[pained yell]
[gasp]
So...
... and then you got married, eh, settled down.
How'd you manage that, anyways?
Luck, I guess.
Yeah.
Yeah, while you had your wife, I had my son...
... and believe me, you had a far better deal.
[dry chuckle]
And then you left...
... and the way you got out, lying to yourself that the past held no sway over the future...
but, in the end...
... a lot of us our rewarded for our misdeeds,
which is why God took your wife...
... and unleashed you upon me.
This life follows you.
It clings to you, infecting everyone who comes close to you.
We are cursed, you and I.
On that we agree.
Finally, common ground.
[chuckle]
OK.
Step aside. Give me your son.
John Wick.
Baba Yaga.
It was just a fuckin' car, just a fuckin' dog.
Just a dog...
... Viggo.
Yeah?
When Helen died, I lost everything...
... until that dog arrived on my doorstep.
A final gift from my wife.
In that moment, I received some semblance of hope.
An opportunity to grieve unalone.
And your son took that from me.
Oh, c'mon.
Stole that from me -- killed that from me!
People keep askin' if I'm back, and I haven't really had an answer,
but now, yeah, I'm thinkin' I'm back!
So you can either hand over your son...
Blyad. (Whore.)
... or you can die screaming alongside him!
[groaning]
[suppressed gunshot]
[ejecting cartridge]