I thought keeping my gun out of play would've at least evened the odds in my favor. Instead, it only prolonged my suffering as my opponent started hammering away at me. Using my ripped cloth, I tried blocking it but could only absorb so much damage as I felt my skin begin to bruise.

I powered through like a berserker, dodging a high swing to deliver a crushing knee. It was unclear whether it did any damage as the man robotically countered by hitting my left leg. My earlier wounds made the attack crippling, though, as I immediately started to buckle. Nevertheless, I paid him back in blood, unsheathing my hammer to clock him straight in the face on the way down! Droplets worth of blood splattered across my face, noticing the bits of plastic jammed in his right eye. Hope, vengeance, and resolve welled in my body on sight, giving me enough time to kick off the ground so I could bludgeon his brains out.

I got instantly punished for the attempt, though, as the opponent used both our weights to embarrassingly trip me back toward the asphalt. When I fell, I felt like the guy from Operation, except someone had intentionally hit all my sides. Nevertheless, I sprung back up with my opponent gone. Feverishly, my eyes danced panoramically, wondering how someone could disappear without a trace.

A feat that became all the more terrifying when the smoke started clearing fully. Leaving me alone in my self-made graveyard, which grew more oppressive with every sickening second. The remaining Caracal's twitching bodies seem to stink up the area more than before. Strained vibrations from the continuing machinery somehow made me jumpy at the few sounds I could pick out for it.

Bit by bit, the same location I had just spent hours scoping now seemed to turn on its head, knowing now my opponent had claimed dominion over every crevasse and opening. So like any good coward, I immediately tried retreating, hoping that I could at least draw him out in the open. The chance never came, though as, like a thief in the night. My enemy struck from my blind spot.

Faster than a bullwhip, my enemy gave me the mother of all uppercuts. Using my cloth and hammer, I tried to dead the alarming power. But those could only do so much against a liver shot. Combined with the two other bullet wounds, nothing stopped me from vomiting. Bile burned through my throat like acid as I coughed up a toxic cocktail of blood and phlegm.

Once the black stars stopped twinkling, I noticed I had lost my magazine in the exchange. Only to get greeted with it again when I heard a grim sliding sound. I then see the suited man raise my gun at me. His green eyes started flaring, leaping out of his professional sign. However, despite his earlier coldness, I could tell my attacks did their work. His hand was practically trembling at the trigger, along with his one eye, something I could use against him.

"What's wrong? Afraid you'll. miss?"

"The only thing I fear is how your blood will stain my suit. How much you lose tonight depends on how much info you cough up, amongst other things?"

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"I can't be a free agent?"

"No, because I can't believe someone's stupid enough to make this many enemies in one night. To willingly stir in this much shit."

He was right, more than he'll ever live to know.

"Believe what you want. All I know is I'm taking those weapons. Whether or not it's with your life is up to you.

Almost robotically, my enemy cocked my gun in response, his polite pleasantries fading away at his next words.

"I don't think you're in a position to make threats."

I then looked at my vomit, developing a gross and life-saving idea. A snarky smile grew from me as I stated.

"On that, we disagree."

I then delivered a sweep kick, letting it slide beneath its now slick surroundings to give it the speed to connect. My opponent never knew what hit him, wildly shooting in the air as I pounced on him with hammer ready. In a single strike, I broke the M17, leaving us to melee combat again. Like a wild bull, the man thrashed around, trying his best to duck and dive out way of my hits.

He was successful, though, throwing me off him with a violent shove. Though by the time I refocused on him, he was gone again. This time though, I remained ready, deciding to make my final stand. Huddling together my broken body, I headed to one of the truck's sides, closing off potential entryways while gaining leverage. I then ground my heels on the concrete. Once I did, the loud sounds gained a feverish pitch. Every swirled drill, gnashed compactor, and rusty dragged claw made me realize he would already have the perfect place to dump my body if I didn't stop him here.

A complete numbing sensation took over at my next thought as I gripped my cloth even together. Then, when enough time passed for the tension to creep through my skeleton, he struck. This time though, I was ready. Right towards my blind spot, I noticed a black blur dart towards my right side. It took everything not to look back till my mind corrected me.

"No! That's what he wants! He's not a ghost, just a guy who can misdirect. It's probably a rock or something to make sure I get distracted like last time. And if he aimed for my left side, then that means-."

I then reflexively straightened out my cloth on my opposite side, an attack which instantly blocked a right roundhouse aimed to kill.

"He'll strike from the right!"

Holding my ground, I pressed on, wrapping my sleeve around him to immobilize him in the wall. I immediately advanced with another powerful jab, which my opponent reflexively tried to block. Or at least, he thought, as I feinted in the last second, instead moving towards a sweep at his reaming leg to slam his head into the truck. A resounding thud that befuddles his sense enough for the killing blow.

Because in the split in the second, he was distracted. I wrapped turned my sleeve into a garrote around his neck. Calling upon whatever strength I had left, wrapping around the fabric till it turned into a noose. The sheer surprise had my opponent hacking up saliva. He tried to push himself off the vehicle, but I already thought ahead, shifting him around until his chest met the pavement and my knee was to his back.

Knowing my victory was at hand, I kept going from there. I didn't stop when I felt the veins in my head wanting to burst or every tendon in my arms screaming for me to let go. Hell, I didn't even cease when I heard the man's neck pop open like bubble wrap. Instead, I mercilessly waited unsuccessfully for my opponent to sputter out his last breaths.

Once his body grew deathly cold, I finally answered to my wrecked excuse for a body, relenting to the black dots going toward my eyes. When they cleared, I found myself lying next to my freshest kill, his glassy eye seemingly still burning with defiance, realizing that even more blood was now on my hands. As such, I weakly strung together the few stray thoughts I had left, closing his eyes and letting him rest.

A luxury I, unfortunately, would never know as I sluggishly moved to the next step of my plan. Not knowing how this one event would have my sorry excuse for a life spiral even further. Till I became utterly unrecognizable.