New York Continental Hotel.
A special guest had arrived at the general manager's office: retired assassin John Wick. Winston was warmly receiving him.
"John, my old friend, I'm surprised. I never thought you'd come out of retirement."
"No, I wasn't planning to go back to my old profession. I just... came to help you once. That's all."
John Wick responded with a bitter smile. He had not wanted to come, but once Winston called, the choice was no longer his.
He knew very well that refusing would accomplish nothing. Rather than wait for Winston to pull something behind the scenes, it was better to step forward voluntarily. At least then, he could keep his house from being blown up.
"John, don't look so miserable. The situation is different now. I don't need you to do anything. Just stay by my side and show your face." Winston smiled.
"What do you mean?"
"John, the underground world is changing. A new era is about to begin. No one dares to keep throwing their weight around in New York."
Winston smiled faintly. Seeing John Wick's puzzled expression, he explained, "I nearly forgot that you know nothing. That's not your fault. You've been gone too long, so there's a lot of intelligence you haven't had access to."
As he spoke, he took out several documents and laid them out on the desk one by one. John Wick picked them up and began reading.
New York, Los Angeles, Mexico City, Brasilia, Dakhla...
The bloody figures left John Wick dry-mouthed. He picked up the glass on the table and took a sip, but the lingering fear remained.
His scalp tingling, he said, "Winston, what happened? Did the governments of these countries join forces against the High Table?"
"No. The incident began with an accident—an erroneous order