The Prelude to Battle

The influence of Razer was taking over me. I realized this after I shot Arthur. Razer couldn't stand Arthur either; he had tormented him in college. Because of Arthur's influence, Razer couldn't make friends, as everyone ignored him due to the rumors he spread about him. His first year of college had been a true hell. Only one person had approached him: Zoe, a popular girl from the dentistry department who just happened to be Arthur's crush. She ignored the rumors about Razer and whenever they met, they chatted animatedly. This, of course, awakened Arthur's jealousy, complicating Razer's life even more.

A month before October, the bloody event that would mark his life was announced, and Razer prepared to end Arthur. He knew that Arthur would try to kill him, so he armed himself to the teeth, gathering everything he had at his disposal in a mysterious room full of weapons. He was not a killer by nature, but a young man seeking revenge against his tormentor.

The truth is that I didn't like how Razer's personality was affecting mine. —Sigh— I complained, feeling exhaustion sweep over my body as I headed to the garage, where the cars and motorcycles were. I needed to get out of there; I still didn't know all of Razer's life, and there could be more enemies lurking. In my current situation, my death was a certainty.

Upon arriving at the garage, I made my way to one of the motorcycles. My eyes stopped on a black motorcycle with green details, a Kawasaki ZX-10R. I approached a drawer that contained all the keys, and almost instinctively, I knew which one was the right one. Razer's memories were slowly integrating into my mind. Quickly, I took all the keys and hid them behind one of the trunks of a car; I didn't want them to be stolen if someone showed up. At least I could do that.

With some difficulty, I got on the bike, eager to leave the mansion. Then, I heard the sound of several cars approaching in the distance, lights shining in the dark.

—You've got to be kidding me— I murmured, feeling adrenaline spike. The vehicles were getting closer, and I didn't have time to waste. I slammed the garage door shut and, without looking back, sped away from the mansion on the motorcycle, feeling the freedom of the wind on my face.

As I distanced myself from the mansion, adrenaline coursed through my veins, and the roar of the motorcycle engine resonated in my ears. With every turn, the night lights illuminated a terrifying scene. In the suburbs, which had once been a place of tranquility, unimaginable chaos was now unleashed. Strangers faced off with gunfire, as if sanity had evaporated in the thick air of the night. Despite being a private area, an army of intruders had invaded the place, transforming once-peaceful streets into a battlefield.

—Shit!— I shouted, feeling panic rise like a whirlwind. I zigzagged the motorcycle, trying to evade the shots whizzing around me. The first bullet passed so close that I felt the icy wind it left in its wake. Then, a customized buggy suddenly appeared in front of me, its body gleaming under the moonlight, like a beast stalking its prey.

The people inside the vehicle spotted me, their faces twisted with madness, and raised their weapons. In an instant, laughter and debauchery turned into a dangerous glimmer in their eyes.

—Shit!— I shouted again, slamming the brakes on the motorcycle. I stopped abruptly, skidding in a desperate attempt to dodge the gunfire.

A rain of bullets began to fall, an unrelenting rhythm that echoed in my ears. Each shot was a reminder that death was lurking. I zigzagged, but the sound of a dry impact resonated, and I felt a violent tug on the bike: one of the bullets had struck the rear tire. The motorcycle destabilized, and although I tried to brake with the front brake, the momentum threw me to the ground, making me roll across the scorching asphalt.

As the world spun around me, adrenaline kept me alert, but the pain from my injuries began to surface. There was no time to think about that; the screams and the echo of bullets filled the air. I jumped up, my heart pounding fiercely as I ran toward a nearby house. The shadows were my only hope, a temporary refuge amid the chaos.

Upon reaching the backyard, I slid behind an old tool shed, the smell of metal and dampness flooding my senses. I crouched down, trying to control my breathing, listening to the distant echo of gunfire. Through the slats, I saw the strangers moving like wandering shadows, their faces hidden behind masks and hoods. Some were armed, while others seemed simply trapped in the same hell as me, but all were too focused on their own confrontations to notice my presence.

With my heart in my throat, I prepared myself. I knew that although I wanted to escape, this was an opportunity. These were Razer's enemies, and every second spent in that yard brought me closer to my revenge. At the very least, I could catch my breath, observe their movements, and plan my next move. This time, I wasn't just going to escape; I was going to fight.

The sound of the fight resonated in the air, a chaos of screams and gunshots thundering in my chest. From my hiding place behind the shed, I watched as the three guys from the buggy moved with dangerous confidence. Their faces were covered by cloth masks, and in their hands, they held gleaming firearms reflecting the night lights.

—Where is he?— murmured one, as his eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of my presence. The fear in his voice contrasted with the arrogant attitude they showed as they approached. It was as if the power they felt from being armed had made them forget that they could also be hunted.

As they drew nearer, my mind filled with memories of Razer: his experience, his coldness. I knew I couldn't stay there, paralyzed, waiting for them to find me. With a quick movement, I pulled out the gun I had taken from the mansion's arsenal. It felt heavy in my hands, but the familiarity of its weight gave me a strange confidence.

The three guys were getting closer to the shed, their footsteps echoing on the ground. One of them, the burliest, carried an assault rifle. He stopped right in front of me, leaning forward as if he could sense my presence. The air felt thick, every second stretched into eternity, and the pulse in my temples quickened. The tension was palpable.

—There's no way he got away— said the burly one, in a mocking tone, as if he was sure I would come out of my hiding place. At that instant, his laughter echoed like a dark echo.

I decided it was time. With controlled movements, I positioned myself, aiming the gun at the first guy. It was such an automatic act that I hardly thought of the consequences. The outside world faded away; it was just him and me. I closed one eye and aligned the barrel with his chest, taking a deep breath to calm my racing pulse.

—Hey!— shouted one of the other guys, alerting his companion. But it was already too late. I pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, a deafening roar that pierced the silence of the night. The bullet shot out like lightning, and the burly guy stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide open, unable to comprehend what was happening. The projectile struck his chest, and he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, the dull thud of his body hitting the pavement resonating in my ears.

The other two guys reacted immediately, their faces filled with horror and surprise. One of them drew his gun, but I was already in motion. I slid out of my hiding place, using the momentum of my body to advance toward them. Adrenaline pulsed in my veins; every second counted.

The second guy, leaner, tried to shoot, but his hand visibly trembled. Even in that split second, I knew I had to act fast. With a flick of my wrist, I aimed again and squeezed the trigger. Another shot rang out, and the bullet sliced through the air, hitting the guy in the forehead. The look of surprise was instant; his body leaned backward, crashing heavily to the ground, leaving a trail of bright blood on the pavement.

Only one remained. The third one, now alone, froze for a moment, his eyes wide as he processed the scene. His expression of terror made me feel powerful. With cold determination, I advanced toward him, the gun still in hand.

—What do you think you're going to do?— he stammered, stepping back, looking for a way to escape. But I wasn't going to let him get away that easily.

—Nothing personal— I replied, my voice low and calculating. As I got closer, fear gripped his face. There was no time for compassion.

Before he could react, I shot one last time. The bullet sliced through the air, a dull sound that resonated in the silence. The guy collapsed to the ground, his body lifeless alongside the other two, leaving the yard in an ominous silence.

Breathing heavily, the gun still smoking in my hand, I looked around. The chaos of the night seemed to have calmed for an instant, and the echo of the gunshots slowly faded away. What I had done was irreversible, but at that moment, Razer's desire for revenge had taken control. I wasn't just a survivor; I was a hunter.

With my heart still racing, I looked toward the horizon, knowing this was just the first battle in a war that was only beginning.

..

I sighed heavily, feeling every corner of my body scream in pain. Damn it, I thought, my body couldn't keep fighting. I needed a moment of calm, a breath that would allow me to regain my strength before the night turned into a real hell.

I began to move cautiously between the houses, searching for a refuge to hide in. It was evident that I couldn't burst into any of them; the shadows that danced in the windows warned me that there were probably people inside, and none of them would hesitate to shoot if they saw me as a threat.

"Ah, shit," I murmured to myself, unable to avoid it. The pain in my back intensified, like a cruel reminder of the bullet still lodged inside, a constant and stabbing reminder of what was at stake. Moreover, the bruises on my ribs and arms burned with every movement I made.

Upon reaching the backyard of a house, I noticed a large tree towering in the middle of the garden. My eyes settled on a small treehouse, its delicate appearance contrasting with the horror I had left behind. It couldn't be the perfect refuge, but it was all I had.

With difficulty, I began to climb the stairs leading to the small cabin. Each step was a challenge, my body protesting as I clung to the railing. When I finally reached the place, the interior was surprisingly cozy, decorated in soft colors with scattered toys, as if it belonged to a little girl. That innocent atmosphere gave me a moment of peace amid the chaos.

Without wasting time, I removed the stairs and secured the small doors and windows, sinking into the darkness of the refuge. I let myself drop into a corner, the shotgun still in my hands, and fatigue overwhelmed me faster than I had anticipated. I closed my eyes, letting exhaustion take over.

As I fell into a deep sleep, the fragility of my situation settled in my mind. Everything I had done that night, every decision driven by the instinct to survive, had consequences that would extend beyond the hours of blood still ahead. Unbeknownst to me, I had set off a chain of events that would change my life forever.

Waking up from this nightmare would not be easy, and the battle I had fought was barely the beginning. In this moment of darkness, in this small elevated refuge, I found myself caught between the struggle to survive and the desire to simply rest.

In the end, the war raging outside was just a reflection of the one I carried within. The idea that every corner of this eclipse month would bring more suffering and difficult decisions sent a pang of anxiety through me. But in that instant, as darkness enveloped the small cabin, I allowed myself a brief moment of peace, a refuge from the torment unfolding in the outside world.

And so, in the silence of the night, the struggle continued, but I, for a brief moment, found the opportunity to simply be.