"JOHN WICK: CHAPTER 4" (2023)

JOHN WICK: CHAPTER FOUR

Written by

Shay Hatten

Current Revisions by

Michael Finch

Based on characters created by Derek Kolstad

Locked white draft: May 30, 2021 Blue Revisions: June 23, 2021 Pink Revisions: July 2, 2021 Yellow Revisions: July 14, 2021 Green Revisions: August 10, 2021 Goldenrod Revisions: October 2, 2021 Buff Revisions: October 22, 2021 Salmon Revisions: January 28, 2022

Establishing: An aerial view of New York City’s iconic skyline as the sun crests the horizon.

OPENING CREDITS:

Titles begin:

BANG! The sound of bone impacting wood echoes.

A low rent part of town, gritty and industrial. A symbol is spray painted on a wall: an “X” with an “0” on each side and a jagged “line” above. This is HOBO SYMBOL and in the language of the street it means: “a safe place.”

A long, dark tunnel illuminated by a lantern. Walls covered in HOBO SYMBOLS. Footsteps echo. Two long shadows stretch out. A familiar voice, loud in the confined space, washes over us:

BANG! A shadow shrouded room illuminated faintly by shafts of blue light angling down from above through an old grate.

EXTREMELY CLOSE ONa thick wooden Makiwara board as a FIST slams into it. When the fist pulls back, it leaves asmearof blood.

ANGLE ON a large metal door. An old fashioned SKELETON KEY, set on a large ring of keys, slides into the lock.

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The key turns and the lock disengages with a sharp clang. A hand pulls the door open to reveal stairs dropping down.

BANG! WIDER ON the Makiwara board as the fist SLAMS into it. Violent, brutal. Each punch speckling the wood with blood. We now see that the fist isMISSING ITS RING FINGER.

The fist of JOHN WICK.

Man and dog approach a heavy duty grate secured by chains and padlocks. As the man unlocks the locks, we see his face, and that of his companion: theBOWERY KING and John’s dog. Slung over the Bowery King’s shoulder is a black suit in a plastic dry cleaning bag.

The King slides the grate over and he and the dog step onto a freight elevator. He pulls a lever. The elevatordescends...

BANG! SLIGHTLY WIDER NOW, as we view John’s fist punching the board in SILHOUETTE.Kettle bells to one side, a work bench that’s home to a disassembled Glock and bullet press, on the other. |Light glistening off a knife blade resting on a millstone. Behind it, a worn and duct taped heavy bag.

The Bowery King and the dog move down a long corridor, passing by a stone face carved into a supporting beam: JANUS, the Roman god of beginnings, transitions, duality, endings, and perhaps most importantly,war and peace.

As the Bowery King passes Janus’s face, we see, on the back of the supporting beam, an identical face.

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At the end of the corridor is a metal door. Etched above it is another HOBO SYMBOL:a circle set next to a square, both with dots in the center. The Bowery King inserts a key.BANG!

He turns the key and pushes the door open.

BANG! As the door opens, a band of light illuminates the room and we finally see John in full: SHIRTLESS, tattoos glistening with sweat, muscles RIPPLING.

Finally, John looks over his shoulder at The Bowery King who presents the suit to him. Months have passed. His body is honed by exercise, and his wounds, save that bloody finger, healed by time. The physical ones at least.

It’s a long beat as he breathes heavily in and out. Impossible to read his expression.

As the final titles roll, we focus on the board, pockmarked with John’s blood. The blood forms tendrils which in turn form the words:

JOHN WICK: CHAPTER 4

WIDE. The sun -- blood orange, massive -- slowly rises, illuminating the wide and featureless desert flats.

Three Arabians thunder by. The RIDERS, in Bedouin robes, pushing their steeds to the edge of exhaustion.

BOOM! A gunshot reverberates and Rider #1 slumps over his saddle.

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REVERSE TO A FIGURE on an Arabian, black against the orb of the rising sun, features distorted by the heat shimmer.

BANG! The Rider #2 is knocked off his horse.

RIDER #3 spurs his mount forward--

BANG! Rider #3 catches a bullet in the shoulder. He spins, losing his saddle, hits the sand as his horse canters away.

As Rider #3 pulls himself to his feet, a long shadow washes over him.

Slowly, he turns and though we don’t recognize his face, we know him to be THE ELDER; the One Who Sits Above the Table.

THE ELDER’S POV: A single DROP OF RICH RED BLOOD, spatters the fine sand.

PAN UP, over the Arabian’s black legs, to black shoes, black suit, left hand, ring-finger severed at the joint, refusing to heal to John Wick, framed by the rising sun. JW dismounts and shoots the 2 bodyguards left standing.

JW takes a knee .....

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. (MORE)(MORE)

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The Elder stands....

JW stands and slowly raises his gun....

BOOM! The shot rings out, echoing across the desert and far beyond.

The Elder drops, blood pooling from the back of his head, forming a pattern on the sand.

ANGLE ON Rider #2. The man, on the ground, looks up, squints into the sun that frames John’s face. John grabs the back of the man’s head and pulls him close.

John releases the man and mounts his Arabian. A skin of water thuds to the sand next to Rider #2. He watches as John rides away.

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Establishing: An aerial view of the hotel.

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BELLBOYS with luggage, GUESTS checking in, and the true fixture of this establishment,CHARON, at his rightful place at the front desk.

A DOORMAN opens the front door. On a dime, the mood changes. Conversations turn to whispers as all eyes turn toward a behemoth of a man in a tweed suit:THE HARBINGER.

The Harbinger cuts an imposing path as he walks towards the front desk -- people part to move out of his way. He reaches the desk and looks at Charon for a long beat... then removes a LARGE HOURGLASS FULL OF BLACK SAND from his valise and sets it upright on the counter.

Charon studies him warily...lifts his phone as patrons head for the exit.

WINSTON sits behind his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose, scanning an official looking DOCUMENT -- something written with quill and ink and sealed with wax. He lowers it.

The Harbinger turns the hourglass over and the black sand beings to run through it.

The Harbinger turns to walk out, pausing by Charon who stands by the door. He turns back to Winston.

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Winston... nods. The Harbinger departs and Winston’s gaze shifts to the hourglass.

Winston and Charon exit a towncar and head for the lobby.

DING! Elevator doors slide open to reveal Winston and Charon. The two step out into a whole new corner of the world of the High Table.

Sterile, minimalist, the INSIGNIA OF THE HIGH TABLE looming over a desk where several SECRETARIES -- all in white, all with FLEUR DE LIS tattoos or jewelry -- sit. The Marquis’ elite guard: THE MYRMIDONSline the walls.

CHIDI -- lean, hard, condescending, serious and lethal -- waits by massive doors at the opposite end of the space by large doors.

As Winston and Charon walk towards him:

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They stop in front of Chidi.

Winston studies his friend for a moment and gives a nod of genuine gratitude.

Doors open and they step into:

Doors fully open and Winston, Charon and Chidi enter the gargantuan chamber lined with Myrmidons. Scores of high white columns frame a round reflecting pool of still water set in the chamber’s center, their capitals, incandescent with diffuse white light, a stark contrast to the pool’s dark surface.

At the far end of the space, standing by the floor to ceiling windows, his back to Winston and Charon, one hand holding a cup of coffee, the other stirring it methodically, is a man in a finely tailored suit.

This is THE MARQUIS VINCENT BISSET DE GRAMONT, the Sheriff of the High Table. He is the undisputed law of this world.

Resting on the Marquis’s glass desk is an identical hourglass to the one delivered to the hotel. The black sand -- now90% expended -- runs through it at the same rate.

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Winston and Charon walk to the center of the room and stop on one side of the pool.

If the Marquis notices his guests, he doesn’t show it. He merely stands there, his back to Winston and Charon. The only motion is that slow and steady stirring. It’s a long and uncomfortable moment as Winston eyes the sand flowing through the hourglass. The room is so quiet the only sound is The Marquis stirring his coffee. After a long moment:

The Marquis turns, taking in Winston and Chidi. He sips his coffee. The black sand is94% expended.

Winston waits for The Marquis to continue. He does not. He doesn’t have to. He has all the time in the world.

The silence sits there; heavy, like a weight on a man’s chest, every second adding more and more pressure.95%. Finally, The Marquis turns.

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The sand is 97% drained.

The Marquis eyes Charon, as though noticing him for the first time.

The sand drains, spiraling in the top cylinder:98%

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A long pause as The Marquis surveys Winston who holds the Frenchman’s gaze.

The last grain drops through the glass. A FLASH in the distance. Then a low RUMBLE. The glass shakes ever so slightly. A cloud of debris rises over Manhattan. As it falls away, a column of black smoke rises.

Winston can only watch as The Continental dies.

And with it, a part of Winston dies too. That building was his identity. And now it is gone.

Winston’s pain is reflected in Charon. He wants to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, but somehow that would be improper.

The Marquis, who never took his eyes off of Winston, never looked at the hotel, begins the walk towards Winston and Charon. He draws his weapon. Lines it on Winston as he approaches.

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Winston stares. A grim and horrifying realization dawns as The Marquis swings the weapon on Charon andpulls the trigger!

BOOM! Charon stumbles backward, blood seeping through his white shirt and spreading across his chest.

Winston, his shirt spattered with blood specks, catches him, cushioning his fall, kneeling with him, holding him.

The Marquis walks out, Chidi falling in behind him.

Charon extends his hand and Winston clasps it. There is an absolute calmness to this man; a commitment to exhibit the same dignity and duty in death as he did in life.

These two old friends share one final moment before Charon slips away.

Winston, on his knees, cradling Charon’s head, slowly looks up, eyes locked on the receding Marquis. Shock and anger are slowly morphing to something else: something dangerous.

ANGLE ON The Marquis, Winston and Charon behind him.

A soft, lyrical musical piece washes over us, growing in pitch and intensity...

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Establishing: Paris, the city of lights, vibrant and alive on a summer’s afternoon.

PARIS

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People have stopped to watch and to listen. Her body sways as the pitch builds. She is profoundly connected to this music, almost as though it has meaning outside of the notes.

ANGLE ON CAINE, (40s) Chinese, sharp suit, walking cane stands some dozen yards away. Though he is apart from Mia -- his back is to her and his eyes are closed -- in this moment he is very much with her.

As the music builds, we note the locket resting in his right palm. Old and worn by the constant rubbing of his thumb, it has meaning to this man beyond the material. For him, it is beauty and serenity.

The piece reaches its crescendo and stops, bringing Caine back to reality.

People applaud. Mia stares, almost like she’s surprised anyone was there. A WOMAN puts a few Euros in her open violin case, a “ENMP” (Ecole Normale de Musique Paris) sticker prominent.

As Mia packs her violin, Caine stands. As he turns into the camera and his face comes into the light, we see his milky white eyes. Caine is blind.

He takes a tentative step towards her... stops... pulls a flask from his jacket, and drinks before turning away.

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CLOSE ON a heavy metal CUP. With a FLASH - two dice are snatched off the GREEN FELT TABLE into the up. We pull back to see the weathered hand that shakes it. Inside the CUP, the dice rattle - a feverish crescendo building. With a flick of the wrist, the dice skitter across the felt, bounce off the runners, settle. A FOUR and a THREE.

The DEALER -- French -- razor slash across his face, bad tattoos creeping over his neckline slides ides cash across the table to Caine who just rolled. In front of him is a pile of cash and a shot glass.

Caine’s fingers run over the dice, slides them into the cup.

Dice rattle. He rolls. Wins again.

As Caine collects the dice and cash.

Caine rolls again and wins again. The Dealer stares at the dice.

Caine’s fingers find the shot glass. He grasps it...

Caine downs the shot.

Caine... slides his pile of cash forward.

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The Dealer’s eyes flick to two Thugs moonlighting as casino security.

Caine makes his way down the alley, his cane swinging in front of him as the rain pours. Caine finds a dry spot under the eaves, leans against the wall and lights a cigarette.

The lighter flares, briefly illuminating three forms -- The Dealer and the two Thugs from the parlor -- emerging from the darkness.

A fist hits him in the gut. He doubles over. A blow to the head sends him reeling against the wall. A leg sweep sends him to the pavement.

Caine makes not effort to defend himself. He smiles through the pain as blows rain down him.

The Dealer grabs him by the hair.

Caine... LAUGHS. The Dealer... hits him with the gun. The Thugs join in, beating and kicking Caine who’s on his knees. Caine holds up a hand. He’s done.

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a brick of bills.

A Thug takes the cash and hands it to The Dealer who runs a thumb over it. The Dealer... nods and a Thug kicks Caine. The second joins in. The Dealer hits him!

A blow sends Caine reeling, the force of the impact knocks the LOCKET from Caine’s pocket.

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He hears it clattering across wet pavement; lunges for it, hands trying to find it.

Caine’s fingers brush against the chain and he draws the locket towards him.

The Thug’s alligator skin cowboy boot grinds down on Caine’s hand, pressing it against the locket and the pavement.

The Thug hesitates, glancing at The Dealer who... nods. The Thug reaches for the locket. As his fingers brush against the worn nickel, Caine shifts his weight, freeing his hand.

Fingers wrap around The Thug’s ankle. CRACK! Bone snaps and The Thug falls, howling as Cainepulls the man’s boot off.

The Second Thug produces a straight razor and lunges for Caine who uses the boot as weapon, breaking the man’s elbow and jaw. He falls.

The Dealer draws a cheap .38. Caine focuses on the sound. The

man’s wrist up with it, then driving the heel into the man’s mouth. He falls to his knees, spitting teeth.

The Dealer, on his knees, stares up at Caine who now holds the .38 against the man’s forehead with his right hand and holds his left hand out, palm up.

A frozen moment and Caine... snaps the cylinder open. Bullets clatter to the pavement.

A beat and The Dealer gets up and runs.

Caine stands there, defeated in victory; deflated.

Caine ignores Chidi... turns, feet sliding over the pavement. He finds the locket, retrieves it. Starts to walk away.

Caine stops. This is specific word and it means something more to Caine.

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Massive. Gilded. Imposing. Puts Versailles to shame.

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MORNING

ANGLE ON Caine -- damp, face caked in blood, standing in the majestic space. His body sways slightly. Chidi stands directly behind him.

The Marquis sits alone at the head of a very long formal dining table some distance away. The silence hangs there.

Caine teeters and retches. Bile spatters the marble floor. Chidi steps back reflexively. Caine wipes spittle from his chin.

The Marquis nods. Servants enter. Cups are poured. Caine accepts his tea with a nod. Both men wait for the other to speak. Finally:

Caine tenses as A VALET approaches with an IVORY TRAY; holds it out to Caine. On the tray is a BLACK ENVELOPE. Caine does not take it.

A long moment. This is a battle of wills.

Caine nods respect. Carefully places the cup on the saucer that rests on the tray. Turns to go.

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Suddenly Caine if very still.

An painfully long moment of silence... This is a battle of wills and Caine knows he’s already lost. He reaches for the Valet’s tray.

Fingers find the envelope. He takes a deep breath and breaks the wax seal; removes a heavy gold trimmed black card marked with brail. His fingers run over the letters... stop at the last.

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The Marquis surveys Caine for a beat almost as though he understands that he is engaged in a silent battle of wills with a man who doesn’t know how to bend.

The threat hangs there.

Caine... drops to one knee.

A slight smile forms on The Marquis’ lips.

An old and run down movie theatre, it’s billboard proudly presenting Buster Keaton’sThe General. Laughter washes over us.

A fuzzy reel on a big screen. Keaton pulling off an impossible stunt. A dozen FILM BUFFS scattered around the theater. A few laugh.

Caine, who is making his way across the back of the theatre, pauses.

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Film runs through the old fashioned projector. A rectangular beam of light emanates from the lens. THE PROJECTIONIST -- an old and wizened Frenchman with a cigarette, thick glasses, and a black beret, looks up as Caine enters.

ANGLE ON a shelf of film canisters. The Projectionist pulls a canister down, lays it on the table and walks out.

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A beat and Caine opens it to reveal a folded tailored suit, a titanium alloy cane with an ornately sculpted handle, a row of gold coins, a Glock G44 22 LR, with tactical shoulder holster rig and magazines, flashbang grenades, and a half dozen small motion sensors...

Caine’s fingers run over the box’s contents. They find the cane. He lifts it... pulls on the handle, half drawing the razor sharp sword. Laughter echoes from the cinema and Caine roars in rage and frustration, slamming the sword back in its scabbard!

He stands there for a moment... pulls a flask from his jacket, unscrews the cap, brings it to his lips... and pours the liquid out onto the floor.

Establishing: An aerial view of Osaka’s downtown with its bright strobe lights and giant billboards; a miasma of color and cacophonous sound.

OSAKA

Bright strobe lights flash on a giant billboard. An advertisement. Japanese text. PAN DOWN. More billboards. More advertisements. More colors. Sounds now. Discordant; the kind you hear in a crowded city. At street level now, people walking by billboards. Spray painted on a billboard, and partially lost in the pattern, is a HOBO SYMBOL.

REVERSE TO a BELGIAN MALINOIS sitting on the sidewalk, dark eyes locked on the symbol.

PULL BACK to reveal a MAN (30), standing next to the dog, taking in the symbol. He... smiles.

There’s a little twinkle in his eye that suggests he’s laughing at a joke; which is just lovely until you figure out the joke’s on you.

This is THE TRACKERand the dog is THE TRACKER’S TRACKING DOG.

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Down a street, the dog’s ears are back now, confident, like he’s got a scent, off the curb and into traffic... ignoring honking cars... The dog stops, eyes locked on massive ONYX DOORS flanked by two Japanese DOORMEN.

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Above them, rising twenty stories into the night sky, is the Osaka Continental.

ANOTHER ANGLE TO INCLUDE The Tracker.

Floor to ceiling windows offer 360 degree views of Osaka from on high. The Tracker, the Malinois next to him, stands in the middle of the elegant lobby as guests and Geishas and servers with champagne and hors d’oeuvres pass by.

His phone -- old school flip phone -- buzzes. He checks it. We catch a glimpse of a large number: $18 million... that snaps to $20 million.

He whistles under his breath and glances at the dog who’s looking at him with interest.

He pulls a well-worn NOTEBOOK from his pocket and, with the stub of a pencil, makes a notation. The pages are filled with hand-written notes, symbols (HOBO SYMBOLS are prominent), sketches (John Wick), flowcharts and Venn diagrams (family/relationship trees with lines leading to Winston, The Ruska Roma, Osaka, etc.)

ANGLE ON AKIRA -- sleek suit, leather folder under her arm, perhaps a touch young for her position as concierge -- standing behind The Tracker, her form reflected in a glass case.

Akira glances to the side. A WOMAN wearinga massive fur coat and hat, trailed by two laden-down bellboys, passes by.

The Tracker, intrigued by the scrolls set behind glass doesn’t look back.

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Akira eyes The Tracker... A SERVER passes by with small and delicate appetizers. She takes one and offers it to the dog whose ears drop and muscles tense. It’s about to lunge when the Tracker’s hand GRABS her wrist, fast. She looks at him, hard and he looks right back at her. This was a test and The Tracker and his dog failed.

The Tracker releases her wrist and lays agold coin in her palm. Akira eyes it.

Motion catches her eye: A Japanese man we’ll come to know by the name of SHIMAZU(50s) strolling through the lobby. A slight hitch in his step speaks to battles fought, a scar, just visible on his neck, to mistakes made, and the deference granted by all around him, to the respect he’s earned.

The Tracker watches her as she moves to intercept Shimazu.

With that, The Tracker puts the food between his teeth and offers it to the dog who rises on her hind legs and gently takes it.

Akira paces up to walk beside Shimazu. As they move across the lobby, passing the bar and the Exhibition hall, by staff and patrons, their tone, volume and even language shifts.

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She hands him the folder. He flips it open, scanning it as they walk.

Shimazu hands her back the folder as he and Akira head up a flight of stairs.

The two emerge on the EXHIBITION HALL level.

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A large and open space cut up by a series of glass partitions housing an assortment of museum grade weapons and armor -- mostly Japanese, some from surrounding regions, including nunchaku -- as well as scrolls -- pressed between panels. As they continue to walk:

Shimazu exchanges a small bow with a guest admiring the glass encased art.

He shakes his head as he smiles at a European guest.

Shimazu stops, turns his gaze on her

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Akira holds his gaze for a moment... bows.

And now we realize that Akira is Shimazu’s daughter. Shimazu... nods and angles for a side door. She turns to go.

Akira smiles a small smile.

Shimazu moves through the bustling hotel kitchen: cooks, servers... and two SUMO sized men standing guard. They nod respect as he passes between them.

A score of hard looking Japanese men in gray suits, white shirts, open collars, irezumi tattoos visible at necks and cuff lines are scattered around this part of the kitchen -- watching TV, playing cards, etc. Call them Shimazu’s RETAINERS.

As Shimazu passes an older, Senior Retainer stationed at the bottom of a flight of stairs:

The man inclines his head as Shimazu heads up the stairs.

Doors open and Shimazu steps onto the rooftop’s manicured garden: a stone path, a water feature, Japanese cherry trees, all framed by Osaka’s neon glow.

As Shimazu rounds a bend, a lone figure, in silhouette, gazing out over Osaka, comes into view.

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A worn and weary John Wickturns, taking in Shimazu.

Shimazu motions John towards a small and elegant tea table -- tea set, kettle, burner, two chairs -- set on the garden beneath a cherry tree.

This is an invitation to sit and a gesture of respect. John... accepts and moves to the table, bowing slightly before he sits - also a gesture of respect. There is a closeness between these two that transcends time and place; the kind that’s hard earned and life long. Shimazu sits, then pours the water into the tea pot...

John takes Shimazu in as he pours two cups, offering one to John.

Shimazu raises his cup. John does the same. They drink. Carefully place the cups down.

This hits John hard.

John simply looks at Shimazu, unwilling or unable to answer.

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John eyes Shimazu. Shimazu, for his part, takes John in -- the fatigue, the wounds...

John’s look tells him that it’s been a while.

John takes Shimazu in and Shimazu knows what he’s thinking.

Caine -- clean shaven, fresh haircut, tailored suit -- stands in front of the hotel, blind eyes locked on the obsidian doors. Chidi steps into frame. Arrayed around him are a group of SIX MYRMIDONS, each wearing the Marquis' Fleur de Lis pin.

Chidi looks at Caine with contempt and heads up the hotel stairs, Myrmidons in tow as, behind them, a black tactical bus rolls by, turning into the hotel’s underground parking structure.

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A beat and Caine pulls the locket from his pocket, runs his thumb over.

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Akira is at the front desk when the elevator doors open and Chidi and the Myrmidons enter. A half dozen Myrmidons spread out -- like any other guest -- some making their way to the bar, others meandering through the lobby.

The Tracker, enjoying a steak at the bar... smiles as Chidi, alone, approaches Akira who is at her desk.

Akira looks up. The professional smile freezes on her face when she sees the small Fleur de Lis pin on his jacket.

Then quickly and professionally, she makes the Myrmidons spread out in the lobby and bar.

She heads out. The Tracker raises a finger, beckoning the hostess:

Then he cuts his steak in half and offers the half to his dog who wolfs it down.

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He reaches for an elegant cabinet, opens it, pulls out a bottle of Yamazaki 25 and pours to glasses. Offers one to John.

John raises his glass. Shimazu studies John for a beat. He’s not wrong. He raises his. They’re about to drink when Akira rounds the path.

She stops mid sentence when she sees John. Before she can react, Shimazu’s glare freezes her. Her gaze flits between the men.

Everything he needs to say to her is encapsulated in that one word: “guest.” She knows not to question it.

John stands.

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Shimazu strides out. Akira glares hate at John. She doesn’t know him but she knows the consequence of his being here.

Shimazu appears from a door behind the front counter and heads for Chidi. As he approaches:

Chidi eyes Shimazu, then takes a step--

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Shimazu, recognizing the voice, turns to face Caine who has silently entered the lobby and is focused on Chidi:

Caine nods respect to Shimazu.

Caine... nods and Shimazu understands that Caine is not here of his own volition.

The two old friends share a moment. Neither wants to be here, and neither wants to fight the other.

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This bites Caine. This is a man trapped between what he knows is right and what he must do.

Shimazu’s eyes move to one of the BELLBOYS -- one with an earbud visible in his ear. The man makes a subtle sign with one hand: a code...Shimazu knows the High Table Soldiers are already in his building.

In that moment, we understand that both these men are fighting for the same thing in different ways.

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Shimazu turns his icy and unflinching gaze on Chidi, then glances at the Bellboy who utters a command.

A score of Shimazu’s Retainers armed with bows and arrows appear from behind the mezzanine railings even as Bellboys and Doormen hit and kick pieces of furniture and counters. Hidden compartments snap open revealing bladed weapons. Within seconds, all are armed.

Shimazu eyes Caine... then turns his gaze on Chidi.

Caine hears it all and knows what this means. He shakes his head ever so slightly--

Caine turns and walks away.

Two Myrmidons step forward. As the first’s hand touches Shimazu’s wrist, Shimazu breaks it. Then, eyes on Chidi, he utters a single word:

Archers lose their arrows. Most stick in the Myrmidon’s Kevlar lined suits: one in Chidi’s shoulder, three in the chest of particularly large Myrmidon, etc. One arrow slides over a Myrmidon’s collar and through his throat. He goes down, gurgling blood.

Chidi eyes the dying Myrmidon without emotion. He breaks the arrow stuck in his arm off. The big Myrmidon shatters three shafts with a sweep of his arm. Others pull the arrows out.

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The Myrmidons go to guns and blades as Shimazu and his men engage; Shimazu catching a thrown sword even as Chidi draws his cut down lever action .45.

Shimazu’s faster! The blade’s coming down on Chidi’s hand when Caine’s sword, drawn from the cane, blocks it!

Bullets and shafts cut through the lobby as men fight in ones and twos.

Men and projectiles cut between Shimazu and Caine, separating them. Shimazu cuts a Myrmidon down, lops off the hand of another as two of Shimazu’s men attack Caine! His sword is a blur slicing one man’s throat and gutting the second as Chidi shoots two more.

As men drop, Shimazu pulls away, exiting the way he came.

Chidi pans, searching for him... turns to a Myrmidon:

The High Table Soldiers move up the stairwells...

John looks out over the city. Akira is a dozen feet away, looking in a different direction.

John turns his head, taking her in.

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A beat and John focuses on two approaching Retainers. They stop at Akira. One whispers in her ear. She turns to John:

John looks at her, then past her into the darkness. A shadow moves within a shadow.

THWACK! THWACK! Flash suppressed rounds slam into the two Retainers as John draws his gun fires!

Akira bangs her fist against the tea table. A drawer slides open to reveal a bow and arrows. In one smooth motion, she grabs the bow and four shafts and looses arrows. Two find their mark as she and John, weapons lined, close the distance on a High Table Tactical team as cherry blossoms rain down on them, surreal in the city’s neon glow.

When it’s done, seven High Table Soldiers are dead.

She angles for a side door in the rooftop’s circular structure, pushes it open to reveal a circular staircase.

John and Akira head down as a Tactical Team comes up. Contact. Shots exchanged. High Table Soldiers are dropped.

Two levels down, Akira pushes through another door. She and John step into the Mezzanine level.

Motion ahead. Akira raises her bow. John puts a hand on it as Shimazu, with three of his men, appear from a corner. The two groups meet and move together towards the escalators. As they walk.

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John... nods. The escalators loom ahead. Then motion. High Table Soldiers.

And contact as High Table Soldiers come at the group from multiple angles. John cuts a half dozen down, Akira and Shimazu the rest.

Then they split, Shimazu and Akira, with his remaining men down the hall, and John angling towards the exhibition hall.

Gunfire rocks the kitchen. Plates and glasses shatter, containers of rice spill out as High Table soldiers and Shimazu’s men fire on each other. Arrows push the soldiers back.

ANGLE ON Chidi, his back to the wall in the hall just outside the kitchen as more arrows slam into the wall. Caine is next to him, along with a half dozen Myrmidons and Solders.

Chidi nods to a solider who opens an electrical panel and turns off the breaker. Lights turn off, casting the kitchen in to semi-darkness, the only illumination coming from abandoned gas burners, flames throwing long shadows on the walls.

Caine inclines his head, tracking for sound: a Retainers foot sliding across spilled rice, another pulling a bowstring taught, a bead of sweat falling from another’s chin... and he moves, gun firing and sword a blur.

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Cuts down the closest retainers and slides laterally down an aisle, pulling smallmotion sensors (some magnetized some with an adhesive backing)from his jacket and clamping them onto surfaces.

As Retainers move to attack him, they break the infrared beams and the sensorsding. Caine keys on that sound and moves. In this enclosed environment, with its low light, Caine can effectively see behind him and around corners.

As he gets between Retainers, he affixes a motion sensor to one’s back. As the man moves, the sensor dings on his fellow Retainers and Caine strikes!

Retainers fall. Caine’s blade stops a half inch from a COOK who’s holding a cleaver up... Caine moves on.

In moments all that remain are the Sumos. One of the Sumos roars and charges Caine who drops to one knee andslicesthe Sumo’s left leg. The man tumbles, arteries spewing blood.

The second Sumo roars and attacks. Caine's sword is a blur, punching into the front of his neck and out the back. The big man falls. Silence. Then the lights snap back on and Chidi strides in.

As he passes by Caine, Caine blocks his path with a bloody sword. His contempt for Chidi is evident in every syllable.

Chidi eyes the sword and the blood stain on his suit. Pushes the sword away. To his men:

He pulls away, sliding a bucket in front of Caine as he passes.

John moves through the Exhibition Hall -- weapons displays, art, light, etc. Figures appear up ahead, flittering through exhibits. High Table Soldiers.

He drops one, two, three, four! Out. Reloads and repeats-- never pausing, always moving -- drops five, six! Clicks empty. Is reloading when a Myrmidon hits him bodily, driving him through a series of display cases.

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Glass shatters and weapons clatter to the floor. John’s hands find cruelly curved long knives as the Myrmidon closes. They’re a blur as they cut the man to pieces. He drops.

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More appear. John throws one knife, another, a spear. Grabs a bow and fires! Breaks the bow on an attackers face.

Rolls away as another fires on him, grabbing a pair of nunchaku as he regains his feet and lays into the Soldier, breaking his arm first, then his neck. Shattering another’s helmet. Braining another. Breaking the nunchaku on yet another’s ballistic breast plate, and driving the shattered handle into another’s eye.

As the man falls, John grabs a wakizashi and guts the last two Soldiers.

Bodies thump to the glass littered floor. John picks up one of the men’s weapons, checks the load, holsters it, is turning when he freezes!

The soft sound of the song from Caine's locket echoes.

A beat and Caine steps out of the shadow of an exhibit about ten yards from John, blocking his exit.

And both draw and fire!Caine moving laterally, John diving for cover as more exhibits shatter.

John ends up with his back to a large rectangular glass case. Looks for Caine who’s lost in shadow. John does a quick tactical check of his magazine. He’s light. He’s looking for an exit when he hears glass sliding. Hazards a look.

Caine approaches, gun in his right hand, drawn sword in his left, wrists crossed for stability and gun control. The sword’s tip touches the glass case,scrapes against it as he approaches.

Which is when John sees Caine’s blind eyes. He didn’t know.

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John tries to move away. Glass shifts under his feet. He ducks down as Caine’s blade comes around the corner. Caine passes by John who stands. Crunch! Caine’s sword shifts, cutting in front of him, freezing John who can’t get his gun lined. A frozen moment, then:

Caine swings the sword and pivots, firing, even as John rotates, firing. Both miss but John’s off balance. A blow sends him reeling. A kick propels him through an exhibit, shattering it.

John rolls as Caine’s sword slams down where his head had been. He grabs a katana from the floor as he regains his feet, turning in time to block Caine’s attack. Weapons are a blur as the two men dance over broken glass, the impacts bone jarring and teeth rattling. Caine pivots, swinging the cane low and sweeping John’s legs out from under him.

Caine closes, sliding around John’s attack, cutting John across the shoulder! More blows exchanged, fast. Caine's sword grazes John’s neck and a line of blood paints the floor. Caine is dismantling John. John lunges for Caine, trying to get inside, which is a mistake. Caine wraps John’s arm up, drawing him in even as he draws his Glock andpresses it against John’s heart,

Caine pulls the trigger--

--CLICK!

Caine's magazine falls to the ground even as John pushes on the Glock’s slide, releasing the chambered round.

A frozen moment as the two, heads close, “look” at one another. Caine shifts his weight, sending John reeling. On his back, John grabs a wakizashi. Caine cuts it in half.

Caine is closing on John when--

BANG! A shot rings out, hitting a glass tower. It sheers and shattered glass tumbles through the hall!

Caine, disoriented, moves for cover as John looks for the source of the incoming fire.

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HIS POV: The outline of a dog and a man on the balcony on the opposite side of the hall.

John gets up and runs.

Caine hears it, moves to intercept but bullets rain down, forcing him back.

NIGHT

The Tracker pulls back and runs, the dog at his heels.

Shimazu and Akira moving down the exterior hallway. A door looms ahead.

A door opens and John pushes out of a doorway into the bamboo grove.

Motion all around as he enters the bamboo, angling for the back gate.

CRANE UP: John seen from above. High Table Soldiers and Myrmidons all around, searching.

ANGLE ON John, as he comes around a stand of bamboo, kills one High Table Soldier. Another. Clicks empty. Kills another with his bare hands. He’s reaching for the dead man’s gun when he sees the Fleur de Lis pin on his vest. John tears it off, regards it as--

--behind him, High Table Soldiers emerge from the shadows. One has a bead on John. Another.

A pile of bamboo leaves shifts! Before John can process what, the Malinois springs forth in a blur of motion and leaps, hitting the closest Soldier, jaws closing on the man’s throat as they go down. Heads and guns turn to the dog--

THWACK! THWACK!THWACK!

Three High Table Soldiers drop instantly.

John swings around, stops. The Tracker is there, rifle slung over his back, tied down Colt 45 at his hip.

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John thinks about raising his weapon and the Tracker draws! This man isn’t fast, he’s lightning fast.

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John focuses on a tattoo just visible on The Tracker’s forearm: the amalgam of a skull and a paw, with bones and “K- 9” beneath; the mark of a Special Forces dog handler. Above it is another tattoo, this of the Special Forces Combat Tracking and Coutertracking Group.

The Tracker pulls the flip phone from its belt clip, checks it. The number is... going up.

Footfalls crunch over dried brush. High Table Soldiers.

The Tracker fires right over both of John’s shoulders!

The Soldiers drop, holes in their heads. More are coming.

John’s eyes follows The Tracker as he disappears into shadow, the dog padding after him.

John heads for the back gate -- a heavy duty gate with an old fashioned lock. John slides the lock to the side to reveal a keypad. He punches in a code. The locking mechanism disengages and he pushes the door open and steps into Osaka.

Simple and elegant -- altar, urns, gravel, hanging chimes, a bridge spanning a tranquil pool that glows with reflected light.

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A Myrmidon’s body crashes into frame, an arrow through his head.

PULL BACK to Akira as she fires arrow after arrow, driving shafts through helmets and body armor, pinning attackers to columns and walls.

Arrows spent, she runs at an attacker, swinging the bow. The impact shatters the man’s face and the bow. She draws two knives and rolls as a Myrmidon fires, regains her feet and slashes the man’s throat. A second is turning on her when she slams a knife into his temple.

Another gets a bead on her. Shethrows a knife right into his throat, runs, pulling it out as he falls, rolling between a big Myrmidon’s legs and slicing his crotch!

Simultaneously, Shimazu weaves between columns as a Myrmidon tries to shoot him. Suddenly, he is UP CLOSE on the Myrmidon. Now we see what this man can do with his bare hands.

In the close quarters of this combat, the Myrmidon’s advantage is lost. Shimazu unleashes two strikes -- solar plexus and throat -- and the man crumples to the ground.

He turns in time to see a Myrmidon grappling with Akira. The big man’s choking the life out of her when Shimazu cuts his throat.

He helps his daughter up. They turn to cross the bride... stop.

Caine stands at the far end, blocking their path.

Akira, cut and bleeding, moves before Shimazu can stop her, sprinting at Caine. She goes airborne, knife held high. Last second, Caine shifts his weight. She misses him, lands, rolls to her feet, leans forward to attack--

She freezes. Caine focuses on Shimazu who approaches.

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Shimazu doesn’t bother responding. He simply draws his katana, discards the scabbard and raises the sword over his head. Caine, completely still, nods sadly as though he expected this answer. He shifts his weight, senses locked on Shimazu.

And they move, blades flashes TWICE, so quick the movement is nearly imperceptible. A beat--

--and Shimazu FALLS TO HIS KNEES. BLOOD dripping from a wounds and puddling on the platform.

This freezes Akira. Shimazu struggles to his feet.

Caine shakes his head at the futility of it all as Shimazu rises... attacks. Blades flash. Shimazu’s sword clatters away and he drops to one knee as blood blossoms from a shoulder wound. He’s reaching for his sword when Caine's foot clamps down on Shimazu’s right wrist.

Caine's blade drops, severing Shimazu’s right thumb from his hand. Blood flows from the stump.

Akira tenses. A look from Shimazu freezes her.

Shimazu reaches for his sword with his left hand now. Face pale and glistening with sweat, he rises once again.

Caine nods understanding. These men, like John Wick, are born from the same furnace, molded by the same tools and tempered with the same training. Both men know full well how this ends. Shimazu raises his sword.

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Shimazu swings. Caine's sword is a blur. Shimazu’s head separates from his body and Shimazu falls!

Akira stares--

She lunges forward. Caine’s sword tip moves to her throat, stopping her. His hand quivers ever so slightly and we realize the pain Shimazu’s death caused and will continue to cause him. Though he could kill Akira, he won’t.

Akira stares at Caine for a long moment... tears herself away, backs away... disappearing into the night.

We stay with Caine for a beat as he kneels by his old friend, finding the katana, placing it over Shimazu’s chest. He closes his eyes and mutters a prayer for a dead friend.

John makes his way through the all by deserted platform * towards a waiting train. *

John steps into the train car. Looks left. Empty. Then right. *

Akira has just entered from the opposite side of the car. She * says nothing and in that moment John knows Shimazu is dead. *

A beat and John makes his way to a seat. Sits. *

Doors close and the train glides away from the platform as * she approaches John. *

John doesn’t answer. She lines a gun on his head. He doesn’t flinch.

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John looks right down the barrel of the gun.

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A beat and she lowers the gun, sits heavily in the seat * opposite John on the other side of the aisle. She’s mourning * and defeated and angry. *

AKIRA * He was here for you. Because of * what you did. *

John takes her in. Doesn’t answer. She’s right and he knows * it. He turns his head away and looks out the window. *

JOHN * Let it go. *

She raises her head, tear streaked eyes burning into John who* is now looking directly at her. *

The train’s intercom chimes. The train slows as the automated* voice indicates the next stop. *

AKIRA * ...I can’t. *

John deflates just a bit. Akira rises, walks to the doors. * They hiss open. *

She eyes him for a beat, then: *

AKIRA * Goodbye, Mr. Wick.

She steps out, leaving John alone with his demons. *

Doors close. *

A beat and John opens his hand. Resting in his palm is the * FLEUR DE LIS PIN he took from a dead Myrmidon; The Marquis's * coat of arms. *

Hold on that pin as the sound of the train builds... *

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Establishing: The Eiffel Tower rises above the waking city.

A telex spits out a page. A tattooed hand tears it. The hand belongs to a French SUICIDE GIRL.

She walks to a counter and places the telex in a bin by SUICIDE GIRL #2 who picks it up and scans it, then lifts an old rotary phone, dials.

SUICIDE GIRL #2 John Wick. Open contract increased to twenty-four million, U.S.

PULL BACK TO reveal a line of EuropeanSUICIDE GIRLS on phones...

PULL BACK SOME MORE to reveal the large and open multi-level space populated by SUICIDE GIRLS at typewriters, telex machines and old IBM computers. High Table iconography on walls and equipment.

ANGLE ON a glowing green screen. Cell numbers with global prefixes scroll by. DISSOLVE to--

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The Malinois sniffs John’s cup.

PULL BACK TO INCLUDE The Tracker looking out at the city, almost like he’s waiting.

His PAGER buzzes. There is just a number: $24. He smiles.

Behind The Tracker, a shadow within a shadow moves. Caine seemingly materializes right next to The Tracker.

The suddenness and the silence of it scares the shit out of The Tracker and the dog. Both flinch!

The Tracker eyes Caine who doesn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to him or the dog. The Tracker then glances at the Malinois. ‘Really?’If a dog could shrug, it would.

Both The Tracker and the dog watch as Caine moves around the space. There is an undeniable intensity to Caine. He’s just killed a man he once called a friend...

Caine pulls the tin of chocolates from his pocket, takes a chocolate. As he does:

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Caine takes a biscuit from the table and holds it out for the dog. It tenses, ears dropping back and teeth appearing.

The Tracker smiles just a bit, enjoying the anticipation of the inevitable mauling to come--

And the dog gentlytakes the treat from Caine.

And that is an object lesson in dominance. The Tracker’s smile fades just a bit. When Caine speaks, any veneer of civility is gone, replaced flinty intensity.

The Tracker tenses, slightly, his hand shifting closer to his holstered weapon. Both Caine and the dog sense it.

The tension is broken as Chidi appears. Without saying a word, he lines his gun on The Tracker’s head.

Chidi pulls the hammer back.

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And then Chidi feels something no one wants to feel: a Malinois snout on his crotch, slowly raising its head and his testicles with it. Chidi is... unimpressed.

Sheets of rain spatter the still smoking remains of the once proud hotel.

Winston, his back to us, head naked to the rain, stands on the sidewalk, watching.

Winston takes a FLASK out of his coat pocket. Perhaps it’s half-empty after the day he’s had. He offers up the flask as a toast to his former home, now just rubble and a hole.

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A figure in a tattered overcoat, worn umbrella, shuffles up. Stops next to the dog. The Bowery King.

The King looks out onto the rubble. Winston offers him the flask. The King takes it and takes a long pull.

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This bites. A beat.

The King LAUGHS. Big, booming. Winston waits.

The Bowery King eyes Winston. Dead serious now.

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Winston considers this a second. He has no choice.

The Bowery King... smiles. Perhaps for the first time he sees in Winston a man laid completely bare. He extends his hand. In it is a card. Winston takes it. It is blank save a single HOBO SYMBOL.

Establishing: An elegant stable.

The Marquis stands in the center of the ring as a half dozen riders canter around on their Lippizaners to music. The Harbinger is next to him.

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The Harbinger eyes The Marquis for a beat, then strides away.

AA52 INT. PARIS / EQUESTRIAN RING / ANTECHAMBER - DAY AA52

ANGLE ON the Malinois, eyes tight on something she very likely wants to kill, fuck, or eat.

The objects of her malicious intent, lust or appetite are two IRISH WOLFHOUNDS -- large, powerful, aloof and superior.

If these dogs could look down on other dogs they would, which makes the Malinois want to kill, fuck or eat them even more, possibly in that order.

ANGLE ON The Tracker, leaning against a post, head down, one knee bent in a classic western pose. He raises his head, eyes Caine sidelong.

Chidi and Myrmidons are arrayed around the three.

Doors swing open and Chidi motions the Tracker in. The Tracker pulls himself off the wall and follows Chidi in.

The Tracker, Chidi behind him enters. The Marquis waits.

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Chidi kicks The Tracker in the back of his knees, driving him to his knees. The dog growls. A look from The Tracker silences him but it remains locked on Chidi, muscles tensing.

Chidi draws his gun and shoves it against the back of The Tracker’s head.

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The Marquis is almost amused by this sentiment...

The Marquis studies The Tracker for a long moment.

He motions Chidi to release The Tracker who pulls himself up.

The Marquis holds The Tracker’s gaze for a beat, as though he is committing the man’s face to his memory. Then he approaches The Tracker. Extends his hand. A beat as The Tracker reaches for the hand with his own. Hands clasp.

The Marquis slams The Tracker’s hand onto a nearby wooden saddle horse and -- THUNK! --drives a stiletto through The Tracker’s hand, pinning it to the wood!

The Malinois’ hackles go up, teeth bare, and muscles tense for an attack. Chidi swings its gun to the dog!

The dog doesn’t attack, nor does it relax. It remains stock still, locked on The Marquis, muscles quivering.

The dog... steps back, relaxing just a little bit.

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The Tracker eyes the Marquis who’s looking at the dog. He’s found the Tracker’s soft underbelly and both men know it.

A beat and The Tracker eats the pain as his other hand grasps the knife’s pommel. The Marquis places his hands on The Tracker’s, stopping him from pulling it out.

The Tracker eyes The Marquis as the Frenchman removes his hands... which is when he realizes that all of the Myrmidons, and The Marquis, bear some scar or mark. The choice is now The Tracker’s.

Eyes locked on The Marquis, The Trackerslowly PULLS his hand towards him - the knife RIPPING through bone and sinew as it makes its way from the center of his hand to the joint between his middle and ring fingers. It takes everything he has not to scream.

ANGLE on the dog, suffering The Tracker’s distress.

The Tracker pulls his torn hand free from the saddle horse... and extends it towards The Marquis who... reaches out and shakes the bloody hand.

The Tracker... pulls away. Walks out, dog padding beside him. Valet’s open the doors to reveal Caine. The Tracker walks by him without a word.

Caine enters.

The Marquis focuses on Caine.

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The Marquis strides by Caine. As he passes, Caine’s cane snaps up, blocking his path. Chidi and Myrmidons tense. The Marquis studies Caine.

The Marquis pushes by. As he exits.

Chidi and The Myrmidons melt away, leaving Caine alone. A beat and he opens his LOCKET. That music pours out.

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Establishing: the two mile long 800 foot wide island * bisecting the East River stretches out before us. To the west * is Manhattan, FDR Drive and the UN Building prominent, to the * east, Queens. Spanning the island is the Queensboro Bridge. *

We PUSH IN ON the island, passing over manicured lawns to * white marble walls. Over them to an exterior mausoleum * courtyard. *

Simple. Elegant. Geometric. Winston stands in front of a * large stone plaque, “CHARON” carved into the living stone. No * epitaph. He lights a candle, placing it on a small ledge set * under the plaque. *

ANOTHER ANGLE TO INCLUDE John standing behind Winston who * doesn’t turn. *

WINSTON * ...Jonathan. *

JOHN * My condolences... He was a good * man. *

WINSTON * Yes. * (turns to face John) * And taken for our sins. *

The line hangs there like the indictment that it is. The * implication is clear: John Wick (and Winston) is responsible * for Charon’s death. *

John extends his hand. Inside is the FLEUR DE LIS PIN. *

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John turns to go. *

JOHN * With him dead. *

WINSTON * And then? *

John hesitates and doesn’t answer. Perhaps he doesn’t have an* answer. Winston takes in John with tired eyes. Shakes his * head at the futility of it all. *

JOHN * How?

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John considers. *

JOHN * ...I don’t sit at The Table, * Winston. *

WINSTON * Your family does. They can issue * the challenge and nominate you as * their proxy. *

JOHN * I don’t have a family. The Ruska * Roma tore my ticket. *

WINSTON * Then go back and fucking beg them * to mend it... or pick out a plot. *

John takes in the wall of the mausoleum... shifts his gaze to* Winston who holds out theHOBO CARD The Bowery King gave him. *

JOHN * ...What do you get out of this? *

WINSTON * What you are so very good at... * revenge. *

John eyes Winston for a long moment... and takes the card. * PULL BACK as Winston turns back to Charon’s plaque and John * walks away from a good man’s grave. *

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Berlin’s iconic Brandenburg Gate. Even at this hour, there are tourists and street performers. A long shadow crosses the center arch. Then a figure emerges from the west:John Wick, a man alone and apart.

BERLIN

As he passes by, a JUGGLER tracks him... lets the balls fall, and makes a phone call...

Across the street, watching both Wick and The Juggler isThe Tracker and the dog.

John walks down the empty sidewalk. Across the street, a cigarette butt glows bright to reveal another FREELANCER. The man stubs out his cigarette and follows John. A third FREELANCER joins him.

As they move away, The Tracker and the dog appear...

John approaches a HOMELESS MAN sitting by a burning barrel. He drops a gold coin into the man’s cup.

The Homeless Man looks up at John...

The Homeless man offers up a card with a HOBO SYMBOL: a triangle with “hands.” He looks east. John follows his gaze. In the distance, illuminated by a streetlight, is that same HOBO SIGN scrawled on a covered bus stop.

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John takes the card with a nod and starts to walk even as a Freelancer rounds the corner, tracking John.

Neither John nor the Freelancer notices The Tracker and his dog step out of shadow behind them.

The streets are dark and quiet as John passes by that same HOBO triangle with “hands” etched into a brick wall.

He turns a corner. Across the street is the SYMBOL carved over the door of aTAXIDERMY SHOP. He crosses, bangs on the door.

A long moment and the door opens a crack to reveal a WOMAN (70s) -- pale skin, blue eyes, bifocals, shock of white hair, dressed all in black.FRAU GOETZ.

John holds the card with the HOBO SYMBOL out. A beat and she opens the door.

It closes. PULL BACK to Freelancers appear, panning for John. PULL BACK some more to The Tracker and his dog watching them.

Frau leads John through the musty shop filled with dusty, TAXIDERMIZED ANIMALS: dogs, sheep... a WOLF. Down a hallway to a door. She fumbles through a ring of keys... finally finds the key she’s looking for, unlocks the door and pushes it open.

Racks of high-end rifles, pistols, knives and tactical gear line the walls. The very best of the best.

Frau Goetz slowly and meticulously reaches into the cabinet and places the weapon and ammo on a velvet mat. Then,with a speed and surety that defies her age, she expertly breaks the weapon down, reassembles itand slides it to John who is... impressed. He takes the gun, checks balance and action.

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She motions to a H&K-VP9.

John reaches into his pocket and comes up... empty.

Frau Goetz puts a hand on the Glock, pulling it back towards her and indicates a sign over the counter: “NO CREDIT” in half a dozen languages, including English.

Four Freelancers have converged on the front door. One picks the lock. It snaps open. The door swings open. The LEAD Freelancer signals his men to spread out. Three head for an adjacent alley as he enters

John... takes his WATCH off, places it next to the gun. Frau Goetz eyes the watch -- dented, face cracked -- then John... A beat and she opens a drawer and tosses his watch on a pile of OTHER EXPENSIVE WATCHES.

She reaches down and pulls a box from under the counter.

John examines the contents: a dozen old revolvers.

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John takes one of the revolvers -- a .38 Webley, cracks the breach. Dust puffs out of the barrel. He glances at the old woman skeptically.

Footfalls are audible above. Dust falls from cracks in the ceiling.

Frau steps slowly to a dusty box of loose rounds, pulls out... ONE round.

John gives her a look. She reluctantly pulls out another... a third... a reluctant fourth bullet. So FOUR bullets all together. This is all his watch buys him here.

John’s about to say something when a shadow crosses the doorway above.

In one motion, John loads one round, lines and fires!

The Freelancer takes the round in the forehead and falls down the stairs!

John glances at her... heads for the stairs... turns and comes back, snatches the two remaining bullets off the counter.

Then he’s moving up the stairs even as he loads the rounds.

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He’s heading for the street when -- KERCHUNK -- he hears the distinctive sound of a shotgun being pumped. He stops mid- step. Goddamnit.

Three Freelancers -- ARNO, sawed-off shot gun, KARL and GUNTER, automatics -- come out of the gloom, facing off against John.

John... raises the revolver. The Freelancers tense.

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...Slowly, with two fingers, John draws the gun.

John turns, slowly.

John... flips the revolver so that he’s holing the barrel, holds it out to Arno.

Eyes shift to the Tracker as he emerges from shadow, gun still strapped.

The three Freelancers glance at each other and go to guns--

--John flips the revolver, catches it and fires. The round hits Arno in the forehead, blowing out the back of his head--

--as The Tracker quick draws and fires, putting a round into Karl--

--and both John and The Tracker shoot Gunter, blowing him back.

John pivots, gun lined on The Tracker who has his .45 lined on John. Neither fires.

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John notes The Tracker’s heavily bandaged hand.

A long moment... then his answer:

Only John’s eyes move as, a few feet from him atcrotch level, white teeth appear out of inky shadow that resolves into the dog.

The Tracker turns and walks into darkness. A beat and the dog growls, then pulls back into shadow...

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An old Eastern Orthodox church set in the heart of Berlin’s Russian expat community.

An elderly Russian WOMAN behind a counter in a small alcove on the side of the Narthex slides a basket to a BABUCHKA who retrieves a .410 Jury handgun and slides it into her bag.

John’s next. He holds out the Webley. The breach drops open of its own volition. The Woman behind the counter eyes the gun.

She... points to the basket and we see the Ruska Roma tattoos on her hands and fingers. He puts the gun in and gets a ticket, then walks into the Church’s nave.

Old school. Candles. Stained glass. An alter. A half dozen PARISHIONERS: pensioners, a babushka, etc. John pauses to dip his fingers into Holy Water, crosses himself and moves down the aisle towards the altar where an old PRIEST in collar and robe prepares for a service.

BOOM! A round SLAMS into John knocking back a good ten feet.

He stares up at the old Priest who’s holding a sawed off 12 gauge.

Men grab John’s arms.

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John’s eyes squint as he tries to focus but the light is bright and the peripheries of the room dim.

His wrists are tied behind his back, his feet are bound by CHAINS that are connected to an eyebolt set in the floor and a cable hooked to a HYDRAULIC LIFT is looped around his neck.

KATIA, late 20s, dark hair and eyes, steps into the light.

As John’s eyes acclimate, the large room comes into focus. Thirty-six RUSKA ROMA -- dark hair and eyes, tattoos, tailored suits similar to John’s -- stand on a series of steps in front of John. Between him and the Ruska Roma is a large and ornately carved baroque chair: THE THRONE.

Katia circles John...

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...and pulls up his shirt, revealing the brand over the tattoo on his back.

She nods. A Ruska Roma pushes a button on the winch control panel. Motors whirr and the winch rolls in cable, lifting John up off the floor. He strains against the tension, choking.

John stares, anger cutting the pain.

Katia just watches John die. This is how it ends.

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...Katia’s eyes flick to the old Priest who stares at John... then shifts his gaze to her. A beat and he approaches, whispers in her ear. They speak in hushed tones...

She returns her focus to the dying John Wick... considers him for a long moment as his life drains.

Finally, she motions to the winch operator. Tension’s released and John falls, collapsing to the chair.

Katia approaches, looming over John.

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Katia eyes John... nods.

KLAUS -- big, powerful, face, beard and body studded with metal and marked with tattoos, steps forward.

And Klaus hits John full in the face. John eyes him. WTF?

And Klaus hits him again!

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The Tracker eyes his phone. The bounty has gone up yet again. A beat and he dials...

The Marquis walks up a wide staircase toward the auditorium, phone to his ear, phone cable trailing behind as opera plays in the background.

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The Tracker’s tone changes. That veneer of invincibility he’s so carefully cultivated cracks just a bit.

The Marquis feels The Tracker’s distress as he crests the stairs into the Auditorium.

The Tracker’s about to respond when the line goes dead.

He rubs his head with his hands. Shakes his head. Curses under his breath. The dog looks up at him with sympathetic eyes.

A massive structure rising up over the river with a long neon lit archway leading to the entrance. The muffled sound of techno throbs.

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CLOSE ON a felt gambling table. Cards with elaborate High Table iconography. Stacks of gold coins. A gold plated ivory handled diamond encrusted .357 Magnum.

Cards are flipped. Winning hand is by the .357. A fleshy hand covered in gold rings and diamonds lifts the Magnum. BOOM!

ANGLE ON black patent leather shoes as blood spatters them, accompanied by the sound of a body thudding to the floor.

PAN UP -- black pants, white shirt, suit and vest, black tie, to John Wick.

His hands are bound in front of him. On either side are big German-Turkish GANGSTERS, and towering over him, is Klaus.

They are just inside the illuminated area set within a massive space with concrete walls and high ceilings, both of which are beyond vision. An overhead fan casts long shadows over the players and light plays off the Persian rugs adorning the floor.

REVERSE TO KILLA HARKAN -- big, powerful but long since gone to seed, his six pack abs replaced by a tractor tire concealed by a fine linen suit and Turkish inspired vest -- seated the gaming table with two men. He owns the club and the gun.

A beat and he turns his gaze to John... then to Klaus who is holding out a an onyx and ivory card out.

Killa nods to one of the Gangsters who takes it, opens it and hands it to Killa who scans it... smiles. Light glints off a big gold tooth. When he speaks, the accent, as well as the words, is a mix of German and Turkish, the tone nasally and high pitched.

With that, Klaus turns and walks away. When he’s gone, Killa then turns to John. Claps his hands.

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Killa motions to John and one of his crew cuts John’s bonds, freeing his hands.

John’s eyes move to a bottle of Blanton’s Special Reserve and three glasses.

Killa holds Katia’s letter over an open flame. It ignites. As he watches it burn with a disturbing fascination:

John’s eyes shift as Caine steps out of shadow. A moment of tension as John thinks about killing Caine.

Caine nods. Killa, releasing the ash, snorts.

Killa’s eyes are on John who hasn’t taken his off of Caine’s.

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Killa grabs the .357 and lines it on John. Pulls the hammer back. This gets Caine’s attention.

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Caine shifts his weight. Conversations stop. Men rise, weapons visible.

Caine... inclines his head, tracking the movement in the space, keying on small details... breath, the creak of leather.

The doors swing open. Two GANGSTERS enter. The Tracker is between them and the dog pads after him. A third trails, carrying The Tracker’s backpack.

They stop in front of Killa. The Gangster carrying the pack dumps it on the table.

Killa... lowers the .357 and leans in to the pack, looking at the contents. Whatever’s in there is impressive.

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Killa eyes Caine and The Tracker.

Killa flicks a finger and the other players rise, giving up their seats.

John glances at The Tracker -- beginning to understand him now. The Tracker sits.

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Caine sits.

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A beat and John sits.

ANGLE ON the dog, eyes tight on John’s crotch. A beat and John... crosses his legs.

Killa takes a deck of cards, spreads them out, flips and fans and waterfalls them with surprising dexterity before dealing five cards to each.

John eyes his cards. The Tracker pulls only the top edge back. Caine doesn’t bother to check.

The Tracker discards one card.

John slides two cards to Killa who deals him two.

This surprises John. He didn’t know.

John... slides two cards to Killa who deals him two.

Caine... nods. Passes his hand over his cards. He’ll hold.

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John lays his cards down. Aces and eights.

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Caine lays his cards down. Four nines.

The Tracker lays down a Royal flush.

Killa surveys the very impressive hands. Takes a long pull from his inhaler.

Killa flips a 2 over.

Killa flips a second 2 over. A large GANGSTER steps into the light behind Caine.

Killa flips a third 2 over and a few more large Gangsters appear from shadow...

Killa flips a fourth 2 over. A few more Gangsters materialize behind John.

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Killa flips a fifth2 over.

A long pause. Killa eyes John...

He leans forward, and flashes John a big toothy smile showcasing a big gold tooth.

And things happen very fast:

John snatches up cards andthrows them. They cut into two of Killa’s men, slicing their faces. Same motion, John rolls a card and jams it intoKilla’s right eye, then slices the big man’s throat with it.Blood spurts and Killa gurgles!

Caine’s cane flashes, cutting down three Turks in as many slashes.

The Tracker falls back on his chair, evading a straight razor as the dog leaps over him, tearing the attacker’s throat out!

The dog lands on the man as he falls, then latches on to The Tracker’s pack and flips it to him. The Tracker catches it, reaches in, pulling out a gun and fires!

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Then the three, plus the dog, are in motion -- Caine with his sword and gun, The Tracker with his pack and the guns and blades in it, fighting dirty when possible, John with anything he can get his hands on -- fighting on the same side as the entire room goes to guns and knives.

Killa’s on John. The two go at it. Killa is fast for a big man, and strong. A blow sends John reeling. Then he’s up, attacking Killa who pauses to take a breath, sliding behind him as one of Killa’s men tries to shoot John. The bullet hits Killa in the shoulder.

Killa throws John at the man and heads for the exit, getting out as the last of his men hit the ground, dead. John tries to follow Killa but Caine and The Tracker are blocking his way. The Tracker... shakes his head. John... nods.

The three face off for a beat... and then they try to kill each other.

Caine’s sword arcs out as John arches his back, the blade missing his carotid by a hair. He rolls, picking up one of the dead men’s guns and firing as The Tracker does the same and Caine quick draws his Glock. Nothing static about this gun fight. It is an exercise in perpetual motion with all three men constantly moving as slugs tear through the space slamming into walls.

They click empty and engage. Brutal blows. Fast. A series of combinations. A blow sends John reeling. Caine re-roads his Glock. John anticipates, grabbing Caine’s wrist. The Tracker shoots John in the chest even as John shoots him. Both go down.

John’s getting up as the dog leaps at Caine who spins, evading it, and driving his swordinto John’s shoulder! The tip pierces his suit!

Caine pushes as John tries to angle the barrel of the gun against Caine’s abdomen with one hand even as he grasps the sword’s blade with the other. Blood wells.

John... shifts aim and SHOOTS Caine’s sword. The metal sheers and the sword’s tip breaks off in John’s shoulder.Both men stumble back, Caine’s broken sword arcing, forcing John to release the Glock.

Before either Caine or the Tracker can recover, John’s running for the exit!

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John moves down the hall. The music gets louder. A door up ahead. John pushes it open and he and we are assaulted by light and sound.

Music pulses and lasers flash, refracting off the massive industrial space fitted as a night club. A DJ spins tunes. Gogo Dancers gyrate on pedestals. Patrons party.

ON John, moving, searching for Killa. Suddenly, an illuminated “wall” materializes, blocking our view of John. Then it dematerializes.

The wall is made ofwater. All around, THIN CURTAINS OF WATER shoot down out of the ceiling to the beat of the music, impossibly fast, creating an intricate MAZE OF ILLUMINATED WATER WALLS inside the club as a MASSIVE MECHANICAL SUN glides overhead.

John spots Killa moving through walls of water, heads after him.

WITH KILLA as two of his GANGSTERS approach him.

One keys an earbud.

WITH JOHN, moving through the water maze... Motion to the left. Three of Killa’s men, approaching, drawing weapons. John steps inside, leveraging one’s gun into the other’s chest, pulling the trigger, killing the man, then twisting the first’s arm up and blowing his brains out and shooting the third. John, with the gun now, angles for Killa as behind him, The Tracker and dog emerge from the VIP Gaming room.

WITH KILLA, flanked by two of his men, moving though the maze of ever shifting water walls, huffing and puffing. BOOM! One of his escorts drops. BOOM! BOOM! The other. Killa redoubles his efforts. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The bullets hit Killa squarely in the ass. He stops. Turns as John approaches, gun lined.

CLICK! John’s out. Killa... smiles/grimaces. Raises his fists and stalks towards John who drops the gun.

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Killa vs. John #2:

Both men SWING and CONNECT. The result is akin to John hitting a wall and being hit by a bus. His head rocks to the side. He spits out a spray of blood and stumbles back.

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And Killa’s on him moving with shocking speed, fists and feet tearing toward John with unbelievable velocity. John blocks a blow -- throws back one of his own. Both of them are landing punches now -- spitting blood. Killa grabs John and throws him into a wall.

Killa strides towards John -- WHEEZES -- stops, fumbles for his inhaler, holding up a finger like he wants a time out.

John stalks towards Killa, kicks him, knocking him to his ass, then grabs his head and drives it into a large water filled drainage trough. He big man kicks and spits and fights as John drowns him!

The dog sails through a wall of water, hitting John bodily. The two roll away as Killa sits up, sucking wind.

John shoves the dog. It tries to get purchase on the slick floor and fails, sliding away.

John’s focusing on Killa when rounds SLAM into John, knocking him back. He lifts his lapel up and it takes some of the damage as The Tracker appears,firing suppressed rounds. The force of the bullets knock John to the floor.

The Tracker pulls the trigger and clicks empty! He reloads as John who dives through a wall of water.

John vs. The Tracker:

The Tracker pans, tying to locate John in the ever moving maze of water... Swings around. John catches his gun. The two exchange blows. The Tracker slams his fist into the shard sticking out of John’s chest.Again! The force and pain drive John back a step. The Tracker lines his weapon. He’s about to fire when a blade cuts the rifle in half!The Tracker and John focus on Caine.

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Caine’s blade arcs, angling for John’s neck. A killing blow. The Tracker quick draws and Caine pivots, cutting the Tracker’s side arm in two as The Tracker pulls the trigger. Pieces of gun fall away. The Tracker draws a long knife and tries to cut Caine, who parries the blow. Blades spark!

John vs. Caine vs. The Tracker:

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Then both turn on John. For a moment, the three go toe to toe, allegiances constantly shifting each trying to kill the other, and both trying to kill John.What is plain is that both Caine and The Tracker need John dead.

In the midst of it all, John spots Killa moving away as both Caine and The Tracker get an advantage! They’re going to kill him when a dozen of Killa’s men appear.

John, Caine, The Tracker vs. Killa’s crew:

Caine releases, pivoting towards the attackers, getting inside them, redirecting fire and breaking joints and bones as...

...The Tracker gets between two shooters as they dump rounds into each other, grabbing a gun from one and killing another.

A shooter gets a bead on The Tracker. He’s pulling the trigger when The Malinois comes out of nowhere, taking the man’s legs out. He goes airborne and the dog reverses, leaping, teeth sinking into his throat.

John kills one of Killa’s men, a second. A third gets a bead on John. He’s about to shoot him when Caine hears the click and throws his sword. It pins the man.

John turns back to Caine who’s being pressed by one of Killa’s crew as he loses the man in the noise of the water and the music.

John hesitates, pulls Caine’s sword out of the dead man and guts Caine’s attacker with it.

Caine swings around, locked on John who presses Caine’s own, broken sword against Caine’s throat...

John drops the sword and pulls away, looking for Killa. Spots him, running.

WITH KILLA, running. John comes out of a wall of water, slamming into the big man who doesn’t seem to feel the impact. But John certainly does -- it’s like hitting a wall. Then Killa’s on him! Picking John up and slamming him against a railing some twenty odd feet above the lower level. Ham sized fists rain down on John even as he punches and kicks the big man.

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The Tracker whistles and the dog attacks, latching onto Killa’s leg. The big man grabs the dog and hurls it away, through a wall of water.

John, Caine, The Tracker and the dog vs. Killa:

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Then The Tracker’s there, firing rounds into Killa -- to no discernable effect -- clicking empty. Killa releases John and backhands The Tracker. The blow sends him reeling. Then Caine’s there, stabbing the monster of a man who catches the sword and grabs Caine by the neck, squeezing. Then the dog’s back, latching onto Killa’s leg.

Behind him, John regains his feet, grabs Killa who discards Caine and swings around, right into John’s fist which slams into the bridge of his nose -- the same strike as he was practicing on the Makiwara board. Killa stares at John... and falls, collapsing through the railing and falling some fifteen yards to the level below!.

John, Caine, The Tracker and the dog all stare at each other for a beat. Then move! The Tracker, reloads as Caine closes on John, broken sword in hand!

The Tracker fires and Caine’s sword flashes as John topples over the edge, falling to the level below, the impact mitigated by Killa’s mass.

The Tracker runs to the railing, sees John pulling Killa’s gold tooth out. He’s about to fire when John pulls away, out of his line of sight.

The Tracker turns back into the club, looking for a way down.

John runs / limps towards the exit, pushing through a mass of club patrons.

ANGLE ON The Tracker appearing some twenty yards behind John. He pulls the lever action shotgun from his pack, snaps on the barrel, locks the stock, levers a round into the chamber, ad lines the weapon on John’s back, trying to get a bead through the throngs of moving club patrons... locks on John. He’s about to pull the trigger when--

--the tip of Caine’s sword presses against his throat, freezing him.

A beat as The Tracker eyes Caine who stands there, one hand holding his sword, the other on his wide eyed and petrified “guide.” He looks back at John who is disappearing into the crowd... A beat and The Tracker lowers the weapon.

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Caine lowers his sword and starts moving away.

Caine keeps walking.

Tracker can only watch Caine melts into the crowd.

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Candles light reflects off of walls, casting long shadows over Katia who prays at a pew.

A shadow washes over her: John -- bloody, beat up, shot, with a piece of steel in his chest. He holds out his hand to reveal Killa’s gold tooth. Katia... nods.

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A red hot furnace roars under the altar, it’s light illuminating John and Katia who face each other.

The Priest -- worn leather apron over a bare chest -- places a gold bar, it’s surface acid etched with Ruska Roma symbols, into a red hot cauldron set on white hot coals.

The heat is such that the metal starts to warp and bubble until is has become liquified.

Katia and John are to the side. Using a pair of pliers, she pulls the shard of Caine’s sword -- four inches of folded steel -- out of John’s shoulder and places gauze over the wound.

John and Katia move to the Priest.

The Priest tips the cauldron over. Liquified gold pours into an intricately carved steel urn. In moments, the mold glows, radiating heat, tears of gold weeping from pinprick holes.

Katia and John each roll up their right sleeves. The two eye each other over the glow.

Then, together, they place their respective forearms over the urn. Flesh burns as liquified gold bonds with skin.

Each holds the other’s eyes and neither flinches.

They release, pulling their arms back. The brand is already forming: A wolf, the wordсемьяprominent.

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John... nods. She takes a bottle of vodka, pour two shots, offers him one. They drink.

PARIS

A beautiful morning in Paris, light reflecting off the Seine River as it flows by the Louvre.

Empty save The Marquis standing in front of ‘Liberty Leading the People’ - a striking painting by Delacroix inspired by the Three Glorious Days of the July 1930 Revolution when the people of Paris rose up against King Charles X.

ANOTHER ANGLE to include Winston standing some dozen yards away, flanked by Chidi and Myrmidons.

Chidi draws his weapon and lines it on the back of Winston’s head.

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Chidi hesitates, glances at The Marquis -- who has turned his head to take in Winston -- looking for direction.

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A flicker of something passes over The Marquis’ face.

Winston produces a leather folio from his inside breast pocket. Inside is a document, High Table stamps prominent.

The Marquis eyes the folio but doesn’t take it. He walks. Winston falls in next to him. Chidi and Myrmidons pace them.

The Marquis pauses in front of Gericault’sRaft of the Medusa.

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Chidi is about to when--

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The Marquis raises a finger, freezing Chidi.

The Marquis eyes Winston for a long moment, those cold eyes burning into him.

The Marquis turns back to the painting.

The Marquis eyes Winston.

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The Marquis starts to laugh.

Blood drains from Winston’s face as The Marquis walks away.

Bells echo across the city.

Located just across the Seine, Trocadéro Square offers the most spectacular views of the Eiffel Tower.

The tiled plaza is completely empty, save one TABLE, white tablecloth, a bottle of wine, two glasses, three chairs.

The Marquis sits. The Harbingerstands to one side. Chidi stands behind the Marquis.Winston, by the empty chair opposite The Marquis.

A dozen HIGH TABLE GUARDIANS, six male, six female, all about thirty, all sporting identical crewcuts and wearing matching suits with Mandarin collars, flank the square. Part Jesuit part Immortal, these men and women serve the interests of The Table with an unflinching, almost religious zeal. If The Table were a Church, The Harbinger would be a Cardinal, and The Guardians its warrior monks.

John appears. Approaches. Stops six feet in front of the Marquis.

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John pulls his right jacket sleeve back, then rolls up the shirt sleeve to reveal the Ruska Roma family Crest burned into his arm. The Harbinger carefully inspects it... nods, then motions John to sit. A beat and John... sits.

The Harbinger takes a seat between the two and removes a deck of old, HIGH TABLE CARDS, each embossed with family crests and symbols on their backs. He places the deck on the table. John nods. Then the Marquis. The Harbinger deals five cards down in front of each man.

Both John and The Marquis nod.

Both flip the first card. John’s is the lesser and he loses the round.

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Light catches his eye: the sun’s reflection off of Sacré Coeur Basilica, perched on the summit of Montmartre, the highest point in the city.

They flip the second cards. John’s is greater.

Cards are flipped. John’s is greater.

THE MARQUIS

You won’t take it as this is who you are, who you’ve always been. We allow you to think of yourself as some sort of Paladin or Samurai - serving nobly at the arm of your feudal Lord. Part of the comical artifice of this little world of ours. But the truth is that you are simply a killer. An orphan we plucked from the street and honed into a knife. And it is the killing that gives you purpose. And purpose gives men like you identity. (to the Harbinger) No quarter.

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Winston tenses and John’s eyes shift to The Harbinger.

Caine tenses. John’s eyes burn into The Marquis.

John looks to Winston -what the fuck? Winston shrugs his shoulders.

Winston looks back at John - see?

The Harbinger rises. John and The Marquis remain seated, eyes locked on each other.

Finally, John stands and walks away, Winston in tow. The Marquis, still seated, still in control, doesn’t rise. His words give John pause:

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John...resumes his walk as a silent Marquis stares hate after him. Winston falls in next to John and we go with them.

next to him and we go with them.

Winston eyes John... pulls a card with a HOBO SYMBOL from his jacket and offers it. John takes the card.

ANGLE ON The Marquis, watching as John and Winston walk in opposite directions.

ANOTHER ANGLE to include Caine standing behind The Marquis.

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Caine turns to go--

Hold on Caine for a beat. Then he starts walking.

PULL BACK as Caine moves away from the Marquis....

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Saint-Eustache’s flying buttresses rise up, catching the last rays of the setting sun. John enters, passing under the unflinching gaze of gargoyles carved in stone.

A Catholic PRIEST and a NUN stand at the back of the church on one side of the aisle. An Orthodox PRIEST and NUN stand on the other side. All have High Table tattoos visible on hands and necks.

CLINK! John drops a gold coin in the collection plate and walks down the aisle, by a few scattered parishioners seated on collapsible wooden chairs laid out in the cavernous space. He makes his way to a small side altar featuring Julian the Hospitaller (patron saint of, among other things, murderers). Votive candles flicker over the altar. John takes a VOTIVE CANDLE. Lights it. Places it on the altar.

The sound of a cane tap tapping on worn granite echoes. Over John’s shoulder, we see Caine approaching. He stops a dozen feet from John.

John lights a candle. The wick flares, illuminating his features and throwing long shadows.

Caine opens his LOCKET. That music softly plays.

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We finally see that inside is an picture of Caine with a beautiful young wife holding an infant daughter, Mia.

Caine snaps the locket shut.

John turns to Caine for the first time.

Caine sits.

A beat and John sits on the opposite aisle, one row in front of Caine.

PULL BACK. The two men in that great church, at once together and apart, illuminated by the setting sun’s stain glass filtered rays.

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John walks along the river Seine’s bank towards the Bir- Hakeim Bridge. Two HOMELESS MEN lean on the wall by a metal service door. They straighten as John approaches.

He holds up the card with the HOBO SYMBOL Winston gave him. One of the Homeless pushes the door open. Etched into the metal is that same HOBO SYMBOL.

A set of curving stairs open up to a large space brimming with stored art. A score of HOMELESS are arrayed about, sorting clothes and money and stolen watches and purses as music plays from a circa 1940s Diora Aga Rszradio -- worn wood, analogue dials, tubes, etc.

John turns, taking in The Bowery King, grinning at him with that half mad twinkle in his eye.

The Bowery King examines John’s shredded and shot up jacket. Peers at the wound on his shoulder. Winces.

The King produces a brand new Kevlar infused ballistic suit.

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ANGLE ON a 3 x 3 meter relief map of Paris. PULL BACK to The Marquis, standing over it.

A very tall female MYRMIDON stands to the side, waiting. Different colored flags rest on a tray next to her. Behind her is an old and very expensive 1935 Zenith Stratosphere 1000Z.

ANOTHER ANGLE to include The Harbinger and Chidi. A half dozen VALETS are arrayed around the indoor/outdoor space.

The Harbinger walks away as church bells strike midnight.

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Chidi pulls a cellphone from his pocket and dials.

We’re at the top of the tower. Antennas bristle. Just below them is a glass encased RADIO STUDIO. We PUSH INSIDE:

1970’s rock with a decidedly French twist plays as we pan over the old school radio studio: wood panels and analogue gauges. Racks of components. Vinyl records stacked. All of Paris stretches out. “On Air” sign glowing red under the station’s name: WUXIA. A set of turn tables. A gold plated microphone.

A hand -- ebony skin, long blood red fingernails decorated with diamonds -- pushes against a “transmit” button.

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Full ruby red lips graze the microphone. The voice is rich and lyrical...

John stands in front of a mirror straightening the suit. He looks good. Sharp. The D.J.’s rich and melodious voice rolls out of the old radio:

The Marquis stares at that map of Paris as the D.J.’s voice pours out of the radio.

The oldest continuously run market in the world. MEN and WOMEN work the stalls. Several -- members of LE MAIN ROUGE (The Red Hand) -- listen to the D.J.

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At the mention of John’s name, Winston, The Bowery King, others, eye John. “Renegade”by Styx comes on.

The Bowery King sets a STAINLESS STEEL GUN BOX on a table and slides it to John.

The Bowery King grins and opens the box to reveal a tactical gun belt, a knife, a half dozen magazines and...

As The Bowery King talks, John expertly manipulates the weapon.

As John removes the slide to reveal pointed and gauge ready side rails--

John reassembles the Pit Viper, slides it into the tactical gun belt, slots the magazines and knife in and snaps the belt around his waist. Behind him, a clock reads: 2:30 am.

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The Bowery King... smiles.

Two kilometers of stone arch enclosed river stretching out into darkness. Every fifty yards is a large grated oval that allows moon and city light to filer in. The Bowery King at the helm of the BOAT (7 Cuts)they are on. John and Winston are in back, taking in the ethereal space.

Winston runs the tips of his fingers over the water.

John takes Winston in. This is perhaps the first truly honest thing Winston has ever said to him.

John considers it for a moment. Nods.

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The Bowery King motions John to a quay. Recessed in the wall is a door.

John... nods to The King.

John... steps off the still moving launch.

As the launch pulls away:

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Winston nods to him - he understands. Then the launch is gone, subsumed by the darkness. John watches it for a long beat and then turns to go.

John emerges from a underground entrance. The Louvre looms behind and the city, glistening with light, stretches out before him.

PULL BACK to a man sitting on park bench. He makes a call and John runs.

John running. Headlights wash over him. He turns down a perpendicular street as vehicles accelerate after him. More ahead. Two slide to a stop. Men climb out, weapons lined. John, moving, fires on them. Bodies drop.

A car hits John. He rolls onto the hood, firing on the driver as it accelerates, smashing into a dumpster.

More killers close. John engages. A black 1971 Barracuda almost runs him down, slides to a stop. Driver gets out and gets a round in the head for his trouble.

Then John’s in the Barracuda, accelerating away.

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The Marquis stares down at the map as the Myrmidon places a red flag -- JOHN WICK -- moving away from the Louvre and towards the Arc de Triumph.

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Those ruby red lips brush the mic:

A needle drops. Static. The Marquis surveys the map -- John, alive, moving. Others dead, their flags removed.

The Marquis shoots Chidi a look. The big man strides out...

A row of black BMWs idle. Myrmidons stand at attention. Chidi enters the garage and heads for a sedan. Myrmidons climb in and the six sedans pull out.

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The Barracuda slides into frame. The Arc de Triumph looms ahead. John heads for it, entering the circle as the black BMWs converge from the opposite direction. Within moments, we’re in a demolition derby with the added fun of guns.

Shots fired. John cranks the wheel and the Barracuda spins on its axis, then accelerates into oncoming traffic.

John and Myrmidons trade paint and bullets.

John pits one BMW.

Power-slides around a second, shooting the driver.

Is rammed by a third and fourth. The Barracuda rolls... coming to rest on its side.

Chidi and Myrmidons roll out of the BMWs, weapons lined and firing as John climbs out of what’s left of the Barracuda and returns the favor as the fight takes on another dimension: close quarter combat with guns in the street with cars moving at speed.

A Utility Vehicle (ute) pulls up. The Tracker and the dog exit. The former places an old Walkman radio on the hood. Then, slowly and meticulously, he pulls his rifle from his pack and starts to assemble it even as John fights for his life, dodging cars and bullets. As The Tracker dials the rifle in, he presses his Bluetooth headphone and makes a call...

The Marquis stares at the map. A VALET, carrying a corded gold and ivory rotary telephone on a silver tray, approaches. The Marquis takes the receiver.

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ANGLE ON The Tracker, eye pressed against the scope of his rifle.

He fires! A Myrmidon drops!

The line goes dead. The Marquis is... unsure.

The Tracker sights and fires again! Another Myrmidon drops. The dog whimpers. The Tracker looks at him.

The dog springs forward and hurtles towards the fight.

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Caine sits alone at the bar, untouched drink in front of him, listening as the radio plays.

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John drops a Myrmidon. Another. One gets behind John. He’s about to shoot John when the dog hits him, taking the man down. John sees it--

He dives as a BMW almost hits him. A second. Three Myrmidons step out of the first, firing. Chidi is amongst them.

The second tries to run John down. The dog tracks the SUV -- its windows are closed --and leaps as a .45 long impacts the side window, sheering it a millisecond before the dog hits it!

The dog is in, tearing at the occupants. Then the dog is out and the BMW drifts away.

John, under fire, clotheslines an attacker on a MOTORCYLE. Gets on the bike and burns rubber, accelerating away.

Chidi fires on him, then runs to a sedan, climbs in and follows John.

The dog is ahead of Chidi. He spins the sedan. The back clips the dog, sending it flying.

The Tracker sees his dog hit.

He opens fire on the sedan! Slugs tear into it as it accelerates after John. Then the Tacker turns the ute's engine over and floors it!

As he pulls away, the dog matches him and leaps into the moving vehicle.

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John drives hard as the first hints of the soon to be rising sun turn the black of night into the gray of pre-dawn.

A sedan cuts in front of John. He spins. Another behind him. Men step out of the sedans.

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These have military grade weapons and body armor:Le Main Rouge. John “rockets” the bike at one. The bike and the man are propelled through a door.

John follows it as others fire on him.

Caine still at the bar, still listening to the radio.

A Main Rouge is waiting for John, shotgun lined. John shoots the man as he shoots John. Both go down and both get up. But John’s faster, dumping rounds into the attacker, knocking him back, grabbing his shotgun, flipping it, shoving it under his helmet and pulling the trigger.

More Main Rouge enter the apartment.

John moves fast, firing at the door as the attackers pour in.

Then he runs up the stairs. Takes cover behind a solid banister, re-loads. Fires. Runs some more. Puts rounds into a wall and punches through it. Turns up another flight of stairs and come face to face with--

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The Tracker who puts a few rounds into the wall by his head, forcing him back. He spins, fires as Main Rouge close.

The dog releases, pounding down the stairs, attacking Main Rouge as they corner John.

The Marquis looks at the clock.6:12 am. Then the map. John’s flag is close to Sacre Coeur.

A Valet approaches with a phone and offers it to The Marquis.

The Tracker shoots a Main Rouge. Another. His phone rings. He taps the earbud. As the carnage continues -- John killing Main Rouge, the dog killing Main Rouge, and The Tracker killing Main Rouge, we intercut between the Tracker and The Marquis:

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The Tracker hangs up.

The line goes dead. The Marquis... throws the phone. It bounces off of polished marble, shedding pieces. He paces. Stops. Looks at the clock: 6:14, then back at the map...

A Valet scurries forward with another phone.

John backs into an apartment, killing men, moves through it, out another door into the hall, killing more as the dog takes others down and The Tracker snipes yet others.

The Tracker keys his earbud as his phone rings. He and the Marquis continue to negotiate as he kills Main Rouge:

Chidi and a crew of Myrmidons appear, moving up the stairs.

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Tracker shifts his aim, fires on them, killing two. Chidi and the others return fire. The Tracker’s response is bullets and a middle finger. As he pulls back to reload.

The Marquis eats apetite sandwich de merde.

Tracker whistles. The dog, tearing at a Main Rouge, keys on it.

The dog locks on John who’s now killing Main Rouge on the third floor of the other side of the square apartment’s interior courtyard and bounds towards him. The Tracker follows.

WITH JOHN, killing men, clicking empty, throwing the shotgun, drawing his side arm, killing more.

Then the dog hits him. Both go down. The Tracker enters, gun lined. He and John exchange a look. The Tracker shrugs. He’s about to pull the trigger when Chide enters, firing. Rounds slam into the Tracker’s pack, knocking him out of the way. Chidi’s lining his gun on John when the dog leaps, attacking Chidi who swings his own gun around to shoot the dog.

The Tracker fires on Chidi! The man’s suit takes the damage and The Tracker clicks empty.

Chidi shakes the dog lose and KICKS it. He brings weapon to bear. He’s going to kill the dog.

The Tracker stares. John’s lining his gun on The Tracker... and swings it around, putting rounds into Chidi who stumbles back.

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Myrmidons and Main Rouge appear.

John and The Tracker share a look... and John runs for the window and leaps through it, falling.

John hits the alley hard. The steps leading to Sacre Coeur are a half block away and he runs for them.

A white Bentley pulls up. Doors open. The Marquis steps out as Winston appears from a side street and approaches.

The Harbinger waits in the courtyard in front of the Church flanked by the dozen High Table Guardians. In front of them is a gravel strip with markers laid out at 30, 20, and 10 yard intervals.

John -- bruised, shot, bleeding -- gets to the bottom of the steps. At the top of the hill is Sacré-Coeur. Between him and the church is a narrow and steep stairway consisting of 300 steps framed by cafes, shops, and apartments.

He glances at a clock:6:20 am. 13 minutes until sunrise as he starts to limp up those stairs.

As he moves, his eyes pan the doors and windows and rooflines -- a shadow on the roofline, the flutter of a window drape, the tip of combat boot in a doorway. Then the punishment really starts.

Myrmidons step out of doorways and arches, weapons lined and firing. Others lean out of windows. Still others off rooftops. It’s an opera of insanity.

John moves, fast, firing and reloading as he climbs the steps -- shooting a Myrmidon who comes from a doorway, another in a window above, two more at the top of the stairs. Slugs hit him. He kills the sniper... then two more...

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John crests the top of the stairs with six minutes to spare. The church rises up, beckoning. The Marquis and Winston are there, waiting, as is the Harbinger. John made it.

Then three Myrmidons rush John. He kills one, a second. Clicks empty as the third -- a mountain of a man -- fires. Slugs SLAM into John as the Myrmidon closes. He clicks empty. A sword flashes in his hand. The two engage -- John with knife, Myrmidon with sword.

An elbow to the head knocks John back a step. A kick sends him reeling. The Myrmidon looms over him, sword raised.

As it’s dropping, John pivots, rotating his body and driving a knife into the big man’s chest and through it.

The Myrmidon stands there, staring hate at John and... wraps his arms around John andpushes.

The weight of the man forces them back to the edge of the top stair. They teeter for a moment and--

FALL, tumbling... ass over heels... down... by bodies... more bodies... down some more... for exactly 300 steps...

John pushes the Myrmidon’s body off him and looks back up those 300 steps...the sun’s cresting the horizon now... You have to be fucking kidding me.

Shadows loom. John focuses. Three more Myrmidons are approaching, weapons lined. John is dead in 3, 2--

The three Myrmidons fall to reveal Caine, sword in hand.

John stares at Caine. He has no idea where this will end...

A pissed off Chidi, with a Myrmidon team in tow, marches by The Marquis and Winston without a word. The Tracker and his dog approach from the other direction. Chidi and the dog exchange an unpleasant look.

Caine... extends his hand. John... takes it and Caine helps him to his feet.

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John glances at his watch and then the skyline. The crown of the sun is just visible on the horizon.

John clenches his fist. A drop of blooddrips from his severed, spattering against the stone steps.

John reloads and he and Caine, guns firing, start up those stairs --killing Myrmidons with gun and blade. More approach, laying down a barrage. Every time a Myrmidon exposes himself he eats a bullet or a blade. If John’s run to the stairs was force of will, this is art and these two are masters of their craft.

As they near the top, the sun crests the horizon. Bells start to toll. One bell.

The Marquis and Winston eye one another. Thesecond bell tolls.

The Harbinger steps up behind Winston, draws a very large handgun and lines it on the back on Winston’s head. Thethird bell tolls. The Harbinger cocks the gun.

John takes a bullet to the chest. Caine catches him, supporting him as he drops the shooter.

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The fourth bell tolls.John is not half a dozen steps from the top when he sees The Tracker, rifle lined on him, dog at his side, standing there.

Then Chidi appears, gun lined. John is a dead man twice over now. The dog whimpers. The Tracker eyes him.

Chidi’s pulling the trigger when the dog’s jaws latch onto his balls. The force knocks Chidi back. He goes down, screaming as the dog tears into his privates.

A shadow looms. Chidi manages to look up at The Tracker stands over him.

The Tracker SHOOTS Chidi in the head even as Caine pushes John to the top of the stairs asthe fifth and final bell tolls and the full sun crests the horizon.He made it.

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Winston lets out a breath as the Harbinger lowers his weapon.

John pulls himself to his feet.

A blade flashes in Caine’s hand andstabs through John’s right hand! Caine pulls the blade out and blood wells on the wound even as John grabs it, trying to staunch the flow. Grimaces at Caine.

Caine takes a silk kerchief from his breast pocket and wraps John’s hand with it.

John eyes Caine...

Caine nods. Together, the two duelists make their way to The Harbinger who is now standing in the center of a gravel runway directly in front of the church, Winston and The Marquis standing on either side of him.

As the duelists approach, feetcrunching over the gravel, The Harbinger accepts a gold embroideredstole adorned with High Table symbols from a High Table Guardian.

The Harbinger takes the stole, kisses it, and places it around his neck. This duel is as much ritual as it is combat, and every move, save the outcome, is considered and choreographed.

Behind the duelists, The Tracker makes his way to a low wall and sits. He pulls a bottle of beer and a collapsible dog dish from his pack and pours half the beer into the dish. There, seated and ignoring the two Guardians who move up behind them, man and dog share a well deserved drink.

A High Table Guardian approaches the duelists and their respective Second / Sponsor with a tray that’s home to a gold and crystal flask of red wine and five matching glasses.

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John takes the bottle and pours Caine a glass. Caine returns the favor.

The Harbinger, as part of the ritual, pours three glasses. He offers one to The Marquis, one to Winston, and keeps the third for himself. All raise their glasses.

JOHN/CAINE/THE MARQUIS/WINSTON Consequences.

They all drink, as does The Tracker who takes a pull of his beer. The Marquis tosses his glass away, as do Winston and The Harbinger. Caine simply lets his slide from his fingers. John tips his, pouring his remaining wine onto the gravel and drops the glass. It shatters.

John and Caine pull off their respective jackets. A few flattened rounds fall out of Caine’s... About a dozen clatter to the gravel as John removes his. He offers it to Winston who takes it like it was a dead animal.

John unbuttons his vest with his one good hand. As he pulls it off, three smashed12 gauge shotgun rounds fall to the ground. Winston takes it.

The Harbinger nods and two Guardians holding exquisitely crafted mahogany boxes approach the duelists.

The Guardians open the boxes to reveal finely wrought gold and silver embossed single shot .45 caliber dueling pistols and a row of hand crafted and intricately carved bullets.

The two duelists, bathed in the glorious Parisian sunrise, expertly examine their weapons. As they do -- taking one bullet from the box and loading the weapons:

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John and Caine, satisfied with the guns and the loads, nod to The Harbinger.

John, gun in his left hand, and Winston head for one end of the gravel runway as Caine, led by The Marquis, make their way to the other.

WITH CAINE AND THE MARQUIS:

The Marquis wilts just a bit as the two stop at the first -- thirty yard -- marker.

WITH JOHN AND WINSTON at their marker, taking a quiet moment to drink in their surroundings. It’s a beautiful morning in Paris.

John gives him a nod. Gratitude? Resignation? Some understanding that this is the end? Perhaps all.

Caine... nods.

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John eyes Winston who smiles and walks out of the line of fire. Then John inclines his head to The Harbinger who is now at the base of the Church’s steps.

The Tracker, sitting on the wall with his dog raises his bottle to the duelists.

Both men raise their weapons and fire!

Caine's round clips John’s left shoulder even as John’s tears into Caine's left elbow. Both men keep their feet.

The sound echoes through the streets. All around, pigeons rise up from rooftops and eves.

Winston approaches John, the Guardian with the box in tow as The Marquis strides towards Caine, also with a Guardian.

WITH CAINE AND THE MARQUIS: As Caine cracks the breach, ejecting the smoking shell casing, and chambers a round.

WITH JOHN AND WINSTON: As John chambers a blood stained bullet.

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John... walks to his mark as The Marquis leads Caine to his. As soon as Winston and The Marquis are out of the line of fire:

The duelists raise their weapons and fire!

Caine's slug slams into John’s left arm as John’s slug tears into Caine's thigh. Both stumble but keep their feet, just.

Winston and The Marquis approach John and Caine respectively as the duelists shuffle forward to the final, ten yard, marker. Guardians offer bullets. Shaking and blood soaked hands crack breaches and fumble for cartridges...

WITH CAINE AND THE MARQUIS: The Marquis is about to speak when Caine cuts him off!

The Marquis holds his tongue.

WITH JOHN AND WINSTON:

As John turns towards Caine:

John... nods. Gravel crunches under his weight as he focuses on Caine who takes the locket from his pocket with his left hand, rubs the worn metal with his thumb. At this range, both know that neither can miss. A long moment, then:

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Caine's head tilts ever so slightly, almost like there was a message in that line...

The Tracker keys on those lines, like they mean something...

Both rise their guns with shaking hands and fire! So evenly matched are these men that when the guns fire, it is with a SINGLE REPORT.

John takes a step back. His gun clatters to the cobblestones.

Blood blossoms against his white shirt.

He drops to one knee.

-- Caine stares at him.

-- The Tracker stares at him.

-- Winston stares....

-- The Marquis... smiles.

Caine... approaches John... stops a few feet from him...

Caine turns. The Marquis is striding towards him and John.

Caine turns back towards John who looks up at him...

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The Marquis takes Caine's weapon, strides to the Guardian holding Caine’s gun box an ammo, takes a bullet, cracks the gun open and slides the bullet into the breach, marches back to lord over John...

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Winston LAUGHS! The Marquis turns his head to the man, unsure.

Behind The Marquis,John rises.

Blood drains from The Marquis’ face as he turns back to John. His eyes go wide as he stares down the barrel of John’s dueling pistol which is lined on his head.

BOOM! The Marquis’ head turns to mist.His body falls.

Caine stares at John as the blood continues to spread over his shirt.

The Harbinger checks The Marquis’ pulse. He is dead.

The Harbinger looks to John. Sees the significant wound to his chest. The look confirms that it is a mortal one.

The Harbinger eyes Winston, tips his hat.

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The Harbinger departs, The Guardians falling in behind him. In moments, they, the guns, the boxes and the bullets, even the spent shell casings are gone.

John and Caine share a long look that speaks volumes.

John... nods respect. Caine turns and walks away.

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John... nods. A beat and, holding his side, John limps away, discarding his holster and magazines and carrier as the morning light bathes a waking Paris.

ANOTHER ANGLE to include The Tracker, looking after John.

The Tracker... understands. He salutes John, turns and starts to walk away. The dog trails..

He flips the dog a treat. She catches it, gobbles it down as The Tracker pulls out his notebook.

We catch a glimpse of a list of names and numbers, “John Wick”, with a very large number, being at the top of that list.

With that, man and dog are gone leaving Winston alone in that courtyard standing by The Marquis’s body as blood pools from the back of his head.

A garbage truck, small High Table emblem stenciled on the side, pulls up. Two GARBAGE MEN step out. One grabs The Marquis’ feet and pulls him towards the back of the truck as the second pulls out a hose and power washes the blood away. And just like that, The Marquis Vincent de Gramont is gone.

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John slowly makes his way to the railing. Paris stretches out in front of him as the sun rises behind him. John holds the railing for a long moment, and looks out over the city with the eyes of a free man. He slowly slides down to the ground, his back against the railing.

He sits there for a beat, looking up at the glorious sunrise... remembering. As the light washes over him, he closes his eyes, slumping a little...

REVERSE TO Winston, watching as two Hobos approach John. One gently places a blanket over him.

As the image softens:

A sun shower gently falls. The drops, illuminated by the sun’s rays, seem to sparkle in this, the magic hour. Winston, The Bowery King -- in a tailored suit -- and John’s dog stand together, paying their silent respects.

Winston glances at the King.

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Now the Bowery King eyes Winston sidelong... then laughs and walks away. Winston walks to John’s grave, places his hand on the headstone.

A beat and Winston heads off in the other direction.

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We PUSH IN on two headstones side by side: “HELEN - LOVING WIFE” and “JOHN - LOVING HUSBAND.”No last names. Just John. John Wick is dead.

Roll credits.

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EPILOGUE:

The sky is blue and the air crisp. That lovely song washes over the stairs, the notes resonating with power and promise.

Caine's daughter, Miais at her spot, violin to her ear, swaying to the music. She stops to applause.

ANGLE ON Caine standing in his spot. Crisp suit, cool glasses, and something else. A sense of contentment. Happiness even. A beat and he steps forward, walking towards his daughter with purpose.

A group of people walk towards Caine, moving around him as he approaches Mia.

ANGLE ON one of those people’s hands. A blade snaps out. As Caine passes, the knife flashes.

Caine takes two steps and his hand moves to his throat. Blood wells from a razor cut.

Another two steps and he stumbles, dropping to one knee. He turns his head, looking back at his killer.

ANGLE ON Akira, walking away. Behind her, and not a dozen feet from Mia, Caine falls to the pavement.