting them up into the air and snapping the section of walkway off its chains. The duo plunged into the algae-filled, murky waters, John's immediate rise to the surface interrupted as a colossal fist seized him by the chest and rushed him through the water, smashing him into the wall and sending several bubbles of air from his mouth. The assassin tried to gain his bearings, seeing the cage-like grate walkway slowly floating down before him. Bubbles passing before his face caught his attention, John looking down to see a monstrous, scaly beast soaring up after him with its tooth maw wide open. John took the steel and braced it beneath him, the beast losing no momentum as it catapulted him out of the water and into the air. The assassin crashed in the entrance of the further divert into the sewers, John immediately scrambled to his feet as the beast let loose a bone-chilling roar that tapered into an animalistic hiss. It's scaly, clawed hand shot up over the edge, pulling itself up to meet John as he fell back further into the entrance. The assassin took notice of the cage he'd passed through, reaching up and slamming the door shut before him. The hulking behemoth rose out of the depths, glaring down at John to reveal its features. Its entire body was covered in scales, teeth gnarled and massive like the reptile it resembled, and eyes yellow and seeming to glow. A metal collar wrapped around its thick neck with a chain hanging from it, as well as shackles and shattered chains on his wrists and ankles, the only thing remotely human about it was the filthy red pants it wore. The beast took several audible whiffs of the air and, to his surprise, spoke in a slurping, gravelly tone, "Ah, it really is you," the beast began, giggling and slurping its own saliva back, "Welcome to my lair, John Wick. My home will become your tomb."
John responded by firing several shots at Croc, most bouncing off his hide without issue but one struck the monster's collar. The round caused the collar to light up and buzz with electricity, causing him to thrash about in agony as its roar echoed throughout the basement. The beast then exhaled in rage, turning to John as it said, "Be seeing you, John. But I doubt you'll see me until it's too late."
With that, Croc turned and dove into the waters out of John's sight. With no options left, John turned and headed further into the sewers. The concrete floor he walked on gave way to wooden pallets floating in stagnant, putrid waters before him. John took the opportunity to reload his pistol and was careful to place to the spent magazine into his pocket. John tentatively made his way down the makeshift walkway, his feet partially submersing in the water and causing scores of ripples to radiate out from his steps. He made his way to the junction of a crossroads, the center pallet made of thicker, more tightly packed planks, bound on the edge by iron. As soon as John stepped on the pallet and began to think of his next move, the water behind him began to broil over with bubbles. John could only mouth, "Shit," before Croc launched up onto his pallet, catapulting him in the air over Croc with a somersault as he crashed back-first onto a pallet with a wet plop.
Croc could only turn to face John as he rolled onto his stomach and opened fire from his prone position, bouncing several rounds off of Croc's collar as the beast writhed about before collapsing into the water. John took the chance to get up and sprint straight ahead, leaping over each gap between the pallets as he did so. His path ended in a junction to the right ahead but he had no chance of making it, the pallet beneath him exploding as Croc launched up through it, snapping in the air as John arched his body to avoid his jaws. The two plunged into the murky depths, John being dragged down by his foot as soon as he was submerged. John was flung down into the bedrock of the water, slamming flat against the hard stone bottom. Barely any light pierced these waters, John only able to make out Croc's silhouette in the muck. The beast threw its fist down on John with all his might, the assassin only moving his head aside to avoid being crushed. The blow went over John's shoulder, the water around him trembling and giving him an opening as he produced a knife from his pocket. With a flick of the button, the blade shot out and was immediately grasped around the waist in Croc's massive paw. He pulled John in for a killing bite but was met with a stab to the eye, blood further darkening the water as John took the opportunity to make a dash for the surface.
Before John could break free, he was once more seized by the ankle and dragged back down. Lashing out in desperation, John kicked out and struck Croc in the nose, rocking his head back and dazing him. A plank of wood fluttered into John's arms, the assassin taking it like a spear and began to repeatedly ram it between the beast's eyes. With one last thrust, John drove the plank down Croc's mouth and throat, the beast spewing a torrent of bubbles. Slowly, its group loosened on John and the body sunk into the depths.
John swung up his head out of the water, gasping for air before swimming to the nearest plank path and hoisting himself up on it. The assassin lie one his back and caught his breath for a time, finally mustering the energy to pull his soaked body off the wood and casually stroll down the maze of water and pallets to find an exit. At the next junction of pallets, a distant groan caught is attention but, this time, it was different. It sounded more human and pained. Additionally, John took notice to the bubbles streaming up at the end of his path before the pallet in the middle of the junction. John froze and looked to his feet, taking notice to the ripples he was making in the water with every move. Slowly and as meticulously as possible, John reached into his pocket and drew his spent magazine, rearing back and hurling it down the path to the left. The magazine bounced off the wall before slapping into the water, John ducking further back down his hall as he could hear Croc burst out of the water, the beast turning and searching in all directions for John. He sniffed the air, unable to find John's scent for the putrescent waters he had been immersed in. "You're lucky I can't find your scent, John, but I will find you." Croc hissed before slinking back into the water.
John sighed with relief, the groan catching his attention again, coming from the path to the right. John carefully made his way down the path, doing his best to alleviate his disturbance in the water. As his path ended in another dead end with only a right to go, John found Jamie, lying prone on a pallet with blood pooling around him. John looked behind him, finding the coast clear, and turned back to Jamie, stifling out a yelp of, "Jamie!"
No response. "Jamie!"
Again, Jamie lie silent. John sighed, "Dammit," before trudging his way to him. John took Jamie by the collar and hauled him out of the water, only to find his legs had been gnawed off above the knee. John turned the corpse over, finding his eyes gouged out and throat slit. He looked around to see if any sign of Croc was available and found none. He looked at the corpse once again, finding it was still tightly holding onto its H&K G36. John went to work, prying the fingers off the rifle for him himself, stripping him off his remaining magazines and taking them on his own. He free the current mag and checked it, finding it full before replacing it and racking around. All of a sudden, a pallet three away from John exploded, Croc's fist sinking back into the water before destroying the next one. The assassin turned and bolted down the path, Croc closing the gap and soon was destroying pallets just as John lept from them. John reached one last junction, another left at the next one and he'd be back to where he started. But his path was cut off as Croc lunged out of the water into his path, glaring down at John as he roared, "There you are!"
Croc charged at John, only for a few rounds to strike his collar and send thousands of volts ripping through his body. Croc clutched the collar and lost his balance, plunging into the water as John bolted ahead. Soon, John was once again on solid ground and rushing to the exit. He, however, realized he locked himself in and struggled to raised the cage door again. The thunderous footsteps behind him brought John to face the charging Croc. John leveled the rifle and dumped the magazine on monster, most harmlessly bouncing off his hide but one managed to knock off of the collar, once again electrocuting the beast. Croc used his momentum as his muscles seized up, flinging himself at John and spearing him through the cage, the metal bars rattling against the ground as the two crashed onto the cold, hard ground. John quickly scrambled to his feet, trying to make his way to his rifle but he was cut off by a backhand that nearly caved his chest in, bouncing him off the wall like a ball. The assassin moaned in pain, still attempting to get to his feet as Croc took him by the head, commending, "You and Batman aren't too different, John. You never quit. Well, not at least until I crush your head like an egg."
Croc let out a victorious laugh, John finding one of the iron bars before him, the floral head like a lance to him. In one motion, John seized it and drove it into Croc's foot, the beast releasing him and falling to a knee as he shrieked at his agonizing wound. Taking the opportunity, John drew his knife once again and lunged into the air, taking the knife in both hands before plunging it into the back of Croc's skull. The beast was forced down from the blow, his other eye skewered by the jagged, snapped end of the bar. Croc sit there, motionless yet hissing in pain, lashing out blindly from his pinned position as John retrieved his rifle. The assassin placed a fresh magazine in and approached the wounded Croc, putting his hand on his forehead and pushing him off the bar to an upright position. The blind Croc merely spoke, "Being seeing you, John."
John took the rifle in his free hand and jammed it into Croc's mouth, rebuffing, "No, you won't."
With that, John once more emptied the rifle into Croc, his body violently seizing and convulsing as the rounds struck the back of his throat. Finally, the bullets punched through his hide and began to rip a hole through the base of his spine, functionally decapitating him. Unsatisfied by the end of his gunfire, John took Croc by the head in both hands and slammed his head forward, ramming the gun further into his mouth, out his wounds and causing it to rupture the top of his skull from his lower jaw. John retrieved his knife, the skull still sticking to it until a flick of his wrist sent it plopping into the water. He then collected his rifle and put the final clip of Jamie's into it. He spared a final look for the corpse before making his way to the door, silently lamenting his sopping wet suit.
John had no sooner passed through the door than was he greeted by the alarm of a half dozen goons before him, one wagging a finger at him and shouting, "Hey, you ain't supposed to be here. Get him boys."
The group charged John, the assassin dropping the nearest with a few shots to the chest and one to the head. Realizing he'd soon be overwhelmed, John reared the rifle back over his head and whipped it ahead like an axe, the magazine and grip ramming into the chin and forehead of the next man up and knocking him flat. John blocked the punch of the next with his forearm, immediately striking him in the throat and following up with a kick to the crotch. He ducked under the clothesline of another closing criminal, spinning around and loosening the teeth of the last crook with a back elbow. John turned and blocked another haymaker, straight punching the con in the throat before seizing his wrist and twisting his arm over his head, turning and slamming him onto his already prone comrade. John was clocked upside the head by the last vertical con's fist, sending him reeling to the side before he regained his balance. The crook attempted to kick John, only for the assassin to catch his leg under his arm. The crook hopped helplessly, trying to catch John with a series of hooks that he easily dodged. John swept the crook's other foot out with his own, grasping his face and driving the back of his skull into the concrete.
Finding his foes unmoving, John reclaimed his rifle and put a bullet in every one of their skulls, advancing down the hall and following the arrows. The surroundings were not unlike that of a hospital, with tile floors and walls, buzzing fluorescent lights ahead, and pipes creeping from the walls. John covered his mouth as he let loose a cough, the sound of steam passing through a broken pipe hissing through the air. Soon, John could hear voices whispering all around, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough not to be understood. They grew louder and harder to ignore until the sounds of screams drowned them out. As John rounded a corner, he found a room flooded with what looked like smoke from beyond a thick pane of glass. Medical carts, a dentist's chair, medical tools, and blood littered the room, John barely able to make that there were men inside from the bloodstained glass. One was sitting in the fetal position, facing and corner and quietly rocking back in forth. Another was running in the widest possible circle of the cramped room, screaming incoherently. Suddenly, another burst up into view, his flesh around his cheeck, forehead, neck, and chest clawed raw and bleeding as he screamed, "HELP! GET THEM OFF ME! I CAN FEEL THEM CRAWLING INSIDE ME! GET 'EM OFF!"
The man collapsed back as John put his hand to the glass and leaned forward, his vision blurring and senses dulling. He was nearly out as he felt a hand clutch his shoulder, a deep, haunting voice saying, "Ah, it really is you, Baba Yaga."
A sharp, piercing pain in John's neck made him cringe and throw his head back as he gnashed his teeth, the voice growing more ghastly as it spoke, "Well, only one of us can be the king of terror, John. Let's see who it really is."