"Winston, tell them, tell them all, whoever comes, whoever it is, I'll kill them, I'll kill them all."

"Of course you will."

Sugar Land, Texas

Harold Crown had spent 18 years in the oil business. In that time, he'd settled down and fathered two children, a daughter of 16 and a son of 12. His daughter had always been the rebel of the family, but no one would have expected her to get drugged up and raped at a house party hosted by a friend of a friend. Harold had done his research and was ready to find the perpetrators and bring them to justice, but found them connected to the Sinoloa Cartel. To go after the enforcers of Ferdinand Salazar meant certain death for most.

Which is where John Wick came in.

Harold knew of the man's reputation, and that he was wanted by most of America's criminal underworld, but that didn't stop Harold from doing what needed to be done.

They met at the First Colony Mall, a shopping ground for the Houstonian elite that lived in the suburb that was Sugar Land. Hidden in plain sight. Harold sat at a bench and waited ten minutes, as agreed upon. Then John appeared, sitting directly behind him with their backs facing each other. John had taken precautions to ensure the other man would have trouble recognized him if called by police: Astros World Series ballcap, designer sunglasses, and freshly shaved facial hair and freshcut.

"Harold," said John, emotion devoid in his voice.

"John."

"I found him. He'll be in a safe house in the Memorial area of town."

"Excellent. I trust you recieved the $5000 at the location we agreed upon at our last meeting. Are you sure you don't want to kill them? Do you want more money for it?"

"No." As much as John would have liked to kill them, he had other reasons. In fact, in another life, he would have done this job for free. "Cripple a deserving man, and the police will smile behind your back. Kill him as a vigilante, and the police will be forced to do their job and hunt you down. That's the last thing you want for your family."

Harold nodded grimly. "What would you have me do, then?"

"Get an alibi. For the next few hours, you and your family need to be seen in public. Go out to eat, watch Little League, whatever it is you do for fun out in the open." Another pause. A few couples walked pass them. "How's your daughter doing?"

"A little better, I think. She has begun making progress with her therapist. She has begun talking to us again, taking an interest in things. Once again, thank you."

John adjusting his hat and stood up, walking away.

Memorial City, Houston

Five against one was a lost cause for most people. But not John Wick. Taking down five gangbangers was practice.

Once they were all subdued and tied up around the central living room of the house, John poured himself a shot of tequila and waited for them to stir and wake up. John had consficated their weapons and placed a Sig Sauer pistol at the temple of the leader of the men.

The leader, a burly Hispanic man with neck tattoos of Aztec gods, looked around when waking up, and began cursing in Spanish. Then English. "You're dead, motherfuc-"

John pressed the gun harder, both to shut him up and keep the others from getting any funny ideas. "I do the talking. You're with the Sinaloa Cartel, correct?"

A few silent knows, though very reluctantly. It wasn't like John was going to report them to the police.

"You five are in charge of providing false passports and IDs for members operating in and out of Houston. Tell me where that is." No response.

John pressed the gun against the leader's back. "Tell me or I'm going to start hurting your boss."

"Just do it!" shouted the boss, writhing in pain from the exit wound the gun was placed against.

After a few hesitant looks, one of the others said, "In the mudroom. Behind the washing machine."

"Wait here." John went to the mudroom, found a duffel bag with what he was looking for, and came back to the living room. "There's one last thing. You boys are going to learn some respect."

"We can-"

"No, you can't. You'll survive, but you'll never be the same again. From here on out, if you do anything, rob a bank, shoot a police officer, or even kill a dog, I'm going to come back and kill every one of you. Slowly, and painfully. Understand-"

"Go fuck your-"

Whack.

Santa Fe, New Mexico

"You heard of this guy?"

Matt Graver looked at the file his superiors had given him. A legend in the criminal underworld, who'd destroyed two of New York's main criminal empires and went rogue. "I have."

"He's left a trail of bodies from Philadelphia to Nashville to New Orleans, and was last known to be in Houston. The Russians called him Babi Yaga after the witch of Russian myth, but his name's just John Wick."

From his chair, Alejandro looked away from the DEA officer speaking and in his lap. At last. You're spent half your life being the hunter of the hunters, but now you are the ultimate prey.

Yes, that's a Sicario crossover I've done. Technically this whole story is a crossover, but it's more focused on John and his world (with characters from Sicario added) so it goes into the John Wick section of the site. Review and let me know what you think.