Chaos erupted across Deep Well Prison as Alexei's breakout triggered a domino effect. Prisoners in multiple cell blocks saw their opportunity, the Red Guardian had breached security, alarms were screaming, guards were scrambling to respond. If there was ever a time to make a desperate run for freedom, this was it.
They poured from every exit point like water through a cracked dam, dozens of men who'd been locked away for years suddenly tasting Siberian air and seeing open sky. Most were political prisoners, dissidents, and enhanced operatives deemed too dangerous for standard incarceration. None were innocent. None deserved mercy.
The prison guards responded with military efficiency. Heavy weapons emplacements swiveled into firing position, machine gun nests built into guard towers, positioned specifically to create overlapping kill zones across the exercise yard. Spotlights blazed to life, painting the snow-covered ground in harsh white illumination.
Then they opened fire.
Smith descended through the chaos like an avenging angel, his ki-powered flight bringing him to Alexei's position in seconds. His hand closed around the super-soldier's arm with gentle firmness.
The other prisoners saw Smith arrive, recognized immediately that he represented escape, and surged forward with the desperate hope of drowning men reaching for a life raft.
"Get us out!" one screamed in Russian.
"Take us with you!" another begged.
Hands reached out, grabbing at Alexei, at Smith, at anything that might represent salvation from this frozen hell.
Smith's expression hardened. "Back off. All of you. Return to your cells."
He'd reviewed the prison's records during the flight over. Alexei was here for political reasons, a super-soldier who'd outlived his usefulness to a collapsed regime. But the others? Murderers, war criminals, rapists, torturers. Deep Well Prison held men too monstrous for standard facilities, individuals who'd committed atrocities that made hardened interrogators weep.
They deserved their cages.
But desperation overrode reason. Instead of retreating, the prisoners pressed closer, their hands clutching at Alexei with increasing panic.
Alexei tried to pull free, his eyes locked on Smith. "Get me out of here, friend. Please. I can't go back in there. I can't."
The guards' weapons swiveled toward the cluster of prisoners. Warning shots cracked across the exercise yard, then shifted to live fire. Electric batons sparked as guards waded into the melee, trying to contain the riot through force.
Bullets meant for Smith struck his body with metallic pings, their kinetic energy dispersing harmlessly. The rounds flattened against his skin and clattered to the frozen ground, causing zero damage.
Every guard who witnessed it froze in shock. Even the Red Guardian couldn't shrug off assault rifle fire like that.
Alexei stared at Smith with something approaching religious awe. "What are you? In all my years as the Red Guardian, I never encountered anyone who could do this..."
The prisoners around them weren't so fortunate. Bullets that missed Smith found other targets. Men screamed, clutching wounds, collapsing into blood-stained snow. The smarter ones scattered immediately, recognizing that Smith wasn't their salvation and that staying near him made them targets.
But some, mentally broken by years of isolation, or simply too desperate to think clearly, continued pressing forward, treating Smith as their only hope.
Smith raised his hand, ki coalescing in his palm into a concentrated sphere of energy. "Last chance. Turn around and return to your cells."
The prisoners ignored him, their hands still reaching, their voices still begging.
Smith shook his head. "Then you don't need to go back."
He fired the ki blast into the densest cluster of prisoners. The explosion lifted bodies like ragdolls, the concussive force pulverizing bone and rupturing organs. Some died instantly. Others lay broken in the snow, their screams piercing even through the ongoing gunfire.
Alexei watched the carnage in silence, his expression carefully neutral. He understood violence, had committed plenty himself during his service. This was just survival. Nothing personal.
The surviving prisoners finally broke and ran, scattering in all directions. A few, perhaps realizing the futility, actually fled back toward the prison entrance.
Above, the armed helicopter took fire. Heavy machine gun rounds stitched across the cockpit, forcing John Wick into evasive maneuvers. Natasha ducked below the dashboard as bullets spiderwebbed the reinforced glass.
"Taking fire!" John Wick's voice remained eerily calm despite the circumstances. "Adjusting altitude!"
Smith spotted the gun emplacement, a fortified bunker position with overlapping fields of fire. He raised his other hand and launched a second ki blast.
The bunker exploded in a fireball that lit up the entire exercise yard. Concrete and steel vaporized. The gun crew died before they could even scream.
But the explosion had consequences Smith hadn't fully considered.
The bunker had been built into the mountainside, positioned to take advantage of natural terrain for defensive superiority. When it detonated, the shockwave propagated through the surrounding rock and ice. Fracture lines spread like spider webs through the snowpack above.
Then physics took over.
A low rumble rolled across the landscape, building in volume and intensity. Massive sheets of snow and ice broke free from the mountain face, accelerating downward with the inexorable force of gravity and mass.
Avalanche.
Smith grabbed Alexei and launched skyward, his ki propelling them both toward the helicopter with desperate speed. "Natasha! Open the door! Avalanche incoming!"
Natasha yanked the cargo door wide, her eyes widening as she saw the cascading wall of white death rushing down the mountain. "Everyone get in! NOW!"
Smith and Alexei tumbled into the helicopter's interior. Alexei scrambled to his feet and rushed to the open door, looking down at the prison and the prisoners still scrambling for safety.
"Goodbye, assholes!" he shouted with vindictive satisfaction.
John Wick pulled the helicopter into a sharp climb, rotors screaming as he demanded maximum performance from the aircraft. Below, the avalanche consumed everything, guard towers, exercise yards, the outer walls. Men disappeared beneath tons of rushing snow, their screams cut short by suffocating white.
Natasha stared at the devastation, her voice barely audible over the rotors. "In the face of nature, humans are so small. So fragile."
Smith leaned against the bulkhead, breathing controlled, his power level barely dented by the exertion. "Only because you're weak. That avalanche wouldn't even scratch me if I just stood in its path."
He watched the snow settle, burying the prison and everyone too slow to escape inside. "Stopping it wouldn't have been difficult. But the collateral damage to the surrounding terrain would be massive. Mountains destroyed, valleys reshaped. For those people?" He shook his head. "Not worth it."
Natasha processed that casual declaration, the implication that Smith possessed power to literally reshape geography if he chose. Her assessment of his capabilities underwent another dramatic recalibration.
Alexei pulled himself away from the door, his attention shifting from the destruction to his rescuers. He extended his hand toward Smith, his expression carrying genuine gratitude. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for pulling me out of that frozen grave. I owe you my life."
He turned to Natasha, something softer entering his features. "And you, I never thought you'd remember me. Never thought I'd matter enough for you to come back. Especially not like this." He gestured at Smith. "Bringing someone with the power of a god to break me out. That means something, Natasha. That means a lot."
His eyes tracked back to Smith, carrying renewed assessment. "The world really has changed while I was locked away. Humans who can fly, who can shrug off bullets, who can destroy bunkers with their bare hands." He offered a thumbs-up. "You're incredible, Mister."
Natasha performed the introduction with appropriate gravity. "This is Smith Doyle. Likely the most powerful human being on Earth." She paused, then added with complete sincerity, "Some people call him God. After what you just witnessed, you can understand why."
Her expression grew more serious. "And Alexei, he was the one who found you. Who told me you were still alive and imprisoned in Deep Well. This rescue only happened because of him."
Alexei absorbed that information, his brow furrowing slightly. Being called "God" seemed audacious, but after watching Smith fly, tank assault rifle fire, and blow up fortified positions with energy projection? The title didn't seem excessive. In medieval times, Smith would have been worshipped as a divine avatar.
He extended his hand toward Smith again, firmer this time. "Then thank you again, Mr. Smith. I'm in your debt."
Smith accepted the handshake, his grip measured. "I didn't rescue you out of altruism. This extraction serves a purpose."
Alexei's curiosity sparked immediately, but before he could ask, Natasha cut to the heart of the matter.
"Alexei, what do you know about the Red Room?"
The question hit like a physical blow. Alexei's expression shifted, surprise, confusion, maybe a flicker of something darker. "What?"
His tone turned defensive, trying for levity. "Wow, straight to business. Not even a 'how have you been' first?"
Natasha's voice carried no humor, no warmth. Just flat, deadly seriousness. "Believe me, this isn't a casual conversation. The Red Room is why we're here. It's why we pulled you out of that prison. So answer the question."
Alexei's false cheer evaporated. He looked between Natasha's grim expression and Smith's impassive assessment, and slowly began to understand that his rescue had come with a price tag.