Who: John Wick johnwick & Death deathisnice What: Return to Madison Valley When: Night, April 30 Where: Downtown Madison Valley Rating: Audience Discretion is Advised Warnings: Spoilers for the entire John Wick franchise, foul language, graphic description of physical injuries/violence, and a generally maudlin feel. Status: Closed/In-Progress
~*~
Anyone can bleed. Ask John Wick: he's a man and also a myth and a legend and he's bled plenty.
Falling on concrete hurt. Being shot from the top of a building and hitting awnings and fire escapes prior to the concrete stopping his fall---John Wick felt that was worse.
John fought to open his eyes -eyelids fluttering in protest, eyes stinging from the blood streaming from his scalp- to gain his bearing. He would need to get up. Time wasn't on his side. No one was on his side.
Pushing himself up, John groaned, his hand was bleeding again.
Everything hurt.
"Winston?"
Winston had chosen The High Table. He'd shot John in the suit though, knowing he might survive the fall to the ground as the bullets wouldn't pierce the material. It was the best he could have done for John under the circumstances. He couldn't blame him. John knew he was a sinking ship.
Memories flooded his mind in bright flashes as he managed to sit up to a kneeling position. John was grateful his knees were both feeling fine. The last thing he needed was a leg injury to make running harder.
John kept taking stock of his injuries as he pulled his thoughts back together to focus on surviving. Taking shallow breaths made breathing easier; John found himself distracted by the fact the air smelled cleaner, different, better.
He wondered if he was dying.
A solemn figure approached him and John couldn't bring himself to stand. He hoped he could fight from his knees. Dying in an alley felt anticlimactic. John didn't bother to fight as the man simply thrust a packet at him while rattling off a spiel he'd heard before? 'Welcome to Madison Valley!' When had he been here? How did he get here? Why hadn't he remembered this place?
Scrolling through the contacts on the phone, John pushed the first name he remembered to be friendly and waited for Death to answer.
"Death? Can you get to me? I could really use a hand right now."