Post by Monika on Feb 11, 2021 5:23:14 GMT
Outside a bar, the sounds of gunshots, muffled grunts, yells, and barks could be heard. A few flashes of a bright light could be seen from the darkness of the street and suddenly a man, yelling, was thrown out through the window. He landed on the wet sidewalk, on his back with a grunt and he lay there for a few moments. From his spot, his swirling head could still pick up the sounds of the men fighting inside. They were other assassins and they were getting their asses handed to them. The man had on a black suit, with a grey button up shirt, and black pants. He had black and peppered coloured grey and white in his low cut styled hair and a sensed beard. One of his blue eyes hurt like hell due to it slowly turning into a black eye.
He had been lucky.
The other guy, who had come up from behind to hit their target, had broken glass in both of his eyes, as well as one rammed into his skull. Two women had been killed, before the fight could even start, and their target was just killing them off, one by one. The older man had a broken arm, dislocated shoulder, and his left calf down to his foot were shattered. It was soon...too soon...when the fighting and gunshots suited down and the man on the ground knew that he couldn't run. Not with his wounds. So, he attempted to push himself backwards with his good arm and hand and had turned to begin pulling himself, when he heard the scraping of glass, then the uneven taps of shoes, and finally the familiar click of a gun right behind his ears.
The man closed his eyes for a moment and when he reopened them, a dog baring its teeth was right in front of his face. A deep, guttural series of growls came from the large dog and the man was frozen to the spot.
Licking his chapped and busted lips, his good eye looked around before attempting to gaze back at the other man holding the gun to his head.
"...So," he began, nervousness practically dripping in his tone, "How do I did tonight, hmm? Do I die by...by your mutt, by the bullet in my head, or by your hands?"
Once he felt the coldness from the metal of the gun pressing harshly against the back of his head, he shut his eyes again before reopening them.
John Wick's cold blue eyes glared down at the man with no other emotion other than rage. When he spoke, his voice mirrored the emotions that his eyes bestowed to the man. "It doesn't matter how I kill you. All that matters is when I do it," he stated right before he shot the man in the head.
It was after John was sure that they were all dead, he allowed his hands to fall to his sides. Even though John didn't have the time to do so, he still looked at all the sounds the group of assassin's had given him. He let out a breath nixed with a groan of pain when the feeling of sharp pain finally replaced the adrenaline. He had deep cuts and bullet wounds in different places of his body. Two, healing bullet wounds from the day before had reopened and now he had one in his side, above his right hip, and two stab wounds that had gone into his left thigh and upper left shoulder. His lower lip was busted and he had a few cuts on his forehead.
This was not a good sign.
It had been a year since his excommunication and he had been dealing with other assassins nearly everyday. Some were really bad, while others were a challenge and John had only been able to hide a few times just in time for another group of assassins to find him. John had thought about killing himself, to end the suffering, to be with Helen, but he still had to look after his dog and John knew that Helen would want him to keep fighting and living. Sighing a bit, John turned his tired eyes towards his dog and he patted his head, stating a bit breathless, "Good boy... Come on. Let's go."
He was honestly getting too old to keep fighting, but anytime he was attacked, his body just defended itself and attacked on its own. Muscle memory. He limped across the street and it wasn't long before the walls, lights, and darkness began to set in. He knew that he would probably pass out soon and he did not want to be out in the open when he did. He'd be an easy target to take out. Soon, his feet began tripping over themselves and he even fell to the wet ground a few times. His dog whined and rubbed his nose in John's bloodied hand, obviously showing his worry for his master. When John finally got to the point of falling and he was so weak that he couldn't stand anymore, he pushed himself against a wall of the nearby bookstore and rested his head against it.
So... This is it. I'm finally going to be with you, Helen. I didn't want to leave my dog behind, though.
His mind thought as everything became fuzzy. He still felt the dog lay his head on his lap and John finally closed his eyes.
I tried... I tried fighting, Helen. I tried being a good man.
...I know I won't be able to go to the place you're at, but...but even in death, I'll still fight to see you. No matter what...
A water droplet fell onto his face as John's world was soon taken over by complete darkness. It was the droplet of a beginnings of a smooth, light rainfall.
A light clink filled the small room, overlapping the faint Japanese instrumentals playing over a speaker in the room. The blonde haired girl wasn't sure how long she had been working, but the ache in her back made it feel like hours. She had no idea why she decided to pick the stranger up off the street, especially not too far from what could only be considered a massacre.
Another light clink, another crimson bullet rolling into the ceramic bowl with the others. She was surprised the man was still alive with the wounds he had, along with old scars. Scars that reminded her of her own caretaker. She remembered some nights that she had to patch the older woman up, leaving behind scars like his. She was thankful for the practice she had over the years, or this man could have already died from his wounds, or possibly infection.
She finally sat back with a small stretch of her aching spine. She only had a little ways to go before she was done. She reached over to the nightstand, lifting the needle and suture from the small metal tray. Her eye caught the dog next to her chair. The poor thing hadn't left his master's side, and she had been ultimately surprised it had let her near him. She supposed it knew she had only wanted to help. "He's going to be just fine," she reassured the companion, turning back to the man laid out on the bed.
As much as she wanted to find out who he was, stopping to take a look at any belongings he had would have taken too much time. So he would just have to be 'the mysterious man she found bleeding out in an alley' a little longer. The sterile needle slipped through his skin easily as she stitched up the two bullet wounds she had extracted the contents from, making sure the skin was closed well before she tied it off and cut the thread.
Giving him a once over, to make sure she didn't miss anything, she used medical tape to keep the gauze in place over the final two patches. She would need to get more supplies in a day or two, with how many wounds he suffered. But with any luck, he should recover just fine. She sighed and finally got to her feet, stretching her back once more now that she had more room. She pulled the blood covered gloves from her hands and tossed it on her tray before pulling the sheet fully over the unconscious man to keep him warm. She had felt a little awkward removing his wet shirt and pants, but a cold or pneumonia on top of blood loss wasn't worth leaving him in wet clothes. His clothes, having been washed and dried while she had been tending to him, were folded on a chair on the other side of the bed along with everything else she found on him.
Abeandra yawned tiredly as she picked up the tray of tools, bloody rags, and bowl, making her way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to clean everything, leaving the stranger to recover.
A cool breeze brushed against John's body and the smell of salt was evident. Opening his eyes, he found himself by the ocean, standing on a beach. The lulling sound of thr waves made his close his eyes for a few seconds so he could take in his surroundings. He was alone, nobody was around for as far as his eyes could see He then gazed down at his attire and he was in his white t-shirt and his pair of black boxers. Strange outfit to wear to the beach...
John looked back up towards the sea and he froze when he heard a familiar voice speak, "Hi, John."
He slowly turned and he let out a strangled gasp, his green orbs began to fill up with tears as he walked towards his dead wife and he wrapped his arms around her. "...Hello, Helen," he spoke to her in a saddened tone of voice.
"Hello, John." She was silent a moment before she continued with a small, saddened smile, "What are you doing?"
He blinked as he took a small step back from her and he answered her, "Looking at you."
His words echoed away in his head as his eyelids slipped not even half way open and as his brain began to wake the bodily nerves awake, an all over body pain took over his senses. His black brows furrowed and his teeth gritted together as he blinked and his half lifted eyes looked down at himself. There were faded blood stains on his white T-shirt and he was in his black boxers, just like in his dream. His right hand slowly lifted itself up from its perch by his side and it lifted his shirt up a bit. John was honestly surprised to find himself bandaged up and he let go of the soft, cotton fabric, laying his head and hand back down the to his overall weakness. John barely heard the soft, hopeful whine come from very close to his right before his eyes closed and he was taken back into the world of nothingness...
After two days, John's eyelids barely lifted again, hardly revealing his green orbs. He blinked a few times before he slowly turned his head to gaze out the window across the room. The sun hadn't even risen, which meant it must have been very late during the night, or the early hours in the morning. His body felt very heavy and when he finally made up his mind, he forced himself to push him up onto his elbows and his hands slipped beside his good and he slowly pushed himself up to a seated position. The pain was sharp and dull and the overall body ache never ending-- the pain served as his body's protest for moving.
John's dog had finally moved out of the spare bedroom and had been lay down on the kitchen floor, however once his ears heard the small, slight moan of pain did his ears and head lift before his entire body quickly scrambled up into his feet and he rushed to the room his master had been staying in. John had stood up, albeit he was unbalanced as hell, and he had fallen against one of the walls near the door. His green orbs had narrowed in suspicion once he had searched his surroundings. The bedroom wasn't very large and the door was left wide open, meaning if the person who had been taking care of him had wanted to turn him in, they wouldn't have left it open. John wasn't exactly sure how long he had been out, but he didn't want to stay in one place for too long.
His eyes had soon adjusted to the darkness and his ears picked up the soft padding of his canine companion. His head tilted downwards when he saw his dog enter the room, tail wagging wildly and John lifted the edge of his lips in a smirk. He bent halfway down with a grimace and lightly patted the dogs head, muttering a very low, "Good dog." Him straightening back up was harder than bending over and his face showed it as he slowly sneaked further into the house. He found the kitchen eventually and soon found where the knives were being kept, easily picking two up from their original place. He then made his way back into the room he had woken up in and slipped his suit back on, which was a challenge in on itself (especially getting his socks and shoes back on), and slipped one into the spot between his belt and pants, while holding the behind his back as he exited the bedroom to venture into the house once again. His steps made hardly any sound as he crept further into the house and he was soon in what appeared to be the living room.
Lights were on in the living room, along with the same music from his room playing faintly. Over the mantle was a Katana, and sleeping on the couch with a blanket over her, he found a girl with short blonde hair. There was a large bag of dog food sitting against the wall that was opened, along with metal bowls. One filled with water, and the other one empty, most likely already emptied by his canine companion.
Abeandra had tended to his wounds daily, rebandaging him and making sure the wounds didn't get infected. She had left prepared food in the fridge to heat up for when he finally woke up. Of course, she had to make sure his dog was taken care of as well, having gotten food for it after she made sure he was taken care of. She had dozed off on the couch after having checked on him. She opened her eyes a little, though, and looked in his direction since he was visible in the light. "You really shouldn't be on your feet..." she yawned lightly, starting to sit up. "I'm sure you're hungry, so I'll heat up your food."
He'd meant to turn off the light, but he decided against it, seeing as he would kill anyone who decided to jump at him anyway. John froze in his tracks as the figure on the couch moved and looked at him. He tensed ever so slightly as she had sat up and began speaking to him in a very tired way, giving him a call aura. She wasn't someone who was going to kill him...The man blinked, adjusting his grip on the kitchen knife, hiding it even more behind his back, and he glanced about the room a bit more, being sure to keep his front side facing towards the blonde. It was then, he noticed the large back of dog food and the two bowls, one half full with water, the other completely empty. He looked at his dog then, the mutt was wagging his tail in a timely manner as he trotted over to lick the woman's hand.
John returned his attention to the female, refraining his eyes from narrowing. "Who are you and where are we?" He asked, straight to the point.
She looked towards the dog as he came over to her and licked her. She smiled gently, reaching up and scratching him behind the ear, "You're such a good boy." She glanced towards John, watching him a moment. "My name is Abeandra, and you're in my home outside town. I was in town when I heard this guy whining in an alley. Went to check it out and found you nearly dead in the alley. I managed to get you in my car and brought you and your dog here. Patched you up. He didn't leave your side for more than just eating and going out for the bathroom." She rubbed the dog's head before standing up fully. "I'm guessing you survived whatever happened at the bar, but it's really none of my business." She stretched a little, and he could catch a glimpse of the scar down her forearm. With his trained eye, he could tell it was done by a knife.
"Come on, you should really eat to help regain your strength." She turned and headed into the kitchen, not even concerned that he could attempt to kill her. She grabbed a plate out of the fridge and started to reheat the food for him, humming something lightly.
John kept his back straight to keep the knife hidden and kept his eyes on the young woman. He slowly followed her and stopped on one of the sides of the nearby table.
His eyes caught a glimpse of the scar on her arm and he recognized it as an old knife wound.
His voice was a bit hoarse when he spoke and one of his brows furrowed slightly, "Thank you for helping me and taking care of my dog. ...I hope he wasn't too much trouble. Though, he's usually pretty calm, he can get excited every once and a while."
The man watched Abeandra for a few moments and turned his attention to his dog, which was rubbing his nose against the palm of his hand. John allowed a ghost of a smile on his lips before he slowly crouched down, being sure to keep the young woman in his range of sight. Once in a semi-comfortable position, the excommunicated assassin rubbed his dog's ears.
"Good boy," he mumbled and after a few moments of comforting his companion, John stood back up.
The smell of whatever food Abeandra had put in the microwave made the inside of his mouth water. John guessed he must have not eaten since that one chicken tender and the couple of fries he'd ordered at the bar that night.
"...How long was I unconscious?"
John inwardly hoped that he hadn't been out for too long, but he knew he had been close to death with his wounds.
"Oh, it's no problem at all... he's been an angel the whole time," Abeandra replied, looking to him with a smile. "And you were out for at least two full days." she turned back and took the food out of the microwave, re-plating it and moving over the table, setting it down for him. "I hope you like it. I really only cook for myself, and my caretaker when she drops by on occasion to check on me." The plate had a bit of steak and vegetables on it. She went to her fridge, "Anything particular you'd like to drink?" She looked back to him a little.
The man stood up and turned to look at her, saying, "Good. I'm glad."
John frowned at bit at hearing for how long he'd been out and he made his way over to the table.
Two days...
He knew the other assassins wouldn't take too long to find him. They always found him, no matter where he stayed. The longest he had been able to stay someplace was a week, then someone had come and tried to kill him. He was brought from his thoughts when the young woman began speaking again and she set the plate down for him.
"I'm sure it'll taste great. Thanks," he stated with a nod and another ghost of a smile.
She has a caretaker..?
Sitting down with a small groan, he began eating the meal given to him. Hearing her other question, he said after swallowing a mouthful, "...Ah, coffee, if you have any. If not, then water is fine."
The blonde smiled lightly as she watched him start to eat. He seemed to like it, which was an accomplishment for her. When he asked her for coffee, she sighed a little. "Sorry, I never did pick up that habit," she went to get him a glass of water. "My caretaker always drank green tea, so I sort of got used to drinking tea over coffee. I can go pick some up later, if you want. I don't mind."
She went over and set the glass of water on the table, smiling lightly. The silence in the kitchen was broken by the same music that played faintly throughout the house. Not loud enough to be listened to, normally. it was like its purpose was for merely background noise, so it was never actually silent.
John swallowed another bite of food and he stated with a saddened smile, "That's fine. Green tea is pretty good. My wife would often drink it. She never had a taste for coffee..." He cleared his throat and continued to eat his meal.
In the time she had walked to grab him a glass of water and she walled back to the table, half the dish had already disappeared. Glancing up at her and then to the glass, he nodded in thanks and picked it up. The cool liquid going down his dry throat felt really good to him and he had chugged nearly all of it in a couple of large gulps. A forced sigh came from his lips as he set the cup down and he finished up his meal. As he stood, he lifted the glass to his lips and finished the rest of the water with ease. Soon after, he picked the dishes up with a light clatter and he looked over at her.
"I can wash these... You can tell me where to put them...unless you'd like to?" John felt that he needed to help her some as a payment in return for her help.
"How far is the store from here?" He asked as he started towards the kitchen.
Abeandra smiled lightly when she noticed just how quickly he was eating. She figured he was going to be hungry when he got up. It also meant her cooking wasn't terrible. The last thing she needed was to bring him back from the brink of death just to have her cooking finish him off. She had been about to ask about his wife, but the way he had mentioned her, and the condition she had found him in, suggested she might not be around anymore. And she didn't want to bring anything up.
Overall, though, he looked so much better than before now that he had something to eat. "I would prefer you go in there and rest some more, but if you really want to, I won't protest." She smiled lightly, following him into the kitchen, showing him the cabinet she got the dishes from. "The store is about a fifteen minute drive from here. I'm kind of out in the country, so it's a little bit of a drive. If you need anything, I can go get it for you.. or if you insist on going, I'll drive you up there... I don't know what your situation was, but it seems pretty bad... and if there are more people looking for you, it might be safer if you kept out of sight..."
John chuckled a bit as he listened to her speak and he placed the dirty dishes in the sink. Turning to her, he opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as his green orbs caught a glimpse of something move past the window on the far side of the dining room. He smile left his face as he quickly walked to stand out of sight, making sure to keep his body somewhat close to the young woman.
When he spoke, his voice was urgent, "When did you say your caretaker is supposed to be here?"
It was then he glanced down at his chest, finding a read dot having moved across his suit, towards where his heart would be. At that moment, a gunshot rang from outside and a bullet whizzed into the room, shattering one of the windows in the dining room. John made a noise as he ducked downwards and ungracefully rolled behind the counter. His hand gripped the young woman and tugged down onto the tiled flooring beside him. His dog was growling as it paced to and fro throughout the house, scanning for anymore intruders. His breathing came out in quickened gasps as he pulled out the kitchen knife from under his belt and as soon as he lifted his forehead over the counter to look around, a bullet bounced off the top of the counter and into the wall.
"Do you have anywhere safe-- a place where you can hide?" John demanded as he looked over at her.
Abeandra was about to answer John's question, when she was suddenly pulled down following the sound of a gunshot. "T..the saferoom... She said if there was any trouble... to go to it... There's.. a ladder in my closet... that goes down to it..." She replied, keeping her voice down so she wouldn't be overheard. She could only guess whoever was firing at him, was with the people who were after him before. She glanced around the side of the counter towards her bedroom. She wasn't sure how they were going to get to it.
He nodded as he listened to her speak and spoke back to her with a quick reply, "Okay. We need to get there."
John recalled seeing another bedroom close to his and he figured once they got into the small hallway, he could get her in there safely. His dog was growling as it swerved back into the dining room, it's hazel coloured fur stood on edge as it glared where the attacker was moving. The excommunicated assassin counted to three in his head before he gripped the young woman's shoulders and somewhat harshly pushed her across the room, being sure to keep himself on her exposed side. A line of bullets followed the two, hitting the wall behind them. The last few bullets nearly hit John before he had shoved Abeandra behind the wall and he landed on the ground close to her. With a bit of reluctance at the pain overcoming his body, John forced himself into a crouched position before he stood and helped her up.
His eyes loomed at her with his brows lifted slightly, "You get to your room and the safe place now. Hurry-!"
A loud crash could be heard from the living room and his dog began to bark furiously before it ran towards the two victims. John loomed at his dog and commanded, "Go with the girl. Go on!"
Abeandra was trying to keep calm, taking John's lead and hurried towards her room, trying to keep down. She felt a rough shove behind a wall, looking back to see if he was ok. Luckily it didn't seem like he was hit, just dealing with his current wounds. She started into her room, only to have someone grab and hold a gun to her head. She tried to pull away, "Let me go!"
John had just heard the young woman demand to be let go, having looked up to see someone holding a gun to her head, when he was suddenly jumped on from behind. The force caused him to fall face forward onto his stomach, which made him yell out in pain. His nose was flaring much like a horse's would while it ran in the Kentucky Derby and he was able to move his head to the side. His green eyes and entire expression darkened at seeing a muscled man pulling out a knife. The man on him bad long, black breads and too many piercings on his ears, eyes, and nose. His hazel orbs glared down at him aa he chuckled, "Catching the infamous John Wick was easier than I thought. Not so tough now, are you, asshole?"
After his attacker spoke, John pushed his lips together and let out a loud, high pitched whistle. His dog ran from the young woman's room, darted past the two and attacked the man on top of the ex-assassin. Once the weight wasn't as heavy, he shoved the man further off of him and knocked the knife out of his hand. At the same time, the mut ran towards Abeandra, jumped on her, and bit the other's attacker's face, causing them to scream out in pain as them released her.
John took the chance to harshly punched the dark skinned man's throat and forced himself into a standing position. Stumbling a little, John rushed forward and tackled the other assassin, causing the two to fall into the room he had stayed in. "Get out of here!" He commanded to Abeandra as he bared his teeth at the woman he was on top of. He had wrapped his fingers around her throat before he pulled the kitchen knife from his belt with his other. He had been able to stab the woman in the shoulder before he was knocked over by the other assassin. He stumbled again as he stood up and got into a defensive position, holding the bloodied knife somewhat close to him. His green orbs flicked between the two intruders as they neared him.
The Front door opened and a form entered. It was a clearly Asian woman who wore her hair back in a high bun. She had a sword on her hip who's hilt looked like the one that rested on Abeandra's mantle. John could see that the woman did not look happy as she stalked towards them. "What are you doing in my house?!" the woman demanded in a thick accent. While it took a moment to register for all of the assassins, standing before them was the woman known as Shi no Tenshi, the Angel of Death. An assassin that, before she retired, was as widely known as John himself was, and known to be as skilled if not slightly more. She had been retired for at least twenty years, though no one knew exactly why she decided to retire at the height of her Assassin Career.
"Kirana!" Abeandra exclaimed, looking towards her from around the corner.
Kirana looked towards her, "Are you alright, Abby? did any of them hurt you?"
"No, I'm ok... but they're trying to kill my new friend," She replied, not really sure what else to refer to John by at the time without going into much detail.
Kirana's gaze went to John, obviously knowing who he was. "I see..." she looked towards the Assassins. "This place was supposed to be off-limits. Or did you purposefully ignore that? Actually, no need to answer that." She suddenly pulled two pistols from her sides and fired at the assassins around John, killing them quickly.
Abeandra went over and hugged her tightly.
"Shh, it's ok..." she hugged her back. "Everything's going to be ok. You're safe now... Now... I've got to make some calls... including a very angry one..." She glanced towards John. "I think we are going to need a talk when I'm off the phone..."
The excommunicated assassin had sweat pouring down his face, the small beads of salted liquid fell to the floor below. His green orbs showed no mercy, only a strong flame of determination. He was tired, though. His body was worn out from having moved so much after having been in the room for those few days. He knew it and the intruders knew it. However, his body being tired had never stopped him before and his eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched together. Air flew in and out from his flared nostrils and he readjusted his defensive stance, glaring at the two people. His body tensed up as they all had started to come after him, each taking a step towards him, but they all stopped once a woman threw the front door open.
Like the others, John turned his attention to the newcomer, his body tensing even more. Immediately, he assumed that she was another assassin sent to kill him, but the thought was soon thrown away once she demanded why the group of strangers was in her house. So, she must have been the caregiver the young woman had been talking about...
He didn't relax when she shot each of the assassins' heads, killing them instantly, and the man watched as the older woman tried to calm her young friend. John soon figured out who she was; another retired assassin who was just as good as he was.
She was possibly even better than him.
The male didn't really want to find out, but if he had to fight her, he would. However, he didn't sense too much hostility from her. At least, not enough to make him think she was going to attempt to kill him. Kirana's last words met deafening ears as John's body gave out. His vision blurred and turned black and the knife clattered to the floor as his body fell forward and hit the ground hard, his head only a few inches from one of the corpse's.
Kirana sighed lightly as she watched the battered ex-assassin crumple to the floor. "Come on, let's get him into bed, and I'll let you tend to him while I get things taken care of..." She moved away from Abeandra, the both of them carefully getting John up off the ground and carrying him into the bedroom and gently laying him on the bed. "Everything's going to be fine, Abby... no one's going to hurt you, or him."
"T...thanks, Kirana..." Abeandra said, moving over to John's side and lifted up his shirt, starting to look over his wounds and make sure none of them had opened up again, while Kirana went into the other room to get someone out to have the bodies cleaned up. She sighed a little. "I guess your life has been pretty rough..." She said, even though she knew he was out cold. "I don't know what's really going on... but Kirana took care of me when I didn't have anyone... maybe she can help you too..." she started to rebandage his wounds.
The first thing John heard as he started to regain consciousness was the music lightly playing. The same sort of music that had been playing earlier. The next thing he could hear was a voice, a very angry voice, talking to someone in the other room.
"I don't care about that, Winston!" the Japanese accented voice snapped, "We had a deal. The cabin was off limits, no matter what! .... if she gets found because of this, I swear I will get my niece involved and you will be replaced. Got that? If I have to explain to Abeandra what was done to her, or if she remembers anything... there will be hell to pay. So tell your fucking assassins that this cabin, no, this god-damned city is off fucking limits. If they still come, I will fucking kill them like I did this idiotic bunch who broke into Abeandra's home, and tried to kill her and the guy she was with. Do. You. Understand." she replied, listening a moment before finishing with "Good." Kirana hung up, growling lowly.
When John awoke, his entire body hurt. It hurt to move, but he ignored it as his curiosity got the better of him when he heard shouting from some within the house. Forcing himself to stand from the bed, the man slowly walked out of the room and stood with his back to the wall, close to the doorway that the angered voice was coming from. The woman was apparently speaking with Winston and was not happy that John was there. Of course he was going to be unwelcomed everywhere he went. He had been excommunicated, after all.
Once she hung up, the man crept into the room, only stayed by the doorway, and he took a good look at her. John knew exactly who she was and he didn't feel like having to fight her if not needed. He stayed silent for a few moments before he finally spoke up. His voice was gruff and low and somewhat awkward, "I'm sorry. I didn't come here by choice."
He fell silent and then, "The girl-- she helped me. Brought me here and patched me up."
Silence for a few seconds.
"I'll leave. Thanks for saving me. I appreciate it."
With that, he turned around and walked back into the room to grab the rest of his things. As he stiffly limped back into the living room, he heard his dog whine a bit and he thought a moment as he looked down at him.
"What?"
The dog tilted his head and sat down at John's feet, obviously not wanting to leave.
"We have to leave. Get up, now," he soothed in a serious tone as he started to walk towards the door.
However, John stopped and slightly turned when he found his dog was still seated where he had just moved from.
John let out a sigh.
Kirana looked towards John when she noticed he was there, turning towards him. She then shook her head a little, watching him head back into his room and come back out. "No, it's alright. You're not the problem. It's those others that broke in here. You do not have to leave. I think Abby would be a little upset if she got home and you weren't here. I know who you are, Mr. Wick. I also know that you are no longer an assassin, which means that you are more than welcome here. Winston knows that this cabin, town, and Abeandra are off limits. As such he is responsible for these assassins and everything they caused. He also knows what happens if he breaks our deal."
She was quiet a moment. "I will let you in on a secret that Abby doesn't know. And I expect you to do what you can to keep her from finding out, and to help protect her once you're feeling better... in return for letting you stay here and possibly for me finding a way to get you cleared."
John's head lifted some as his eyes focused on the woman's form. Ignoring the waves of pain that drifted over his body, he twisted his upper torso to lock his eyes with hers. He remained silent as she spoke and averted his gaze to focus on a random spot on the bloodied floor. Thin lips pressed together as the man thought about what she was telling him, offering him to stay in her home even though he was an excommunicated assassin.
Once she finished speaking, John's eyes narrowed some and he asked finally, "...Why would you bother to help me, of all people, in the first place?"
His tired eyes scanned over the woman's face, watching for any type change of her expression, and his body remained tensed up in case she tried anything.
"I know who you are," he began and he didn't move from his spot. "Winston warned me not to kill D'Antonio, but I..." He trailed off and looked towards the window with a frown of disapproval. "Like I told him, I finished it...and now the High Table is after me."
Turning some to face her, his left hand lifted a bit to gesture with his thumb touching his forefinger, and he tilted his head to the side as he asked with some confusion in his green orbs, "Are you sure you're really okay with an excommunicated assassin staying here? Letting the members of the High Table come here, putting you and that girl in danger because you're trying to defend me? Even they are above Winston's power and I doubt he can do anything about them once they really get involved."
Kirana smiled gently. "Because, you did what had to be done." She watched him. "Most of the High Table is corrupt.. what happened with D'Antonio... all of the conspiracy... people vying for power..." she shook her head. "My Niece is on the High Table... One of the few decent ones left... Because of that, she could easily become a target... for anyone who disagreed with her... especially now. If she died, they could pin it on you..." She closed her eyes a moment before opening them again, going into her room and coming out after a moment with a lock box, setting it on the table and unlocking it.
"Abeandra came into my care when she was just a little girl... and she was... damaged... ... Assassins are such by choice... they choose this line of work, knowing everything involved. They know the risks, they know the rewards, and it becomes their life..." She picked up a picture from the box, handing it to him. It was of a young blonde girl around ten, with short hair, a plain white gown, more like a hospital gown, and bandages wrapped around her arm. She had a dull look in her eyes, staring ahead as if her mind was completely blank. "There was a group of people.. who were taking children.. and training them... forcing them... mentally abusing and conditioning them.. so the only thing they knew... the only thing in their mind... was to do what they were told and to kill..."
John blinked and remained silent as she spoke, ignored the pain in his body and it demanding to be allowed some rest. As his hand reached out to take the photo, one of his dark eyebrows furrowed slightly seeing the girl in the photo. Blue orbs flicked up to meet the woman's gaze as she continued to speak before returning their focus on the photo. His lips pressed together in a frown and his nodded once before handing the photo back to her, replying, "I'd heard about this in the past."
Lips stretched into a thin, disapproving frown and John crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at the far wall and then one of the photos hanging up beside a window. In it, Abeandra was seated on a patch of grass with flowers in her hair and smiling bashfully. The experiments the High Table had kept a secret reached to some people, including John. Back then, before he met his wife, he simply didn't care. He had been a completely different person back then, only focused on getting the job done. He blinked as he let his hands fall to his sides and his eyes seemed to give off a far away look, as if he was sent back in time. After a beat of silence, he spoke up again, "When I was an assassin- fulltime- there were targets I had to eliminate that were younger."
His eyes focused on his shoes and a bad of guilt hit his core, caused a wince barely visible to anyone, "They were kids. I didn't really understand why I was sent after children... but they fought back fairly well. A few managed to get a couple of bullets in me." Lips pressed together in a tight line and his features became stern as he added, "I'd heard rumors of children being taken in by some organization and were being forcibly trained to become assassins. It wasn't until later that Winston told me that the rumors were true and those younger targets had actually been sent after me."
She nodded a little. "If they were able to stand up to a fully trained, experienced assassin at such a young age, just think of how much more unstoppable they would be if they reached adulthood. Not only that... they would be completely loyal... unable to question anything, unable to say no... and the only retirement they would get is being put down when they weren't as good as they used to be. But by then, there's already a replacement. The act is not only inhumane, but it threatens the way of life for all Assassins. Being an assassin wouldn't be a career choice anymore... why deal with adults when they have a mindless army at their every beck and call?" Kirana replied, looking at him. She sighed lightly, glancing back down towards the box. She knew a lot of the secrets that the High Table kept. She pulled another picture out of the box, looking at it.
"This is the man that was responsible for Abeandra..." she handed him the second picture. It was a man with nearly the same blonde hair and green eyes Abeandra did. "If you can't guess... He is her father... Draven Pithras. You might have heard about him. He was an assassin as well... but had one of the more brutal reputations. It wasn't a job to him. He enjoyed killing, and the more gruesome and painful it was, the better." She was quiet a moment, looking to him. "And he's still out there...." she replied, crossing her arms and leaning back against the table. "When I found out what they were doing, when I found Abeandra... ... let's just say I stirred up the hornet's nest quite a bit. Little known fact is back when I was younger, I had been on the High Table after my father passed away. I was good at what I did, but all of the politics weren't my thing. I passed my seat on to my brother after some time. Suffice it to say... after quite a few children trafficking rings were wiped out... and children being returned home... they finally asked me to stop... had Winston make a deal with me."
She closed her eyes. The good old days, back when she could keep up with the best of them. In fact she had been the best. Much like John in front of her. "I would stop my onslaught, if they stopped using children... and if they kept Abeandra's father, as well as any assassins... away from her.... and the deal was sealed with a marker." She opened her eyes, looking to him again. "He violated our deal by letting them come here." she smiled lightly. "Ending up here... was the best thing for you. Due to being excommunicated, you aren't considered an assassin... so they can't use that against you. Also, they can't send assassins here after you, because that would break the deal. And the High Table won't break the deal that they agreed to."
He had been lucky.
The other guy, who had come up from behind to hit their target, had broken glass in both of his eyes, as well as one rammed into his skull. Two women had been killed, before the fight could even start, and their target was just killing them off, one by one. The older man had a broken arm, dislocated shoulder, and his left calf down to his foot were shattered. It was soon...too soon...when the fighting and gunshots suited down and the man on the ground knew that he couldn't run. Not with his wounds. So, he attempted to push himself backwards with his good arm and hand and had turned to begin pulling himself, when he heard the scraping of glass, then the uneven taps of shoes, and finally the familiar click of a gun right behind his ears.
The man closed his eyes for a moment and when he reopened them, a dog baring its teeth was right in front of his face. A deep, guttural series of growls came from the large dog and the man was frozen to the spot.
Licking his chapped and busted lips, his good eye looked around before attempting to gaze back at the other man holding the gun to his head.
"...So," he began, nervousness practically dripping in his tone, "How do I did tonight, hmm? Do I die by...by your mutt, by the bullet in my head, or by your hands?"
Once he felt the coldness from the metal of the gun pressing harshly against the back of his head, he shut his eyes again before reopening them.
John Wick's cold blue eyes glared down at the man with no other emotion other than rage. When he spoke, his voice mirrored the emotions that his eyes bestowed to the man. "It doesn't matter how I kill you. All that matters is when I do it," he stated right before he shot the man in the head.
It was after John was sure that they were all dead, he allowed his hands to fall to his sides. Even though John didn't have the time to do so, he still looked at all the sounds the group of assassin's had given him. He let out a breath nixed with a groan of pain when the feeling of sharp pain finally replaced the adrenaline. He had deep cuts and bullet wounds in different places of his body. Two, healing bullet wounds from the day before had reopened and now he had one in his side, above his right hip, and two stab wounds that had gone into his left thigh and upper left shoulder. His lower lip was busted and he had a few cuts on his forehead.
This was not a good sign.
It had been a year since his excommunication and he had been dealing with other assassins nearly everyday. Some were really bad, while others were a challenge and John had only been able to hide a few times just in time for another group of assassins to find him. John had thought about killing himself, to end the suffering, to be with Helen, but he still had to look after his dog and John knew that Helen would want him to keep fighting and living. Sighing a bit, John turned his tired eyes towards his dog and he patted his head, stating a bit breathless, "Good boy... Come on. Let's go."
He was honestly getting too old to keep fighting, but anytime he was attacked, his body just defended itself and attacked on its own. Muscle memory. He limped across the street and it wasn't long before the walls, lights, and darkness began to set in. He knew that he would probably pass out soon and he did not want to be out in the open when he did. He'd be an easy target to take out. Soon, his feet began tripping over themselves and he even fell to the wet ground a few times. His dog whined and rubbed his nose in John's bloodied hand, obviously showing his worry for his master. When John finally got to the point of falling and he was so weak that he couldn't stand anymore, he pushed himself against a wall of the nearby bookstore and rested his head against it.
So... This is it. I'm finally going to be with you, Helen. I didn't want to leave my dog behind, though.
His mind thought as everything became fuzzy. He still felt the dog lay his head on his lap and John finally closed his eyes.
I tried... I tried fighting, Helen. I tried being a good man.
...I know I won't be able to go to the place you're at, but...but even in death, I'll still fight to see you. No matter what...
A water droplet fell onto his face as John's world was soon taken over by complete darkness. It was the droplet of a beginnings of a smooth, light rainfall.
A light clink filled the small room, overlapping the faint Japanese instrumentals playing over a speaker in the room. The blonde haired girl wasn't sure how long she had been working, but the ache in her back made it feel like hours. She had no idea why she decided to pick the stranger up off the street, especially not too far from what could only be considered a massacre.
Another light clink, another crimson bullet rolling into the ceramic bowl with the others. She was surprised the man was still alive with the wounds he had, along with old scars. Scars that reminded her of her own caretaker. She remembered some nights that she had to patch the older woman up, leaving behind scars like his. She was thankful for the practice she had over the years, or this man could have already died from his wounds, or possibly infection.
She finally sat back with a small stretch of her aching spine. She only had a little ways to go before she was done. She reached over to the nightstand, lifting the needle and suture from the small metal tray. Her eye caught the dog next to her chair. The poor thing hadn't left his master's side, and she had been ultimately surprised it had let her near him. She supposed it knew she had only wanted to help. "He's going to be just fine," she reassured the companion, turning back to the man laid out on the bed.
As much as she wanted to find out who he was, stopping to take a look at any belongings he had would have taken too much time. So he would just have to be 'the mysterious man she found bleeding out in an alley' a little longer. The sterile needle slipped through his skin easily as she stitched up the two bullet wounds she had extracted the contents from, making sure the skin was closed well before she tied it off and cut the thread.
Giving him a once over, to make sure she didn't miss anything, she used medical tape to keep the gauze in place over the final two patches. She would need to get more supplies in a day or two, with how many wounds he suffered. But with any luck, he should recover just fine. She sighed and finally got to her feet, stretching her back once more now that she had more room. She pulled the blood covered gloves from her hands and tossed it on her tray before pulling the sheet fully over the unconscious man to keep him warm. She had felt a little awkward removing his wet shirt and pants, but a cold or pneumonia on top of blood loss wasn't worth leaving him in wet clothes. His clothes, having been washed and dried while she had been tending to him, were folded on a chair on the other side of the bed along with everything else she found on him.
Abeandra yawned tiredly as she picked up the tray of tools, bloody rags, and bowl, making her way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to clean everything, leaving the stranger to recover.
A cool breeze brushed against John's body and the smell of salt was evident. Opening his eyes, he found himself by the ocean, standing on a beach. The lulling sound of thr waves made his close his eyes for a few seconds so he could take in his surroundings. He was alone, nobody was around for as far as his eyes could see He then gazed down at his attire and he was in his white t-shirt and his pair of black boxers. Strange outfit to wear to the beach...
John looked back up towards the sea and he froze when he heard a familiar voice speak, "Hi, John."
He slowly turned and he let out a strangled gasp, his green orbs began to fill up with tears as he walked towards his dead wife and he wrapped his arms around her. "...Hello, Helen," he spoke to her in a saddened tone of voice.
"Hello, John." She was silent a moment before she continued with a small, saddened smile, "What are you doing?"
He blinked as he took a small step back from her and he answered her, "Looking at you."
His words echoed away in his head as his eyelids slipped not even half way open and as his brain began to wake the bodily nerves awake, an all over body pain took over his senses. His black brows furrowed and his teeth gritted together as he blinked and his half lifted eyes looked down at himself. There were faded blood stains on his white T-shirt and he was in his black boxers, just like in his dream. His right hand slowly lifted itself up from its perch by his side and it lifted his shirt up a bit. John was honestly surprised to find himself bandaged up and he let go of the soft, cotton fabric, laying his head and hand back down the to his overall weakness. John barely heard the soft, hopeful whine come from very close to his right before his eyes closed and he was taken back into the world of nothingness...
After two days, John's eyelids barely lifted again, hardly revealing his green orbs. He blinked a few times before he slowly turned his head to gaze out the window across the room. The sun hadn't even risen, which meant it must have been very late during the night, or the early hours in the morning. His body felt very heavy and when he finally made up his mind, he forced himself to push him up onto his elbows and his hands slipped beside his good and he slowly pushed himself up to a seated position. The pain was sharp and dull and the overall body ache never ending-- the pain served as his body's protest for moving.
John's dog had finally moved out of the spare bedroom and had been lay down on the kitchen floor, however once his ears heard the small, slight moan of pain did his ears and head lift before his entire body quickly scrambled up into his feet and he rushed to the room his master had been staying in. John had stood up, albeit he was unbalanced as hell, and he had fallen against one of the walls near the door. His green orbs had narrowed in suspicion once he had searched his surroundings. The bedroom wasn't very large and the door was left wide open, meaning if the person who had been taking care of him had wanted to turn him in, they wouldn't have left it open. John wasn't exactly sure how long he had been out, but he didn't want to stay in one place for too long.
His eyes had soon adjusted to the darkness and his ears picked up the soft padding of his canine companion. His head tilted downwards when he saw his dog enter the room, tail wagging wildly and John lifted the edge of his lips in a smirk. He bent halfway down with a grimace and lightly patted the dogs head, muttering a very low, "Good dog." Him straightening back up was harder than bending over and his face showed it as he slowly sneaked further into the house. He found the kitchen eventually and soon found where the knives were being kept, easily picking two up from their original place. He then made his way back into the room he had woken up in and slipped his suit back on, which was a challenge in on itself (especially getting his socks and shoes back on), and slipped one into the spot between his belt and pants, while holding the behind his back as he exited the bedroom to venture into the house once again. His steps made hardly any sound as he crept further into the house and he was soon in what appeared to be the living room.
Lights were on in the living room, along with the same music from his room playing faintly. Over the mantle was a Katana, and sleeping on the couch with a blanket over her, he found a girl with short blonde hair. There was a large bag of dog food sitting against the wall that was opened, along with metal bowls. One filled with water, and the other one empty, most likely already emptied by his canine companion.
Abeandra had tended to his wounds daily, rebandaging him and making sure the wounds didn't get infected. She had left prepared food in the fridge to heat up for when he finally woke up. Of course, she had to make sure his dog was taken care of as well, having gotten food for it after she made sure he was taken care of. She had dozed off on the couch after having checked on him. She opened her eyes a little, though, and looked in his direction since he was visible in the light. "You really shouldn't be on your feet..." she yawned lightly, starting to sit up. "I'm sure you're hungry, so I'll heat up your food."
He'd meant to turn off the light, but he decided against it, seeing as he would kill anyone who decided to jump at him anyway. John froze in his tracks as the figure on the couch moved and looked at him. He tensed ever so slightly as she had sat up and began speaking to him in a very tired way, giving him a call aura. She wasn't someone who was going to kill him...The man blinked, adjusting his grip on the kitchen knife, hiding it even more behind his back, and he glanced about the room a bit more, being sure to keep his front side facing towards the blonde. It was then, he noticed the large back of dog food and the two bowls, one half full with water, the other completely empty. He looked at his dog then, the mutt was wagging his tail in a timely manner as he trotted over to lick the woman's hand.
John returned his attention to the female, refraining his eyes from narrowing. "Who are you and where are we?" He asked, straight to the point.
She looked towards the dog as he came over to her and licked her. She smiled gently, reaching up and scratching him behind the ear, "You're such a good boy." She glanced towards John, watching him a moment. "My name is Abeandra, and you're in my home outside town. I was in town when I heard this guy whining in an alley. Went to check it out and found you nearly dead in the alley. I managed to get you in my car and brought you and your dog here. Patched you up. He didn't leave your side for more than just eating and going out for the bathroom." She rubbed the dog's head before standing up fully. "I'm guessing you survived whatever happened at the bar, but it's really none of my business." She stretched a little, and he could catch a glimpse of the scar down her forearm. With his trained eye, he could tell it was done by a knife.
"Come on, you should really eat to help regain your strength." She turned and headed into the kitchen, not even concerned that he could attempt to kill her. She grabbed a plate out of the fridge and started to reheat the food for him, humming something lightly.
John kept his back straight to keep the knife hidden and kept his eyes on the young woman. He slowly followed her and stopped on one of the sides of the nearby table.
His eyes caught a glimpse of the scar on her arm and he recognized it as an old knife wound.
His voice was a bit hoarse when he spoke and one of his brows furrowed slightly, "Thank you for helping me and taking care of my dog. ...I hope he wasn't too much trouble. Though, he's usually pretty calm, he can get excited every once and a while."
The man watched Abeandra for a few moments and turned his attention to his dog, which was rubbing his nose against the palm of his hand. John allowed a ghost of a smile on his lips before he slowly crouched down, being sure to keep the young woman in his range of sight. Once in a semi-comfortable position, the excommunicated assassin rubbed his dog's ears.
"Good boy," he mumbled and after a few moments of comforting his companion, John stood back up.
The smell of whatever food Abeandra had put in the microwave made the inside of his mouth water. John guessed he must have not eaten since that one chicken tender and the couple of fries he'd ordered at the bar that night.
"...How long was I unconscious?"
John inwardly hoped that he hadn't been out for too long, but he knew he had been close to death with his wounds.
"Oh, it's no problem at all... he's been an angel the whole time," Abeandra replied, looking to him with a smile. "And you were out for at least two full days." she turned back and took the food out of the microwave, re-plating it and moving over the table, setting it down for him. "I hope you like it. I really only cook for myself, and my caretaker when she drops by on occasion to check on me." The plate had a bit of steak and vegetables on it. She went to her fridge, "Anything particular you'd like to drink?" She looked back to him a little.
The man stood up and turned to look at her, saying, "Good. I'm glad."
John frowned at bit at hearing for how long he'd been out and he made his way over to the table.
Two days...
He knew the other assassins wouldn't take too long to find him. They always found him, no matter where he stayed. The longest he had been able to stay someplace was a week, then someone had come and tried to kill him. He was brought from his thoughts when the young woman began speaking again and she set the plate down for him.
"I'm sure it'll taste great. Thanks," he stated with a nod and another ghost of a smile.
She has a caretaker..?
Sitting down with a small groan, he began eating the meal given to him. Hearing her other question, he said after swallowing a mouthful, "...Ah, coffee, if you have any. If not, then water is fine."
The blonde smiled lightly as she watched him start to eat. He seemed to like it, which was an accomplishment for her. When he asked her for coffee, she sighed a little. "Sorry, I never did pick up that habit," she went to get him a glass of water. "My caretaker always drank green tea, so I sort of got used to drinking tea over coffee. I can go pick some up later, if you want. I don't mind."
She went over and set the glass of water on the table, smiling lightly. The silence in the kitchen was broken by the same music that played faintly throughout the house. Not loud enough to be listened to, normally. it was like its purpose was for merely background noise, so it was never actually silent.
John swallowed another bite of food and he stated with a saddened smile, "That's fine. Green tea is pretty good. My wife would often drink it. She never had a taste for coffee..." He cleared his throat and continued to eat his meal.
In the time she had walked to grab him a glass of water and she walled back to the table, half the dish had already disappeared. Glancing up at her and then to the glass, he nodded in thanks and picked it up. The cool liquid going down his dry throat felt really good to him and he had chugged nearly all of it in a couple of large gulps. A forced sigh came from his lips as he set the cup down and he finished up his meal. As he stood, he lifted the glass to his lips and finished the rest of the water with ease. Soon after, he picked the dishes up with a light clatter and he looked over at her.
"I can wash these... You can tell me where to put them...unless you'd like to?" John felt that he needed to help her some as a payment in return for her help.
"How far is the store from here?" He asked as he started towards the kitchen.
Abeandra smiled lightly when she noticed just how quickly he was eating. She figured he was going to be hungry when he got up. It also meant her cooking wasn't terrible. The last thing she needed was to bring him back from the brink of death just to have her cooking finish him off. She had been about to ask about his wife, but the way he had mentioned her, and the condition she had found him in, suggested she might not be around anymore. And she didn't want to bring anything up.
Overall, though, he looked so much better than before now that he had something to eat. "I would prefer you go in there and rest some more, but if you really want to, I won't protest." She smiled lightly, following him into the kitchen, showing him the cabinet she got the dishes from. "The store is about a fifteen minute drive from here. I'm kind of out in the country, so it's a little bit of a drive. If you need anything, I can go get it for you.. or if you insist on going, I'll drive you up there... I don't know what your situation was, but it seems pretty bad... and if there are more people looking for you, it might be safer if you kept out of sight..."
John chuckled a bit as he listened to her speak and he placed the dirty dishes in the sink. Turning to her, he opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as his green orbs caught a glimpse of something move past the window on the far side of the dining room. He smile left his face as he quickly walked to stand out of sight, making sure to keep his body somewhat close to the young woman.
When he spoke, his voice was urgent, "When did you say your caretaker is supposed to be here?"
It was then he glanced down at his chest, finding a read dot having moved across his suit, towards where his heart would be. At that moment, a gunshot rang from outside and a bullet whizzed into the room, shattering one of the windows in the dining room. John made a noise as he ducked downwards and ungracefully rolled behind the counter. His hand gripped the young woman and tugged down onto the tiled flooring beside him. His dog was growling as it paced to and fro throughout the house, scanning for anymore intruders. His breathing came out in quickened gasps as he pulled out the kitchen knife from under his belt and as soon as he lifted his forehead over the counter to look around, a bullet bounced off the top of the counter and into the wall.
"Do you have anywhere safe-- a place where you can hide?" John demanded as he looked over at her.
Abeandra was about to answer John's question, when she was suddenly pulled down following the sound of a gunshot. "T..the saferoom... She said if there was any trouble... to go to it... There's.. a ladder in my closet... that goes down to it..." She replied, keeping her voice down so she wouldn't be overheard. She could only guess whoever was firing at him, was with the people who were after him before. She glanced around the side of the counter towards her bedroom. She wasn't sure how they were going to get to it.
He nodded as he listened to her speak and spoke back to her with a quick reply, "Okay. We need to get there."
John recalled seeing another bedroom close to his and he figured once they got into the small hallway, he could get her in there safely. His dog was growling as it swerved back into the dining room, it's hazel coloured fur stood on edge as it glared where the attacker was moving. The excommunicated assassin counted to three in his head before he gripped the young woman's shoulders and somewhat harshly pushed her across the room, being sure to keep himself on her exposed side. A line of bullets followed the two, hitting the wall behind them. The last few bullets nearly hit John before he had shoved Abeandra behind the wall and he landed on the ground close to her. With a bit of reluctance at the pain overcoming his body, John forced himself into a crouched position before he stood and helped her up.
His eyes loomed at her with his brows lifted slightly, "You get to your room and the safe place now. Hurry-!"
A loud crash could be heard from the living room and his dog began to bark furiously before it ran towards the two victims. John loomed at his dog and commanded, "Go with the girl. Go on!"
Abeandra was trying to keep calm, taking John's lead and hurried towards her room, trying to keep down. She felt a rough shove behind a wall, looking back to see if he was ok. Luckily it didn't seem like he was hit, just dealing with his current wounds. She started into her room, only to have someone grab and hold a gun to her head. She tried to pull away, "Let me go!"
John had just heard the young woman demand to be let go, having looked up to see someone holding a gun to her head, when he was suddenly jumped on from behind. The force caused him to fall face forward onto his stomach, which made him yell out in pain. His nose was flaring much like a horse's would while it ran in the Kentucky Derby and he was able to move his head to the side. His green eyes and entire expression darkened at seeing a muscled man pulling out a knife. The man on him bad long, black breads and too many piercings on his ears, eyes, and nose. His hazel orbs glared down at him aa he chuckled, "Catching the infamous John Wick was easier than I thought. Not so tough now, are you, asshole?"
After his attacker spoke, John pushed his lips together and let out a loud, high pitched whistle. His dog ran from the young woman's room, darted past the two and attacked the man on top of the ex-assassin. Once the weight wasn't as heavy, he shoved the man further off of him and knocked the knife out of his hand. At the same time, the mut ran towards Abeandra, jumped on her, and bit the other's attacker's face, causing them to scream out in pain as them released her.
John took the chance to harshly punched the dark skinned man's throat and forced himself into a standing position. Stumbling a little, John rushed forward and tackled the other assassin, causing the two to fall into the room he had stayed in. "Get out of here!" He commanded to Abeandra as he bared his teeth at the woman he was on top of. He had wrapped his fingers around her throat before he pulled the kitchen knife from his belt with his other. He had been able to stab the woman in the shoulder before he was knocked over by the other assassin. He stumbled again as he stood up and got into a defensive position, holding the bloodied knife somewhat close to him. His green orbs flicked between the two intruders as they neared him.
The Front door opened and a form entered. It was a clearly Asian woman who wore her hair back in a high bun. She had a sword on her hip who's hilt looked like the one that rested on Abeandra's mantle. John could see that the woman did not look happy as she stalked towards them. "What are you doing in my house?!" the woman demanded in a thick accent. While it took a moment to register for all of the assassins, standing before them was the woman known as Shi no Tenshi, the Angel of Death. An assassin that, before she retired, was as widely known as John himself was, and known to be as skilled if not slightly more. She had been retired for at least twenty years, though no one knew exactly why she decided to retire at the height of her Assassin Career.
"Kirana!" Abeandra exclaimed, looking towards her from around the corner.
Kirana looked towards her, "Are you alright, Abby? did any of them hurt you?"
"No, I'm ok... but they're trying to kill my new friend," She replied, not really sure what else to refer to John by at the time without going into much detail.
Kirana's gaze went to John, obviously knowing who he was. "I see..." she looked towards the Assassins. "This place was supposed to be off-limits. Or did you purposefully ignore that? Actually, no need to answer that." She suddenly pulled two pistols from her sides and fired at the assassins around John, killing them quickly.
Abeandra went over and hugged her tightly.
"Shh, it's ok..." she hugged her back. "Everything's going to be ok. You're safe now... Now... I've got to make some calls... including a very angry one..." She glanced towards John. "I think we are going to need a talk when I'm off the phone..."
The excommunicated assassin had sweat pouring down his face, the small beads of salted liquid fell to the floor below. His green orbs showed no mercy, only a strong flame of determination. He was tired, though. His body was worn out from having moved so much after having been in the room for those few days. He knew it and the intruders knew it. However, his body being tired had never stopped him before and his eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched together. Air flew in and out from his flared nostrils and he readjusted his defensive stance, glaring at the two people. His body tensed up as they all had started to come after him, each taking a step towards him, but they all stopped once a woman threw the front door open.
Like the others, John turned his attention to the newcomer, his body tensing even more. Immediately, he assumed that she was another assassin sent to kill him, but the thought was soon thrown away once she demanded why the group of strangers was in her house. So, she must have been the caregiver the young woman had been talking about...
He didn't relax when she shot each of the assassins' heads, killing them instantly, and the man watched as the older woman tried to calm her young friend. John soon figured out who she was; another retired assassin who was just as good as he was.
She was possibly even better than him.
The male didn't really want to find out, but if he had to fight her, he would. However, he didn't sense too much hostility from her. At least, not enough to make him think she was going to attempt to kill him. Kirana's last words met deafening ears as John's body gave out. His vision blurred and turned black and the knife clattered to the floor as his body fell forward and hit the ground hard, his head only a few inches from one of the corpse's.
Kirana sighed lightly as she watched the battered ex-assassin crumple to the floor. "Come on, let's get him into bed, and I'll let you tend to him while I get things taken care of..." She moved away from Abeandra, the both of them carefully getting John up off the ground and carrying him into the bedroom and gently laying him on the bed. "Everything's going to be fine, Abby... no one's going to hurt you, or him."
"T...thanks, Kirana..." Abeandra said, moving over to John's side and lifted up his shirt, starting to look over his wounds and make sure none of them had opened up again, while Kirana went into the other room to get someone out to have the bodies cleaned up. She sighed a little. "I guess your life has been pretty rough..." She said, even though she knew he was out cold. "I don't know what's really going on... but Kirana took care of me when I didn't have anyone... maybe she can help you too..." she started to rebandage his wounds.
The first thing John heard as he started to regain consciousness was the music lightly playing. The same sort of music that had been playing earlier. The next thing he could hear was a voice, a very angry voice, talking to someone in the other room.
"I don't care about that, Winston!" the Japanese accented voice snapped, "We had a deal. The cabin was off limits, no matter what! .... if she gets found because of this, I swear I will get my niece involved and you will be replaced. Got that? If I have to explain to Abeandra what was done to her, or if she remembers anything... there will be hell to pay. So tell your fucking assassins that this cabin, no, this god-damned city is off fucking limits. If they still come, I will fucking kill them like I did this idiotic bunch who broke into Abeandra's home, and tried to kill her and the guy she was with. Do. You. Understand." she replied, listening a moment before finishing with "Good." Kirana hung up, growling lowly.
When John awoke, his entire body hurt. It hurt to move, but he ignored it as his curiosity got the better of him when he heard shouting from some within the house. Forcing himself to stand from the bed, the man slowly walked out of the room and stood with his back to the wall, close to the doorway that the angered voice was coming from. The woman was apparently speaking with Winston and was not happy that John was there. Of course he was going to be unwelcomed everywhere he went. He had been excommunicated, after all.
Once she hung up, the man crept into the room, only stayed by the doorway, and he took a good look at her. John knew exactly who she was and he didn't feel like having to fight her if not needed. He stayed silent for a few moments before he finally spoke up. His voice was gruff and low and somewhat awkward, "I'm sorry. I didn't come here by choice."
He fell silent and then, "The girl-- she helped me. Brought me here and patched me up."
Silence for a few seconds.
"I'll leave. Thanks for saving me. I appreciate it."
With that, he turned around and walked back into the room to grab the rest of his things. As he stiffly limped back into the living room, he heard his dog whine a bit and he thought a moment as he looked down at him.
"What?"
The dog tilted his head and sat down at John's feet, obviously not wanting to leave.
"We have to leave. Get up, now," he soothed in a serious tone as he started to walk towards the door.
However, John stopped and slightly turned when he found his dog was still seated where he had just moved from.
John let out a sigh.
Kirana looked towards John when she noticed he was there, turning towards him. She then shook her head a little, watching him head back into his room and come back out. "No, it's alright. You're not the problem. It's those others that broke in here. You do not have to leave. I think Abby would be a little upset if she got home and you weren't here. I know who you are, Mr. Wick. I also know that you are no longer an assassin, which means that you are more than welcome here. Winston knows that this cabin, town, and Abeandra are off limits. As such he is responsible for these assassins and everything they caused. He also knows what happens if he breaks our deal."
She was quiet a moment. "I will let you in on a secret that Abby doesn't know. And I expect you to do what you can to keep her from finding out, and to help protect her once you're feeling better... in return for letting you stay here and possibly for me finding a way to get you cleared."
John's head lifted some as his eyes focused on the woman's form. Ignoring the waves of pain that drifted over his body, he twisted his upper torso to lock his eyes with hers. He remained silent as she spoke and averted his gaze to focus on a random spot on the bloodied floor. Thin lips pressed together as the man thought about what she was telling him, offering him to stay in her home even though he was an excommunicated assassin.
Once she finished speaking, John's eyes narrowed some and he asked finally, "...Why would you bother to help me, of all people, in the first place?"
His tired eyes scanned over the woman's face, watching for any type change of her expression, and his body remained tensed up in case she tried anything.
"I know who you are," he began and he didn't move from his spot. "Winston warned me not to kill D'Antonio, but I..." He trailed off and looked towards the window with a frown of disapproval. "Like I told him, I finished it...and now the High Table is after me."
Turning some to face her, his left hand lifted a bit to gesture with his thumb touching his forefinger, and he tilted his head to the side as he asked with some confusion in his green orbs, "Are you sure you're really okay with an excommunicated assassin staying here? Letting the members of the High Table come here, putting you and that girl in danger because you're trying to defend me? Even they are above Winston's power and I doubt he can do anything about them once they really get involved."
Kirana smiled gently. "Because, you did what had to be done." She watched him. "Most of the High Table is corrupt.. what happened with D'Antonio... all of the conspiracy... people vying for power..." she shook her head. "My Niece is on the High Table... One of the few decent ones left... Because of that, she could easily become a target... for anyone who disagreed with her... especially now. If she died, they could pin it on you..." She closed her eyes a moment before opening them again, going into her room and coming out after a moment with a lock box, setting it on the table and unlocking it.
"Abeandra came into my care when she was just a little girl... and she was... damaged... ... Assassins are such by choice... they choose this line of work, knowing everything involved. They know the risks, they know the rewards, and it becomes their life..." She picked up a picture from the box, handing it to him. It was of a young blonde girl around ten, with short hair, a plain white gown, more like a hospital gown, and bandages wrapped around her arm. She had a dull look in her eyes, staring ahead as if her mind was completely blank. "There was a group of people.. who were taking children.. and training them... forcing them... mentally abusing and conditioning them.. so the only thing they knew... the only thing in their mind... was to do what they were told and to kill..."
John blinked and remained silent as she spoke, ignored the pain in his body and it demanding to be allowed some rest. As his hand reached out to take the photo, one of his dark eyebrows furrowed slightly seeing the girl in the photo. Blue orbs flicked up to meet the woman's gaze as she continued to speak before returning their focus on the photo. His lips pressed together in a frown and his nodded once before handing the photo back to her, replying, "I'd heard about this in the past."
Lips stretched into a thin, disapproving frown and John crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at the far wall and then one of the photos hanging up beside a window. In it, Abeandra was seated on a patch of grass with flowers in her hair and smiling bashfully. The experiments the High Table had kept a secret reached to some people, including John. Back then, before he met his wife, he simply didn't care. He had been a completely different person back then, only focused on getting the job done. He blinked as he let his hands fall to his sides and his eyes seemed to give off a far away look, as if he was sent back in time. After a beat of silence, he spoke up again, "When I was an assassin- fulltime- there were targets I had to eliminate that were younger."
His eyes focused on his shoes and a bad of guilt hit his core, caused a wince barely visible to anyone, "They were kids. I didn't really understand why I was sent after children... but they fought back fairly well. A few managed to get a couple of bullets in me." Lips pressed together in a tight line and his features became stern as he added, "I'd heard rumors of children being taken in by some organization and were being forcibly trained to become assassins. It wasn't until later that Winston told me that the rumors were true and those younger targets had actually been sent after me."
She nodded a little. "If they were able to stand up to a fully trained, experienced assassin at such a young age, just think of how much more unstoppable they would be if they reached adulthood. Not only that... they would be completely loyal... unable to question anything, unable to say no... and the only retirement they would get is being put down when they weren't as good as they used to be. But by then, there's already a replacement. The act is not only inhumane, but it threatens the way of life for all Assassins. Being an assassin wouldn't be a career choice anymore... why deal with adults when they have a mindless army at their every beck and call?" Kirana replied, looking at him. She sighed lightly, glancing back down towards the box. She knew a lot of the secrets that the High Table kept. She pulled another picture out of the box, looking at it.
"This is the man that was responsible for Abeandra..." she handed him the second picture. It was a man with nearly the same blonde hair and green eyes Abeandra did. "If you can't guess... He is her father... Draven Pithras. You might have heard about him. He was an assassin as well... but had one of the more brutal reputations. It wasn't a job to him. He enjoyed killing, and the more gruesome and painful it was, the better." She was quiet a moment, looking to him. "And he's still out there...." she replied, crossing her arms and leaning back against the table. "When I found out what they were doing, when I found Abeandra... ... let's just say I stirred up the hornet's nest quite a bit. Little known fact is back when I was younger, I had been on the High Table after my father passed away. I was good at what I did, but all of the politics weren't my thing. I passed my seat on to my brother after some time. Suffice it to say... after quite a few children trafficking rings were wiped out... and children being returned home... they finally asked me to stop... had Winston make a deal with me."
She closed her eyes. The good old days, back when she could keep up with the best of them. In fact she had been the best. Much like John in front of her. "I would stop my onslaught, if they stopped using children... and if they kept Abeandra's father, as well as any assassins... away from her.... and the deal was sealed with a marker." She opened her eyes, looking to him again. "He violated our deal by letting them come here." she smiled lightly. "Ending up here... was the best thing for you. Due to being excommunicated, you aren't considered an assassin... so they can't use that against you. Also, they can't send assassins here after you, because that would break the deal. And the High Table won't break the deal that they agreed to."
