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"I am the way
into the city of woe.

"I am the way into eternal pain.

"I am the way
to go among the lost.

"Before me, there were
no created things.

"But those that last forever.

"As do I!

"Abandon all hope
you who are about to
enter here."

You are now in the presence

of the motherfuckin' king!

You ready, John?

Yeah.

Move! John Wick!

Mr. Wick.

To what do I
owe the pleasure?

My ring.

My freedom.

Your ring is gone,

like The Elder
before me.

And if you
came here thinking

you could end this
by killing me,

then you
are mistaken.

My death will not
change the outcome

any more than you can
change your nature.

None of us
can escape who we are,

and no one
escapes The Table.

And the only way John Wick

will ever have freedom
or peace, now or ever,

is in death.

I know.

I'm afraid you've come
a very long way

for nothing.

Yeah...

Not really.

The Manager, please.

A Harbinger is here
to see you, sir.

This must
be a mistake.

There is no mistake.

By order
of the Marquis,

Vincent Bisset
de Gramont,

this hotel
has been condemned.

You have one hour.

He is
expecting you.

Can they do this, sir?

The decree is signed
by the 12 members of The Table,

giving the Marquis

the power of autem imperator,

which means he is
now our judge, jury and...

Evacuate the hotel.

Ned Kelly's final words
as the hangman slipped

the noose
around his neck were...

"Such is life."

"Such is life."

Can you imagine
the acceptance,
the defiance?

Today is not the day
you will die.

Of that,
I am sure.

You have
the unshakeable faith
of David, my friend,

but you shouldn't be here.

This will not be pleasant.

Such is life, sir.

My father used to say,

"How you do anything

"is how you do everything."

Called it the first
and the last rule of life.

You believe in rules...

Mr. Manager?

Oh, I do.

And what
of consequences?

Of course.

And second chances.

Ah. That's where we differ,

you and I.

Second chances

are the refuge of men who fail.

Mm.

There are those on The Table

who blame this, um,

atrocity on New York.

They believe
it's this city.

The Table has indulged this

fucking place for too long.

And look where
that has gotten us.

I shot him.

And yet he lives,

polluting everything he touches.

Marquis,
respectfully,
my hotel...

Your hotel?

If I might, sir?

By all means.

The Continentals
and their management

are a reminder

to all who sit
beneath The Table

that none of us
are above the rules.

And yet we are here.

Sir, Mr. Wick...

We're not here
because of John Wick!

He is simply the face
of your failure, Mr. Manager.

The sand in that glass

is merely an echo
of my remaining patience.

You are no longer New York.

You are nothing.

You are Excommunicado.

And as such...

you no longer need
the services
of a concierge.

It has been an honor,

my friend.

It should have been me.

Yes.

But it wasn't.

Now, you think about
why that is,

and perhaps one of us
will have benefited
from this conversation.

I have a name for you.

Respectfully,

I'm retired.

Finished. Done.

I disagree.

I'm no use to you.

Or The Table.

That's not
for you to decide.

I think you should
find someone else.

You came close.

Today.

Too close.

You put her in danger.

I know the deal I made.

A former associate, I believe.

He was.

And a friend.

Hmm.

The agreement
with The Table
stays the same.

We give you a name,

you give us a life.

Or...

we take one.

I will serve.

I will be
of service.

Excellent!

I assume you
have a notion of
where he might be?

John Wick has
few friends remaining
in the world,

and even fewer he trusts

with his life.

Very, very good.

Welcome to
the Osaka Continental.
How can I help?

Yeah, I'm lookin'
for a room.

I'm afraid this facility
doesn't allow animals.

Emotional support animal.

She's your
support animal?
Other way round.

I'm hers.
Isn't that right?

She stays in your room.

Enjoy
your stay, sir.

It's not too bad.

Not bad at all.

There is a dog
in my lobby.

Emotional
support animal.

Of course it is.

Tomorrow's schedule.
Mr. Suzuki at 11:00

and the Tarasovs
are requesting
an audience at 2:00.

What's this at 8:00?

Dinner with
your daughter.

She says
she's concerned
you've been

working too hard.

What must I have done
to deserve

such a considerate child?

Good karma,
I suppose.
Indeed.

And how are our guests?

Some of
our gold club members
are anxious.

It's always something.

And today
it's New York.

And my concierge?

Concerned.

Perhaps we should
get you an emotional
support animal.

We've done nothing
to offend The Table.

Your relationship with Mr. Wick
is no secret.

The Table will come.

And...

...will be met
with our grace.

Everything he touches dies.

Forgive me, Father.

Akira.

Please tell my daughter

that I look forward
to our dinner.

Apparently not.

Killing the Elder
was a mistake, my friend.

Their response
was the destruction of
the New York Continental.

My daughter fears
we are next.

Winston?

Alive, but they executed
his concierge

to prove a point.

Have you given
any thought to

where this ends?

The Table
will never stop.

You know this.

It only takes life

and only gives death.

Koji...

Friendship means little
when it's convenient.

Welcome to
the Osaka Continental.
How can I help?

The manager.

Por favor.

Of course.

Please, make
yourself comfortable.

The only path
this leads to is death.

I'm going
to kill them all.

I believe you'll try.

But no one,

not even you,
can kill everyone.

You want to die?

That's your choice.

A good death

only comes after a good life.

You and I left
a good life behind

a long time ago, my friend.

Father, The High Table.

What is he doing here?

Mr. Wick
is our guest.

Father...

I'll talk to them.
They don't know
you're here.

Stay with Mr. Wick.

Hai.

Welcome
to the Osaka Continental,
gentlemen.

How may I be
of service?

The Table has
reason to believe

that this facility
is providing services...

That is
a grave accusation.

We will require
full access
to your hotel.

Of course.

But as you
are well aware,

no business,

not even your kind
of business,

may be conducted
on Continental grounds.

So, I'm going
to have to ask you

to surrender your firearms.

We speak for the Marquis.

And I speak
for Osaka.

Your guns,

please.

Don't repeat the mistake
that fool in New York made.

Fools talk,
cowards are silent,

but wise men listen.

So which one
will you be?

Hello, old friend.

So good of you to visit
after all these years.

You are
with them now?
No.

No.
Your daughter?

Mia?

Alive.

And your daughter Akira?

Well.

I'm glad.

You know...

we don't have
to end this with blood.

Then leave.

No one defies The Table.

I remember once
you understood that.

And I remember a time

when you understood
the meaning of brotherhood.

Enough!

By order of
the Marquis de Gramont,

this hotel has
been deconsecrated.

Step aside.

Don't do this, Koji.

I'm sorry.

Get out.

Secure the hotel.

Find Wick.

If they find you here,

The Table will
kill my father, me,

everyone, because
you broke the rules.

You shouldn't have come.

You armed?

Hai.

Hey!

Blind man!

Do your job!

Akira!

Get out the way
you came.

Go to
the Umeda Station.
I'll stay.

Don't insult
my gift to you.

And, John, do me
a small courtesy.

John?

Caine.

They gave you
my name.

Yeah.

I'm sorry.

Me, too.

You should have
stayed out.

For all our sakes.

I tried.

Did you?

Come on, John.

Let's get this shit
over with.

Yeah.

That sounds
like a good idea.

You took a deal.

Same as you, John.

Family?

Family.

You dead, John?

John.

Caine.

John Wick, open...

John Wick...

Damn, Johnny.

This is
quite the mess
you've made.

I don't know you.

But I know you.

You a tracker?

How much?

Not enough.

But it's gettin' there.

I need you
to take better care
of yourself, Johnny.

'Cause we're
in this together now.

All right, Koji.

Just tell me where John is
and get out of here.

Leave.

Go somewhere far away.

You know I won't.

You owe John Wick nothing.

He has no marker on you.

You must
have fallen far
to believe

the only debts we have...

...lie in markers.

Come on.

I don't want to do this.

Father!

Look at me.

Even a blind man knows
you have lost.

And, Caine,

you don't need eyes
to see the right path.

Just take care
of your daughter.

I...

I am.

No!

Don't.

Live.

I'll be waiting for you.

Who is he?

He was a friend.

My father is dead
because of you.

Because of what you did.

So either you kill him...

or I will.

I understand.

Goodbye, Mr. Wick.

Thanks for coming.

Well, us homeless folk
do have to

stick together now,
don't we?

I need to speak
to him.

Last time
you spoke to him,

you shot him
off a roof.

I had no choice.

They held
all the cards.

No.

But who held the gun?

John needs to know
the breadth of what's
coming at him.

This Marquis
is unrestrained.

The Table have
let him off the leash.

Oh, my dear Winston,

your benevolence
is touching!

But tell me.
Tell me true.

Why did the Frenchman
let you live?

Killing a man
can turn him
into a martyr.

Letting him live...

tells the world
he's a coward
or a turncoat.

So what are you?

Aggrieved.

I fail to see
how laying waste
to Continentals

is getting you closer
to killing John Wick.

This campaign
is not to kill John Wick.

It is to kill
the idea
of John Wick.

And to do that,
I must

destroy everything
that idea touches.

The bloodshed
in Osaka

was not necessary.

The bloodshed
was the point.

He'll make it
your choice.

You, come with me.

Think twice
before accepting.

And you are?

Nobody.

Coyness, Mr. Nobody,

is a pathetic trait.

A miscalculation,

in which by trying
to hide our ego,

we let it appear
stark naked.

I will ask
only once.

How were you able
to locate him?

Pay
and I'll tell you.

How much would
such a service
be worth?

Twenty-five
million,

plus a matching
contribution
to my 401k

when he's dead.

Hmm.

We found him once.

We'll find him again.

Is that before

or after he puts you
in the ground?

I like you.

Twenty million.

Like me some more.

Twenty-three.

Ego, Mr. Nobody.
Mm.

It's 23.

You clearly
can afford it.

For the service.
Mm-hmm.

Fuck!

No, no, no.
No. It's okay.

Hey, it's okay.
Sit. Sit.

What the fuck
is this, man?

A choice.

You can pull
the knife out

or you can pull
your hand out.

One shows me
a man committed
only to himself,

and the other,

a man committed
to the cause.

Which one are you?

Winston.

Jonathan.

My condolences.

He was a good man.

Yes, he was.

Taken for our sins.

Who is this?

The Marquis de Gramont.

Elevated only by
his guarantee
of killing you.

All the resources
of The Table
are at his disposal.

Where do I find him?

Paris.

Where will it end?

Huh?

With him dead.

Oh. And then?

Hmm?

Have you
learned nothing?

They will replace him
before the body's cold.

Hercules had his Hydra.

You have The Table,
except you'll
run out of bullets

before they
run out of heads.

Kill him, but do it
the smart way.

And get him to give you
your freedom.

How?

Turn his rules
and consequences
against him.

Challenge him
to single combat.

High Table duels are a myth.

Wrong!

They're a cold
hard fact,

and part of the foundation
of The Table

to stop its more
combustible members
from outright war.

It's also,
win or lose,

what you say you want,

a way out.

I don't sit at The Table.

Your family does.

Get them to issue
the challenge

and then offer you up
as proxy.

I don't have a family.

The Ruska Roma
tore my ticket.

Then I suggest
you get your ass
to Berlin

and get it mended.

Or...

pick a plot.

What do you get
out of this, Winston?

What you were so good
at getting, Jonathan.

Revenge.

Hmm.

Nice suit.

Speak.

He's in Berlin,
at the Ruska Roma.

You can wire
that finder's fee now.

No.

Excuse me?

Kill John and you'll
get your money.

That wasn't part of our deal.

The deal was
for your service.

And it's now
a life for a life,
Mr. Nobody.

Yours or his.

When it's done,
you will have your prize.

And your pension.

Asshole.

Jonathan Wick?

You are forgetting

we are still
under The Table.

And last I checked...

...you are Excommunicado

and your ticket
was torn.

You have no business
with us.

Pyotr is dead!

After you

put a bullet
in The Elder's head,

the Marquis had one
put in Pyotr's.

And in fine
Russian tradition...

He sent us the bill.

Because of you,

I had to kneel

in front of the man
who murdered my father.

Then we have

a common enemy.

We can help each other.

You can't even
help yourself.

How the hell
are you going
to help us?

By killing this Marquis.

They just
appoint another.

It does

if I kill him in a duel!

How many did you kill

to get out?

A lot.

You will only have
to kill one

to get back in.

The bastard who
murdered my father.

Give me the name.

Killa Harkan.

You will find him
at Himmel and Hölle.

When he's dead,
I will mend your ticket.

And the Crest?

Harkan first, then we talk.

Bring proof of death.

I'll need a way in.

I know a way.

Klaus will take you.

I am Klaus.

John.
I am Klaus.

Please tell your mistress

that I am honored
by this gesture

and I look forward to
our continuing partnership.

I am Klaus.

Mr. John Wick

in the flesh.

The Baba Yaga.

Must be Christmas, ja?

Where are
my manners? Please.

A drink, Mr. Wick?

You were
expecting me.

Not me.

Him.

John?

How are you?

You knew I'd be here.

I suspected it.

Family.

That family
sold you out, Mr. Wick.

They gave you up

in the vain hope
of saving themselves.

You see, that's why
I never trust the Cossacks.

They are dirty people.

This is personal.

I sense tension here.

Mr. Wick may
probably feel

I'm responsible
for the death of a...

mutual friend.

But I didn't kill Koji.
You did, John.

You know,
this discord
between old friends,

it saddens me.

Allow me to help.

Nein.

We have a deal.

Had.

The Marquis.

Hell, I doubt he'll
mind if it's bullets,

blades or a blind man.

Is this
for me, Mr...

Nobody.

And, no, it's actually
for him.

Then take
a seat,
Mr. Nobody.

Exciting, ja?

So, you want to kill him.

You want to kill him.

I want to kill him.

What about
you, Mr. Wick?

I'm going to kill you.

Oh.

For Pyotr. Of course, ja.

But it looks like
we have ourselves, uh,

a genuine conundrum.

A quandary, if you will.
A real-life dilemma.

So...

How about we play a game?

One hand.

The winner decides who lives...

and who does not.

All right.
What's the buy-in?

More than you can afford.

Yeah,
I'm one bullet away

from being a very rich man.

Or a dead one.

Five-card draw.

Mr. Wick.

Mr. Wick?

Dead man's hand, Mr. Wick.

Well...

I don't gamble.

Let's see.

Four nines. And a four.

Most impressive.

Ah. Royal flush.

Pretty good for a nobody.

Thank you.

A blind man,
a guy with a dog

and John Wick walk into a bar

and take a seat at the table.

That either sounds
like the beginning

of a stupendous joke

or a most
profitable opportunity.

One thinks he can
serve his way out.

One...

thinks he can
buy his way out.

And one...

thinks he can kill

his way out.

Each of them all think
that they have
the winning hand.

But what they fail

to realize

is that the moment they took
a seat at The Table...

they had already lost.

Let me guess.
Five of a kind?

Yeah.

Just so you know,

Pyotr wasn't personal.

Now, maybe a little bit.

Kill!

Hey!
He's over there!

Nuts!

Know what
your problem is,
Mr. Wick?

You are unlucky.

Unlucky in life,

in love,

in friendship...

and now...

in death.

Killa!

Why don't you
just die?

He's mine.

I told you
not to take a deal.

Yeah, I guess
your deal didn't
work out either, huh?

Huh?

Hell of a thing
for them to take
your eyes, though.

They didn't take them.

I gave them.

The Ruska Roma
will support

your challenge.

Who will be
your Second?

A warning
of the cost of tyranny.

You must intend
to join your concierge.

Not today.

Per the Old Ways
and the old laws,

John Wick calls you to a duel.

To settle your differences
the old-fashioned way,

as gentlemen should.

You speak of the Old Ways
as if you know them.

A man of Mr. Wick's
station

cannot issue
such a challenge.

He has
his family's crest.

Hmm.

Berlin.

Ruska Roma challenge,

the acceptance
of Mr. Wick
back into the fold,

it's all there.

Recorded history now.

And why would I
accept this

from a second-rate seat?

Because there
are rules,
and without them...

We live with
the animals.
Exactly.

Mm.

Times are changing.

A new day is dawning.

New ideas, new rules,

new management.

Yet you will accept.

Because we all still sit
beneath The Table.

Even you are not immune
to the consequences of failure.

And what exactly
are Mr. Wick's terms?

Victoriae fiducia.

The unconditional release
of any and all obligations
to The Table.

Ah, history is littered
with Marquis

who were
only remembered
by their servants.

But you...

you could
be remembered

as the man who brought
John Wick,

the most
feared of all

by The Table
and all who sit at it,
into the light.

Your light.

And who could predict

how high
that kind of glory

could take a man
in our world?

Noon, La Tour Eiffel,
to discuss rules.

You may go.

When I'm done.

As his Second,
upon his victory,

my Excommunicado
is to be lifted,
my title restored,

my hotel rebuilt
and re-consecrated,

all at
The Table's expense.

Of course.

How you do anything
is how you do everything.

Now I'm done.

I think I'll miss you
when you're gone.

Shame I can't
say the same.

You don't know,
do you?

What's that?

A man's Second,
like his sponsor,

either walks out
with his champion

or is buried beside him.

The Old Ways.

Such is life.

Under the Old Laws,

only one can survive.

Do you both
understand that?

Very good.

Rules.

The Challenged
chooses first. Time?

Sunrise.

Now.

Sunrise.

Location?

You come here

thinking there is
a way out of this world
for you, Mr. Wick?

There is not.

Le Centre Pompidou.

Sacré Coeur.

Sacré Coeur.

Weapons?

If you win,

The Table will
honor its word.

You will have
your freedom.

But you won't take it.

Blades.

Pistols.

Dueling pistols.
Thirty paces.

In the event that
both parties survive,

each will approach the other
at increments of ten paces

until only one remains.

Rules of engagement.

No quarter.

You know why
you won't take
your freedom?

Hmm?

Because this
is who you are,

who you've
always been.

You are a killer.

An orphan we plucked
from the street

and honed into a knife.

And it is the killing
that gives you purpose.

A man
without purpose...

is nothing.

No quarter.

No quarter.

If there is nothing else,
gentlemen,

I will see...
A nomination.

It is his right.

Do you have a name?

Caine.

So be it.

Sunrise, Sacré Coeur.

Dueling pistols,
no quarter.

Should Mr. Wick
be victorious,

he will be free of any
and all obligation

to The High Table,

and his Second
will be reinstated

as the manager
of the rebuilt

New York Continental.

Should the Marquis
Vincent Bisset de Gramont
be victorious...

John Wick will be dead.

As will his Second.

Just so.

Now, if there is
nothing more, gentlemen,

I will see you
at sunrise.

Failure to meet
at the appointed hour

will result
in forfeiture

and immediate execution.

There is no John
out there.

No happy husband
with a normal life.

There's only John Wick,

the killer.

And he's going to kill you.

Your hotel?

Yes.

You always have
an angle, don't you?

Doesn't everyone?

Let's find safe harbor
before it starts.

There's something
I need to do first.

Sooner rather
than later.

Won't do it.

You fight
your own fight.

Isn't this
what you want?

Hmm?

Victoriae fiducia.

You kill him,

and you and your
daughter will be free.

No one can touch her.

If you don't,

she will have to face
the consequences.

The choice is yours.

Caine.

John.

Saying goodbyes?

Saying hello.

You think your wife
can hear you?

No.

Then why bother?

Maybe I'm wrong.

The dead are gone.

Only the living matter.

After my daughter was born...

I wanted to leave this life.

I thought I did.

But you didn't.

We're damned...

you and I.

On that we agree.

My daughter's not.

If it's between
you and her...

you're going to die.

Maybe not.

I missed you, John.

It's so good
to sit with a friend.

I'll see you
tomorrow.

This is how you
resolve the situation?

Duello with
the Baba Yaga.

Failure will shake
the foundation
of The High Table,

and it will turn Wick
into a saint.

My victory will
do the opposite.

Marquis de Gramont!

A man's ambition

should never exceed his worth.

You would do well
to remember that, sir.

Bonjour,
Monsieur Wick.

And welcome
to La Resistance.

A little far from home,
aren't you?

Well, your little act

of uncivil disobedience
inspired me, John.

I'm branching out,

spreading my wings.

How goes the Grand
Farewell Tour?

Coming to an end.

So it seems. So it seems.

Forty-two regular,
wasn't it?

It's Kevlar,
front to back.

The latest
in ballistic chic.

Appropriate for
all formal occasions.

Weddings, funerals,
High Table duels.

After all, a man
has to look his best

when it's time
to get married.

Or buried.

Forgive me, sir,

but this is madness.

Madness?

Trusting your fate
to a blind man?

There are three types
of men in this world.

Those who
have something
to live for,

those who
have something
to die for,

and those who
have something
to kill for.

John Wick has
none of these things.

He is but a ghost
in search of a graveyard.

But the blind man,

well, he has all three.

Besides, I have a feeling

Mr. Wick will never make it

to the duel by sunrise.

All right, now.

For all you boppers out there
in the City of Lights,

for all you street people
with an ear for the action,

to all my loyal listeners

who know the beat
of the street...

...tonight is your chance
to make some beautiful music.

I've been asked
to relay a special request

from a secret admirer.

It seems there's a thorn

in our little
slice of paradise.

A wicked man from the Big Apple

is making a beeline
to our sacred heart.

We are putting the call out

to deliver your hardest beats
to this man in black.

If you want the prize,
you must finish before sunrise.

This golden oldie,

and I do mean golden hit,

goes out to you, Mr. Wick.

And remember,
there is nowhere to run.

I want to thank you all

for listening to WUXIA,

the place for
all your entertainment

and informational needs.

Good hunting.

And so it begins.

I'm going to need a gun.

I thought
you'd never ask.

Nine-millimeter Pit Viper.

How'd you get this?

I know a guy
who knows a guy
who shot a guy.

Twenty-one round
capacity magazine

with a built-in compensator

for virtually no muzzle flip.

Fiber-optic front sight,

ambidextrous safeties,

flared magwell
for faster reloads,

two-pound
extreme trigger,

and for those more,
how shall we say,

intimate encounters,

this Viper has
ferocious fucking fangs.

How close can you
get me to the church?

Amen.

Here we are,
gentlemen.

Your ride.

When I advised you

not to dip
your pinky

back into this pond,

I didn't think
I'd get wet.

It'll all be over
after today.

When I was
burying Charon,

I was torn about
what to put
on his gravestone.

A few words
to sum up
an entire life?

Long live the king!

Had mine made
years ago.

Modest.

Prophetic.

What did you decide?

Friend.

That's what he was
above all else.

A friend.

Au revoir
et bonne chasse,
Monsieur Wick.

Thank you, King.

Jonathan.

Winston.

Sunrise is at 6:03.

Don't be late for
all our sakes, hmm?

"Loving husband."

Hmm?

That's what I want on mine.

"John. Loving husband."

Confirmed.

Good news, boppers.

We have a sighting.

Our man in black
has been spotted

in the Septième Arrondissement.

I think it's high time
we paint him red.

It seems like
our friends at the guild
dropped the ball,

and now it's rolling
to the Arc de Triomphe.

Let's see who picks it up.

Come on now, people.

We're gonna have
to do a lot better.

Now, who's gonna be
our big winner?

Who is this?

You know, the question
you should be asking,

huh, is how much?

I think we have
the situation under control.

Because the way
I see it,

is that if Mr. Johnny Boy
makes it to the church
on time,

this could be your
last night as Marquis.

A little traffic update.

I'm hearing the boys in black
couldn't get it done.

Our wicked friend
is on the move again.

He's headed your way,
my listeners of the 8th.

Yes?

Fine. You have a deal.

All right. 35 it is.

That wasn't our deal.

Well, that's the only deal
being offered today.

Get him!

Phone!

What?
Now, you
listen to me.

Forty.

You pay for the service.

Good news, boppers.

The lottery just went up.

To all you boppers
still sitting on the side,

Mr. Wick has
the church in sight.

We are almost out of time.

Last chance to win the prize

before Mr. Wick's last sunrise.

So who out there is going
to climb those 222 steps?

It appears Mr. Wick
won't be joining us.

John?

John?

Caine.

What time is sunrise?

Two...

maybe three minutes.

I need you to get to the top
of those stairs, John.

Yeah.

Ready?

Yeah.

Twelve or nine?

Nine.

Six upstairs.
Thanks.

Ciao, ciao, Mr. Wick.

You can't shoot me.

Yeah, you're right.

But I can shoot him.

But I can hit you,
motherfucker.

Let's go, John.

Nuts.

You hit my puppy.

You know,
you owe me.

Yeah.

Nothing personal,
John.

We're even now.

Yeah.

And so we begin.

We seek the truth
and will endure
the consequences.

Consequences.

Go on now. Come on.

Positions, gentlemen.

See you
in the next life,
brother.

Thirty paces.

Remember
your daughter.
Fuck off!

What a beautiful sunrise.

Last words, Winston?

Just have fun out there.

Are you ready, Mr. Caine?

Mr. Wick?

Fire!

Twenty paces!

Fire!

Nice.

Ten paces!

Just kill him.

Those who cling to death,

live.

Those who cling to life,

die.

Fire!

As your sponsor,

I claim the coup de grâce.

Your weapon,
give it to me.

Is my daughter
free now?

Oui. You
and your daughter.

Enjoy.

- Rules.
- Ha.

You arrogant
asshole,

he didn't shoot.

Consequences.

That's fucking good.

Hmm.

Your obligation
to The Table...

is satisfied,
John Wick.

You are free.

As are you
and your daughter, sir.

You will be
fully reinstated,
Mr. Manager.

All of your terms

will be fulfilled.

Our business here now
is concluded.

Good day.

My brother.

You owe me one.

Yeah.

Winston.

Jonathan.

Will you take me home?

Of course.

Helen.

Never thought
I'd see the day.

Where do you think he is,
heaven or hell?

Who knows?

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