The staccato sounds of gunfire echoed through the abandoned warehouse, sharp and sudden, slicing the eerie silence of the night. Aldrin's body moved with practiced precision, the weight of his tactical gear grounding him, yet his mind raced as he ducked behind a column, taking a steady breath. Every pulse of adrenaline tightened his grip on the gun. His boots shifted against the cold concrete floor, staying low, using the dim light to his advantage.
The Revenant wasn't just an enemy—he was a shadow, a predator in the darkness. Aldrin could feel the presence before he heard the next gunshot, his instincts telling him to move, to stay one step ahead.
And yet, the Revenant was always there, always a step ahead.
"You're smarter than I expected." The Revenant's voice came like a ghost's whisper, cutting through the chaos, far too calm for the violence unfolding. Aldrin's eyes scanned the shadows, but there was nothing to see.
Then came another shot. Close. A ricochet off the steel beams overhead.
"I thought you'd be more... composed."
Aldrin gritted his teeth, his mind shifting gears.
"This wasn't part of the plan," he muttered, rolling from behind cover to take another shot, grazing the Revenant's shoulder, the sound of the bullet hitting flesh sharp against the silence. The Revenant let out a low growl, his form flickering briefly in the shadows before vanishing again. Aldrin felt the anger surge in him, a deep, seething fury at being led into this trap.
The Revenant didn't stop moving. There was no predictable pattern, no clear path. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once.
"Marek didn't make it, did he?" The Revenant's voice slithered through the gunfire, knowing, taunting. Aldrin's pulse quickened. He could feel the pressure mounting—the loss of his operative, the team that had been sent to the shell... all of it came crashing down. The weight of Marek's absence hung heavy.
The Revenant's laughter filled the air, quiet and low, but chilling. "I warned you, Aldrin. The King's sword... shall be broken."
Aldrin's eyes narrowed. He knew this man, knew the mind that worked behind the veil. He'd been trained to strike, to kill, to anticipate—but the Revenant was different. Cold, calculating, a ghost with a vendetta. And the shadows weren't just his playground—they were his weapon.
"You think you've won." Aldrin's voice was steady, his calm exterior barely concealing the storm of rage building inside him. "Marek's not dead. This isn't over."
The Revenant stepped forward from the shadows, barely a silhouette against the dim light. His eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction, and in his hand was a weapon—Aldrin couldn't quite see it yet, but he knew the Revenant wouldn't come unarmed.
"It's over when I say it's over."
A sharp crack of gunfire interrupted the words. Aldrin dove to the side, narrowly missing another round. He had no choice now but to retreat further into the warehouse, his mind racing for an escape route. But no matter how fast he moved, how many steps ahead he tried to get, the Revenant was always there, his presence almost suffocating.
A fire erupted in Aldrin's chest—a surge of anger, of purpose. He wasn't just fighting for survival now. He was fighting for his people, for Marek's memory.
"I'm not going to let you destroy everything I've built." Aldrin's voice came out low, almost a growl as he steadied his aim. He could see the Revenant now, fully in view. He was just as Aldrin had expected—a killer without remorse, a shadow too deep to understand.
"You can't stop what's already been set in motion." The Revenant's smile was all teeth. "This game, Aldrin... this was never just about you. It was about him. About you, breaking your own blade."
With a fluid motion, the Revenant raised his gun, aiming directly at Aldrin. For a moment, time stretched, and Aldrin felt the weight of the situation settling over him.
The King's sword... broken.
Aldrin didn't flinch. He adjusted his stance, taking a deep breath, focusing. The Revenant was good, but Aldrin was better.
With a sharp exhale, Aldrin fired first.
The sound of the bullet leaving the chamber was followed by an exhale from the Revenant—a painful exhalation as he staggered back, the bullet grazing his chest, tearing through his armor. But the Revenant didn't fall. Instead, he snarled and retaliated, sending a flurry of bullets Aldrin's way.
The air buzzed with violence. Aldrin darted for cover, the metallic clang of bullets ricocheting off steel ringing in his ears. He barely dodged another shot, adrenaline spiking as he fired again. The Revenant was still too fast, too elusive. He was a ghost, and ghosts didn't die.
But Aldrin wasn't finished yet.
"I'm not broken." His voice was a low growl as he peered around the corner, eyes locking onto the Revenant's position.
The Revenant chuckled, the sound echoing in the warehouse. "You will be."
Another round. The gunfire between them was deafening now, a constant rhythm of life and death.
And through the chaos, Aldrin heard it. The sharp crack of a gunshot not from his own direction, but from the other side of the warehouse.
For a brief second, the Revenant's attention shifted.
It was enough.
Aldrin lunged from his position, covering the distance in an instant, and in one clean motion, his gun was at the Revenant's side. The ghost staggered, spinning just in time to meet Aldrin's gaze.
"You'll never win, Aldrin." The Revenant sneered, but Aldrin's grip tightened on the gun, his stance unwavering.
"I already have," Aldrin replied coldly, pulling the trigger.
A sharp explosion of sound.
And silence.
Smoke drifted through the gaping holes of the warehouse walls, curling like serpents into the dawn-streaked sky. The scent of cordite and blood clung heavy in the air. Aldrin stood over the Revenant's still form, the finality of the firefight ringing loud in the silence that followed. His chest heaved with exertion, but his hand was steady as he stared down at the man who had haunted them for months, if not years.
A soft crunch of boots on broken glass behind him made his head snap around, gun raised—
"Iris," he exhaled, lowering the weapon.
She stepped forward, emerging from behind the twisted remains of an old shipping crate, her sidearm still drawn, eyes sharp and scanning the room for threats. Her braid was loose, dirt smudged across her cheek, but her eyes—those sharp, unwavering eyes—locked with Aldrin's.
"He's alive," she said, chest rising and falling. "Marek. Burned. Badly. But he's going to make it."
Aldrin's mouth tightened, the line between relief and rage a razor across his features.
"But the others…" Iris continued, voice growing quieter. "Gone. All of them. The shell was a trap. Just… a coffin in disguise."
The words hit harder than bullets. Aldrin looked away, jaw clenched, the weight of command settling back on his shoulders like a familiar—but heavier—burden.
"I should've seen it," he muttered, mostly to himself. "The pattern… the breadcrumbs. They wanted us divided."
He turned back to the Revenant's body. The man lay sprawled on the cracked concrete, the shadows no longer protecting him. For a moment, Aldrin just stared—then, with clinical purpose, he knelt beside the body. Drew his sidearm.
Iris watched, lips parting slightly. "Aldrin…"
"He always comes back," he said flatly. "Not this time."
Without ceremony, without rage, just cold precision—Aldrin placed the barrel against the Revenant's temple and pulled the trigger.
Crack.
The echo bounced against the empty warehouse walls, sharp and absolute. No more tricks. No more games. The Revenant was dead.
Aldrin stood again, slower this time. He holstered the weapon, exhaling through his nose. "That was for Marek's team."
Iris approached him, slower, watching his face.
"Aldrin…"
His eyes flicked toward her.
"I was scared for you," she admitted, voice low. "Thought I'd be walking into a tomb."
He gave a soft, dry chuckle—empty, but real. "You almost did."
They stood there, amidst the wreckage and smoke and broken concrete. Between them, the body of a ghost that had taken too much and haunted too long.
Finally, Aldrin tilted his head toward the exit. "Let's get back. There's still fallout to clean up."
She nodded, walking beside him as they made their way out. Behind them, the warehouse began to grow still again, the morning light creeping in through shattered glass and twisted steel.
The Revenant's final game was over.
But the war? The war had only just begun.