Five O'clock. Early evening. The sun is just starting to set, closing its eye on the day. John drove, and drove. His smooth Mustang keeping a steady fast speed, as he went. Down the familiar streets, and pass the barely changing landmarks, he searched his thoughts. He needn't pay full attention towards the direction he was driving, he could drive to where he was going with his eyes shut. He pulled up to his destination, The Continental Hotel. He parked. He sat. He merely looked at the front of the place, he realized what might have happened. What she might have done.
...
Six weeks earlier. John exercised in his livingroom, doing pushup after pushup, as his pitbull watched on. His focus was broken, when he heard his doorbell ring. He paused in a plank position, and listened. The bell sounded once more. He picked up his towel and wiped his hair and face, as he opened his door. "Special Delivery for Mr. Wick," the deliveryman said. He handed John a sealed envelope. The deliveryman nodded his goodbye, and walked away. The envelope had no address, from whom it was sent. John shut his door, and locked it. He went to his kitchen and sat at his table. His dog followed, sitting at his feet. John contimplated what this envelope could hold. The mail had already arrived for the day, so what was this letter? He breathed in and out a sigh, and opened it. He couldn't help but furl his brow, and wipe the hair from his face. He never thought he'd get a letter like this.
...
On a military base stationed in Hawaii, some years ago. A younger John Wick is a Marine, and a pretty good one. He spent several years in the Marines doing many tasks, including some Black Operations . He served his last term and was Honorably Discharged. He left, and went back to his hometown. His apartment was small, but useful. He walked into his place, and dropped his gear. He looked around the space, feeling the silence in his bones. Now what was he going to do? He'd been so busy, since the age of 19. Now? Stillness. He plopped on his couch and stared at the ceiling for a little while.

A brown-haired-Texas-bred woman stood above John and tapped his face, "Hey Hun don't try to get off that easy. You think we wouldn't hear they finally let your crazy ass go?" she laughed. Having fallen asleep, John awoke to the sight of his friends. "Hannah?" John asked. "Rise and shine Wickinson! Its your birthday too. We aim to celebrate," James Merrick,a tall-dare devil , added. "Tequilia shots," Tony , a dark-skinned-charismatic man , said with an evil smile. Hannah, Tony, and Merrick were the only three friends John had from the military, well the only ones he cared to have anyway. "Its just another day," John replied. They smiled, and practically pulled John with them, as they walked out of the apartment.

"To a hell of a friend," Tony said with a shot raised in the air, toasting to John. "Eh beautiful, could you go get a round of beers, something good?," Tony said to Hannah. Hannah stood from Tony's lap and walked to the bar, not before Tony smacked Hannah's backside. "You two are really going for the long haul. All the shit we been through, you don't get that everyday," Merrick said. John nodded in agreement, and drank his shot. "That's also what we wanted to talk to you two about," Tony said in a serious tone. "We have to get out of the game," Tony simply said. "You know that's impossible," Merrick whispered in a an equally serious tone. "Hannah's pregnant," Tony said. Merrick sat back in his seat and wiped his brow in thought. "Get out from what?" John asked. Hannah returned with the beer for the men. "Listen, we'll tell you what you need to know," Merrick paused, and looked to Tony and Hannah for their approval. They silently agreed that Merrick continue, and he said, "Jobs were scarce when we got our discharge, and times were hard. The scrapnil they removed from my eye, weakened my sight forever, and things were tough. We all needed another way to make money. We got in with a group of people, who could use our combat skills, and paid us to do jobs," Merrick said. "What kind of jobs?" John asked. Hannah sighed and said, "Guns for hire,and other things." John went silent, as he digested all of what he was hearing. "We want you two to be Godfathers to our baby. James. John. You are the only two we trust," Tony said. John looked to Merrick, and Merrick to John. "To Hannah and Tony. They drank to accepting their new roles. "Merrick you got first watch. Wickinson, you got second," Hannah said.
...
John placed the letter in a hidden compartment within his drawer, next to a photo of himself, Tony, Hannah, and Merrick. Hannah held her one year old daughter. Tony kissed the baby. John, and Merrick stood on either side of the couple."Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat", was the only thing written on the back of the photo. That picture marked the last time the group would see each other again. John sat the photo down with care onto his bed. He laid out a suit, and went to his bathroom to take a shower.

The familiar sad echo of the Twenty-one Gun Salute sounded into the gray skies. John parked a small distance from the burial plot, and walked the rest of the way. There weren't many people at the funeral, and none stayed for the burial, but one. Lisa Marlowe. The daughter of Tony and Hannah Marlowe. His Goddaughter. Even if he never knew her, he'd know who she was right away. She wore a look of disconnection in her eyes, and held the heavy physicality of bereavement. A look, John recognized all too well. "Lisa." John said, and she barely looked at him, her eyes glazed over, too tired to cry any more. She clutched the triangular folded flag in her arms. John pulled out the photo, and showed it to her. "I was a friend to your parents and Merrick. I'm John," He looked down and saw the carved writing on the headstone which read, "A friend. A man. A soldier. A guardian. James Merrick". John reached an arm around Lisa's shoulder, in support, she stiffened at this, and he didn't complete the gesture. "I'll take you home," John simply said.

John drove Lisa to Merrick's house. A home pretty similiar in size to John's. They entered. She paused at the doorway that led to the kitchen, frozen for some seconds. John looked passed her and into the kitchen. The body had been moved, but the police tape and blood stains still covered the table area. Bullet holes were scattered around the walls, and island. Lisa made her way upstairs, and into her room. For some moments, she didn't come back down. John went upstairs and looked into her room. Lisa lie on the bed, motionless and withdrawn. John understood Lisa's reaction, and allowed her to remain in her bed, without word from him. He left, and drove back to his place.

For many soldiers, who have lost a fellow soldier, an experience of a certain feeling comes over those who remain. This feeling can't be grasped by one who has never felt it. This feeling can't be healed by the soothing properties of time, if any exist. This feeling can only be likened to, perhaps, losing a family member. Blood. John had lost his brothers and sister in losing Tony, Merrick, and Hannah. It is rare to find one person who's friendship is the epitome of the saying, "Thicker than water," let alone finding three. And here he was, the last of the four.

will be continued.