Bleeding, broken, Jackson followed the last remaining merc to the roof of the research complex. Staggering along the way until he finally had his target in sight. Two men, two trained killers, look at each other, bloodied and tired. Rain washes over them, washing away bits of gore and debris which clung to their bodies. Though it struggles to wash away the pain buried deep in Jackson’s soul.

  Jackson’s mouth becomes bitter, his heart slowing down. Again, withdrawals from Rage kicked in when he needed it the most. But he couldn’t let his sudden swing of fatigue and weakness that crashed into him force him to stop at a pivotal moment. Someone had to die today, and Jackson would do anything to kill the assassin.

  Mark sniffed, trying to straighten his back, ignoring the sharp pain along his lower hips. His face stern, Mark looked at the monster who was shot at and burnt with contempt. Mark cocked the hammer of his revolver at the ready. Jackson was armless, exhausting every weapon he brought to the facility. That was Mark’s advantage, a single revolver with four shots left.

  Two men, the reptile and the assassin. Both hunters in their own right and experts in their own fields of murder. Though the rain that poured down may have washed the blood from their hands, it could never have washed away the sins either of them had committed. They both knew that no matter what, one of them would have to come out on top. Hunter against hunter, shot against claw, monster against man. A duel for the ages.

  Making the first move, Mark raised his revolver to shoot at Jackson. Seeing this, Jackson raised his arms and hands to shield his face and head before charging in. Mark managed to get two shots in, aiming for the most vulnerable parts of Jackson’s body, which were the lower stomach and right knee. Though it managed to weaken and slow the reptile, it didn’t prevent him from reaching Mark.

  Jackson yelped when he was shot, but he was determined to keep moving. When he got close, he knocked Mark’s revolver out of his hand with a left elbow and slashed at his chest with his right hand. Though his claws were unable to cut through the nanofiber plating, it was able to knock Mark back a few steps. It surprised him that Jackson was able to go through his vest in such a weakened state, but that just meant he had to fight harder than before.

  Desperate, Mark reached for his pocketknife. An unimpressive three-inch blade, which served more as a tool than as a combat weapon. But it was better than nothing. Mark slashed at Jackson, being able to lightly graze the reptile’s right arm while keeping some distance. Jackson did everything he could to fight against the ever-growing fatigue in his body, shaking his head to stay awake while fighting the assassin. Struggling to keep focus on Mark’s movements and not give him any quarter. Even though he left himself open to his blade more than once.

  After a few slashes from Mark, Jackson noticed an opening. He ducked under Mark’s swings and cracked his fist into Mark’s left side, sending him flying to one end of the roof and making him let go of his knife. Jackson tried to run towards Mark to finish him off, but came to a screeching halt as vomit rose to his throat, forcing him to fall to his knees and puke out green bile.

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  ‘Fucking cunt…’ Mark swore and rolled around, holding his side while he struggled to breathe. He arched his back, thinking it would alleviate the pain or make it go away. Nothing was broken or damaged, but a swift hit to the kidney would make anyone moan in agony.

  But as air returned to his lungs, he looked up to see that Jackson was in no better state, being on his knees, his arms bloodied with a slime-like substance pouring out of his mouth. Thanking his God and the universe that the reptile’s injuries were catching up to him and forcing him to stop his rampage. Even for a brief moment. He scanned around, looking for some sort of weapon, something to help him end the madness. With a smile, his eyes lit up when Mark saw his prized weapon, his father’s revolver.

  Jackson regained his composure and noticed Mark crawling to his gun. He tried to stand up but immediately fell back down, letting out a pained whine as mind and body screamed for rest. But he gritted his teeth, refusing to let himself die that night. Noticing a Mark’s knife near the vent, he crawled to it with one hand. Dragging his broken body, he left a thin trail of blue blood behind.

  The two men raced for their preferred weapons, gritting their teeth and fighting the unbearable pain both had endured. Mark briefly stopped to catch his breath, clutching his side as pain shot through his body. Holding back tears, he continued, wasting valuable seconds. Meanwhile, the arm dragging Jackson’s heavy body buckled and waned, becoming weaker and slower with every drag. His claws dug into the roof, but he couldn’t help but know in frustration that he was lagging behind. He needed that knife, something to throw at his last target to put an end to it all.

  Both were seconds away from their weapons. Mark was in the lead, but barely. Both were so close to grabbing the very item and determining once and for all who was the better killer.

  But that wasn’t meant to be. There wouldn’t be an answer as to who would’ve grabbed their weapon first and killed the other. Would it be the assassin with his revolver with a single bullet who, at that point, struggled to see because of a punch to the kidney, or would it be the reptile who was too weak to lift his own arms? A mystery for the ages, one would say. Though interesting to ponder, it would be a minor footnote in history when a future conflict would arrive in the years to come.

  Above them, a blue light shone down. Stopping the fight entirely. None of them could see where the light was coming from, nor could any of them hear a sound. But something was looking at the reptile and the assassin. Something that would change the world and wider humanity. An interference that would create its own champions and tragedies, but that would be a story for a later date. Their battle came to an abrupt end when both men were knocked out and put to sleep.