Casablanca, Morocco.
"Welcome to the Casablanca Continental."
"How may I be of service?"
Shiranui Hayate pulled five Continental gold coins from his pocket, placed them on the mahogany counter, and said, "We need five rooms."
The front desk staff collected the coins and began processing the check-in for Hayate's group.
As Hayate distributed the key cards to his team and prepared to head upstairs, a voice called out from across the lobby.
"Shiranui Hayate!"
Hayate turned and smiled at the approaching figure. "Berrada."
Berrada walked up and extended a hand. "It's good to see you again. It's been over a year since you last graced Morocco with your presence."
Hayate shook his hand and gestured to Hotaru and the others. "Go on ahead to the rooms."
He and Berrada moved to the lounge area and sat on the plush leather sofas. Berrada leaned in, his eyes searching Hayate's face. "I've heard rumors about your recent... activities in New York."
Hayate gave a small shrug. "Minor things. Nothing worth the gossip."
"You're quite humorous," Berrada replied, though his expression remained guarded. "But I have to ask... You aren't here to kill me, are you?"
Hayate looked the manager of the Casablanca Continental in the eye and answered with dead seriousness, "No."
Inside, however, Hayate was thinking: Just wait until you shoot one of your subordinate's dogs. Then your life might actually be in danger.
Berrada visibly relaxed. He leaned back, crossing his legs. "Then you are here to see the Elder?"
Hayate didn't deny it. He simply nodded.
Berrada reached into his pocket, pulled out a gold-embossed key card, and set it on the table. "This is for the finest suite in my hotel. Consider it a gesture of goodwill."
"Much appreciated." Hayate didn't refuse.
"Enjoy your stay." Berrada stood and took his leave.
Hayate picked up the card and headed upstairs. He entered the room where the rest of his team had gathered to plan.
"Boss, what's the next move?" Hotaru asked.
"We wait."
"We wait for John Wick to arrive, and for him to begin his search for the Elder who sits above the Table."
Hayate turned to Iruka. "The blood-stained shirt John left behind—did you bring it?"
Iruka nodded immediately. "Yes, Lord Hayate. I have it secured."
"Good," Hayate said. "The High Table's headquarters is hidden somewhere in the Casablanca desert. No one knows the coordinates. They usually wait until a seeker is half-dead from exhaustion and dehydration before they bring them in. It's a very effective security measure."
"We aren't going to waste our energy wandering the dunes. Let John find them. Someone will lead him to the Elder, and that's when we strike."
Hotaru looked puzzled. "Boss, how are you so sure John will find him? Is this another one of those 'classified' secrets?"
Hayate grinned. "Smart girl."
He tossed the luxury suite key card Berrada had given him to Hotaru. "Since you're the only lady in the group, the best room is yours. Enjoy the amenities. If it's not up to par, let Berrada know so he can stop handing it out as a favor."
Hotaru caught the card and flashed a playful wink. "I'll be waiting for you in my room then, Boss~"
She turned and sauntered out before he could respond.
Sasuke rolled his eyes at the display. "Lord Hayate, you really are too soft," he muttered, following her out to his own room.
"Wait for me!" Rock Lee shouted, dashing after Sasuke.
The room fell silent, leaving only Hayate and Iruka. Iruka looked at Hayate, then coughed awkwardly. "Lord Hayate... this is actually my room."
Feeling the sudden shift in the atmosphere, Hayate pulled one of the standard key cards from his pocket. "Right. I'll head to mine then."
As Hayate left, Iruka bit his lip, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh.
Back in his own room, Hayate sighed. "That Hotaru... she's getting bolder. Does she think I won't actually take her up on it one of these days?"
Wait, what was the room number on that gold card again? He realized he hadn't even looked.
Shaking off the thought, Hayate sat down and entered his system interface, selecting the Training Field. He needed to squeeze in a few more hours of jutsu practice.
As evening fell, John Wick arrived in Casablanca.
He made his way toward the Continental, but as he passed beneath a triple-arched bridge, he found his path blocked. Three assassins, blades drawn, surrounded him.
John didn't wait for them to make the first move. He lunged.
He moved with a frantic, desperate grace—weaving, bobbing, and parrying the knife thrusts. He seized one man's wrist, delivered a punishing hook to his jaw, and followed up with a brutal elbow. When the other two closed in, John sent them sprawling with a heavy sweep.
He caught the first man in a shoulder throw, slamming him into the dirt. Just as one of the others scrambled up to lunge with a dagger, a voice boomed through the tunnel.
"Enough!"
A man stepped out of the shadows, lighting a cigarette. He walked toward the group, his bald head gleaming in the dim light. "I'm afraid this friend is off-limits."
The assassin holding the knife looked at the newcomer. "He's excommunicated."
The man blew a cloud of smoke. "Word is, the Manager has granted him a reprieve."
John looked at the man, surprised. The man gestured toward the street. "Mr. Wick, would you come with me?"
John released his grip on the assassin and even handed back the knife he had wrestled away. The man made a 'please' gesture and began to lead John away.
One of the assassins, unable to let the bounty go, drew a hidden blade to throw at John's back. Before he could release it, the bald man spun around and fired a single, deafening shot from a pistol tucked under his arm.
The assassin fell dead. The man holstered his weapon and looked at John. "Welcome to Casablanca, Mr. Wick."
"Thanks," John rasped.
The man simply smiled and led him toward the heart of the city.