John Wick - Chapter 93: The Jackal Being the Jackal (Patreon)

“What?” the Jackal asked, confused.

“I said I’m here to invite you to join us.”

Nate stood and held out his hand, repeating himself.

The Jackal didn’t answer. He simply sat there and rolled his shoulder experimentally. Ever since Nate had injected him, the pain had eased considerably, and some strength had returned to his body.

“What kind of drug is this?” the Jackal asked.

“A Stimulant Injector. Reduces pain, boosts adrenaline, and accelerates wound healing,” Nate explained.

“This stuff is pretty damn good.”

The Jackal took Nate’s hand and pulled himself to his feet.

“Those people outside yours?”

“Not exactly. They work for a friend of mine. They spared you because I asked them to.”

“That explains it.”

The Jackal seemed to understand.

“Thanks. Looks like I owe you my life.”

He picked up the pistol he had dropped, straightened himself, and looked seriously at Nate.

“You want me to join you. So who are you? Or rather, who are you people?”

Nate smiled and offered his hand again.

“My name is Nate Lin. I’m officially inviting you to join the New York Continental.”

“The hotel?” The Jackal looked puzzled. “You want me to be a waiter?”

“Huh?” Nate stared at him. “Did you only recently become an assassin?”

The Jackal thought for a moment.

“Yeah. This is my first job in New York.”

Talk about bad luck.

His very first job in New York had involved John Wick.

Come to think of it, the Jackal had been ridiculously unlucky in the movie too.

All he wanted was to earn enough money, retire, and live happily with his wife and son. He was an exceptionally capable assassin, yet it seemed as though the entire world had decided to make his life miserable.

There was that female police officer who looked like a Predator and pursued him with an almost obsessive determination.

Then there was his wife and her entire family, who constantly caused problems while he was trying to complete his assignments.

In the end, the Jackal never got his final payment, everyone he could reasonably call a friend died, and his wife ran off with his money and their son.

The man was practically the definition of miserable.

“Got it. You’ll understand once you get there. What should I call you?”

“Charles is fine.”

Charles took Nate’s hand.

Okay. Another guy with a ridiculous number of names.

They shook hands, and Nate glanced around the restroom.

“Mr. Charles, this really isn’t the best place for a conversation. Smells pretty bad in here. Why don’t we talk outside?”

Charles paused.

“All right.”

He understood perfectly well that if Nate had wanted him dead, there was no reason to go through all this trouble.

Elena was waiting outside the restroom. She had heard the gunshots from inside.

The moment Nate emerged, she hurried over.

“Nate, what happened? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Let me introduce you. This is Charles. Looks like we’ll all be coworkers from now on.”

“Oh. Hello, Mr. Charles.”

Elena extended her hand.

“Hello, mi...”

Charles was about to shake it when his legs suddenly gave out.

His head dropped, and he nearly collapsed onto his knees.

Nate quickly caught him from one side, while Elena rushed around and draped Charles’s other arm over her shoulder.

“What... happened?” Charles asked weakly.

“Side effect of the Stimulant Injector. Once it wears off, you’re stuck with two hours of weakness. Add in all the blood you lost, and... well, this is what you get.”

Nate looked slightly embarrassed.

“There are... side effects?”

“Charles, worry about staying alive first. We can discuss the weakness later. It’s not like I had many options back there...”

Nate paused.

“Uh, Charles?”

“The Jackal?”

Elena checked his breathing.

“He passed out.”

“Come on, let’s get him into the car. Hey, you guys over there, give us a hand!”

Nate called over to one of the suited men nearby.

It took several of them a considerable amount of effort to stuff the Jackal into the back seat.

“All right. That takes care of our business here.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Lin.”

Nate nodded to the men in suits before driving away under their watchful eyes.

“Where are we going now?” Elena asked, glancing at the unconscious Jackal beside her.

“To pick up John. We can’t exactly leave him there getting hugged by that woman all day.”

“What?!”

Elena practically exploded.

...

After another forty minutes of driving, Nate and Elena arrived at Santino’s villa.

John was already waiting outside.

He opened the passenger door and climbed in.

“Hey, John. Been waiting long? Where’s Mrs. Marianna?” Nate asked.

“Gianna’s people already came to get her. Before she left, she asked me to give you this.”

John handed Nate a small case.

It was surprisingly heavy.

“What’s in it?”

“She said it was compensation. She also asked us to take good care of Gianna once we get to Rome.”

Nate opened the case.

It was packed with gold coins.

“That’s a lot!”

Elena stared at the glittering contents from the back seat.

“It was everything she had saved,” John explained. “She said she probably wouldn’t need them anymore. Giving them to us also earns her some goodwill.”

Something about that sounded wrong to Nate.

He looked at John and made a quick throat-slitting gesture.

“You mean...?”

John understood immediately.

“What are you thinking? She just wants to find somewhere safe to retire. She’s done with all of this.”

“Oh. Good.”

Nate roughly counted the contents.

There had to be more than three hundred gold coins.

“Mrs. Marianna has convinced me with her admirable character. We’ll graciously accept them.”

Nate nodded solemnly.

“I’ll hold onto them for now. Once we’re back at the hotel, the three of us can split them in my room.”

He turned his hand over.

The entire case vanished.

“I get a share too?” Elena pointed at herself.

“Of course. You almost got blown up with the rest of us. Now enough talking. Back to the hotel.”

Nate started the car and drove off.

After they had been on the road for a while, John glanced into the rearview mirror at the man still apparently unconscious in the back seat.

“Who’s that?”

“The Jackal. The last assassin.”

Nate kept his eyes on the road.

“He’s good. The contract got canceled, so he wasn’t going to get his final payment anyway. Seemed like a waste to let him die, so I saved him.”

“Oh.”

John understood.

Then he drew the Staccato 2011 XC, turned toward the back seat, and aimed it directly at the Jackal’s head.

“Mr. Jackal, since you’re awake, you can stop pretending.”

John chambered a round.

The Jackal didn’t move.

Elena quietly shifted closer to the car door, apparently not wanting to get sprayed with blood.

“I’ve been watching you,” John said calmly. “When Nate mentioned your final payment, one of your fingers moved.”

The pistol remained perfectly steady.

“So stop pretending. I’ll give you three seconds. If you’re still asleep after that, I shoot.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

Before John reached one, the Jackal opened his eyes.

The effects of the Stimulant Injector still hadn’t completely worn off, and he struggled to sit upright.

Despite his weakness, there was genuine admiration in his voice.

“You really do live up to your reputation, Mr. Wick.”

John smiled, engaged the safety, confirmed the weapon was secure, and lowered it.

Elena said nothing.

She simply shifted even closer to the door, putting a little more distance between herself and Charles.

Nate suddenly slammed on the brakes.

The car stopped hard.

“Holy shit! You sneaky bastard. That really is just like you, Charles.”

Charles wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.

His weakened body lurched forward, and his head slammed straight into the back of Nate’s seat.

Nate burst out laughing.

“Buckle up, Mr. Charles.”