John's eyes cracked open. His head throbbed, and his vision swam for a moment before focusing. He was tied to a chair. His weapons lay in a pile on the floor a few feet away, including the Dragon Ball.
"John," Viggo said, leaning forward in his chair. "Let me be very clear. My men are going to cut you into pieces. Small pieces."
John tested the restraints. Tight. Professional. "You always were dramatic, Viggo."
"You're always so bold, you know that?" Viggo shook his head. "Five years out of the game, and here you are. Still the same John Wick."
John's voice was flat. "Am I?"
Viggo leaned closer. "People don't change, John. Not really. You know what changes? Time. Circumstances. Opportunities."
His expression darkened, anger creeping into his voice. "Do you know what was in that basement? The artwork, the cash, those are replaceable. But I had everything in that vault. Criminal contacts throughout the city. Video evidence. Physical proof. Leverage over politicians, judges, police captains."
Viggo's hands were shaking now, his voice rising. "Those were priceless, John! PRICELESS! And you burned them all!"
John looked at him with dead eyes. "I know. I enjoyed it."
Viggo laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "Of course you did. Of course. Are you actually smiling right now?"
He surged forward and punched John hard across the face. The chair rocked but didn't fall.
Outside the Warehouse
Fox watched through the window, her expression incredulous. "Does this guy ever shut up? Just kill him already."
Smith scanned the surrounding buildings with his Scouter. "Fox, look at that rooftop. Three o'clock."
Fox adjusted her scope and found the position. A man lay prone with a sniper rifle, the barrel aimed directly at the warehouse. "Someone's here to rescue him. Friend of John's?"
"Marcus. They served together. He's been watching John's back this whole time."
Inside, Viggo's conversation with John was clearly reaching its end. The mob boss's patience had finally worn out. He stood and gestured to his men.
"Kill him. Make it hurt."
Viggo walked out of the warehouse, leaving two of his thugs to handle John. They pulled a plastic bag over his head, preparing to suffocate him.
Smith raised his pistol.
"Wait," Fox whispered. "Marcus is about to—"
Smith fired twice.
The curved bullets shattered the window glass and arced through the air with impossible trajectories. Both shots found their marks, punching through the skulls of Viggo's men before they could react.
The two thugs dropped like puppets with cut strings.
Smith holstered his weapon and grabbed Fox around the waist. "Hold on."
"What are you—"
Smith jumped.
They fell two stories, landing in a perfect crouch that absorbed the impact without injury. Fox barely had time to process what happened before Smith set her down and walked toward John.
On the distant rooftop, Marcus lowered his rifle, stunned. He'd been about to take his shot when someone else intervened. Someone who could curve bullets and survive a two-story drop like it was nothing.
The Fraternity. Had to be. Marcus had heard stories, but seeing their abilities firsthand was something else entirely.
He packed up his rifle quickly. John was safe. That was what mattered. And Marcus definitely didn't want to attract the attention of whoever just pulled off those impossible shots.
Inside the Warehouse
John stared at Smith and Fox, genuinely surprised. "You saved me."
Fox cut through the zip ties binding John's wrists. "You're welcome."
Smith looked down at John with a slight smile. "You looked terrible there for a second. Thought you were about to go see Helen."
John stood, rubbing his wrists. "For a moment, I thought so too." He met Smith's eyes. "Thank you. I owe you my life. If you need anything, ever, just ask."
"We'll remember that," Smith said.
John gathered his equipment from the floor, checking each weapon before securing it. He slipped the Dragon Ball into his inner jacket pocket, then picked up a Kel-Tec KSG shotgun. "Is the test still ongoing?"
Smith nodded. "Still observing."
John chambered a round in the shotgun. "Good. Smith, after I finish this, I'll come find you at the Continental. I'll bring a blood oath marker. We'll make it official."
Smith agreed with a nod. "Finish your business."
John ran out of the warehouse without another word, the shotgun ready in his hands.
Fox turned to Smith. "Blood oath? What's that?"
"A contract guaranteed by the Continental Hotel," Smith explained. "The person who holds the marker can make the one who gave it do anything. Absolutely anything. If you refuse or break the oath, the Continental and the High Table come after you."
Smith raised his hand and waved toward Marcus's rooftop position.
On the roof, Marcus saw the wave and felt a chill run down his spine. They'd known he was there the entire time. Known and didn't care. He quickly broke down his rifle and left, grateful he wasn't the target of the Fraternity's attention.
Fox watched Marcus leave. "So you just earned a blood oath marker without even asking. That's pretty impressive, GOD."
Smith shrugged. "Opportunities present themselves."
Outside, John had found Viggo's car attempting to flee the scene. He jumped onto the hood, shotgun aimed through the windshield.
BOOM.
The driver's head exploded. The car swerved and crashed into a barrier.
John racked another shell and pointed the barrel at Viggo's face through the broken windshield. "Where is he?"
Viggo pressed himself back into his seat, hands raised. "John, wait—"
John fired into the seat next to Viggo's head. "WHERE?"
"Okay! Okay!" Viggo's hands shook. "The Red Circle! He's at the Red Circle warehouse by the docks! I'll call off the contract! I'll cancel everything!"
John held the gun steady for another moment, then lowered it. "This was personal. Keep it that way."
He walked away, leaving Viggo gasping in his ruined car.
Continental Hotel - Lobby
Smith and Fox returned to find the hotel's usual elegant calm restored. Fox checked her phone.
"The bounty's been cancelled. John Wick's contract is off the board."
Smith nodded. "Viggo made a deal."
Fox looked confused. "Wait, just a deal? John didn't kill him? After everything Viggo did, after his son killed John's dog and stole his car, he just... let him go?"
"Apparently."
"That doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't he finish it? Eliminate the threat completely?"
Smith understood John's reasoning, but didn't elaborate. John was keeping his options open. Viggo's organization was massive. Killing the boss might create a power vacuum that would be even more dangerous. Better to neutralize the immediate threat and deal with Viggo later if necessary.
But more importantly, John didn't want to become what he used to be. He wanted to settle his personal vendetta and then leave this life behind. Killing Viggo would be crossing a line back into the darkness.
Fox wouldn't understand that yet. Maybe someday.
"Come on," Smith said. "Let's get some rest. The show's not over yet."
He roughly knew the reasons for John Wick's choices, but he didn't explain them to Fox.