On the other side—
At this moment, John Wick had fought his way from the streets to a stable, eliminating all the assassins there. He mounted a horse and dashed out.
Just as he reached the highway, two assassins on motorcycles came after him.
Under the overpass, John galloped wildly. One motorcyclist caught up, reached out to drag him off the horse, but failed several times.
Seizing the moment, John slapped the assassin's helmet, causing the rider to lurch forward, revealing the pistol tucked into his waist.
While still on horseback, John bent down, pulled the gun from the assassin's waist, and fired three shots into his neck.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The motorcyclist died instantly, and the uncontrolled bike crashed into a nearby truck.
Seeing another assassin approach from behind, John slid to the side of the horse, hiding his body alongside it. Then he reached out and fired several shots at the second rider's bike.
Instantly, the motorcycle crashed into a parked car.
After taking out both motorcyclists, John looked back to make sure no one else was following. Knowing he was exhausted after such intense fighting, he realized he didn't have the strength to make it to the Assassin's Guild alive.
Riding a horse through New York was too conspicuous anyway. The Belarusian theater wasn't far. He decided to use his token to request safe passage.
Without hesitation, he galloped toward the Belarusian Theater.
Back at the Continental Hotel, Winston's phone buzzed again. He looked at the screen: John Wick's bounty had now reached $21 million.
"That's quite a number."
"Where are you going, Jonathan?"
-----------
John Wick arrived at the theater's ticket booth and slammed his hand against the glass.
"We're closed," said the ticket seller without looking up.
John pulled out his token and smacked it on the glass again.
This time the ticket seller looked up. Seeing the token, they opened the door and let him in.
Across the street, two groups were watching. Smith Doyle glanced at the theater and said:
"That's enough for today. Let's head back."
Fox, unfamiliar with the place, asked, "Aren't we going in to see more?"
Smith shook his head. "No need."
The two turned and left, while the other group of assassins stayed, marking the location and beginning their stakeout.
----------
Inside the theater, John found the place filled with Belarusian gang members.
One of them greeted him:
"Long time no see."
John approached the table and placed the token on it, followed by a gold coin and the blood pact medallion from his pocket.
The man added:
"The belt too."
Without protest, John removed his belt and placed it on the table.
The man nodded to someone and said, "Take him."
Then to John: "See you soon."
John picked up the token and replied, "See you soon."
He walked deeper into the theater and pushed open the doors to the stage.
The leader of the Belarusian gang, a woman known as The Director, was watching a girl dance.
John knelt before her, presenting the token.
The Director glanced at him and asked:
"Jonathan, why have you come home?"
John said nothing, only raising the token.
She said:
"You show me this like it's the answer to everything."
John replied hoarsely:
"I still have the token."
She looked at him seriously:
"After all the chaos you've caused in recent weeks, do you think your token still holds value?"
"Have you forgotten the Ruska Roma are bound by the High Table—and the High Table is above all?"
"They might kill me just for talking to you."
"You bring death to my doorstep—this is how you show respect?"
"Oh Jonathan, what happened to you?"
John took a deep breath and said:
"I am Jonathan John Wick. A child of Belarus. An orphan of your tribe..."
"You are obligated to help me."
He emphasized, holding the token high:
"You have the duty. I have the right."
The Director looked deeply at him, then called out to the ballerina:
"Rooney, that's enough!"
She stood and said to John:
"Come with me."
As they walked backstage, she said:
"You say you have the right—but you have nothing, Jonathan."
"When students come here, they all want one thing—to live without pain."
"I try to dissuade them from such naive ideas. But you know... art is pain."
"Life is suffering."
John looked at the dancers backstage but said nothing, silently following The Director.
"You escaped suffering for a while. But now you're back—back where it all began."
"And for what?"
They stopped near the wrestling area, watching men train.
"Brings back memories, doesn't it?"
Without waiting for an answer, she led him further into another training room, and finally to an office where they sat facing each other.
She said:
"Even if I wanted to help you, I can't, Jonathan."
"The High Table wants you dead."
"How can you fight the wind?"
"How can you shatter mountains?"
"How can you bury the sea?"
"How can you escape the light?"
"Sure, you could hide in the dark—but they are there too."
"So tell me, what do you really want, Jonathan?"
John replied seriously:
"Passage."
She asked:
"To where?"
John gave an address:
"A textile factory in the suburbs."
The Director smiled, thinking he was joking:
"The suburbs of New York…"
"Wait, a textile factory?"
"You've made contact with them."
"You really are lucky."
John stretched out his arm, holding the token before her.
She looked at it and said:
"Very well."
"Give me the token. I will destroy it."
"If that's truly what you want."
John nodded, removed the token from his hand, and passed it to The Director.
—End of chapter—
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