John held to his gun tightly as if trying to control his killing impulse. The Visitor jumped off the zombies hand and walked closer to the creatures beneath.
- So... I might have over heard your little chat with your daddy, Battlehawk. Guess what it's your lucky day! John wick I present to you... Jonas Walker.
Just then the hitman turned around to see him.
Jonas Walker was not his real name. His hair black and a little greasy, was fake, as were his glasses, mustache, and uneven teeth. He looked fifty years old, but he was actually closer to thirty. Nobody knew the man's real name, but in the business he was in, a name was the last thing he could afford and he was one of the highest-paid and most successful contract killers in the world. Somehow seeing another killer John's anger started to build up just as if it was always there somewhere hidden within him.
John's POV
The shadow is already dissolving into the nighttime darkness when I hear a footfall only two metres behind me. In this forest there is only one person who could get so close to me without detection and I know he wants me dead.
I swallowed that anger when it was a fire-seed and forgot to drink something cool, and so it grew in me until it came out as hot as any dragon has ever flamed... on people that didn't deserve it. Which is why I stayed and promised myself not to be who I used to be, a killer...But maybe it is destiny. I'm holding back and those people will get hurt. With a deep breath I looked at my enemy's eyes. He walked in circles as if he was daring me to fight. I am done playing nice. This son of a bitch WILL NOT get the better of me.
As soon as I lay a hand on my knife the fight will be on and only one of us gets to walk away or perhaps neither. Perhaps some talk will throw him off guard. I've taken more and better down in fair fights and he knows it. Now he has a new emotion... fear. He takes a step backwards and points a shaky finger at me.
- You're a freak. You're unnatural.

I told him standing my ground. Apparently the little bastard came with friends. Great just what I needed. More assassins. When it comes to the fight there's no honor, no code. All that matters is the win and we take nothing for granted. They have pushed me to the edge of my sanity... the want the old me they'll get it. I'll offer them peace first, a chance to surrender on my terms, something they will of course refuse. Then the first blow comes, a single shot in their leader's head. Then the negotiation restarts with the second in command. Perhaps it isn't a fair fight, but isn't that a strange concept anyway? I always leant toward short and brutal to curb the fatalities, maximize the fear.
End of John's POV

A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout John's body. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken. He slowly dropped to the ground. His tongue was soaked in the taste of blood. Bruised and winded, with a leg in agony, he grabbed the foot of the leader assassin/Jonas and pulled him to the ground. His head was pounding. He brought a fist to Walker's face, snapping his nose into a grotesquerie. John's men stood by his side.
There was stillness on both sides. If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet. Then suddenly movement, so much force in every blow. John got lost in his old self.
When it came to attacking he never played by "the rules." He aimed to get back to his  kid in one piece and read the bedtime story. In a way he saw it as defense, just taking it to 'em when they weren't expecting it. He used to sit in the dark with weapons ready and picked him off before they could send a hit squad after him. Times are dark. The only freedom the authorities want now is the freedom to lock him up for non-compliance. When he lost his family something in him broke. Attacking was what what he liked best now. He got all his "medication" in one go, money and violence. He knew he shouldn't, knew it was wrong, but he didn't care. It was his addiction and rich people would pay good money for his "skills."
Jonas spit out some blood as he got up backing up slowly.
- Who.. are you?
John let out a little smirk as he got closer.
- I am your worst nightmare. I will listen to your worst fears. I will understand what makes you tick. I am John Wick.