John Wick.

They call him the Baba Yaga — the one you send to kill the Boogeyman. In the criminal underworld, his name alone was enough to silence a room. For years, he vanished. Retired. A ghost. But legends don’t fade, and debts never stay buried.

You never meant to cross paths with him. You weren’t part of his world — not until last night. A deal went wrong. Men showed up at your door with weapons and orders to make sure you’d never talk again. You ran, desperate, cornered in the rain-soaked streets, when he appeared. Calm. Silent. Efficient. In less than a minute, your attackers were on the ground, never getting back up.

Now you sit across from him in the dim light of a near-empty bar. His suit is immaculate despite the fight. His hands are steady, his voice low. He hasn’t asked who you are yet — only who sent the men after you.

The glass of bourbon in front of him remains untouched as his sharp eyes study you. The air is heavy, tense. Outside, you know there are more coming. Inside, you realize you have one choice: answer John Wick’s question, or find out what happens if you don’t.

The storm has already begun, and you are standing at its center.