I DO NOT OWN BLINDSPOT. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO MARTIN GERO. I ALSO DO NOT OWN JOHN WICK. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO DEREK KOLSTAD AND LIONSGATE. THIS STORY WAS CONCEIVED AFTER A DISCUSSION ABOUT WHAT WOULD WIN IN A FIGHT BETWEEN JANE DOE AND JOHN WICK. CAN'T DECIDE? NEITHER COULD WE.

FACE CLAIMS

JANE WELLER- JAIMIE ALEXANDER

JOHN WICK- KEANU REEVES

COMRADE MAXIM- ROBERT CARLYLE

COMRADE ALEKSEEVNA- REMY GIARD

Gleb's Cafe. Moscow, Russia. October 27, 2017.

Jane Weller walked into the cafe as if she had a mission to spend as many roubles as possible. She was dressed in a very revealing little black dress with high heels to match and her short hair in a bun. To the common man who passed her by, it would appear as though she were some high end whore looking to turn a pricey trick. Luckily, that was exactly what Jane wanted people to think. As she sipped a virgin martini at the bar, she saw out of the corner of her eye that a couple of important looking men where talking and pointing her out.

One of those men was Maxim Konstantinovna, better known in the underworld as Comrade Maxim. He was the self appointed Czar of the Moscow chapter of the Russian mafia. Unfortunately for him, he was also the man that Jane was planning to kill that night.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait too long to be approached. A hefty man with stubble came over and touched her thigh. Normally, he would have lost some teeth, but Jane endured as she turned to face the man.

"здравствуйте, я товарищ Алексеевна." (Hello, I am Comrade Alekseevna.) he said as Jane gave him a small smile.

"Привет." (Hello). Jane replied.

"Товарищ Максим хочет знать, сколько вы будете брать за ночь удовольствия. (Comrade Maxim wishes to know how much you charge for a night of pleasure). Comrade Alekseevna inquired.

"Я могу договориться с ним." (I can negotiate with him). Jane replied as she stood up and followed the Mafiozi to the upper level where Comrade Maxim was waiting, sitting in a modern style throne.

"Such a beauty…" he slurred as he motioned her closer. Rumor had it that the mob boss often spoke in English when he was drunk. Jane made her way over to him and once she was close enough, Comrade Maxim raised his hand and brought it down hard on her ass. If the spank caused her pain, Jane didn't show it.

"You like it rough?" She asked in English, her eyes full of mischief.

"Indeed I do…" he said as he pulled her onto his lap.

"Then you are going to love me!" She exclaimed as she kicked her heels together and stilettos came out of the ends. Jane moved her legs and plunged the blades into the mob boss's neck and then out again. As Maxim choked on his own blood, Comrade Alekseevna tried to pull out a handgun. Jane took off her heels and threw one at him, piercing him in the heart and threw the other at one of his kapitany, hitting him in the skull. As other mafiosi came at her, Jane took them all on and began to disarm them one by one, her punches and kicks came so fast that the drunken gangsters were simply no match for her. When the last man was knocked down, Jane went over to Maxim who was nearly dead. She put her foot on his throat and kept it there until he finally died.

"Svin'ya!" She snarled as she spat on his corpse. Before she could leave, she felt a gun against her skull. Jane froze as she could smell the vodka on the gunman.

"You stupid whore…" he chuckled as he prepared to fire. A shot rang out and when Jane opened her eyes, she saw that the gunman had a bullet hole in the middle of his face as he dropped. As she smiled, she heard her ear piece spring to life.

"I do believe that's 2 you owe me, Mrs. Weller." The voice said in a teasing way.

"Are you going to keep rubbing that in my face, Mr. Wick?" Jane asked as John appeared on the glass rooftop of the bar.

"No, I was going to buy you a drink." He replied as he slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder.

"Just one, we still need to collect the payment for this pig." She reminded him as he nodded in respect. "Nice shot, by the way."

"Spasibo." He replied with a smile.

HOW DID THE TATTOO LADY TEAM UP WITH DEATH'S OWN EMISSARY? REVIEWS NEEDED AND APPRECIATED.