Chapter 216: Time to Go on a Rampage
Ethan had once again managed to extract a promise from Sheldon.
Life often worked like that. Wealth wasn't built overnight—it accumulated little by little, often when you least expected it.
Team AA had won the match, and Sheldon's mood was visibly soaring. He stood with perfect posture, wearing the unmistakable expression of someone thinking, I knew this would happen all along. It was as though the universe had merely finished confirming one of his theories.
Ethan was in an equally good mood.
Trading a single gift for one of Sheldon's promises was an incredible bargain. After all, in some respects, Sheldon's promises were even more reliable than legal contracts...
...provided you didn't trigger one of his maddeningly complicated exception clauses.
The former Soviet physicist had also gotten a chance to show off his brilliance in front of Department Chair Dr. Gablehauser.
The chairman, however, barely seemed surprised. He simply nodded as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
In American universities, stories like that weren't exactly unheard of.
The legendary hidden master sweeping the floors really did exist.
The only difference was that, in America, no matter how illustrious your past had been in another system, you still ended up quietly occupying the least conspicuous position.
After all, who could say whether your loyalties truly belonged elsewhere?
As for Leonard's team, they weren't particularly depressed by the loss.
Years of dealing with Sheldon—as both teammate and opponent—had built up everyone's psychological resilience.
The one who was genuinely miserable was Leslie.
Watching Sheldon strut around with that unbearably smug look on his face made her roll her eyes.
To her, letting Sheldon win even once was more painful than spending an entire day running tedious experiments.
It was practically torture.
---
Next Morning
The clinic was unusually quiet that morning.
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting neat bands of light and shadow across the floor.
Sophie had officially joined the Rayne Clinic.
She was still riding the emotional high of her mother's remarkable recovery. Under Ethan's treatment, Claire's condition had improved dramatically.
At the current rate of recovery, one more treatment would likely cure her completely.
So when Ethan walked into the waiting area, looking as though he had something important to say...
...she immediately stood at attention.
The room fell silent.
Everyone's eyes turned toward him.
Ethan stood beside the table.
He looked at Helen.
Then Natasha.
Finally, Sophie.
He cleared his throat.
Just as he was about to launch into the passionate speech he'd rehearsed in his head...
...his mind went completely blank.
Two seconds of silence passed.
In the end, he said only one sentence.
"I'm going to Morocco."
His voice wasn't loud...
...but it carried unmistakable determination.
Helen was the first to respond.
She looked straight at him.
"No."
"You're not going."
Ethan blinked.
Helen continued calmly.
"I know exactly what you're thinking."
"John is going alone to meet this so-called Elder."
"You think he's one of us, so you should be there too."
She gently shook her head.
"But that's John's war."
"Not yours."
"You're a doctor, Ethan."
She gestured around the clinic.
"This..."
"...is your battlefield."
"Not the desert."
Before Ethan could reply, Natasha, leaning casually against the wall, spoke up.
"I agree."
Her arms were folded across her chest, her tone cool and analytical, as though she'd already completed a full risk assessment.
"From a security standpoint, this plan is far too dangerous."
"John is facing the entire High Table."
"The Elder."
"The Adjudicator."
"A global bounty."
She looked directly at Ethan.
"And there are only four of us."
After a brief pause, she corrected herself.
"More accurately..."
"...three and a half."
Sophie immediately looked up.
"Why am I the half?"
Natasha glanced at her.
"You're not."
"I'm the half."
"You and Helen..."
"...don't count."
"The ones who count are Eve and Cataleya."
Sophie blinked.
"...Alright."
Then she turned back to Ethan.
"But, Boss..."
"If you're really going, I can book the flights."
Helen pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Sophie."
"Please don't encourage him."
Sophie hurriedly explained,
"I'm just supporting my boss."
Inside, Ethan couldn't have been happier.
That's my employee.
I hired her myself, and she immediately took my side.
The room fell quiet again.
Ethan looked at the three women and suddenly smiled.
"I know what you're worried about."
He slowly sat down.
"Helen..."
"You think this is John's war."
"Natasha..."
"You think it's a suicide mission."
He nodded.
"You're both right."
Then he looked up.
"But here's the problem."
"Why is John going in the first place?"
Helen frowned.
"Because the High Table is forcing him."
"Exactly."
Ethan nodded.
"He killed someone."
"He broke their rules."
"So the High Table wants him to submit."
"That's why he has to meet the Elder."
He paused.
"But John isn't the only one they're pressuring."
"They're pressuring the Rayne Clinic."
He continued,
"If they're targeting the clinic..."
"...then this isn't just John's problem."
"It's everyone's."
He looked at each of them.
"I'm responsible for this clinic."
"When something like this happens..."
"...I have to step forward."
A flicker crossed Natasha's eyes.
"What exactly are you planning?"
Ethan looked at her.
"The High Table is always talking about their rules."
"So maybe..."
"...it's time this clinic had rules of its own."
He raised one finger.
"Rule Number One."
"If you come after one of my employees..."
"...you come after the entire clinic."
"Which means..."
"...you come after me."
Helen spoke softly.
"Ethan."
"That only puts you in even greater danger."
Ethan smiled.
"Safety has always been relative."
He pointed toward the telephone on the desk.
"And besides..."
"We may not be alone."
He began counting on his fingers.
"The Director of the Ruska Roma owes us a favor."
Helen's expression shifted slightly.
Ethan continued.
"We also hold several blood markers."
"And..."
"Winston."
"Manager of the New York Continental."
"I doubt he's particularly fond of the High Table right now."
Natasha asked,
"Are you certain he'll help?"
Ethan shrugged.
"At the very least..."
"...he won't make things worse."
Then he looked at Natasha.
"And there's you."
She frowned.
"Me?"
Ethan nodded.
"They're already trying to interfere with the clinic."
"Who was it that promised to handle my daily affairs..."
"...manage outside relations..."
"...and ensure my safety?"
Natasha remained silent for several seconds.
"So..."
"You want to pull everyone into this."
"Start a war."
The room became quiet once more.
Even Helen couldn't help asking,
"So your plan is..."
"To gather people from the underworld..."
"...plus government agents..."
"...and march into the desert to meet the Elder?"
Ethan laughed.
"Not necessarily."
"We don't all have to go."
"But people need to know..."
"...that we're not standing alone."
He paused.
"Does it sound any less suicidal now?"
Natasha stared at him for a long moment.
Finally, she sighed.
"I hate this plan."
She picked up her phone.
"But if we're doing it..."
"...then we'll maximize security."
She had already begun dialing.
"I'll contact S.H.I.E.L.D."
Helen watched the two of them in silence.
After several seconds, she sighed as well.
"You people are completely insane."
She reached for the telephone on the desk.
"I'll call the Director... and Winston."
Her voice returned to its usual warm yet resolute tone.
"If we're going..."
"...then we'll prepare properly."
She turned to Sophie.
"Sophie..."
"I'm afraid booking the flights falls to you."
Sophie answered immediately.
"Right away."
---
By the time the plane landed at Casablanca International Airport, dusk was settling over the city.
As the cabin door opened, hot desert air rushed inside, carrying the scent of sand.
Standing at the top of the boarding stairs, Ethan narrowed his eyes at the orange-red sky stretching across the horizon.
"I think I finally understand why the Elder lives in the desert."
Natasha, wearing sunglasses, glanced sideways at him.
"Because nobody willingly comes to a place like this?"
Ethan nodded.
"Exactly."
"It makes him very difficult to reach."
Natasha gave the slightest shake of her head.
The two descended the stairs.
Outside the terminal, a black sedan was already waiting.
Beside it stood a tall man in a dark suit, posture impeccably straight.
He inclined his head respectfully.
"Dr. Rayne."
Ethan nodded.
"Charon."
The Continental concierge looked perfectly at home anywhere in the world, as though he belonged at an elite diplomatic reception rather than an airport parking lot.
He opened the rear doors for them.
"Mr. Winston has already contacted the Casablanca Continental."
"Your rooms, transportation, and intelligence have all been arranged."
Ethan settled into the back seat.
"Sounds more like a vacation."
Charon smiled faintly.
"Only missing an ocean view."
The car pulled away from the airport.
Half an hour later, a magnificent building bathed in golden light appeared at the end of the boulevard.
The Casablanca Continental Hotel.
Several suited guards stood motionless at the entrance.
As the car stopped, the doors opened before anyone reached them.
A woman stepped outside.
She wore her hair short.
Years beneath the desert sun had given her healthy bronze skin.
Her sharp eyes reminded Ethan of a hunting leopard.
She studied him briefly before shifting her gaze to Natasha.
"So..."
"You're the people Winston told me about?"
Charon made the introductions.
"This is Ms. Sofia, manager of the Casablanca Continental."
Sofia nodded.
"Welcome to Casablanca."
Her tone wasn't warm, nor was it cold.
Simply professional.
She turned and led them inside.
"You arrived at a good time."
Ethan followed behind.
"What do you mean?"
Sofia pushed open the lobby doors.
The hotel was eerily quiet.
Yet a faint smell of blood lingered in the air.
She glanced toward the entrance behind them.
"Someone fought a small war just outside the hotel."
She paused.
"Your friend."
Ethan sighed.
"John?"
Sofia nodded.
"He carved his way into Casablanca."
She looked back at Ethan.
"The bounty has every assassin in the underground world hunting him."
"Every city he passes through..."
"...he leaves behind dozens of bodies."
Natasha asked,
"Where is he now?"
Sofia didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she looked toward the shadows on the far side of the lobby.
A man slowly emerged.
Blood still stained his clothes.
His eyes were as cold as sharpened steel.
John Wick.
Ethan gave him a quick once-over before he could speak.
John beat him to it.
"You came."
Ethan nodded.
"I came."
John looked at him steadily.
"You shouldn't have."
Ethan shrugged.
"But I'm already here."
Silence settled between them for a moment.
Then Ethan waved dismissively.
"Alright."
"Enough with the emotional reunion."
He looked at the blood covering John's clothes.
"Looks like traffic was pretty bad on the way here."
John answered calmly,
"Something like that."
"Were you hurt?"
"Nothing serious."
Whatever injured John, he always referred to it as "just a scratch."
Ethan decided he'd give him a complete round of healing later.
Leaning casually against the bar, Sofia watched the two of them.
"If you're here to convince him to turn back," she said while pouring herself a glass of water, "don't waste your breath."
"He has already decided to meet the Elder."
Ethan nodded.
"We're not here to talk him out of it."
He glanced at John.
"We're here to go with him."
After a brief pause, he continued,
"Right now, there's only one problem."
"How do we find the Elder?"
Sofia fell silent for a moment before setting down her glass.
"In the desert..."
"No one finds the Elder on their own."
She looked at John.
"Unless..."
"...he wants to be found."
John asked simply,
"So how do we make that happen?"
"You'll need to find someone first."
"Someone who can lead you into the desert."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"Sounds like a prerequisite quest."
A faint smile tugged at Sofia's lips.
"That's not far from the truth."
She walked over to the wall and took down a map, placing a finger deep within the endless expanse of desert.
"Tomorrow morning."
"We'll go find a guide."
Then she looked directly at John.
"After I help you this one last time..."
"...I won't owe you anymore."
"You'll be the one who owes me."
John gave no verbal reply.
He simply nodded.
Then he lowered his hand to gently stroke the dog lying beside his feet.
Silence settled over the lobby once more.
Ethan studied the map before looking back at John.
"Good."
"Then tomorrow..."
"...we find the guide."
---
That night...
Ethan put John through a complete series of healing spells from head to toe.
This time, John's injuries weren't particularly serious.
One gunshot wound.
Two broken ribs.
By the standards of his profession...
...that barely qualified as being injured.
To John Wick, it was practically a flesh wound.
Holy Light descended.
The bullet wound closed almost instantly.
His fractured ribs knitted back together within minutes.
John rolled his shoulder, testing the movement before confirming his body had fully recovered.
While he worked, Ethan briefly explained why he'd come all the way to Morocco.
John listened quietly.
He offered no opinion.
That was simply who he was.
The single sentence—
"You shouldn't have come."
—had already expressed everything he wanted to say.
Besides...
Ethan was already here.
Debating whether he should have come was pointless.
So the conversation naturally shifted to planning their next move.
Ethan laid out his strategy.
In summary...
It was remarkably simple.
"When the fighting starts..."
"John charges in front..."
"...and kills everyone."
"I stay in the back..."
"...and keep him alive."
"If negotiations go badly..."
He glanced at John.
"John continues killing everyone."
"And I'll resurrect whoever needs resurrecting."
"Then we continue negotiating."
The division of labor couldn't have been clearer.
John listened quietly.
Then nodded once.
He had absolutely no objections.
With that settled, the two of them moved on to discussing their objective.
After thinking it over, Ethan summarized it in a single sentence.
"Our goal is actually very simple."
"We turn as many enemies into allies as possible."
He paused.
"And if they refuse to become allies..."
Ethan shrugged.
"Then they become corpses."
John didn't smile.
Which, in its own way...
...meant he approved of the plan completely.
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