John stepped up to the second set of doors, taking a scan that led to the latches opening rhythmically. John stepped through the threshold and took in the sights. Before him was a massive, Gothic mansion clear across the courtyard and, nearer to his left, a large, dome-shaped greenhouse. He held his AR tightly, diagonally to his chest with his finger resting on the trigger guard. Taking no heed to Black Mask's advice on the botanical gardens and strolled up towards the imposing steps. As John tentatively made his way up the staircase, Joker's voice thundered over the asylum, declaring, "Attention all psychos, murderers, thieves, and assassins, we have an unexpected guest on our island. But this is no ordinary guest but the Baba Yaga, John Wick, himself! Now, before you all either look on in awe or tremble in fear at this revelation, let me give you all some spine. I'll give anybody who kills John a half-million dollars when I see the body. A million if you bring him to me alive, for somebody has to teach this man some manners when it comes to party crashing."
"Is that it?" John scoffed.
"Oh, what the heck," Joker continued with a chuckle, "I'll do you a favor since I know you're listening, John. I'll give you to the count of ten to find a nice hiding spot to suck your thumb."
Joker began the countdown slowly, "One. Two. Three," then rapidly sped up the count, "Four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten. There we are, don't say I didn't play fair, Johnny. Go play, boys and girls!"
John hastened up the steps to the botanical garden before anyone could catch him in the open. The door slowly creaked open before flinging the rest of the way John shouldering his rifle and aiming in all directions. John waded into the greenhouse and shut the door behind him, the humidity and heat clinging to him like a wet blanket. Sweat was glistening his brow as he cautiously, silently made his way to the statue in the center of the entry way, a mossy, mold-riddled husk to the asylum's patriarch, surrounded by a crumbling building, benches, and overgrowing ring of gardens along the walls. As John circled around, the voice of two men sent him jogging for a wall to post up against. Down the stairs to an electrified door, a pair of inmates with the guard's rifles stood ready. John listened in to the middle of their conversation, "He thinks he's God or somethin', messin' with people's bodies."
John looked across the room and saw a guard sitting, slumped over with a book in his lap, a companion of his sitting almost naturally behind him in the garden with another book of his own. "He tries that stuff on me and I quit."
"Me, too," his friend concurred, "This place is creepy enough without those monsters running loose."
John aimed around the corner as the two oblivious prisoners failed to see him. Before he opened fire, John took note of the electric wall behind them fired into the ankle of the man to his left. The man grabbed his friend by the shoulder with a shriek and toppled back, dragging them both back into the electricity with the sickening, sizzling shock of their flesh. Their bodies were flung forwards, spasming as their muscles worked the electricity out of their unconscious bodies. John ran down the stairs and took notices of a control panel on the wall to his left. Going on nothing but a hunch, he fired into it and, with a small, spark-filled explosion, the electric wall went off. John peered through the door into the next room, a large, dome-shaped area with plants growing from and all over the walls. In the center stood a statue of a bald man with a massive spear battling a large serpent, its hissing jaws agape. On either side of the statues stand, water spouted off into a murky, dank fountain.
Heading up one of the stairs was an aloof inmate. Not wanting any extra attention than he was already given, John made his way up to the man after slinging his rifle over his left shoulder and drew his knife. John crept up behind the man as he leaned over the rail, looking at the statue. As he stood up from railing and turned to continue his route, John hammer fisted the blade into the crook's throat. Shock and agony instantly overtook his visage as he held his bleeding and crushed throat, unable to make more than a feeble gasp. John wrapped his arm around the man's head and flung him to the ground with a snapmare. Just as the agonized man lie on the ground, John rose the knife up and plunged it down into his chest. John took notice of the metal collar that wrapped around the neck and dipped down to the sternum of the body. John looked at the contraption in confusion as it suddenly began to make a shrill, repetitive beep with random laughter mixed in. "Shit, he's here! Come on, boys, let's go get that money."
John clipped his knife and loosed his rifle, stealthing down down along the railing to one of its corners. The slow, methodical footsteps of an inmate grew nearer and, as he was nearly on top of John, the hitman readied his rifle. A foot entered his view and John blew it in half, the inmate collapsing ahead and shouting in pain before another round bore through his cheek and out the back of his neck. "He's over here!" called out another, the collar on the newly deceased man syncing up with the first.
John shot up and fired at the next man approaching him, each shot into his torso making him flail back to a side before the final bullet in his forehead sent him flopping back. John ducked under the railing as bullets sailed at him from the other side of the same level as him. John strapped the AR over his back once more before taking a G36 off of the nearest corpse, springing up in a crouching position and lying the rifle over the railing as he opened up another salvo. Bullets riddled the abdomen of the goon who fired at him, doubling over and somersaulting over the railing and into the shallow water below, the crack of his skull and ribcage muffled by the shallow water's splash. But another inmate clotheslined John from behind and sent them both over the edge, careening into the shallow water below.
John and the inmate both struggled to their knees, staring each other down for a moment. John attempted to get up but was throttled by inmate as he tried, pressing him into the wall with a fist brought back. John was crossed across the face twice and hit in the gut with a hook, his left cheek split open in the center of a bruise. Before the inmate could get another strike in, John clubbed down on the wrist of his hand holding John's throat, freeing himself before kicking the man in the groin. John took the man by the pants and shirt collar and flung him head-first into the wall. John retrieved his rifle and turned to shoot but instantly had his aim retched aside by the man grasping the barrel and an errant round discharged and ricocheted off the wall. John took the advantage of the inmate's lack of shoes and stomped down on his foot, driving him back and pinning him against the wall with his rifle pressed into his throat. The two struggled with each other for the rifle before John noticed the strapped rested behind the man's neck. John twisted the rifle around like a piece of wood on a garrote, turning the nylon strap into a noose around his neck. The inmate desperately tried to work his fingers in the strap but John kneed him in the ribs, making him kneel as he refused to pry his fingers from the strap. John turned and flung him over himself, splatting into the water. John rolled him over and put his knees into his upper back as he retched himself backwards, the inmate's feet flailing and eyes wide as he struggled to breathe, what few gasps he managed were only lungfuls of water. "There he is!" another inmate shouted above.
John freed one hand from the rifle but refused to cease his attempts to strangle the inmate beneath him, drawing his pistol with his free hand and aiming it up at the inmate who made the call out. Before the lunatic could return his attention and fire his rifle, John put a round in the man's temple. John put his pistol to the back of the man's head and sped up the process by ventilating the back of his skull and forehead. John freed his rifle strap from the man's neck and hauled himself out of the fountain. John made his way up the stairs once more and to a door at the second level. Before he could leave the room, John was met with a deep, soothing voice, "It's a pleasure, John."
John attempted to turn and aim at whoever spoke to him but was met with a boot to the chest that sent him sprawling through the door. John rolled over his shoulders to a crouching position and opened fire on the figure until his magazine ran empty after only 6 shots. "You really think that'll do any good, John?" the man spoke, stepping into the room.
The assassin was encased in a full-body suit of armor, his one-eyed mask half orange and half black. "So, how about we make this easy, John? I'll give you this one chance to let me take you to Joker alive."
"You really think he'll pay you for me?" John asked, loosing his magazine before replacing it.
"I doubt it. But then I'll get rid of two birds with one stone. Joker doesn't pay me, he's right there, so, why not? And it'll only be a matter of time before Black Mask ends up here again and then there will be no competition left for me." Deathstroke responded.
"We'll see about that."
John opened fire once again and Deathstroke lunged at him, bullets bouncing harmlessly off of him and spearing John into the water. John's rifle flew from his hands and to the other landing across the room. Deathstroke rose his foot up high and attempted to axekick a downed John, the hitman rolling out of harm's way just in time. John swept Slade's feet from under him and sent him crashing onto his back. John continued the revolution and attempted to nail Deathstroke with his own kneeling axekick. Slade, however reared back and kipped up before John could connect, hitting the assassin with a sidekick to the jaw. John could barely sit up for Slade seized him by the hair and drove his head back under the water's surface, staring at him coldly as the assassin drowned. In desperation, John shot his feet up into his gut and rolled backwards, flinging Deathstroke over him and back-first into the wall, sliding down and dropping on his head. Slade sat up from the water and was immediately met with John's knee the face, driving his skull into the wall. Undeterred, Slade hooked his arm around John's leg and rose up with John up high, power bombing him into the water as he fell forward. Shaking off the slam, John pivoted around Deathstroke's arm and stood up with his grasp on Deathstroke's wrist, locking him in an armbar with his arm between his legs. "I've gotta say, John," Slade struggled to utter, gritting against the pain of the armbar, "you're definitely what they make you out to be."
"Thanks. And I can see how you got your name, Slade."
"Ah, I'm just happy to be of note."
With that, Slade grabbed John's ankle with his free hand and yanked him off his footing, sending him crashing face-first into the water. John sprung up from the water once more and, as he stood, was met with a cross kick to the chest. John stumbled back on his heels before he was sent onto his back once more with a leaping reverse spin kick to the chest as well. Before John could pick himself up, Deathstroke took him by the lapels and braced him against a pillar, bringing a fist back to knock John's head off. The hitman ducked the punch and a piece of the pillar was broken loose by Slade's fist. Slade turned just as John leapt onto him and wrapped his legs around his midsection, twisting and taking Slade to the ground once more. John locked Slade in a guillotine choke, his head barely above the water as he held Deathstroke beneath it. The terminator merely sat up before standing out of the water, charging at the pillar and driving John spine-first into the concrete. John slid to his seat as Deathstroke took several steps back, charging at John and attempting to drive his knee into his face. John rolled out of the way and another hunk of the pillar was knocked from the strike. Slade instinctively shot his foot out in another sidekick, John ducking under his leg and sweeping the other with a quick heel kick. Deathstroke toppled back and John followed, placing his hands on his face and falling with his full weight behind him. Deathstroke crashed onto the back of his, putting his boots in John's stomach and flinging him back immediately.
John soared through the air and crashed into the wall, sliding down as Deathstroke charged at him and rammed his shoulder into his gut, crushing him into the wall. John held his ribs and doubled over in pain, Slade taking him by the neck of his coat and dragging him to the steps opposite where they entered. Slade released him and jumped into the air, twisting around and nailing John in the back of the head with a roundhouse kick. The hitman was flung, sprawling, into the steps. John crawled up the steps with Slade in hot pursuit, commenting, "Well, John, this has been fun, but I have a bounty to collect," Slade went on, drawing his sword from the sheath on his back, "I do apologize but I gave you a choice."
Deathstroke took John by the shoulder and flung him across the steps as they reached the landing, the back of his head colliding with and resting against a metal box. Deathstroke raised his sword high overhead before swinging down on John with all his might. John dodged the swing by weakly throwing himself aside, Slade's sword digging down halfway through the box before the bright, coursing electricity that zapped through him revealed it was a fuse box. A sudden burst of the box sent Slade flying back, the back of his knees clipping the hand railing of the steps and sending him back flipping onto the steps and rag dolling into the water. A prone and drenched John peered towards the steps and then again at the sparking fuse box. He crawled towards it and, with some strain tipped it over into the water, the sounds of electricity fizzling in the water filling the room John got to his knees and panted, looking at the ground. John's attention was regained as Slade called out, "John."
His head snapped to face the terminator, sheathing his sword as he concluded, "Be seeing you."
With that Slade turned and exited the room, John muttering, "Sure thing."
John held his hand to his lower back as he struggled to his feet, limping to retrieve his rifle before slinging it over his shoulder. John made his way through an open corridor and down the hall as it winded to the left. At the end of the corridor was a thick, metal door with a complex pulley system on it. John used all his remaining strength to pull the handle to the door down, the pulleys contracting to the center of the door as it pulled towards John. The assassin entered the room and was sent posting up against the doorway as he heard men nearby in what turned out to be the power station, turbines buzzing and turning as steam seeped from several vents around the brick room. Before John stood a pacing but aloof group of two pipe-armed and four unarmed men surrounding a kneeling, pleading custodian. "Please, I'm just the janitor. I've been good to all you, come on!"
"Sorry, Jimmy, but the boss ain't having anybody else on this island and that includes you. No hard feelings, eh?"
"No, no, please, wait!"
One of the criminals raised his pipe but a single shot rang out and the man's head flung forward, blood pouring out onto the floor. The crowd turned to look at John holding the smoking gun, one in an orange jumpsuit pulling out a pair of knives as he shouted, "Well, look at what we have hear, boys. John came right to us and it looks like we're getting paid. Good thing he did us a favor on the math, a hundred grand for each of us. Get him!"
John opened fire and dropped two of the unarmed men with a pair of shots each, the one holding the pipe rearing back and flinging it at John like an axe. John ducked projectile and was in an immediate tug-of-war for his rifle as another unarmed crook grabbed it aloft. Too tired to fight with him, John shoved him back and drew his pistol, boring a round through his forehead. The knife-wielding maniac charged John as he attempted to shoot him as well, only for his gun to click, empty. He reared the pistol back and hurled it at the psycho, striking and breaking his nose on impact. John ducked a swing of the other remaining crook and struck him with a jab in the solar plexus, then clapped his hands over both the mans ears to discombobulate him. He turned as the screaming man holding the knives charged at him and unloaded a wild haymaker with a blade, John sidestepping it and the blade found a home in his comrade's stomach. The two looked at each other in shock as the one wielding the knives uttered, "Whoops," before retrieving his knife and watching his ally collapse, holding his stomach.
The psycho returned his attention to John with a sneer, inverting the grip on his knives. He slashed at John wildly, the assassin doing his best to dodge and duck every blow as he back-peddled. The killer brought his knives back with a scream and stabbed at John with both, the assassin once again evading danger and grabbing the door beside him. John flung the door at the man and struck him in the face, knocking him back and dazing him. John took him by the collar and dragged him to the door and set his head up against the jamb. John step out of the room and place the door against him, rearing back and stomping with all his might on the door, crushing the man's skull like it were a rotten watermelon. John re-entered the room and was tackled by the risen stabbed inmate, now straddling John with a knife pressing down on his face. John grasped the man's wrist with both hands, trying desperately to keep the blade away as the inmate pushed down on the pommel with his free hand.
In desperation, John released one hand from the inmate and jammed his fore and middle fingers into the man's stab wound, twisting and writhing them inside to intensify the man's suffering. The man cried out and brought his free hand to his stomach, John taking the chance to roll the man over and now lie on top of him, pushing down on the knife the man held like a guillotine. The blade sliced deep into his neck, a cough of his blood splattering John's face. The assassin strained back up to his feet and strolled back into the room, the stunned custodian uttering, "I can't believe it. You're really John Wick."
John plucked his rifle off the ground and held it by the muzzle as he made his way to his pistol. "Sir, I don't want any trouble but I can't thank you enough for what you did. You saved my life. Who knows what they were gonna do with me. Probably kill me."
Still ignoring the man, John made his way to his pistol and let the magazine slide free, slapping another one in before chambering a round. "Uh, Mister Wick. I'm trying to thank you."
John holstered his pistol, simply responding as he finally looked at the man, "I know. Where's Joker?"
John's cold stare frightened the man every bit as his previous experience, fumbling, "Oh, I, uh, think he's, um, somewhere. I don't know, look, man, I don't want any trouble, I'm no threat to you."
A security tv in the room suddenly changed to reveal the Joker once again, taunting John, "Well, well, well, there you are, John! Deathstroke said you were probably here and looks like you survived him, too. How do you manage to keep killing all these people? Ah, nevermind, Slade was simple dog any way. But, John, I'll do ya a favor. Let's keep this between you and me, huh, pal?"
John only readied to leave the room and ignore Joker, the clown demanding, "Hey, I'm doing you a favor, buddy. The least you could do is recognize me and thank me for this. Hell, I could say you're here and then the 422 inmates would be all over you like June bugs on a porch light. Well, the ones left you haven't murdered, that is."
John was nearly out the door when Joker cried out, "Wait, John, come back! I know this may not be a very good gift but what if I gave you another?"
John stopped in the doorway and rolled his eyes, turning to face the tv and stomping back to it, "What is it now, you annoying clown?"
"That's the spirit, John. You know, my first experiment was a real dud and I know you don't appreciate having your time wasted so I'll make it up to you."
With that, the wall opposite them exploded and another hulking behemoth stepped through, crouching and roaring at the two of them. Through the dust of the shattered brick wall stepped another giant mutant. "I do hope you enjoy their company, two's better than one, right? Ta-ta, Johnathan!"