"Just like that?" Revy asked Dutch, palms on his desk and just barely keeping her voice from yelling. "The fucking demon of the Russian mob blows into town, fucks up half the shithole, then skips it just as quickly?" It all seemed pretty quick for Rock as well. "What kind of shit is that?"

"The kind of shit I wish more jobs were made out of," Dutch replied. He massaged his scalp Revy spoke boots up on his desk and probably holding back a sigh. "We dealt with the devil himself, got wrapped up in a war between heaven and hell, and the worst thing that happened a little loss in time and inventory. I'm not gonna bait this to be worse, Revy."

Rock watched the exchange from the sofa, staring at the cup of coffee that was on the table, steaming. He could feel the heat coming off of it, a cool sensation compared to the room he was locked in with John Wick. Hell, he was sure, was a colder climate then any place that man had been.

Then again, he had received far more compassion from the Babayaga than he had many other killers and thieves in the corrupted landscape of Roanapur.

And that compensation sat in the company safe where it belonged.

"I'm just happy the plan worked," Rock spoke up from the 'discussion' Revy and Dutch were having. "John got to appease Balalaika, at least long enough for him to get away. Plus, with the new shipment routes being added onto the Hotel, we'll likely be asked to take on the product Balalaika's not used to." He knew how the Russian boss would think.

"Ya ain't wrong, Rock," Dutch agreed from across his desk. "No way in hell Balalaika's gonna risk her men with new product till she's tested the waters. And we're the best fucking canaries money can buy." He clapped with the words.

"Well fuck me sideways," Revy added on. "Even managed to drag out extra work with that deal of yours, huh Rock?" She popped her leg as she spoke, what little she could without risking the stitches. Per usually, she didn't seem to care at all about them. "You're gonna tell me next that it was all part of your plan, right? Just risking hide, head, ass, and tail for a bit of extra dough?"

"No, it wasn't," Rock didn't even try and pretend. Baiting Revy never worked out, not unless she was drunk at the Yellowflag. "I actually thought that Balalaika would keep away from us after what happened." Because she wasn't stupid.

"You mean after we basically hid from her that we had the freaking demon of the Russian Mob in the palm of our hand and didn't put him on the fine silver for her?" Silver platter, that was what she probably meant. "Nah, big sis ain't like that. She knows where business begins and ends, and business damn near always tops drinking buddies, especially in this city." Remembering Hansel and Gretel, Rock could see what she meant.

They still did work with her, even after she murdered a couple of kids who never had a chance.

"You're both thinking too much about our good luck. That's the best way to jinx it." Dutch cajoled the pair of them. Rock nodded his head, as he had been taught through years in Japan. "When you get a fine deal in front of you, 'specially one you risked your ass and hide for, you don't sniff around it. You pick it up, roll with it, and be prepared for the assholes that'll rip you a new one for screwing them over." It didn't take long to figure out what he meant.

"You mean the Cartel?" Rock still questioned. "We did give John all the information on them, information gathered through work with them." Revy shook her head.

"You sure all the information came from just the jobs, Rock?" He didn't understand. "You sure it wasn't from the drunkards up in the Yellowflag braggin' 'bout the next big shipment comin' in, or where they keep the stashes of the good shit deep in their hiding holes?" No, he was rather confident that was not where all the information came from.

"Yeah, that sounds 'bout right to me," Dutch added on. "Good old John was in the bar with the lot of you before Balalaika's men pissed him off. Make sense if he heard a good rumor of the idiots up there." But John was looking for a ship, not information, at least at that point in time. John twisted his eyes.

They widened as he realized what they were talking about.

"Y-Yeah, you're right." His hand scratched the back of his head, amending his thoughts. "Most of my information did come from there, probably between drinking games with Revy and me. That's what made it easy to figure out which buildings mattered more to them, considering where most of them came from and went to when they were done." Dutch nodded approvingly at him.

"Makes sense to me. Loose lips sink ships, per the rules of good old Roanapur." The head of the company noted as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth. Its tip burned to cinders as he lit a flame at the head of it. "Just go to show that we're the best in the business when it comes to doin' the dirty work, cause even drunk off our ass or bein' beat to hell in someone's basement, were' always looking for the better deal." Rock laughed nervously at the joke.

"And that's all we're doin' in those basements," Revy added on. Rock could see her fingers tracing the grips of her Cutlass. "Cause if the fucking Babayaga is any proof, we're the last god damn smugglers you wanna fuck around with." Dogs would have run from her grin. Rock smiled up at it.

"With you two around, no doubt, about that." Dutch let out a groan as he leaned back in his chair. "Still, gotta admit that I'm more than satisfied when jobs like this come and go. Not the kind of shit I want dragging on us for the rest of the company's life." Rock understood perfectly well what he meant. Revy did not.

"Huh? You serious boss?" She asked, snarling as she tilted her head. "This is the kind of shit I wanna sew onto a poor bastard's face when he starts trying to wave his dick 'round the city. We gotta run next to and fuck shit up with and fucking against the Babayaga. That kind of dick length would scare off the bitches for miles and miles."

"That is the issue, Revy," Rock added on. He didn't flinch as her sharp snarl focused on him. "While it would give us a reputation for ingenuity and endurance, it would also give us a liability charge that most people would not be willing to pay, or falsely assume is present and avoid us all together." She didn't understand, not with the way her fingers were flipping around the grip of her Cutlass again.

"Rock's talking 'bout customers, Revy. Talking about going toe-to-toe and back-to-back with John would turn some heads and tails, but it'll chase away anyone lookin' for a discreet job." His hand motioned towards the window, for the boat they were named after. "In the smugglin' business of Roanapur, that's the name of the game. Reason number two we get so many good contracts from the Triads and Hotel. We don't talk shit about what we do. That ain't gonna start now that John Wick has blown in and out of this dump."

"Not to mention that we would likely be targets for whomever is pursuing John." Rock had not forgotten that this was only ever a small bump in the road for the demon of the Russian Mob. "If word reached out that he obtained his information either through or from us, then we would likely be hunted in a similar manner." The same thing hardly happened in Japan. The closest he could think of were competing companies using similar contractors in order to obtain the same cost efficiency in shipping, transport, or other services required.

The bottom was all that mattered, and emulating a successful rival was hardly unthinkable when a company wished to survive. It made perfect sense that the same mantra was nearly the same here.

"So we gotta keep our lips shut to keep our asses pure?" Revy asked. Her head rolled until her ponytail came up over her shoulder. "Thinkin of the number of things I've heard the rest of the bastards talk up about on drink nights, I'm thinkin' that's some special kind of hot shit. I get keepin the mouths shut for the details on a job, but we got paid fuck all for this."

"You wanna call the debt of John Wick shit, be my guest," Dutch easily threw back. "Probably didn't get this from having him go from client to target and back again, but that man is loyal to anything he promises. Only thing ta stop him short of death is something he promised even earlier. Shit, I wouldn't be surprised if the reason this whole hell hole got opened up was because some poor dumb mother fucker stopped him from keeping one of his damn promises." Rock could easily see that aspect of the man.

"Great, a killer with a heart of gold. Too bad he's got the fucking luck of satan on his side." Revy spat the word out. Rock honestly couldn't tell if it was an insult or not. She leaned back on Dutch's desk with a sigh. "Still, getting' through all of this with just a new flesh wound to brag about is fucking crazy. Wouldn't mind trying my luck in a casino next time we run by one. Bet I'd get crazy eights." And he didn't know what game involved that.

"Bet anything ya want but that Marker and we're good." It was no surprise he would say that.

It was probably worth more than the keys to the Lagoon boat. Rock could still see that black dial, sitting in the false panel of the safe beneath Dutch's desk, his bloody finger print and all.

A deep sigh left his mouth, leaning over his legs as he sat on the couch. It was hard to relax in a city like Roanapur, where you could die just for walking down the wrong street or saying hi to the wrong man. It really did put into perspective how easy it was to die. And John Wick certainly had a hand in that.

It only made sense that the tension of the city would leave with him. Anything that involved him, Rock now realized, was as bad as playing chicken with a shinigami. His ancestors would curse him for ever entertaining the thought.

Ring-Ring Ring-Ring Dutch snatched up the phone, putting him and Revy into a patient silence.

"Lagoon Company, what's your poison?" Dutch asked, leaning back and staring at the ceiling through the thick of his glasses. They heard a voice on the other end of the line respond. "Sounds good to me. Give me the details and I'll get a quote."

Rock spared a glance at Revy as they waited for their boss to finish the negotiations. She was watching him, too. Her eyes were as sharp as ever, caught somewhere between the sharp glare that was provoking death and the wary glare of a trained killer. Even with a batch of stitches on her leg, she looked no less a threat, and Rock knew she was never anything less. That was what made the realization that she could die so sickening to him.

She'd almost killed herself fighting John Wick.

Maybe it wasn't then specifically, wrestling him in the Russian compound with his life on the line, but it was certainly one of the few straws that broke the camel's back. He'd watch her run through gunfire with a grin, shoot of rockets and cackle, then fist-fight a trained mercenary for the fun of it. She'd always gotten close to death, but there had always been something else there to save her.

Against John, it was the first time he realized that sometimes that had to be him. He couldn't count on someone stronger saving her, not when there were men and killers out there that could fight her to a stand still and walk away without a word. Sometimes, it was on him to be smarter than her, so she could be stronger than him.

He was the bullet. She was the gun.

Rock grinned toothly at Revy, knowing all too well that she'd hit him later for it. Probably at least.

For now, she only returned it with a shark-like grin of her own.

"All sounds good to me. Put it at two kay for the first crate then one and a half for each one after that. Probably manage twenty max 'fore we start going into the nuclear hot territory." Dutch patched out the numbers on the phone, a muffled response following. "Cool. We can hit the water in the hour. See you there, ma'am." Rock shut his eyes at the words.

There was only ever one ma'am in Roanapur, and it certainly wasn't Revy Two-Hands.

"C'mon, we got work for the Hotel." Rock wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Balalaika got us a smuggling job with the Americans, easy cash to make up for the hell she threw us into." At least he knew what the leader of the Hotel had done.

"You sure it's not a trap?" Revy asked, and rock couldn't blame her for the thought either. "We didn't exactly stay on her good side through all of this. Fuck, I'm just surprised she's not blowin' in here with AR's just to teach the rest of this shithole a lesson."

"Not likely while she's busy dealing with that whole new enterprise her Hotel is drumming up," Dutch let out as she stood. He grabbed the keys to the boat from his desk drawer, enough of a sign of where they were going. "She ain't Hitler trying to start a Battle of the Bulge. Her operations are plenty smooth with us on her good side. No need trying to stoke a fire while she's blazin' a trail through the Cartel's lands."

So they were already on it, not even a day later and Balalaika had already plotted out goods to transport. Rock shook his head. That likely meant they really were going to be the canaries in the mine. What a real hassle.

"Don't sweat the idea of her turning hot lead on us," Dutch went on, even as he stood to pull his vest over his dark chest. "It's like we said before, business is business, and she ain't gonna start knocking out her best smuggling team just cause we got another job from someone else. Way she probably sees it, we mighta helped the killer run, but we never put a 9mm to her mens' heads. Cause of that, we're square." Rock could agree with that.

The Hotel killing them? Rock was sure wouldn't happen.

Balalaika needed the Lagoon company too much, and the rest of the city was aware of it. They weren't a street vendor looking for a break. They were a smuggling operation tied to the Hotel, Triads, and every small group between.

And if that wasn't enough, Balalaika always had to have guessed how John got the information that he did. She must have known that he wouldn't have been bought for a low amount, that he was low on cash in the first place, and a man with little to give but his body would offer his services. And the services of the most dangerous man in the world were worth far more than any amount of gold.

Balalaika was smart, so she wouldn't risk them calling in the Babayaga on her.

For better or worse, they were safe from her so long as they kept the dog away. Rock couldn't help but chuckle.

"You think of somethin' funny, Rock?" Revy asked at his chuckling. "Ya thinking of some hot piece of ass I'm missin' out on?" He shook his head at her question.

"No, nothing like that," he easily dismissed. "Just realized how lucky we really were through all this. Can't help but think we should all really be dead right now." Not the total truth, but not a lie in the slightest.

"Don't fucking remind me," Revy added back with a growl through her teeth. "I still got that fucker's dead eyes stare in my face with the fucking Takarov pistol. Fucking pisses me off I almost got capped by that fucking pea-shooter."

"After you wrestled with John, I'm pretty sure you would've gone down in history for just getting him off his feet." After seeing him put a tear through the HQ of the Cartel, John definitely was to Rock.

"No shit there." Revy pushed off the desk, walking behind Rock and double tapping his shoulders. "Would've still been pretty bad if I did bite it, before you pop your own knee and all." Rock heard her words, but he didn't quite understand them. At least not until he imagined it.

A knee popped out, forcing him to kneel on the other. His mind felt blank at the image.

"Hey, you both make us late and I'll let Balalaika cap you both," Dutch called out, shaking Rock from his dreams. He looked up to see Revy cackling at the door, her grin still more vicious than a shark's and with the confidence to match.

He sighed as he stood, knowing that they couldn't delay.

Just another day in the city of thieves.

Roanapur was never a city he wanted to stay in. He had already been in it far longer than he ever wished to be. He had been focused on leaving the city, and his focus to the tasks at hand had payed off.

John Wick was leaving the city of thieves.

The city was already far out of sight. That was good. That was what he needed for the past few days, so for it to finally be gone was easily the greatest accomplishment so far. Nothing crowded his vision now, not the seedy alleys that hid the sticky hands or sharp blades, not the corrupt police or terrified owners. Nothing to remind him of the darkest city of killers.

Now, John had his vision swept up in the rolling trees of the Thailand jungles. The thick emerald foliage rolling by as he settled himself into his seat. He focused on that, the departing landscape. It was something focus on now that he was out of the city. Now that Roanapur was behind him.

Not the waves of the ocean from a boat's edge, but the passing trunks of trees from the window of a bus.

He had to focus on how to leave Roanapur, and he knew this was the best option. Too many knew that he was searching for a boat, a way to leave by sea. Sea made when you were trying to escape, as there were no roads you were restricted to and no monitoring like the many governments did the skies. A boat would have been the best option, before nearly all of Roanapur was aware of his plan.

Now, a bus was the next best option. No shift to the departure schedule, no additional pay-off of cash or coin, no searches for authorization to board, only a simple pass and a single seat for the trip. It was all that he needed, and that was all that he took.

John let his hand fall to his side, rubbing the top of his dog's head. The boy whined at the contact, tired and pushing against the seat he lay down next to. John didn't disturb him. He was only focused on ensuring he was there, safe and unharmed. That was important now. It was the next thing to focus on.

He no longer had to focus on the Hotel, on Dutch, on the Triads, on Yolanda, or all of Roanapur. He only had to focus on where to go next. To do that, he needed to remember where he had been.

His head leaned back on the cushioned seat of the bus, letting the rumble of the vehicle dull out the noise of the engine. His suit was already worn, despite the short time he had worn it, meaning he would need to find a place to wash it. The guns he had carried were disposed of in some non-descript alley of Roanapur, left for the next diver to find. It was no longer something he had to focus on.

He had focused on he bus as he boarded, and he knew it was safe for it. No killers that gave a high-sign, no affiliations to the Hotel, Triads, or Cartel, no pick-pockets that shifted seats, nothing to give him alarm. Just a bus, like a train, neutral ground to those of the Continental. Safety, no matter how brief.

John bounced lightly in his seat, the bus likely having run over a crack or pothole in the road. It was enough to keep him awake. It wasn't enough for him to focus on. For now, there was nothing to focus on. Not until the bus stopped again. He wouldn't find anything in the trees to focus on, or anyway to stop it if there was.

Instead, he focused on what he knew. And he knew that he had escaped.

Escaping the terror of Roanapur through the destruction of a Cartel's chain, the death of the Hotel by leaving behind a more enticing treat, the wariness of the Triads by taking nothing of the city with him, and Dutch by leaving behind the Marker that was his debt. It was all behind him now, and for a moment, it would remain that way.

A long sigh left his lips, head leaning back with tired eyes shutting. His dog moved to rest its head on his lap, snuggling closer to him. He didn't push the boy off. It was important to focus on himself from time to time, on what to do when there was no violence, no threat of death. Now was such a time.

His fingers curled and unrolled from fists to slack palms, stretching the tired muscles. His back pushed and formed the cushion of his seat into a comfortable shape, letting him have some measure of solace. Even the dull hum in the air from the bus's transport let him mind rest at ease, keeping away the absolute silence of the vehicle otherwise.

It was a space of peace, one that he had lost in his old home. One that he doubted he'd ever completely regain. Not with Helen gone. Not with him back in the game. John knew he had to focus on what was coming.

The Cartel would know it was him who attacked, either because Balalaika would let it slip or Mr. Chang would tell them to keep peace in Roanapur. He would always take action that prevented war within the city. Balalaika would enjoy it, but she didn't care of the citizens like the former cop. It didn't matter to him, because it was beyond his focus.

He had to focus on what the Cartel would do. Possibly hire a killer or two from the Continental, maybe offer more to his bounty. They would put him on alert in any city they had a hub or safehouse, making him a high priority target. A revenge killing at that. He only needed to avoid them, that was all.

Balalaika would take time to come after him again. Maybe a few months, possibly a year, but she would likely come again. Once she had absorbed the totality of the smuggling routes and product of the Cartel, she would make him her next priority target. So long as he kept from Russia, Japan, and Thailand, he could avoid her. The States may be the safest, but he couldn't tell just yet.

Mr. Chang and the Triads would make it most difficult. They likely had no reason to pursue him, other than the money. They were the only the gang that would gladly accept contracts for killing and kidnapping, while the Cartel and Russian Mafia preferred to use those tactics only for establishing their trade routes or product. Mr. Chang would easily accept it though, seeing it as another way to profit the Triads while keeping the city safe. He had to avoid most Eastern countries then, as well as China towns.

Dutch and the Lagoon company would hire him in the future, paying his debt off to him. When they did, that was when things would be difficult.

It was impossible, even focusing on the work that Dutch took on and the experience his team had, what they would bring him on for. They didn't do killings, some kidnappings, mostly smuggling. They could use him as a decoy for a dangerous shipment, ask him to be a guard while going through a long stretch of territory, or maybe even just set him up so they could collect the profit of his bounty.

And the debt of the Marker meant he had no choice but to accept whatever they brought to him. It was a debt he knew he had to accept, begrudgingly at that. But that was not to pass for sometime.

Dutch was too careful, Rock was the same. They wouldn't call him for something simple, so it would take time before they called him at all. That was fine with John.

From what he could remember, there was nothing else of Roanapur he needed to focus on. All other debts were repaid and problems taken care of.

For now, he could focus on moving on. He had the world on his tail.

But for now, he could focus on nothing at all.

Author's Note:

And so, like the lone gunman, John Wick rides off into the sunset, content with a job well done. I'm hoping for the same feeling, but I'll settle with 'holy fuck its over'.

Not the longest story I've ever written, sure, but I think I did pretty good nailing characters with this one, which was the point. John's heavy focus playing off in his gunman ship and conversation, the trickiness of Balalaika, Revy's over the top brashness and colorful language, all the works. I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did, because holy crap this chapter and the last were frick all to write.

Nearly 20,000 words in a week? And I gotta do that for Unknown Legends? Just kill me now!

Seriously though, this story is over, and if you have any questions, please feel free to PM me. I don't plan on continuing this, as I always planned this as a sort of John Wick 2.5, before 3 proper comes out next year.

Apologies again if he grammar is shite, but that's what happens when you're working off of four hours of sleep a night, high blood sugars, three jobs, and moving to a new apartment!

Cheers all and I hope again that you all enjoyed the ride! I'll be seeing you!