Chapter 216: Dog Lovers

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"John Wick? Is he a part of some shady underground assassin organization?" Hector asked her quickly.

Augusta nervously nodded, "Sir, he had left that life a long time ago when he fell in love. But then his wife died, and some people forced him to enter that world again."

"And he now killed a member of the High Table, got excommunicated, and also received an international bounty on his head?"

-_-

"H-How do you know that, mister president?"

He chuckled, "Your grandson's pretty famous... Just not in this universe. Get in the car."

He unlocked the black 1969 Ford Mustang in all its glory. It was beautiful and every man's wet dream.

"What's with men and cars? My grandson drives one like this too. Can't you drive something normal?" Augusta complained.

Hector scoffed, "Why can't women not buy expensive jewelry, makeup, and dresses? See, it goes both ways. And unlike what women buy, these cars only get expensive with the time."

"Hmm, no wonder my grandson killed that gangster and his son for stealing his car. Must be worth a lot."

"He did that just for the car?"

She remembered more, "That and they killed his dog, who was a gift from his wife."

Hector's grip on the steering wheel tightened and made noise, "It's understandable then. Life for a life. Heck, to me, a dog's life is worth more than any criminal human. I'd kill every gangster in the world if one harmed Moony someday."

"Aw... That sweet marshmallow. I heard you got him a new friend."

"She's called Fenris. She's a wolf from Asgard, the place Odin lives."

Suddenly, the old woman made a cross in the air and touched her chest. "Sir, if you don't mind me asking. Is Jesus real?"

Hector didn't mind answering while he drove, "Oh yes, he's real. All are real: Jesus, Zeus, Buddha, Shiva, Anubis, Jupiter, and more. All gods are real. Well, they may be just really powerful, long-lived aliens, but they are gods for us."

"Should I stop believing then?" She asked.

"Hmm, that's a tough question. I hate talking about religion. It gets people too excited. To the point, they start killing. But, from what I understand, religion is supposed to be a coping mechanism. It's supposed to give hope and mental power to those suffering. A dream that everything will be all right. So if it makes you happy, it's okay to believe, dear.

"But remember, if you think your religion is something you should protect by killing others, then you better kill yourself first. Because if you use common sense, you'd know that the creator of the whole universe does not need the protection of a measly little ant living on one of the trillions of planets in space."

She giggled like a child, "It's never boring talking philosophy with you, sir."

*Sigh* "I guess I'm just too old. Is this the building?" He stopped in front of a hotel building.

"Yes, this is it—the Continental. After a lot of digging, I found that this place is one of the many Continental hotels this secret organization owns. They are horrible people, I must say."

Hector parked right in the front and entered the building haughtily with no care at all for anybody's life. He was a danger, after all, not the other way around.

He made his way to the reception and rang the bell. Soon enough, a black man attended. However, his jaw fell, and he took a few steps back first, unable to understand why the president would be there. But being professional, he greeted, "Good evening, mister president. What can I do for you?"

Hector looked around while lazily rubbing his beard. He was still in his red coat uniform, and he was always in it. It also made him look much scarier for some reason. "Hmm, you guys picked a pretty nice spot after New York was destroyed. Anyway, I'm here to help this lady here. You see, she's my secretary, and her grandson is in a bit of trouble with your organization."

Charon reckoned it was best to agree to whatever the fuck the president wanted right away because even if he denied it, he was sure the president would have his way now or later. "And what may his name be?"

The woman chirped, "Jo-Johnathan Wick."

"FUCK!" Even the calm and composed Charon, the concierge at the Continental Hotel, cursed at that. "You will have to talk to the manager about this, sir. May I lead you to him?"

"Sure, but move fast."

The manager of the hotel was Winston. He was in his office when Charon brought in the guest without informing him. Not that he was going to complain after seeing him. "What a special guest we have tonight. How may I be of service?"

"Where is John Wick?"

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"AH! FINALLY! I will lead you straight to him. I was able to buy him a few extra minutes before his bounty went international." Winston blurted.

Hector quickly realised everything, "You revealed everything about John to her in hopes she would reach me?"

"Of course, I was out of options. John is in deep trouble. He killed Santino inside the Continental grounds. That's the biggest rule one must never break. On top of that, Santino was a High Table member." Winston explained.

"Ah, you and your high table. I should just break its legs at this point. Let's go now; I will help the kid." he walked out back to his car.

...

John Wick was standing alone with his dog in the middle of a public park. He was supposed to meet Winston here and get some supplies. Unfortunately, his life was going to get tough starting now as everyone would try to come and kill him.

He was already injured and needed help. But that seemed to be out of options right now. He also needed money from his house, but it was probably being scouted already.

*Grrr...*

Just then, the loud sound of an old car engine came. Soon a beautiful 1969 Mustang stopped before him, and then another normal car.

"JOHN! MY LITTLE BOY!" Augusta ran out of the car to hug the man.

John was taken by surprise by her appearance. "Grandma, you should not be here. It's dangerous. Please go."

*BAM*

Suddenly, Augusta slammed her purse on John's side, "You bad boy. Couldn't you come to me for help? You've already been through enough. You finally had a peaceful life."

"She's right." Hector got out and saw the master gun-fu artist in the flesh. John seemed like an average tall man at first.

Winston also appeared, smiling. "It's okay now, Johnathan. Mister President will fix everything."

John Wick was not a man to speak too much. He, too, loved a calm, normal life and longed for it. But if Hector was going to help, he wouldn't deny it. "Thanks. You have a nice car."

"Bwahaha... I got another just like this. Contact me if you want to buy one later. Anyway, let's go and meet these High Table members first. To defeat the enemy, we first cut the head. And it's just a table we're talking about here."

"But they do not stay together," John said.

Hector chuckled, "Hah, I can fix that in a snap, lad. Now don't worry and just hold your grandma tight. Winston, are you not leaving?"

"Sir, I don't believe I will get the chance to see you in action up so close again. So I would like to not waste this." Winston reasoned.

"Fair enough," however, Hector paused and called Fury, "My favorite cyclops. I need you to add an international high-priority bounty to the High Table system. Umm... don't insert money value. Just type 'If anyone touches John Wick, then Hector King Washington will throw them into space orbit like a baseball.' That's it."

(⊙_(⊙_⊙)_⊙)

Winston, John and Augusta looked at him dumbly. But shockingly, the truth was, the world would believe it. If there was anyone who could do that, it would be Hector.

*WOOSH*

All of a sudden, all three disappeared from their place and arrived in an all-white bright room. There was a single brown wooden table in the middle, and four people were handcuffed to its four legs with their mouths tied with a cloth.

"God bless the stones." Hector smirkingly walked to the table and slammed his fist on it. *BAM* "Listen up. You have two options. One, you die in prison after dropping the soap. Two, you die in prison after dropping soap a second time. You have ten seconds to decide."

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