On the roof of a burned, rusted car, a dark figure stood, still and silent. Around him stretched the remains of a city that had once been alive with movement and stories. Now, it was nothing but rubble. Buildings were shattered, their windows broken like hollow eyes staring into the void.
Burned-out cars and twisted metal lined the streets, and faint trails of smoke still rose from the charred wreckage. The air smelled of ash and death, heavy with the weight of what had been lost.
The man's long black hair hung in dirty strands, and his beard was wild and unkempt. His coat was torn and filthy, flapping in the faint, lifeless breeze. Time had left its marks on him—his face was gaunt, his skin weathered, and his eyes hollow. They stared blankly at the street ahead, not with hope, but with a cold, determined madness.
He spoke, but there was no one there—only his shadow stretched across the cracked road.
"Oh, it's today?" he muttered, tilting his head as if listening to an unseen reply.
After a pause, his lips curled into a crooked smile. "Yes, yes, I'm sure it'll work this time, my friend. You don't believe me, do you? Always the doubter, huh?"
His voice rose slightly, tinged with a bitter laugh. "What kind of shadow mocks its owner? I told you—I'm a man of science. This time, I'll make it work. I just need one last piece. That's all." His eyes, still fixed on the distant road, burned with dark resolve.
"Besides... what else is there to lose?"
The faint rumble of engines broke the silence, growing louder with each second. Two cars were speeding toward him, their headlights piercing the gray haze. Dust kicked up in the distance as they tore through the ruins. The man didn't move, his body tense yet calm.
His hand rested on the silver pistol at his side. The gun's surface gleamed faintly in the dying light, and a single word was etched into its metal frame: "Remember."
He jumped down from the car roof, landing hard on the cracked pavement. Stepping into the middle of the road, he stood firm, facing the approaching vehicles head-on. They raced toward him, engines roaring, but he didn't flinch. The ground trembled beneath their speed, but the man's expression stayed cold and steady.
Just as the cars were about to hit him, they screeched to a halt, skidding inches from where he stood. The silence that followed was sharp and heavy, broken only by the ticking of cooling engines.
The man's fingers tightened around the grip of his pistol. His eyes, still dead and empty, seemed to darken even more. "They're here," he said softly, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Let's get done with this."
Two men stepped out of the first car, their massive frames cutting an imposing silhouette against the wasteland's dim horizon. The driver, a hulking figure clad in a long, red coat stained with dried blood, reached for the massive axe slung across his back. Beside him, the passenger gripped a makeshift sword, its jagged edges gleaming menacingly in the faint light.
They moved toward the lone figure standing in the middle of the road, their heavy boots crunching against the cracked asphalt. The driver's voice boomed, low and threatening, as he hefted the axe onto his shoulder.
"What do we have here?" he growled, his tone a mix of curiosity and menace. His dark eyes scanned the stranger from head to toe.
"Who are you to stop our march?"
The stranger stood his ground, his black coat swaying slightly in the breeze. His voice was calm, almost disarming, as he answered.
"I'm Noah—a poor man seeking shelter," he said. "I saw your group from a distance and thought I'd ask for mercy."
The driver's eyes narrowed, his smirk returning. "Mercy? While holding a gun? That's bold." He nodded toward the silver firearm clutched in Noah's hand.
Noah's thoughts churned. 'Damn. Forgot to hide it. I know you're enjoying this, you smug shadow.' He muttered just under his breath before answering smoothly,
"Pardon my caution. In times like these, you can never be too careful." He chuckled nervously, then added, "Besides, what harm can a weak man like me bring to fellow believers? Praise the Savior. Praise the chaos."
The driver studied him for a moment, his sharp gaze flickering with recognition. "Ah, I thought I smelled the Apostle's mark on you," he said, his tone shifting to one of approval.
"You've accepted the truth. Good. You're welcome to join the camp—it's close by."
'Hook, line, and sinker,' Noah, hiding his satisfaction behind a nod of gratitude.
He moved to stow the gun in his pocket, but the driver held up a hand. "I'll take that," he said, his voice firm.
"Guns are rare, and we honor the Apostle's way—steel over bullets. I'll keep it safe."
Reluctantly, Noah handed over the weapon, his face betraying no sign of the plan forming in his mind.
The driver gestured to the second car. Four silent figures sat inside, their faces obscured by shadows, watching every move. They didn't leave the vehicle, but their presence was an unspoken reminder of the backup the men could call on. The driver motioned to Noah.
"Get in," he said, nodding toward the first car. "They'll follow to make sure everything stays smooth."
Noah climbed into the passenger seat, his demeanor remaining calm as the car rumbled to life. The second car's engine roared behind them, falling into formation a short distance away.
As the convoy moved through the desolate streets, Noah's mind sharpened with dark resolve.
'Good. Show me your camp, your numbers. Show me everything. You've brought me one step closer, you fanatics.'
His eyes drifted to the driver, who was humming a discordant tune, axe resting lazily against his knee. Noah forced a weak smile.
"It's been a long time since I've been with fellow believers," he said softly.
The driver gave a toothy grin. "You're in for a treat, friend. The Apostle's light guides us all. Soon you'll see."
'Soon,' Noah thought, his jaw tightening. 'Soon, you'll see, too.'
Trying to hide his excitement, Noah asked, "Oh, will I have the honor of meeting the Apostle? It's been a while since I last saw him—since the day he showed me the truth."
He paused, feigning humility as his mind burned with anticipation. 'Finally, after five years, I'll get to see you, you bastard.'
The driver's gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, his voice steady but distant. "The Apostle received a revelation. It's been a long time since any of us have seen him. No one knows where he is now. All we know is that he's somewhere, doing the Savior's bidding."
Noah's excitement soured in an instant. 'Damnation.'
His hands clenched, frustration bubbling to the surface. His voice grew sharper, betraying the anger simmering inside him.
"Well, then I don't need you anymore."
Before the worshipers could react, the air was filled with a sharp ticking sound, followed by a deafening bang. Noah had been ready—his hand quickly pulling a smoke bomb from his coat. It exploded with a blinding puff of gray, engulfing the inside of the car.
The driver and his companion gasped, their vision instantly clouded. Choking on the thick fumes, they scrambled to breathe. Noah, however, was prepared. He pulled a black oxygen mask from his pocket and slipped it over his face, his heart pounding with cold exhilaration.
The car swerved, its tires screeching against the crumbling road as the driver fought to regain control. Blinded and struggling for air, he tried desperately to steer, but it was no use. The vehicle veered sharply off course and slammed into the side of the road, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air.
The car lurched to a stop, and the two men inside, now breathless and lifeless, hung limp in their seats. Noah stood over them, his laugh echoing with a chilling, unnatural edge.
"Do you like my new bomb? A mustard bomb... no one survives that," he said, his voice gleaming with dark satisfaction. He reached into the driver's pocket, retrieving the gun before the second car could catch up.
Quickly, he opened the door, removing his oxygen mask with swift precision, hiding it beneath his coat along with the gun. Noah feigned weakness, stumbling as though struggling for air, collapsing to the ground. His eyes fluttered open dramatically as the sound of the second car's engine roared closer.
The second car came to a screeching halt beside the wrecked one, and the four men jumped out, rushing toward the scene. One of them, confusion marking his voice, called out,
"What happened?"
Noah, still pretending to gasp for breath, forced out, "Something's wrong with the car. Quickly, help them!"
The four men raced toward the driver and the passenger, their attention focused entirely on the scene. But before they could process the situation, they were already doomed.
Noah was behind them, a dark silhouette in the chaos. With lightning speed, he drew the gun and fired. The shots rang out with the precision of a master gunslinger. One by one, the men fell, each shot perfectly placed, before any of them could react.
Noah's eerie laughter filled the air again, wild and unrestrained.
"See? I told you it was easy. These men... they're just like mindless animals. Oh, that was fun."
His laughter died abruptly, and his face hardened into grim resolve.
"It's bad we couldn't find out where the bastard is, but at least I know where the camp is now. Hahaha!"
With a cold grin, Noah looked around, surveying the aftermath of his work. He had taken a dangerous step closer to his goal, and the thrill of it sent a ripple of dark satisfaction through him.
He then raised his head to the sky, the first beams of golden light began to appear on the dark sky.
"It's dawn... so it's officially today, huh? Well, it's been five years now,"
Noah muttered to himself as he climbed into the second car. He started the engine and began driving back to his place, continuing his one-sided conversation with his shadow.
"He said the camp is close, and I've memorized the road, so we'll get them tonight—after I get some rest and prepare again."
He let out a deep sigh, frustration seeping into his voice.
"How is it that it's been five years since I started hunting the bastard and I still can't find him? It's like he's always one step ahead—damn it!" Noah cursed, glancing at the front passenger seat as though expecting a response.
"Not in the mood for your doubts or talks now!" he snapped.
"I know I'm a failure, but I will make it right. I can undo everything if the machine works. I just need to figure out how to channel the energy... I need a collision fusion. Well, you won't understand this, you stupid shadow."
After a few moments of silence, he pulled up to the villa. It looked just like nothing had changed except for the maintenance of the place. But there was something unsettling about it.
The house, once full of purpose, now appeared more like an abandoned structure. The walls seemed worn, and there was a coldness that lingered in the air.
Noah parked the car in the driveway, his mind still racing with the plans and frustrations that never seemed to leave him. He stepped out of the car and walked inside, the familiar sound of the door creaking as it opened.
Made his way to the garden of the villa, his boots crunching on the overgrown grass. The once vibrant green space now appeared forgotten, as if time itself had abandoned it. In the center of the garden, a small grave had been dug, surrounded by daisy flowers—the only life in the decaying landscape. A simple rock sat at the front of the grave, carved with a single word: "Judy."
He approached the grave and sat down next to it, his body stiffening as a quiet sorrow settled over him. His voice cracked with the faintest hint of sadness as he spoke,
"Hi, sweetheart... told you it wouldn't be long... I'm back."
Noah gently wiped the dirt from the gravestone and tenderly watered the daisies, the soft droplets of water falling gently onto the flowers as if trying to breathe life into them once more.
"I know it's your birthday today... you think I'd forget? No way," he muttered, the strain of his words reflecting the weight of the years.
"Well, I tried to get you a nice gift, but I couldn't find the bastard. Sorry, honey…"
His hands trembled as he held his head, the pain of loss consuming him. His voice lowered to a whisper, almost pleading.
"I'm sorry, honey... but here's some more flowers, and... and if my plan succeeds today... I'll meet you again soon."
He fell silent for a moment, staring at the grave, as if searching for any sign of forgiveness, any trace of hope. But there was only the quiet rustling of the leaves in the wind, a haunting reminder of the past he could never escape.