Agent 47 X Everything

Location: Cairo, Egypt — MidnightDays Until the High Table Summit: 0Current Objective: Breach and Infiltrate

The desert wind whispered across the golden skyline, carrying secrets in its breath. Cairo slept under a blanket of moonlight, the Nile glittering like obsidian under the stars.

But beneath this stillness, war stirred.

Black SUVs rumbled down the ancient streets, their tires whispering against the sand-washed pavement. Atop one of the ridges overlooking the city, Agent 47 stood cloaked in shadow, eyes locked on the Grand Al-Qahirah Wine Estate — a lavish, fortified compound now swarming with over a hundred private guards and mercenaries. This estate was no vineyard — it was a fortress. Beneath it, the catacombs hid a gathering of devils: The High Table's summit.

"Masked. Secret password. No tech allowed."

Santino's voice echoed in his memory. His hands adjusted the cuff of his suit. He wore his black ensemble clean — pressed white shirt, signature red tie, silverballers holstered low at the belt. His long coat flowed like smoke in the desert breeze.

Behind him, John Wick checked the magazine of his AR-15. His all-black suit blended into the night, eyes narrowed as he scanned the outer walls.

"They've fortified every window," Wick muttered. "Thermal sensors. Motion detectors. Thirty guards at the gate alone."

47's voice was cold and clinical. "Then we don't enter through the front."

System Notification

CP: 90,000Contract: Eliminate all active High Table heads.Bonus: Unknown.

They made their way down the hill, every movement swift, precise. Wick pulled a suppressed pistol. 47's fingers twitched — Matter Creation: Fiber Line Grappler. He shot the dart silently into the upper ledge of the estate wall and pulled up like a phantom.

Wick followed, breaching the outer perimeter. No words. No hesitation.

Inside the compound, soft jazz played. Guards patrolled marble balconies and stained-glass corridors. The estate's architecture was a blend of ancient Islamic grandeur and modern wealth — golden arches, crimson velvet walls, high ceilings adorned with gold-leaf patterns. But none of it hid the weight of the danger inside.

Wick and 47 moved like clockwork. Two halves of a death engine.

At the western balcony, two guards laughed softly, unaware of the wind changing behind them.

Snap.A fiber wire coiled around one neck, 47 pulling tight as the other turned — Wick dropped him with a suppressed shot to the dome. Two bodies slid silently behind a column.

47 checked the schematics he memorized.

"Entry to catacombs: Below the wine cellar," he said.

Wick nodded. "And they'll be expecting company soon."

Inside the estate, masked figures roamed the halls in ornate robes. High Table representatives. Untouchables. Every one of them a sovereign of crime and power. Unaware that two ghosts had breached their gates.

In the corridor leading to the cellar, 47 held up a fist. Wick stopped.

A patrol — five men, all military-trained.

47 whispered, "On my mark."

Boom.

A flashbang detonated down the hall — a created object from 47's Matter Creation. The light flooded the marble corridor. Before the first scream, 47 had already dashed in.

He twisted the first guard's rifle into his own jaw. One shot.

Wick slid under the second, emptying two rounds into his ribcage.

The third fired — 47's knife struck his throat mid-trigger pull.

Wick dual-wielded for a heartbeat, using a second handgun to take out the fourth.

The fifth turned — saw 47 up close.

No words.Just the silverballer to the skull.Boom.

They descended.

The wine cellar's walls opened into an ancient stairwell. The air changed — cooler, older. They walked into the catacombs.

And there it was: The Summit.

A wide circular chamber beneath the earth, torches lining the stone walls. Over fifty masked figures sat in silent judgment around a stone table shaped like a coiled serpent.

At the center, an empty chair.

"Someone's late," Wick muttered.

"We're early," 47 said.

Suddenly, the system window flared in 47's vision.

System Notification

ALERT: Major Threat Detected[THRONEBREAKER: Active]Enemy Authority Detected: High Table Authority. Domain-Level Influence Present.Override Available.

From a side corridor, The Elder, the last arbiter of the High Table, entered the hall.

47's eyes narrowed. Wick recognized him.

"That's the one who gave me the contract," Wick whispered.

"Then he dies first," 47 replied.

But something in the air had changed.

The guards along the walls turned. The music in the distance stopped.

They had been discovered.

Dozens of weapons drawn. The masked leaders stood. The Elder raised his hand.

"Intruders," he said softly. "You were warned, Wick. And you… stranger. You're not from here."

47 took a step forward, voice cold as always. "Not your concern."

Wick raised his gun.

47's coat rippled.

The torches flickered.