The elevator doors swung open, Jackson rushed into the tenth floor with the Uzi in one hand and the camera that acted as his eyes in the other. He was only welcomed by an empty floor, tools scattered all over the ground while pieces of tarp hung over building resources or valuable equipment that was left to rot away.

The floor was quiet, he could only hear the breeze, his breath, and his steady heartbeat. Yet it had a smell he couldn’t understand, an odour that was both sweet and metallic which subtly approached him, its presence ever heavy and looming.

Jackson turned around, and while it seemed nothing was in front of him, his camera could see the monster. Jackson fired at the beast only for it to disappear as soon as he pulled the trigger.

The reptile scanned his surroundings, prepared to take on the creature. The miasma of the monster lingered near, he could smell it.

Jackson ducked as a sack of cement was thrown at him, he unloaded an entire clip in the general direction where he believed the monster was. Nothing happened. He knew it would help to rewind the footage, but he didn’t have the time or the patience to do so. He loaded the next clip but before he could charge the weapon. The creature picked Jackson up from behind and slammed the reptile through the concrete floor.

He brought himself back up with a thundering headache, weapon at the ready, though the camera’s lenses cracked from the fall. He chucked it to the side, he lowered himself to appear smaller while also being able to bolt out of the way if the situation required.

Static ran through the audio recorder, this time the voice of an old man came through. ‘You smell rotten! Non-human!’

The reptile fired the Uzi behind him as the smell became intense, though he aimed at the wrong area as the invisible creature backhanded Jackson through a wall to the outside world.

As he descended, his grappling hook snagged on its holster. The reptile shifted his body in the air and activated his jet boots feature and glided back into the fourth floor of the building.

However, that didn’t break his fall as he rolled and tumbled into a metal support beam and dented it. The reptile’s right shoulder was dislocated, and worst of all, he had lost his primary weapon against the creature. He struggled to get back up; he coughed out blue blood and winced when he popped his shoulder back into place.

The audio recorder played the voice of a man as it spoke to Jackson. ‘Old, ancient! You shouldn’t exist!’

The creature was a deceiver, one that would trick their victim’s eyes. But the reptile wasn’t limited by sight alone, nor did he need them. Jackson blinded himself with a swift motion of his knife. He stood there motionlessly, still like a statue as his other senses became heightened by the absence of a lesser sensory organ.

He tapped his toe on the hard ground while his other foot used the talons to latch himself onto the ground. With each tap, he could map out the room with the distance between each echo, a crude method of echolocation. With every intake of his nostrils, he could sense what was there. The dust, the sweat of past workers, bird droppings, moister, everything. In tandem, his other senses gave him a map of the entire floor. One that he could memorise and understand.

Yet the creature taunted him, ‘blue blood. Not from here!’

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The creature appeared behind Jackson as it reached for his neck. Before it could get a hold of him, Jackson ducked under the monster and slashed their hip where the femoral vein should be if it were human.

The creature shrieked as it teleported away, its red blood on the reptile’s blade now mixed with his own. Though as the monster teleported away, Jackson remained frozen where he struck the creature. Focused on the world around him, his mind in a trance as they ignored his self-inflicted pain.

The monster studied Jackson, teleporting around them trying to understand their prey. What the creature couldn’t expect was Jackson was aware of where it stood, that they were both on the same floor. Jackson ripped the grappling hook from its holster and fired it through the creature’s hand. Jackson pulled on the hook, but the cord snapped before he could drag the monster to him.

‘What do others see you as? Monster? Reptile?’ The creature spoke through the audio recorder and waited as they expected a reply in return. Jackson remained silent, unbothered by its presence.

The monster kept teleporting around; it studied him while they tried to taunt him or disturb them. Jackson in turn counted the seconds and waited. Patiently frozen as they sensed the creature appeared closer with every boost of confidence it gave itself. The reptile was their only prey and they needed to feed, regardless of the dangers.

As it appeared close enough, Jackson activated a Silenced Sphere. A device the size of a golf ball, it created a dampening field that deactivated all forms of magic, even the creature’s abilities. But it would also affect Jackson’s magical equipment. The reptile struck at the beast, while their blade was now nothing more than a regular knife. He still had no problems piercing the monster’s thick hide as he jumped onto the monster.

It tried to fight back; it swung its long arms to bat away the relentless hunter. Though it was too late, Jackson latched onto the beast and struck every important vein and artery he could find. It fell on its back, unable to move or get back up as the reptile hopped on top of them. The creature landed a few good blows and broke a few of Jackson’s ribs. Yet it didn’t matter, he didn’t care, not as long as the creature was still alive.

Blood spewed from every one of its wounds, the pain too much for the creature to handle. It never expected or understood pain, not when the reptile turned up to its home. For the first time, it felt afraid. The monster’s panicked cries ended when Jackson stabbed their blade into its cranium.

It was over; the mission was finally done. He hopped off and rested on the wall next to it. He groaned as he could feel the fragments of his rib bones scraping against his organs. Nothing he couldn’t fix when he eventually returned to home base.

‘Mission accomplished, blinded, injured, and awaiting transport.’ Jackson said into his earpiece as he sat there with his hand resting on his side.

People would be proud of the mission's success, but he wouldn’t. While others might see him as strong and capable, he knew otherwise. He was growing old. He was slower than he used to be, and he was only a fraction as strong compared to his youth.

It was a matter of time, sooner or later he would need to open The Vault. He would need to confront his past if it meant the continued survival of humanity. Though I wondered when he panted as his eyes began the slow process of healing itself. What would push him to open it?