Agent 47 X Everything

Location: Naples, Italy — The Continental Annex (Unofficial Safehouse of the High Table)

Time: 2:11 A.M.

Weather: Cold night, marble streets glistening from an earlier rain.

A sharp wind traced along the ancient rooftops of Naples as two shadows moved across the terrace of a private compound—a repurposed opera hall now used by the High Table for meetings, laundering, and executions.

One in a classic black suit, white shirt, crimson tie. His bald head gleamed in the moonlight. A long dark coat flowed behind him like a curtain of night.

The other, John Wick, face bruised from the last kill, black shirt rumpled, weapons locked and loaded.

They had taken the long way. No cameras. No noise.

Before this, they had stopped at a secure drop location where 47 had acquired blueprints of the compound, stolen records, and agent logs. Wick had found his own way—one that carved through three mid-tier assassins.

They stood now on the edge of a rooftop, watching. Planning.

Below, six guards patrolled the front courtyard. Two snipers watched from balconies. And inside—

Santino D'Antonio.One of the surviving High Table members. A snake cloaked in the skin of royalty.

Wick: (low tone)

"They'll expect me."

47: (quietly, eyes scanning paths of entry)

"Not me."

Wick glanced at him.Still not used to the ghost beside him.

47 turned slightly.

"Split. I'll take east. You take west. Meet at the main hall in ten."

Wick gave a curt nod.

Then silence.

Inside 47's Mind — Sukuna's Domain

"So this is the High Table…"Sukuna's voice poured through the edges of 47's consciousness.

"Regal halls. Silk suits. And still, all I see are bloated pigs behind marble."

47 remained unfazed, eyes tracking heat signatures."Focus."

Sukuna chuckled.

"I like this hunting ground.""…delicious."

47 – Eastern Infiltration

He dropped silently from the rooftop into the archways below. The hiss of the wind masked his landing. He moved like ink through water, slipping behind a stone column just as a guard turned.

Click. Whip. Crunch.

The fiber wire coiled around the man's throat like a noose pulled by fate. Not a sound. 47 gently lowered the body.

He moved deeper.

Two more ahead, speaking in Italian—one checking his phone.

47 emerged behind them like a thought manifested.

Bang. Bang.

Two suppressed rounds to the skull. One stepped forward. The other crumpled backwards like a folding chair.

Sukuna whispered again.

"You kill like a curse… precise, unseen, inevitable."

47 ignored him.

He was already climbing the inner staircase—one level below the main hall.

Wick – Western Assault

Wick kicked in a side door.

Glass shattered. A startled guard reached—too slow.

Wick's pistol barked twice.

Bang! Bang!

Another tried to tackle him—Wick shifted his weight, took the man's momentum and snapped his elbow backward with a crunch. The enemy screamed.

Wick took his weapon mid-motion and fired over his shoulder into the neck of a third man.

Fluid. Deadly.

In the midst of chaos, Wick never hesitated.

The halls ran red in silence.

Main Hall – First Encounter

Santino D'Antonio stood beneath a golden chandelier, flanked by ten bodyguards in tactical gear.

The double doors burst open.

John Wick entered first.

Gasps. Screams. Guns raised.

But then—

The chandelier lights flickered… and a bald man walked from the shadows behind the altar.

Silent. Untouched. A shadow in a suit.

"Who the hell—"One guard pointed.

"Who the hell is that weird bald guy?"

"Hey Fucker! You got some issu-"

Bang.

The goon's temple exploded mid-sentence. 47 holstered the baller.

Then it began.

The guards opened fire.

Wick dove behind a statue, returning bursts of precise gunfire.

47 darted sideways behind a piano, then emerged like lightning. He threw a combat knife—embedded in the throat of one—and rushed the other.

In a blink, he was behind them.

One guard tried to yell. 47 snapped his leg, then flipped him onto a bayonet standing in the décor.

Santino screamed and ran for the inner corridor.

Wick followed.

47 didn't.

"Let him run," Sukuna purred."Fear sweetens the kill."

47 advanced methodically—cutting down the remaining guards with a cold rage buried beneath his calm.

Every movement was precise. No wasted motion.A shot to the spine. A knife to the liver.Snap. Twist. Drop.

Wick returned, bleeding but walking tall.

"He's gone. Escaped with two more."

47 wiped blood from his knuckles.

"Then we find him."

[System Notification: Progress Logged]

Target: Santino D'Antonio escaped.

High Table Status: ALERTED

New Bounty Levels: Raised

Wick – 7 Million47 – UNKNOWN(System unable to register bounty value. Clearance exceeds local data authority.)

Sukuna:"You are becoming a ghost they cannot price… fitting."