The nomad led his camel across the shifting dunes until he reached a secluded settlement hidden deep within the desert.
Upon arriving at the heart of the camp, he unceremoniously dumped John Wick off the camel's back. John was completely unconscious; even the hard impact with the ground failed to wake him.
The nomad dragged John's limp body into the largest pavilion—a grand, four-sided structure—and sat down to wait.
Meanwhile, miles away, Pakkun—who was sprinting across the sand—suddenly barked, "Hayate! John's scent has stopped moving again."
Hayate, who was behind the wheel of the SUV, knew John had finally reached the Elder.
He looked at the speedometer. Despite being a powerful vehicle, the SUV was struggling with the soft, uneven terrain of the deep desert. Hayate slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a sudden halt.
"Everyone out," Hayate commanded. "We're going on foot. The car is too slow in this sand."
He didn't want John Wick to lose a finger just because they were running late. After all, John was his subordinate now.
Iruka, Sasuke, and Lee didn't hesitate for a second. They threw open the doors and leaped out. Hotaru, however, looked bewildered. To her, even a slow car was faster than a human running on sand.
Seeing her confusion, Hayate ignored it for the moment. "Pakkun, lead the way. Full speed."
Whoosh.
Pakkun became a blur. Within seconds, he was hundreds of yards away, moving with a speed that left the SUV in the dust. Iruka and the boys followed immediately, keeping pace without breaking a sweat.
Hotaru's eyes widened. Her understanding of what a "ninja" could do was being rewritten in real-time.
Hayate glanced at her and slightly bent his knees. "Get on my back. You're too slow; I'll carry you."
Hotaru didn't argue. She leaped onto Hayate's back, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and locking her arms around his neck.
Feeling the softness against his back, Hayate whispered, "Hold on tight. I'm accelerating."
Before she could reply, Hayate took off. With a few powerful leaps, he caught up to the others.
Hotaru watched the desert scenery whip past in a dizzying blur. She tightened her grip, terrified that a single slip would send her tumbling into the dunes at terminal velocity.
Pakkun glanced back at the group. "It's a bit of a distance. I'm going to kick it up a notch. Can you stay with me?"
Hayate looked at his three ninjas. "Keep a steady pace to conserve chakra and stamina. We're going straight into a fight the moment we arrive."
"Yes, sir!" the three replied in unison.
Pakkun accelerated again, and the group vanished into the horizon.
John lay on a thick rug, the harsh desert sun beating down on his face. Slowly, painfully, he blinked his eyes open.
"Drink."
At the sound of the voice, John's first instinct was to reach for the pistol at his hip.
"Don't worry. Your weapons are still with you. Drink some water."
John's vision cleared, and he looked toward the speaker. Sitting across from him was a man with dark skin, dressed in traditional Arabic robes that looked incredibly expensive and regal.
John sat up slowly, taking the cup. As he prepared to drink, the man spoke again. "Child, why have you become so lost?"
John met the man's gaze. "I'm not lost. I was looking for you."
"Do you think I am speaking of your physical location?"
John didn't answer. He drained the cup in one go, his throat parched beyond belief.
"I have never seen a man fight so hard to leave the world of killing, only to willingly crawl back to the start."
The Elder stood and walked over to John, kneeling before him. "Why do you want to live?"
Hearing the question, John didn't hesitate to answer, but his mind was elsewhere: Hayate, I've found him. Where are you? Can you make it in time?
"My wife, Helen," John rasped. "To remember her. To remember us."
"So you wish to live for the sake of a memory?" the Elder asked.
"I want the chance to earn that memory," John replied, his voice low.
The Elder watched the man seeking life. "I can give you one final chance to earn your life. However, the life you earn may not be the one you envision."
"Perform one task for us. Your excommunication will be overturned, and the bounty will be lifted. You will be allowed to live—not free of the Table, but bound to it. Doing what you do best for the rest of your days."
John listened, keeping his face a mask of stone. Internally, he was scoffing. I've already finished my task: finding you.
The Elder offered a pardon and life, but it came with chains. Hayate offered something better: loyalty to a man, not a cold bureaucracy.
Elder, your conditions aren't as good as Hayate's.
Unaware of John's thoughts, the Elder returned to his seat. "The choice is yours. Die here and now, or live at the cost of your past."
John stood up slowly, scanning his surroundings. There was no sign of Hayate's team yet. He looked back at the Elder. "What do you need me to do?"
The Elder's voice turned sharp. "Your life must be bought with another's death. The first target is a man named Winston."
John blinked. "What?"
"He has forgotten his oath of fealty," the Elder explained. "Until the job is done, the bounty remains. If you want to live, this is the choice you must make."
John lowered his head. He hadn't expected the price to be the man who had given him the very hour he needed to survive. Without Winston, John would never have made it to Shiranui Agency.
Faced with the Elder's cold gaze, John pretended to agree. He knew if he refused now, he wouldn't survive the next second.
He dropped to one knee. "I will serve the Table. I will be faithful to the end."
The Elder smiled. "Good, child. Cast aside your weakness and prove your loyalty."
Two of the Elder's men brought a small table and placed it before John. On it lay two items: a heavy chisel and a wooden mallet.
John stared at the tools.
"Mr. Wick," the Elder said softly. "I want to see. Show me."
John knew the ritual. He was expected to sever a finger as a sign of his devotion. Chisel or mallet—the choice of agony was his.
John looked at the tools and thought: Hayate, can your wax bath reattach a finger? If you don't show up now, your subordinate is going to be a cripple.
The desert remained silent. John reached for the chisel. Just as he was about to strike—
Zip! Zip! Zip! Zip!
Multiple shuriken whistled through the air, instantly striking down the guards standing around the pavilion.
John Wick let out a long, relieved breath. Instead of using the chisel on himself, he snatched it up and hurled it with all his might at a guard in the courtyard who was reaching for a rifle. The fight had begun.