John Wick walks into a cold, dark room. His hair covers his cheeks but is in no way interposing his view. His eyes elegantly move from side to side, scoping the room out with the precision of a hawk. Populating it are other action films that bring disrepute to his brand of cinema. The other films rise up off their seats, armed with their incompetent filmmaking techniques. John brandishes his gun. Two hours and ten minutes later, he has reached the other end of the room - warm blood splattered across his bespoke black suit. He darts a glance and sees carnage in his wake. Ever so calm, he reload....