Concrete Reckoning

Underground parking garage. Midnight. Concrete pillars. Flickering fluorescent lights. Rainwater dripping through cracked ceilings. On one side stands Tom Cruise — controlled, calculating, breathing steady. Not reckless. Precise. His eyes scan exits, shadows, blind spots. From the darkness steps John Wick — silent, relentless, already locked in. No wasted movement. No hesitation.