After paying two gold coins, Smith and Fox once again entered the Continental Hotel.
"Smith, I don't have many coins left. Charging every time we enter isn't exactly cheap."
Hearing Fox bring up the hotel's coin system, Smith looked a little speechless.
"Maybe soon, you won't have to worry about that anymore."
Fox's eyes lit up as if something clicked, and then she looked at the Continental with a mix of thought and regret.
Speaking of the Continental's gold coins—these were entirely minted, issued, and circulated by the hotel itself. Although the materials used were high-quality, their actual production costs weren't very high. Their value could fluctuate significantly, but acquiring them was difficult, and using them was incredibly convenient.
To put it simply:
Entry to the Continental: 1 gold coin. (Security guaranteed)
Lodging at the hotel: 1 gold coin. (Stay from 1 to 7 days)
Access to the bar: 1 gold coin. (You receive one piece of intel)
Medical treatment: 1 gold coin.
Corpse disposal: 1 gold coin. (No trace left; scene and body fully cleaned)
Weapon and armor purchases: 1 gold coin.
Basically, any single-use service inside the Continental started at one gold coin. For assassin services, it required one coin at minimum plus the bounty value of the target.
The value of a single coin ranged from something as simple as a haircut to something as critical as protecting your life inside the Continental or even hiring an assassin for a kill mission.
Take John, for instance—the infamous killer nicknamed Yoru no Akuma (Night Demon). The bounty for killing him was just four gold coins. And yet those four coins were enough to make assassins break Continental rules to go after him.
With the hotel's global expansion, these coins had become the hard currency of the assassin world. If you offered enough coins, even without US dollars, there were still assassins willing to take the job.
Most assassins around the world were registered members of the Continental, accepting and completing missions through local branches and enjoying the hotel's services.
And as a platform, the Continental had its own enforcers—people responsible for punishing those who broke hotel rules. Each branch manager commanded their own private armed forces.
Behind the Continental stood a far more powerful organization: the High Table.
The High Table was an alliance made up of major criminal groups from around the world. It had twelve seats, with its headquarters located somewhere in the desert near Casablanca.
These twelve seats made up the ruling body of the High Table, and were occupied by groups such as the Camorra, the Mafia, the Yakuza, and the Triads.
But wherever there are people, there is conflict. And inside this alliance of global syndicates, power struggles and deception constantly brewed.
To Smith, as a member of the Assassins' Brotherhood, the High Table was nothing but a festering tumor that needed to be removed—filth in the world that demanded cleansing.
He wasn't sure if HYDRA had infiltrated the High Table. With an organization like that, it was likely that both HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. had people embedded in one or two of the seats.
But as someone standing on the side of justice, Smith had resolved to eliminate this cancer before the major Marvel events began—and John would be the perfect tool to do it.
Staring at the Continental before him, Smith's gaze brimmed with intrigue.
······
Meanwhile, Viggo Tarasov hadn't driven off right after revealing his son's location to John.
He couldn't understand how John had managed to escape from his men. He'd clearly ordered them to kill him when he left. At that point, John was a fish on the cutting board.
Viggo drove back to the warehouse where John had been held and found both of his men with bullets in their heads. Clearly, someone had intervened.
He remembered there was a hidden camera mounted above the warehouse and immediately reviewed the footage—he needed to know who had ruined everything and who was responsible for his son's death.
When the video revealed Smith and Fox, Viggo clenched his teeth in fury.
"So it was you."
He'd heard of them before—frequent visitors to the Continental who weren't officially registered assassins. He had even investigated them and briefly considered recruiting them.
After all, since John had retired, he'd been lacking a trump card. But before he could make his move, Winston had warned him: "Don't mess with those two."
As for intel on the Assassins' Brotherhood—Viggo simply didn't have the reach.
"Smith Dole. Fox."
"I don't care who's backing you. I'll make sure you pay."
With that, Viggo left the warehouse and drove straight home.
His face darkened. If he had known just how useless his son would turn out, he would've shot him into a wall instead of letting him be born.
How could someone raised under the Russian syndicate go out and steal a vintage car—and from Yoru no Akuma, no less? And to top it off, he killed the guy's dog? Then, after all that, he simply beat John up and left?
He hadn't inherited an ounce of his father's ruthlessness—just a waste of flesh.
The worst part was, he only had that one son. Though he'd already given up his location to John, Viggo had heavily fortified the place—stationing men with light and heavy arms. Though, realistically, "heavy" just meant assault rifles.
Still, he held onto a sliver of hope. Maybe his men would kill John. They had managed to capture him before.
It was a long shot, but Viggo waited anxiously.
Time dragged on.
He sat silently smoking at his desk, the ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, waiting for the call that would end his suspense.
The phone rang. Viggo inhaled deeply, then answered.
After hearing what was said, he paused for a moment… and then hung up.
Lighting another cigarette, he took several quick drags.
"As expected… he failed."
Even though he'd known deep down his son was doomed, the confirmation still cut deep.
He picked up the phone again and ordered all his men to return to headquarters.
The grudge with John would end if he stopped pursuing him.
But Smith Dole—the man who had ruined his plans?
He wasn't going to let him go.
This time, he'd make sure everything was perfect.
(End of Chapter)
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