It looks like the storm
has passed, New Yorkers.

A season-high seven inches
of rain last night.

High winds and flooding
in some areas...

even left some New
Yorkers stranded.

City crews still
working this morning.

They're trying to restore power
to several areas in the boroughs.

Good news is, today should be sunny
with highs in the low 60s...

unseasonably mild...

a real change from the relentless
weather of these past few weeks.

So get out there, enjoy the sun, go to
the park, get outside if you can...

because it's not
gonna last long.




Winter storms are turning
later in the week...

making for a severe temperature
drop over the weekend.

Could be signs for an early
and potentially long winter.

What are you doing, John?

Looking at you.

Come here.

Are you still filming?

Just an anniversary.

It's been a while.

My condolences.

How are you holding up?

I keep asking, “Why her?”

There's no rhyme or
reason to this life.

It's days like today
scattered among the rest.




Are you sure?

Don't blame yourself.

What are you really
doing here, Marcus?

Just checkin' up
on an old friend.

Good-bye, John.

- John Wick?
- Yes.

Sign here, please.

And the pen.

Sorry.

- Here you go. Good night.
- Thanks.

“John, I'm sorry I can't
be there for you.

But you still need
something, someone to love.

So start with this.

Because the car doesn't count.

I love you, John.

This illness has loomed
over us for a long time...

and now that I have found
my peace, find yours.

Until that day, your
best friend, Helen.”

Hey.

Hey.

Daisy.

Of course.

Hey.

Come on.

I'm up. I'm up.

I'm u-I'm up.

Hey.

On. Right.

What?

We'll grab you
some kibble later.

Is this true?

Nice ride.

Mustang. Don 429.

- She a '70?
- '69.

- Beautiful car.
- Thanks.

- How much?
- Excuse me?

How much for the car?

She's not for sale.

Oh, I love dogs.

You have good day, sir.

All right. Come on, then.

How you doin'?

You need to go?

Uh-huh.

Yo, Aurelio!

Huh? I want a new VIN number
and some clean papers.

Where'd you get that car?

Is it here?

It was.

I asked you where the
hell did you get it?

Who gives a shit?

Iosef Tarasov nicked it.

Viggo's son.

Yeah.

Get out of my shop.
Get out right now.

Did you just lose your shit, Aurelio?
Because we own you.

What did you say? What
did you say to me?

We own you.

You don't own me, punk.

I work with your father.
All right?

The owner of that car, did
you kill him or what?

No.

We sure as hell
fucked up his dog.

You fucked up his dog?
That's what you did?

Yeah.

That's crazy shit, man.

Oh, look at you. That's great.

You're gonna come into my
shop and pull a gun on me.

That's great, man. Come on.

Now, you kill me right now...

or you get the fuck
out of my shop.

Viggo is not gonna like this.

How do you know what Viggo
likes or doesn't like?

I'll tell you somethin'
he's gonna understand.

You've got a fuckin'
pair on you, old man!

I guess we'll be takin' our
business someplace else.

So what are you gonna do?

I need a ride.

Aurelio speaking.

I heard you struck my son.

- Yes, sir, I did.
- And may I ask why?

Yeah, well, because he stole
John Wick's car, sir...

and, uh, killed his dog.

Oh.

Viggo.

Yeah?

They've agreed to your terms.

It's not like you gave them much
of a choice anyway though, right?

Congratulations.

Sir?

Have you seen my son?

How was your trip, kid?

We won't be hearing
from them anytime soon.

Or ever.

That's a nice jacket.

- Thanks.
- Yeah.

Should I go?

- Viggo, English, please. Come on.
- Stay, goddamn it!

What did I do?

We did what you asked.
No one saw shit.

I'm not talking about
Atlantic City.

What then?

You mean Aurelio's? So
I stole a fucking car!

Aw, fuck, Viggo!

- Christ, Viggo.
- You stay!

It's not what you did,
son, that angers me so.

It's who you did it to.

Who? That fucking nobody?

That “fuckin' nobody”...

is John Wick.

He once was an
associate of ours.

They call him Baba Yaga.

The boogeyman?

Well, John wasn't
exactly the boogeyman.

He was the one you sent to
kill the fucking boogeyman.

Oh.

John is a man of focus...

commitment...

sheer will.

Something you know
very little about.

I once saw him kill
three men in a bar...

with a pencil.

With a fuckin'...

penal

Then suddenly one day
he asked to leave.

It's over a woman, of course.

So I made a deal with him.

I gave him an impossible task.

A job no one could
have pulled off.

The bodies he buried that day...

laid the foundation
of what we are now.

And then, my son...

a few days after
his wife died...

you steal his car...

and kill his fuckin' dog.

Father, I can make this right.

Oh. How do you plan that?

By finishing what I started.

Did he hear a fucking
word I said?

Iosef, losef, listen.

John will come for you.

And you will do nothing...

because you can do nothing.

So get the fuck out of my sight.

Hello, John.

I heard about your
wife, and I'm sorry.

My condolences.

It seems to be fate,
or happenstance...

or just bad fuckin' luck caused
our paths to cross once again.

John?

Let us not resort to
our baser instincts...

and handle this like
civilized men...

to move on-

What'd he say?

- Enough.
- Oh, God.

Task a crew.

H-How many?

How many do you have?

Evenin', John.

Evenin', Jimmy.

Noise complaint?

Noise complaint.

- You, uh, workin' again?
- No, just sortin' some stuff out.

Ah, well...

I'll leave you be then.

- Good night, John.
- Good night, Jimmy.

This is Wick.

Yes, John Wick. That's right.

I'd like to make a dinner
reservation for 12.

Good to see you, John.

Charlie.

You look good.

And here I'd feared you'd
left all this behind.

Will I be hearin' from
you anytime soon?

Good-bye, Charlie.

John.

Of course he did.

Put a contract on John Wick.

How much?

Two million.

English, Viggo, please.

Put losef in the Red
Circle and wait.

For what?

For John Wick, of course.

Thank you.

To what do I owe this visit?

I have a job for you.

And I've got a phone.

I want to offer you
this face to face...

seeing as how you might
find it personal.

Would you kill John Wick
for two million dollars?

After all, you were close.

- Is the contract exclusive?
- No, it's open.

It's a timely matter. It
has to be handled quickly.

Consider it done.

Thank you, Marcus. I
know I can trust you.

Thanks for the drink.

Room 918. Do enjoy your stay.

Thanks.

Good seeing you again, John.

Perkins.

I have you for two nights.

- Depending on business, it may be more.
- Of course, sir.

So when did the old
place get a face lift?

Around four years ago.

But I assure you, sir...

she really hasn't changed much.

- Same owner?
- Same owner.

Room 818.

And, as always...

it is a pleasure...

having you with us again, Mr.
Wick.

What are you doing, John?

Looking at you.

Come here.

Hello, Winston.

Jonathan.

Now, as I recall...

weren't you the one tasked to dole
out the beatings, not receive them?

Rusty, I guess.

To what do we owe the pleasure?

Iosef Tarasov.

- What about him?
- I'd like to talk with him.

A talk, you say.

I'm familiar with the
parlance, Jonathan.

I want to ask you this.

Have you returned to the fold?

Just visiting.

Have you thought this through?

I mean, chewed down to the bone?

You got out once.

You dip so much as a pinky
back into this pond...

you may well find
something reaches out...

and drags you back
into its depths.

Where do I find him?

Hey. Wick's at the Continental.

Welcome home, John.

We have a contact there who's
willing to take him out for us.

Yeah?

How brazen.

If they're willing to break the rules
of Continental, double the bounty.

You know the rules.

No business can be conducted
on these premises...

lest incurring heavy penalties.

Have a drink...

and relax...

for now.

It's personal.

I want caviar for breakfast
and champagne every night

Holy shit. Jonathan.

' My God!

How long has it been?
Four years?

Five and change.

So tell me, how was
life on the other side?

It was good, Addy.

Far better than I deserved.

Hey, I'm sorry to
hear about your-

Thanks.

I've never seen you like this.

Like what?

Vulnerable.

I'm retired.

Not if you're drinkin'
here, you're not.

- Usual?
- Please.

Bu! I 'll empty your pockets

Leave you in misery

- Compliments of the house.
- Thanks.

I 'll empty your pockets

Leave you in misery

Did you see the
tits on that girl?

I hope Lita is working tonight.

Are you scared of the
fuckin' boogeyman?

- I'm not.
- No?

But you should be.

I want another bottle!

Right fuckin' now!
Go get me a bottle!

Come on!

Hello, Francis.

Mr. Wick.

Are you here on business, sir?

Afraid so, Francis.

Why don't you take
the night off.

Thank you, sir.

Fuck you, motherfucker.

Where is losef?

Bathhouse, downstairs.

Go!

Move! He's here! He's fucking here!
He's there! He's coming!

Get in! Get in!

Come on! Come on!

Good evening, Mr. Wick.

Good evening.

How may I be of service?

- Is the doctor in?
- Yes, sir. 24/7.

- Send him up, please.
- Yes, sir.

How good's your laundry?

I'm sorry to say that
no one's that good.

No. I thought not.

May I suggest a drink, sir.

Bourbon, perhaps.

That sounds perfect.

So what sort of movement
am I looking at?

Well, if you're
lookin' to heal...

then keep it marginal.

However, if you still have...

business to attend to...

take two of these beforehand.

Your stitches'll tear
and you'll bleed...

but you'll have full function.

Do you need anything
for the pain?

No, I've got that covered.

Hey, John.

- Perkins?
- I thought I'd let myself in.

I noticed.

I never knew Ms. Perkins to get
out of bed for less than three.

Viggo's giving me four
to break hotel rules.

That's unwise, I assure you.

You were always a pussy.

Yes?

I apologize for calling
you at this hour...

but we have received a number of
grievances from your floor...

concerning the noise.

My apologies.

I was dealing with
an uninvited guest.

Have you need then of, say...

a dinner reservation, perhaps?

Perhaps. I'll have
to get back to you.

No! Aah!

Where's losef?

Fuck you.

- Where's Viggo?
- I'm not telling you shit!

Do you really wanna
die here, Perkins?

Give me somethin'.

Little Russia.

There's a church
near Cannon Court.

- What about it?
- It's a front.

It's where Viggo keeps
his private stash.

Thank you.

Do I know you?

I'm thinkin' so.

Hey, John.

Hey, Harry.

Everything all right?

Yeah. Everything's fine.

- I'll leave you to it then.
- Hey, Harry.

You keen on earning a coin?
Babysittin' the sleepin' one?

- Catch and release?
- Catch and release.

My son, how might I help you?

Motherfucker!

Let's go to the vault.

Open it.

Viggo will kill me.

Uh-huh.

Ladies, out.

Honestly, what do you think you're
going to do with all of that?

This.

Don't worry.

Housekeeping will find you.

Treat all your ladies like this?

You are no lady. Trust me.

Harry, is it?

How would you like to earn
more than just a gold coin?

You've broken the rules.

You've done business on
Continental grounds.

And management does
not take kindly...

to that sort of behavior.

Fuck management.

Don't worry.
Housekeeping'll find you.

Ashes to ashes.

Can we recover from this?

Viggo, you know what was
in that vault, right?

Shit.

Come on!

I'll say this, John.

They sure as fuck broke
the mold with you.

You always had a certain...

audacity about you, you know.

Yeah.

I can say you're still very
much the John Wick of old.

Am I?

People don't change.
You know that.

Times, they do.

Do you know what
was in that vault?

Artwork, cash, not
without its worth.

But the leverage I
had on this city-

audio recordings, physical
evidence, blackmail-

it was fuckin' priceless!

Priceless!

Yeah. I kind of enjoyed that.

Yeah.

Yeah, I know you did. Yeah.

Are you really laughing?

So-

Ah, then you got married, huh?
Settled down.

How did you manage that anyways?

Luck, I guess.

Yeah.

Yeah, while you had your
wife, I had my son.

And believe me, you had
a far better deal.

And then you left.

And the way you got out...

lying to yourself that the past
held no sway over the future.

But in the end...

a lot of us are rewarded
for our misdeeds...

which is why God
took your wife...

and unleashed you upon me.

This life...

follows you.

It clings to you...

infecting everyone who
comes close to you.

We are cursed, you and I.

On that we agree.

Finally, common ground.

Okay.

Step aside.

Give me your son.

John Wick.

It was just a fucking car.
Just a fuckin' dog.

Just a dog.

Viggo.

- Yeah?
- When Helen died, I lost everything.

Until that dog arrived
on my doorstep-

a final gift from my wife.

In that moment, I received
some semblance of hope...

an opportunity to
grieve unalone.

And your son...

took that from me.

- Oh, God.
- Stole that from me.

Killed that from me!

People keep asking
if I'm back...

and I haven't really
had an answer.

But now, yeah, I'm
thinkin' I'm back.

So you can either
hand over your son...

or you can die screaming
alongside him!

Cool it. Cool it.

John!

- Aah! Jesus.
- Where is he?

Shit!

I have your word then, if I tell you where
he is, that you'll let me walk away?

Pull the contract.

Done.

He's kept in a safe house.
Brooklyn.

434 Wallace Place.

- They know you're coming.
- Of course.

But it won't matter.

Will you stop playing
the fucking video game?

Will you stop playing
that fucking video game?

Get down! Get down!

Come on! Come on! Get down!
Get down!

Make the arrangements.

Thank you.

Our pleasure, sir.

A parting gift. From
the management.

Compensation for last
night's unfortunate...

incident.

How many times do I
have to save your ass?

- I appreciate it.
- Of course.

You look terrible.

No, I look retired.

Retired?

You really believe that?

You made a new life.

You'll find your way back to it.

It's time to go home.

Let's get on with this,
whatever the fuck this is.

Hello, Marcus.

This is John.

I appreciate you granting
my son a swift death.

I wouldn't know how to
reply to that either.

Marcus betrayed me.

You pulled the contract.

And while it was open,
you had every chance...

every opportunity
to kill John Wick.

And if you had done your job...

my son would be still alive!

And in so doing...

he broke the cardinal rule.

Thank you.

Ms. Perkins.

Why am I not surprised?

In for a penny, in for a pound.

So, John, I had no choice.

I always liked you, Marcus.

The last of the old guard.

But unlike the others,
you go out on my terms.

No! No!

No, my good sir.

I go out on my own.

See?

Well played, old friend.

- We done, Viggo?
- We're done.

Okay. Here.

Thank you.

Yeah. Fuel the chopper.

Ms. Perkins, I apologize for
calling you at this hour.

Ms. Perkins.

Your membership to the
Continental has been...

by thine own hand, revoked.

I know what you're
thinking, Jonathan.

We live by a code.

Which is why I'm not the
one telling you that...

a certain helicopter at
a certain helipad...

is being fuelled for
a certain someone.

- Have you got my cigarettes?
- Yeah, I got your cigarettes.

Oh, fuck!

Yeah. Super. Let's go. Faster!

The helicopter's right down there.
Come on! Let's go!

Shit! Goddamn, I knew he'd come.

What's fuckin' wrong
with this guy?

Somebody give me a gun.
Who's got a gun?

Oh, God! My fucking head.

- That was a good one.
- Who's got a gun?

Fuck!

The helicopter's right over there.
We have to get over there.

I need a gun.

- English, please.
- Good luck.

Russian cocksucker.

Fuck!

No!

No more guns, John.

No more bullets.

No more bullets.

Just you and me, John.

You and me.

What happened, John?

We were professionals.
Civilized.

Do I look civilized to you?

Be seeing you, John.

Yeah.

Be seeing you.

Come on, John. Let's go home.

It's okay.

Let's go home.