John made a running shoulder charge into the warehouse's door and found himself in the entryway of a vast, empty storage facility. He briefly glanced around and noticed that there were two levels in the place, the second level being an open view to the back, with the remains of a guardrail lying on the ground underneath the platform's edge.
Frankie had to be up there.
He broke into a full-on run as he charged up the stairs. Around and around he went, seemingly getting nowhere but ascending at an astronomical rate. When he reached the top, he was staring straight at Frankie, tied to the pole, mouth taped, and openly weeping with joy upon seeing him.
"Frankie! Thank God!" He began to run towards her when Dylan stepped in front of him, blocking his path and saying, "Not so fast." John halted his progress and stared at him with a glare of pure, simmering hatred.
"You know, John-boy, I admire your heart. Putting yourself through all this must mean you truly love her. But that won't mean jack shit if you're dead, now will it?"
He walked in a circle around John as he continued: "When I first got a glimpse of you a week ago, I didn't think you and her would last. I had this whole motherfucker planned out and ready to go--I figured it'd be a one-time thing and I'd get to kill her in peace, but now it looks like I'm gonna get two for the price of one."
John, seething, clenched his fists so hard that the fingernails broke his skin and caused blood to drip onto the floor. Dylan noticed and said, "You're dripping, Johnny."
"And? Trying to distract me isn't gonna work, Dylan. Let her go and I'll let you live."
"You weren't listening, were you? I'm gonna live--you're the one who's gonna die." John stared a hole into him as he approached Frankie and asked, "Now that you've seen those photos, I have a question to ask you. I didn't make it that far, so enlighten me--was she a good lay?"
Beyond rage, John charged at Dylan preparing to throw a haymaker. Unfortunately, Dylan countered the blow and punched John in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to his knees.
"What the fuck's that?" Dylan wondered. "All that talk about how you're gonna slit my throat and castrate me, and you go down with one punch? COME ON! I know you're made of stronger stuff than that!"
He approached John and said, "I'll tell you what. You're so eager to beat the crap out of me, I'll give you that chance. One on one--you and me. Whoever dies first loses. What do ya say?"
John got off his knees and said, "Sounds like a deal."
"Any last words?"
"Sure." He gestured towards Frankie and said, "Champagne for my real friends..." then gestured towards Dylan and finished: "...and real pain for my sham friends."
Dylan smiled at his audacity and went into a fighting stance. John did the same, and the two locked eyes and stared each other down. Within seconds, Dylan and John simultaneously let out a war cry and rushed at each other, ready to fight to the death.