"What's happening outside?"
At the center of the camp, inside an exceptionally luxurious tent, Wick knelt weakly as gunshots and explosions echoed in the distance. The Controller sat high on his platform, frowning slightly before quickly regaining his composure.
This wasn't unusual.
The High Table existed behind the ordinary world. They belonged to it, yet were clearly separate from it. Kings in the shadows. They controlled assassins, criminals, and intelligence networks spread across the globe.
They were feared everywhere.
Some believed such an organization was necessary. Others believed it should never exist.
Either way, attacks and assassinations were nothing new.
The Controller was used to it.
What puzzled him was that Wick had been found only last night, yet trouble had arrived today. Still, he didn't consider Wick the cause. John Wick had been thoroughly inspected upon entering the camp. Aside from his personal effects, there was nothing suspicious.
"It's a pair of unfamiliar individuals, esteemed Controller."
A man entered and reported respectfully.
"A man and a woman?" The Controller lifted his cup of yak milk wine, thinking. "Just the two of them?"
"Yes. Only one man and one woman," the attendant confirmed. "But they're extremely strong."
"Extremely strong?"
The Controller smiled faintly. He drained the cup in one gulp before speaking slowly.
"Then let my blood relatives handle them."
The attendant paused, then nodded and withdrew.
The Controller didn't have many blood relatives. But that didn't mean there were none.
A few years ago, two people sharing his bloodline had joined the High Table-unaware of their origins. That ignorance was why they'd survived. The Controller only needed one of them.
Out of mercy, he'd kept their entire team nearby. Good food. Good lodging.
The attendant recalled their names.
The young man leading them seemed to be called Desmond Miles.
"This will be over soon," the Controller said calmly after the attendant left. He turned his gaze to Wick. "So, John. Have you considered my gift?"
Wick lowered his head, staring at the tools laid out before him.
He wasn't sure whether the man and woman outside had come for him. If they had, things were simple. If not, his situation was far worse.
He didn't know how many killers were in this place.
But he knew one thing.
He wasn't giving up his wife's ring finger.
After a moment, Wick decided to act based on circumstance. If needed, he'd fire the bullet hanging around his neck. His last trump card. His only lifeline.
As he hesitated, the noise outside intensified.
Too close.
This was the High Table's base. Everyone here was elite. Why was the chaos approaching the tent?
And fast.
Wick felt uneasy.
Did Finnel really send them?
"What's going on?"
The Controller noticed too.
For the first time, disbelief surfaced in his eyes.
A single man and woman breaking through his camp?
Unless the report was wrong-and this was a multinational strike force-none of it made sense. And if it were, he would've known already.
The sounds grew closer.
This time, the Controller felt it.
Real danger.
He glanced around, then felt a brief surge of relief.
At least Wick hadn't handed over his gift yet.
"John." The Controller spoke slowly. "I'll give you a chance at redemption."
"A chance?" Wick asked evenly.
The Controller didn't care about his tone. "I'll give you weapons. Ammunition. Go kill the two outside."
"That's your redemption."
"That's how you return to the High Table."
"And Winston?" Wick asked quietly.
"If you handle them, you won't need to kill Winston. I'll send someone else."
"I see."
Wick nodded and stood.
Weapons were brought over soon after. There were barely any attendants left near the tent now. Most had already joined the fight.
Wick checked the gun in his hand.
Then, casually, he ejected a round.
And loaded the bullet Noah had given him-the one he'd kept around his neck.
Finished, he turned toward the entrance.
Then-
A body flew backward into the tent.
"Desmond?"
The Controller froze, then stood abruptly.
"Stop them!" he shouted at Wick. "If you succeed, everything you've done will be forgiven!"
"Oh?" A voice cut in from the entrance. "I don't think he'll agree."
"And I don't think he can do it."
"What do you think, Mr. Wick?"
"...Constantine."
Wick stared as the man who looked exactly like him stepped inside.
The Controller hadn't fully processed the situation, but one thing was clear.
John Wick was a traitor.
He'd led the enemy straight here.
How he did it didn't matter.
As Constantine and Serene walked in, the Controller's expression darkened. Constantine's face unsettled him.
Too similar.
Was this the real John Wick?
"Looks like your mission went smoothly," Constantine said. He dropped the gun in his hand and lit another cigarette. "So this guy's the High Table one?"
"Yes," Wick said. "He's the Controller. The one who runs everything."
"Really?" Constantine exhaled slowly. "He looks... ordinary. I mean, not special at all."
"And someone like that is a Controller?"
"You know nothing," the Controller said coldly. "We rely on bloodline. Mine descends from ancient Assassin Masters. Pioneers. Guardians of the world."
"If not for them, there would be no present."
Constantine listened in silence.
He didn't bother rolling his eyes.
He didn't care about the development of the ordinary world. Not anymore. If not for Noah, he might've stayed closer to it. But now, he belonged elsewhere.
This speech meant nothing to him.
"Serene," Constantine said, removing the cigarette. "Make him quiet. He's annoying."
"Understood."
Serene walked straight toward the Controller.
Constantine didn't even watch.
He stepped over Desmond's unconscious body and stopped in front of Wick, looking him over carefully.
After a moment, he nodded.
"Good. You didn't listen to that bastard."
"What are you talking about?" Wick frowned.
Constantine didn't explain.
But Wick thought about it.
And realized.
This was probably about his clothes.
Looking alike wasn't always a good thing.
Wick was starting to wonder whether he and this Constantine actually shared anything at all.
"Don't just stand there," Constantine said around his cigarette. "Is the bullet ready?"
"Ready," Wick replied.
"Good," Constantine said calmly. "Then get ready to shoot."
"Don't let him live too comfortably."
"..."
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