"Hey Lucy, give the lamp," a young, blonde man said to the young woman next to him. Both were clad in beige jungle clothes, wearing hats. Their thick boots crushed the insects crawling beneath their feet. It got worse and worse the deeper the two went.
The young man searched every angle of the cave for any clues. That was when he stopped, his headlamp focused on a certain point in the mud.
He turned toward the woman, who analyzed it with a disappointed tone.
"Footprints. Soone was here before," she said, stepping closer together with the man.
The man crouched down, analyzing the print.
"This looks fairly new. Perhaps we still have a chance. Co on!" he shouted, already running deeper into the cave, Lucy struggling to keep up.
Reaching a deeper part, the tunnel grew smaller and smaller, but soon paintings appeared on the walls. Ancient symbols and pictures were depicted, and both smiled, knowing they had finally found sothing.
The young woman took dozens of pictures eagerly, the flash constantly illuminating the tight tunnel as they continued forward.
Soon they had to crouch as the ceiling grew lower and lower. Then they saw a small light shining through the gaps of so vines.
The young man stepped forward, pushing the vines aside, then suddenly stopped.
"Hey, what is it?" the woman asked.
"Look for yourself," the man muttered, almost breathlessly.
The woman squeezed in beside him, both now crouching before an enormous cave. It was so enormous it almost looked majestic. The cave was open to the ceiling, with vines and greenery hiding the opening, but sunlight still managed to find its way through, illuminating the cave and, at its center, a small stone and moss-covered building.
"The temple. We have actually found it," the man laughed heartily, embracing the woman and giving her a kiss.
The two climbed all the way down, reaching the building, the woman once again eagerly taking pictures. That was when they heard voices.
Both froze and ran inside the building.
Inside stood two n, both black-haired, looking at a large wooden chest. They did not even notice the other two entering. Their attention was fixed on the chest, one man already unlocking the ancient lock.
"No!" the young man shouted, knowing the dangerous traps laid out here, but the n near the chest did not care. When they opened the chest, sothing started rumbling, first slowly, then louder and quicker. It sounded like so kind of chanism.
"You idiots!" the young man shouted, receiving only questioning gazes from the other two n.
Soon the building started to shake. Small stones, then larger ones collapsed and fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing the two n near the chest, who ran imdiately, closely followed by the other two.
A large boulder ca crashing down, missing them by hair’s breadth.
"There is a secret exit behind the corner!" the man who opened the chest shouted. All followed him. They reached it and made it outside, all but one. Lucy was still lagging behind, and suddenly she tripped, falling to the ground.
"AHHH!" she scread for help, but before the young man could react, another large boulder ca crashing down with enormous speed.
"NOOOO, LUCY!" the man shouted, despair and grief filling his cracking voice. He kneeled before the collapsed building for what felt like eternity. Rain was already pouring down through the opening of the cave, soaking him.
When he stood up and turned, he looked at the black-haired man who had opened the chest. Their eyes t, their facial features standing out in the rain, a pair of blue eyes eting.
"It is your fault!" he shouted in agony, his eyes wet, either from the rain or from tears.
.....
Small raindrops began pouring down onto the ruined factory, where both n stood, their faces older, more mature, yet slightly different. The deep blue eyes t once again.
One of them was black-haired, the other blond.
"Paul," Jas said, mustering the man before him, slowly circling him.
"It was you all along, huh," Paul said, circling in the opposite direction, his voice deep, almost disappointed.
"Indeed. You have grasped it quite late, Paul," Jas said, tilting his head and adjusting the grip on his pistol.
Paul looked at Jas for a mont. The expression, the gaze, the tone. He is proud, Paul thought.
"Are you proud of your actions, Jas? Are you proud of the tornt you put through, the tornt of the countless others you sacrificed in vain?" Paul asked, venom in his voice.
Jas only laughed before his smile vanished once again. "And you, Paul? Why are you acting so high and mighty? The Butcher of Madrid judging morally. How ironic. Truly, Paul, how ironic. The soldier, the Nazi, the killer, wishing to judge ?" Jas suddenly shouted.
Paul paused for a mont, going deep into himself, rembering the past for a mont.
"You, Jas, you have not changed at all. You are the sa whenever I et you. You were, you are, and you always will be self-serving. That is the difference between us. That is why I judge and you do not. My actions hurt many, but they also benefited many. Your actions hurt all and only benefit you. You are the ultimate evil in this world."
"Evil? I’m Arica. I’m justice. You are Germany, you are the evil. History is my witness. History is my judge!" Jas shouted, the rain already soaking his hair.
For the first ti, Paul laughed, not out of amusent, but out of hypocrisy.
"History, Jas? History is relative. We know that by now, don’t we? I will change it for the better. You will change it for yourself," Paul said, shaking his head.
"You are just as egoistic as , but you just don’t want to see it," he whispered. "This board we call history can only bear one player, and it will be !" he shouted, raising his pistol.
Paul had his gun raised as well, and both n leapt into motion, firing at each other. The shots only grazed flesh before they dove for cover behind rubble and shattered bricks.
"Oh Paul, you know you cannot win," Jas shouted. "You know your past will catch up with you. Fate will deal justice."The last words trembled, almost emotional, as his thoughts raced back to the day he and Paul had first t. Back to the accident. At least that was what Paul had called it.
"Maybe. Soday," Paul said.
Jas froze.
Paul was suddenly beside him.
He pulled the trigger, but Jas reacted like a cornered animal, hurling himself forward as the shots tore uselessly through the air.
Paul managed to break free, driving his knee into Jas’ stomach and raising his submachine gun again. But Jas recovered faster than Paul had anticipated. He grabbed the weapon, slamd his boot into Paul’s stomach, and tore it from his hands.
The gun flew away in a high arc, clattering across the concrete.
Jas managed to raise his gun and pulled the trigger, but nothing followed except a hollow click from the barrel.
For a brief mont, both n froze, staring at each other without moving.
Then, just as suddenly, they jumped apart.
Paul reached behind his back and drew a knife. Jas did the sa, revealing his blade from the inside of his breast pocket.
Both n shifted their feet into fighting stances, their shoes pressing hard against the ground.
Paul’s posture was steadier. Heinrich’s mories and years of elite training guided his movents. He held the knife close, the blade angled inward toward himself, controlled and precise.
From sowhere nearby, they heard gunshots. They had faded briefly before returning again.
Must be Heydrich, Paul thought.
"Give up, Jas. Your n are being slaughtered one by one," Paul said. He did not truly believe Jas would surrender. The words were ant to shake his resolve.
Jas clenched his teeth, his eyes drifting unconsciously across the rubble and the scattered corpses.
"Paul, you son of a bitch. You will bleed!" he shouted, lunging forward.
The two n clashed violently. Steel t flesh. Bloody cuts appeared across their bodies, but most of them marked Jas.
The gunfire echoed again in the distance.
Jas breathed heavily, blood running down his body. Paul looked little better. After fighting for so long, he was at the very edge of his stamina.
Then, suddenly, they both heard a sound. Ragged breathing.
A silhouette erged from the rubble. A man was crawling toward them, his condition horrifying. Severe burns covered his body, and both legs were gone, torn away completely. Sohow, he had survived.
It was Michael.
He dragged himself forward, stopping right beside Jas. Jas’ eyes widened with sothing close to happiness.
Paul’s eyes widened as well."Jas, stop!" he shouted.
Jas did not hesitate.
In one clean motion, he slit Michael’s throat.
In that mont Paul stopped everything. He calmly laid his knife on a collapsed wall. Then, without haste, he tore away what remained of his shirt. Rain poured over his bare body, revealing countless scars and old marks, fresh wounds bleeding among them.
Paul stood motionless, staring straight into Jas’ eyes.
"Just like with Lucy back then. You rember, right? You called it an accident. This was one too. You aren’t mad are you?"Jas smiled, madness flickering in his eyes.
Paul did not smile.
"For that, I have already received my punishnt," he said, his deanor growing even colder.
He picked up the knife again and pressed it against his scarred torso. Slowly, deliberately, he drew the blade across his skin, carving a new line among the others. Blood seeped from the fresh cut, mixing with the rain.
"For what you just did," Paul continued, his voice steady, "you have received no punishnt."
He looked at Jas, his eyes burning with absolute killing intent.
"I will deliver it."
Paul ran toward Jas. Fear was visible in Jas’ eyes, yet his ego would not allow him to flee, even as his body begged for it.
They clashed again, Paul driving Jas back relentlessly. The fight tore through the factory and spilled out into the open.
Jas was barely standing. Every cut Paul delivered was more devastating than the last. A deep crimson pool spread beneath him as he staggered toward the water.
Jas’ eyes darted everywhere, searching desperately for an opportunity, even far into the distance.
There, on a crane, Gustaf was still fighting two n. All three were bloodied and exhausted.
For a split second, Gustaf saw an opening. Gathering every last ounce of strength, he delivered a devastating kick. One man stumbled, nearly flew backward, and fell from the towering crane. His shouts for help cut off abruptly as he hit the ground.
The other agent froze in shock. Gustaf seized that instant, driving his blade into the man’s chest. He collapsed in agony.
Gustaf finished him with a ruthless kick, jaw clenched tight.
He then grabbed the large black case that had been lying nearby.
Back at the factory, Jas forced his wounded body onward. His fingers brushed across his face, blood flowing from a horrific scar Paul had carved into him. Frustration and desperation twisted his expression.
Then he tripped.
Jas found himself at the very edge of the pier. His gaze was no longer on Paul, but on the object lying beside him.
My pistol, Paul thought, eyes widening as he followed Jas’ stare.
Jas snatched it up, lightning-fast despite the ruin Paul had made of his body.
In that mont, everything slowed.
Paul lunged toward him. Behind him, Heydrich had noticed what was happening and was shouting sothing as he ran.
Jas’ finger reached the trigger, feeling the cold tal beneath it. A surge of satisfaction spread through him.
Then pain exploded in his torso.
The shot was delayed. Before he could fire, his body was hurled backward, the pistol slipping from his grasp. His eyes followed it as it fell, greed etched into his gaze.
Jas flew through the air and crashed into the cold waters of New York Harbor.
Only then did the echo of the gunshot ring across the shattered, burning pier. Sirens wailed in the distance, louder now, but still far away.
Smoke drifted from the sniper rifle Gustaf had fired.
Seeing his shot land and Paul spared, Gustaf collapsed, nearly lifeless, onto the ground.
Paul instead just remained standing, the rain washing away the blood.
-------------------------------------
Grande Finale
Thank you all for the support! I appreciate every Power Stone, comnt, and review.
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