John Wick - Chapter 79: The Blood Oath (Patreon)

The underground parking garage beneath the New York Continental.

After dinner, Nate and Elena walked John to his car.

“How long are you staying there this time?” Nate asked.

“Three or four days. I’ll come back once the repairs on the house are finished.”

“By the way, where do you live again? You’d better get the place cleaned up. Elena and I might drop by sometime in the next couple of days.”

“Sure. 112 Lower Horseshoe Road, Mill Neck, Nassau County, Long Island, New York.”

John rattled off the address with a smile.

That was a mouthful. Nate pulled out his phone and looked it up.

Not bad. It wasn’t that far away, less than an hour and a half by car.

The events of the first movie were over now. According to the original story, Santino should show up at John’s place in four days.

Then again, there was no guarantee things would still happen exactly the same way. Nate’s presence had already changed quite a lot in this world.

For the sake of John’s house, it was better to take precautions.

Nate leaned against the car window and warned him, “Be careful, John. You’re officially back in the game now. If someone shows up tonight asking you to do something, agree to it first. When you get back, we can figure out what to do together.”

John understood immediately.

Nate was talking about the blood oath.

He nodded. “All right.”

Nate and Elena watched John’s car disappear into the distance.

Nate had already tried several times over dinner to convince him not to go, but John had been adamant. He needed to see his home with his own eyes before he could feel at ease.

There was nothing Nate could do about it, so eventually he stopped trying.

“What are you doing now?” Elena asked with a yawn.

“I’m going to the shooting range to practice. What about you?”

“Going back to sleep.”

Elena yawned again.

Nate stared at her, then checked the time on his phone.

“Seriously? It’s barely past seven. Why are you going to bed this early?”

“Didn’t I tell you I have a very healthy sleep schedule?”

“What time do you wake up?” Nate asked.

“Three thirty.”

Elena said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Fine.”

Nate fell silent.

Right. So that was her definition of healthy.

She even got up half an hour earlier than Kobe.

Whoever ended up marrying her was going to be one lucky guy.

...

Elena went back to sleep, while Nate returned to the shooting range.

William was still practicing with his throwing knives. Hearing someone approach, he looked over.

“Mr. Lin? We meet again, haha.”

“Had dinner yet?” Nate asked.

“Yeah. Brought my own fitness meal.”

“Did Jennifer send the equipment down?”

“She did. It’s all on the bench in Lane Five. Miss Jennifer also asked me to tell you that you’re a few magazines short for the Desert Eagle. She’ll make up the difference with the next shipment.”

William gestured toward the lane.

“Help yourself. If you need anything, just call me.”

With that, he put his hearing protection back on and resumed practicing with his throwing knives.

“Desert Eagle, M500 long-barrel revolver, Benelli M4 shotgun, Barrett, and an AN-94.”

Nate stared at the impressive collection spread across the bench.

They were all great guns he remembered from games in his previous life.

He rubbed his hands together eagerly.

The first thing he picked up was the Barrett.

Nate shouldered it and fired.

He had wanted to try this cannon for a long time. This thing packed a serious punch.

BOOM!

The deafening report shook the range. Nate could have sworn even the bench in front of him vibrated, while the pressure from the shot tore a huge hole through the paper target.

Before pulling the trigger, Nate had already braced himself for a sore shoulder.

But after the shot...

Nothing.

He fired again.

Still nothing.

The recoil was nowhere near as strong as he had expected. If anything, Nate found it exhilarating. Most of the other guns he fired barely seemed to have any recoil anymore.

So Nate lowered the Barrett to his waist and started bump-firing it, using the rifle’s own recoil. It was something he had once seen a video creator do in his previous life.

He shouted as he fired, swapping magazines as soon as they ran dry, as if he wanted to vent all the frustration inside him through the gunfire.

By the time Nate had emptied all ten Barrett magazines, he threw his head back and shouted.

“Damn, that felt good!”

That one yell seemed to release all the tension bottled up in his chest.

Nate replaced the target. The previous one had practically ceased to exist.

Then he picked up the AN-94 and fired a couple of magazines through it.

The two-round burst really was impressive. Used properly, the rounds landed extremely close together, and it could put them downrange fast.

He tried the other guns as well, but none of them had the same satisfying kick as the Barrett.

Nate quickly lost interest.

“William, send all of these up to my room later.”

“Of course, Mr. Lin.”

...

Nate originally intended to head straight back to his room.

But as he passed through the lobby, he remembered that he still wanted to ask about the blood oath.

So he asked the front desk where Winston was and headed to the bar.

Winston and Henry were sitting near the sofas, chatting idly.

Even Addy, the bartender, greeted Nate as soon as she saw him.

“Nate, what can I get you?”

Nate thought for a moment.

A certain recipe suddenly came to mind.

“Vodka on the rocks in a shot glass, topped with NiCola.”

Addy frowned. “What’s NiCola?”

“Just use blue cola instead.”

“That’s a new one. Give me a minute.”

A short while later, Addy placed a blue cocktail in front of him. She had even added a little lime juice to improve the flavor.

“Looks decent, at least,” Addy said.

Nate took a sip.

His eyebrows nearly twisted together.

It was painfully sweet, and the alcohol burned all the way down his throat.

“Well?” Addy asked.

“It’s... not bad.”

“What’s it called?”

“David. David Martinez.”

After thanking Addy, Nate carried the drink over and sat beside Henry, listening to the two older men chat about this and that.

Henry noticed the glass in Nate’s hand and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, look at you. Drinking now, Nate? What is that? Let me try it.”

Nate had almost forgotten that Henry was something of a drinker himself. He just couldn’t handle as much anymore now that he was older.

“Here.”

Henry took the glass and had a sip.

His throat moved once.

Then, completely expressionless, he picked up a napkin, covered his mouth, and calmly spat the drink into it.

“What the hell is this supposed to taste like?”

“All right, all right. Back to business.”

Nate turned toward Winston.

“Winston, I need to ask you something.”

Winston raised an eyebrow and set down his cigarette.

“What is it, Nate?”

“I want to know the rules surrounding a blood oath.”

“Because of John?”

“Yeah.”

Winston’s tone became more serious.

“When you entered this world, I told you there were two rules that could never be broken. At least, not by people like us.”

“One of them is the blood oath.”

“To us, a blood oath is absolute.”

“If someone holds your Marker, they can demand that you perform one task for them. Whatever that task is, you have to do it.”

“If you refuse, you die.”

“If you run, you die.”

“If you kill the person holding your Marker, you still die.”

Nate immediately raised his hand.

“Okay, I have a question!”

“Go ahead.”

“Let’s say someone has John’s Marker. What was his name again? Sant... Santino something?”

“Santino D’Antonio,” Winston supplied.

“Right. Santino D’Antonio.”

Nate leaned forward.

“If I kill Santino D’Antonio myself, does John still die?”