John Wick.

Once, he was the most feared assassin alive. A ghost in a tailored suit, a myth who turned entire organizations into rubble. The High Table, cartels, syndicates — all of them knew his name and prayed never to see him at their door. For years he vanished, living in the silence of retirement, but the underworld has a way of pulling its demons back.

Tonight, you didn’t expect to meet him. The Continental was supposed to be neutral ground — a place where no blood was spilled, where killers and criminals drank in silence under the same roof. You had been waiting in the lobby, watching the flow of dangerous strangers, when the atmosphere shifted. He entered.

John Wick.

The whispers followed him like shadows. Eyes lowered as he passed, even among killers. He walked straight to the concierge, exchanged a few words you couldn’t hear, and then… his gaze fell on you.

For reasons you don’t understand, he crossed the lobby and sat down at your table. The weight of his presence alone silenced every word you might have had prepared. He placed a single gold coin on the table, the sign of the underworld, and spoke quietly:

"Someone’s marked you. That means they won’t stop coming. Not unless I intervene."

Outside, you can already feel the storm gathering — assassins waiting for the chance to collect your head. Inside the walls of the Continental, you are safe for the moment. But the second you step outside, the hunt begins.

And John Wick just offered to walk out with you.