John Wick, a man of legends. A man whose body count amongst the Payday crew could be claimed to be in the hundreds and none would doubt the person who made the claim. After all, this was the man who had managed the feat of killing three men in a bar with a pencil and wipe out the Tarasov Syndicate from the face of the Earth over a stolen car and a puppy.
Understandably, the various members of the Payday crew approach him with degrees of either respect or fear, save for Chains and Hoxton. Still, this fear was not quite the same kind that the mute Jacket exuded. While Jacket evoked the sense of a bloody berserker with his cold gaze, John Wick was the Angel of Death; descending upon his enemies with ruthless precision and tranquil fury.
John Wick was a man that embodied three things: focus, determination and skill. Master of several martial arts and many types of weaponry, the professional assassin of the Continental was not one to mess with. If given an objective, he would accomplish it without fail. No matter how impossible it may have seemed.
However, as Hoxton eyed the mask in the assassin's hand as they approached the First World Bank, he had to wonder if he could pull it off. The mask in question was nothing special. No, fuck that, it went against anything a mask should be. It was cute, adorable, innocent and to be quite frank, not threatening in the fucking slightest. Sydney called it the 'Kawaii' mask. He thought it should be called the 'Degenerate' mask because of its blatant disregard of what he thought to be the mask philosophy of the Payday crew.
Then again, Jacket runs around scaring Cloakers shitless wearing a fucking chicken-head for a mask so what the fuck did he know? Impossible was apparently just word to John fucking Wick. If Jacket can make a chicken head terrifying, then surely John could do the same with that mask, right?
Hoxton's eyes never left the mask throughout the whole trip to the bank. No matter how much he knew John Wick's abilities were the stuff of legends, that mask just did not look intimidating to him in the slightest. It looked like a rip-off of one of those virtual Japanese singers that were popular a while back but with hair looking like someone puked rainbows on it. That mask was pretty much made as a joke on one of Sydney's whims. It would have been funny if they were coordinating an assault on a drug-dealer's safehouse or sneaking into a nightclub but they were going to hit the First World Bank. Intimidation was crucial in getting the fucking civvies to listen to you if Plan B needed to get into place and that fucking mask was definitely not that.
But, this was the John Wick. The Babayaga. The man you called to kill the Babayaga, whatever that meant. But Hoxton was more familiar with the term, Boogeyman. So, when they finally reached the bank, he walked in with an odd mix of confidence and doubt stirring within him.
Everything was going smoothly; the server room has been sighted, all of the new power boxes that kept the metal detectors running were found and the bank manager had been found. One problem, though. The old fucking fart was standing in a very precarious position. It couldn't be more open if he tried. It was well within view of any guards that passed by and shouting him down ran the risk of alerting the security camera that hovered just above his shining bald head. What a fucking mess. Ah well, killing him would be worth the trouble and Bain's lecturing.
Standing on the walkway opposite him was John Wick. Smug looking bastard. So far, it looked like he didn't have to whip out that joke of a mask. If anything, why did he pick that mask anyway? This was the man that struck the fear of God into hearts of some of the most heartless crime lords that he'd heard of. What was it that compelled such a man to pick such a mask?
However, so engrossed was Hoxton in his internal ruminations that he had failed to notice the guard coming the staircase towards John until it was too late. By the time Hoxton noticed and marked the guard, there was no time for John to avoid coming into contact with the guard.
"Hold it!"
Fuck. This was it. Plan B was about to go into full swing. The guard should be pulling out his gun any second now. Knowing the trigger-happiness of Americans, probably fire off a 'warning' shot to prove a point and kick start Plan B in its entirety.
Then, Hoxton was struck dumb by what he saw next. His clown mask could barely keep his hanging jaw from being visible; such was the extent of his dumbfoundedness.
Within the next few seconds since John's contact with the guard, the legendary assassin whipped out the 'Kawaii' mask, donned it and then glared menacingly at the guard. As though seeing some unholy terror within the mask's oversized eyes, the guard cowered in fear and immediately got onto his knees, cuffing himself while he was at it. All without John Wick having to utter a single word; not having to lift a single finger.
How in the actual fuck was that possible? It was only through sheer will that Hoxton did not bust out laughing and/or gasping in disbelief at the scene he just witnessed. If Jacket were here with him, even he would be afraid!
And thus, the list of John Wick's legendary exploits grew by one that day.
Author's note: This little joke piece pretty much came about when 336 and I were playing PAYDAY 2 together. Seeing that guard just straight up give up on life with an anime mask-toting John Wick was honestly one of the most hilarious things I've ever seen in the game to date. It was so funny that I had this idea of making a dramatisation of it in my head for a while. It took a good few weeks before I finally caved in to that nagging voice in my head telling me to just write this thing already. Dignity be damned! Anyway, give 336's work a read if you have the time. His works on DOOM in particular can be quite the treat especially his crossover with Halo.
Have a nice day.