Chapter 14

As Roger's heart pounded in his chest, every nerve in his body screamed excitedly. The elevator seemed to crawl at an agonizingly slow pace, taunting him with its lethargy. Sweat dripped from his brow, mixing with the dirt and blood that stained his face.

Ignoring the searing pain throbbing in his wounds, Roger's hand trembled as he retrieved a small device from his pocket. Its weight felt heavy, laden with the gravity of the situation. The deadly prod glinted ominously in the dim light, its two menacing prongs a harbinger of destruction. Adrenaline surged through his veins, fueling his resolve.

Without hesitation, Roger squeezed the button, triggering a surge of power. The air crackled with electric tension as a scorching laser erupted between the prongs. Gritting his teeth against the searing heat, he pressed the hot tip against his flesh, the smell of burning flesh mingling with the scent of danger that hung in the air. It was a desperate act, a testament to his unwavering determination to stay in the fight, no matter the cost.

Abruptly, the elevator doors slid open with a bone-chilling screech. A loud blast reverberated through the air, shattering the silence and the glass wall behind Roger. Instincts took over, and he dropped to the floor, narrowly evading the massive round that whizzed past his head, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

The gunman, relentless and determined, kept firing round after round, each shot grazing past Roger in a deadly dance. Time seemed to slow as Roger's mind shifted into overdrive, analyzing the fatal rhythm of his mysterious assailant. Causally timing the seconds between each shot. Each shot seemed to come closer, grazing past him with a hair's breadth. With nerves of steel, he steadied his trembling hand, his finger squeezing the trigger, returning fire. His bullets tore through the air as they barely missed their mark, the enemy's silhouette dancing amidst the chaos.

Summoning reserves of strength he didn't know he possessed, Roger lunged towards the nearest available cover, his body a blur of movement. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him as the world around him erupted in a symphony of destruction as bullets whizzed by, tearing through the air with deadly precision, rupturing his eardrum. The once pristine quartz ledge was beginning to crumble under the relentless barrage, its surface now marred by bullet holes that bore witness to the intensity of their life-and-death struggle.

Roger knew there was no turning back in this crucible of tension and danger. The fight consumed every fiber of his being, his determination unyielding. With each passing moment, the stakes grew higher, the tension escalating to a fever pitch. It was a battle of survival, where every move could be his last, and only the strongest would emerge victorious.

"Roger, is that you?! "The voice echoed through the chaos, a mix of surprise and grim satisfaction. It cut through the smoke-filled air, commanding attention amidst the swirling turmoil. 

"Only you could survive this long against me and my rifle."

Roger's gaze hardened as he locked eyes with the source of the voice. His piercing stare bore into the depths of his old acquaintance's soul, a testament to the trials and hardships he had endured since their last encounter. "Hello, Rev," he replied, his voice laced with an eerie calmness that belied the storm inside him.

Rev's lips smacked with a sly grin as he taunted, relishing the reunion with his former comrade-in-arms. "You know, you should've never left. We were a solid team, with you leading the pack," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

A flicker of nostalgia passed through Roger's eyes, memories of their shared battles and victories dancing at the edges of his consciousness. Yet, he quickly brushed it aside, a veil of resolve descending. "That was some time ago," he said, his words carrying the weight of experience. "I'm different now."

Rev's laughter filled the air, a chilling sound that seemed to defy the chaos surrounding them. It was laughter tinged with darkness, a testament to his chosen twisted path. "Oh, really?" he jeered, his voice dripping with cynicism. I can smell it; hell, I can even taste your bloodlust from here. You haven't changed; you're just playing make-believe. That beast is still inside you—inside all of us!"

Roger clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he fought to maintain control. The words struck a nerve, awakening a dormant rage deep within him. His voice, edged with resentment and determination, cut through the tension. "Whatever," he spat, his words dripping with defiance. Let's get this over with."

A glimmer of excitement danced in Rev's eyes, a twisted spark of anticipation that mirrored the darkness in his soul. He nodded, a sinister smirk playing on his face. "Nuff said, cowboy," he replied, his voice low and dangerous. "Let's roll."

The tension in the air thickened, suffocating the space between them. Time seemed to slow as the weight of their shared history bore down upon them. The echoes of their past reverberated through the abandoned corridors, mingling with the present danger, creating a symphony of anticipation and raw emotions. It was a clash of wills, a battle beyond mere physicality.

With every step they took, the world around them seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two adversaries locked in a deadly dance. The stage was set, and the battlefield was chosen. The echoes of their past deeds reverberated through their bones, fueling their determination and igniting the fire within.

The air crackled with electricity as they prepared to face each other again. The air was heavy with the scent of gunpowder and the taste of impending violence. The world held its breath, ready to witness the clash of these two forces—one seeking redemption, the other embracing the darkness. The stage was set for a battle.