Consuming Fire

Chapter 12 - The Duel

While Hunter and Moore stood waiting for the other to make the first move, the tension in the hallway was palpable. Hunter c****d his pistol, eyes locked on Moore, who mirrored his readiness with his own weapon. The hallway, dimly lit by flickering lights, seemed to narrow around them, amplifying the sense of impending violence.

"We're running out of time!" Moore barked, his voice echoing off the walls. But Hunter remained silent, his gaze unwavering, his finger hovering over the trigger.

The silence stretched on until it was unbearable. Moore, growing increasingly impatient, shifted his stance slightly, trying to provoke a reaction. "What's the matter, Hunter? Scared?"

Hunter's eyes flickered with a cold intensity, but he did not respond. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, his movements calm and controlled. Moore tensed, raising his gun, ready to fire at any moment.

Suddenly, Moore lunged to the side, aiming to catch Hunter off guard. But Hunter was quicker, firing a shot that narrowly missed Moore's head, embedding itself in the wall behind him. Moore returned fire, but Hunter had already moved, ducking behind a support pillar for cover.

The hallway erupted in a cacophony of gunfire as the two men exchanged shots, each one narrowly missing its mark. Hunter moved with a predator's grace, each step calculated, each shot precise. Moore, on the other hand, was wild and frantic, his desperation evident in his erratic movements.

As the duel wore on, it became clear that Hunter had the upper hand. He was more patient, more focused, and his aim was truer. Moore, realizing this, began to panic. He knew he couldn't match Hunter's skill, and with each missed shot, his chances of survival dwindled.

Desperation drove Moore to take a reckless gamble. He rushed forward, hoping to close the distance and take Hunter out in close quarters. But Hunter anticipated the move. As Moore charged, Hunter stepped out from behind the pillar, his pistol aimed directly at Moore's chest.

For a split second, time seemed to freeze. Then, Hunter squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, striking Moore squarely in the chest. Moore staggered, a look of shock and pain spreading across his face. He dropped his gun, clutching at the wound, blood seeping through his fingers.

Hunter approached slowly, his pistol still trained on Moore. "It's over," he said quietly, his voice cold and final.

Moore collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. "You... you can't... win..." he choked out, his voice barely a whisper.

Hunter stared down at him, his expression unyielding. "It's not about winning. It's about ending this." He raised his pistol again, aiming for Moore's head.

But before he could fire, Moore's hand shot out, grabbing a fallen knife from the floor. With a last burst of strength, he lunged at Hunter, aiming to plunge the blade into his heart. Hunter reacted instinctively, sidestepping the attack and bringing his pistol down hard on Moore's wrist, knocking the knife away.

Moore fell to the ground, his strength finally failing him. He lay there, gasping for breath, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and resignation. Hunter stood over him, his pistol lowered but still ready.

"It's over, Moore," Hunter repeated, his voice softer this time. "You lost."

Moore's eyes fluttered shut, his body going limp. Hunter watched him for a moment, then holstered his pistol and turned away. The hallway was eerily silent now, the echoes of their duel fading into nothingness.

Hunter walked down the hallway, his footsteps echoing softly. He knew the battle wasn't over yet, but this was a significant victory. Moore was defeated, and Draven was next. The end was in sight, and Hunter was ready to see it through.

As he exited the building, the fresh air hit his face, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension of the duel. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next challenge. The island was almost at peace, and Hunter was determined to make sure it stayed that way.

But for now, he allowed himself a moment of respite. He had won the duel, and that was a victory worth savoring, however brief it might be.

– – –

Hunter knew the final confrontation with Draven awaited, but as he walked away from Moore's lifeless body, he felt a sense of grim satisfaction. One enemy down, one to go. And Hunter was ready for whatever came next.

– – –

Just a few steps remained until there would be no more war, should Hunter win the final duel. Outside the building, Durk, County, and the other soldiers of Tarantula Hawk guarded the perimeter, ensuring Draven could not escape the island. Durk noticed the gunfire had ceased and commented, "The first duel is done. I hope he won."

County, peering intently at the building, responded, "What do you mean?"

"He’s coming out soon," Durk said, his eyes fixed on the entrance.

County nodded, understanding. "I think he won," he said, trying to sound confident. "Yeah. Let's hope this last battle brings full victory and freedom to the land, by the hands of Hunter."

Durk nodded solemnly. County looked back at the building, a silent promise in his thoughts. "If you need backup, just call us," he thought.

– – –

Inside the building, Hunter walked purposefully, each step echoing in the desolate hallway. The building, once bustling with life, now felt like a tomb, the silence only punctuated by his footsteps. He was heading to face Draven, the final obstacle to peace.

Draven waited, leaning against the wall, a knife in his hand. He listened to Hunter's approach, the sound of each step growing louder. "He's coming," Draven muttered to himself. He stood up, positioning himself beside the door, ready for the fight.

Hunter found Draven waiting in a room that would serve as their arena. Draven's voice broke the tense silence. "Knife to knife, Hunter. Don't worry, I have no guns for backup."

Draven was unarmed except for the knife, while Hunter began removing his guns, dropping them to the floor until only his knife remained. Their eyes locked in a mutual understanding: this fight would be settled by blades alone.

Hunter entered the room, ready for the knife fight. Draven immediately lunged at him, the sharp glint of his blade flashing in the dim light. Hunter sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the strike, and retaliated with a swift s***h aimed at Draven's torso. Draven blocked it with his own knife, sparks flying as metal clashed against metal.

The duel was intense and brutal, each man giving no quarter. Hunter's movements were precise, his training evident in every attack and parry. Draven, on the other hand, fought with a wild ferocity, his desperation driving him to push beyond his limits.

As the fight wore on, Draven managed to land a vicious blow to Hunter's right side, the knife slicing deep into his belly. Hunter grunted in pain but didn’t falter. He retaliated with a quick, savage strike to Draven's arm, causing him to stagger back.

Draven, sensing an opportunity, rushed forward again, aiming for Hunter's heart. Hunter twisted his body, but the blade still found its mark, stabbing into his left shoulder. The pain was blinding, but Hunter gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep fighting.

With a roar, Hunter launched a counterattack, driving Draven back with a series of relentless blows. Draven's defense began to crumble under the onslaught, his strength waning. Seizing the moment, Hunter delivered a powerful kick to Draven's chest, sending him crashing into the wall.

Draven struggled to get up, but Hunter was already upon him. He grabbed Draven by the collar and slammed him against the wall, his knife poised for the final strike. Draven tried to bring his own knife up, but Hunter was faster. He drove his knife into Draven's head, the blade sinking deep into his skull. Draven's eyes went wide with shock and pain.

For a moment, everything was still. Then, with a final, brutal twist, Hunter pulled the knife out and stabbed Draven again, this time through the ear. Draven's body went limp, and he slid to the floor, lifeless.

Hunter stood over Draven's body, breathing heavily, his own wounds throbbing with pain. He had won the duel, but at a great cost. Blood seeped from the cuts on his belly and shoulder, but he knew the fight was over. Draven Grimlock, the leader of the Private Executioners, was dead.

The room was silent once more, the echoes of their battle fading into the stillness. Hunter took a deep breath, wincing at the pain, and looked down at the fallen enemy. The war that had ravaged the island was finally over.

Hunter turned and walked out of the room, each step a reminder of the battle he had fought and won. The hallway felt less oppressive now, the weight of victory lifting some of the burden from his shoulders. He knew he had to report to Durk and County, to tell them the news and to start the process of rebuilding.

But for now, he allowed himself a moment of quiet triumph. He had won the duel, and with it, the promise of peace for the island. Hunter Freeman had fulfilled his mission, and though the scars would remain, he knew he had done what needed to be done.

– – –

As Hunter emerged from the building, the soldiers of Tarantula Hawk looked at him with a mix of respect and relief. Durk and County stepped forward, their expressions unreadable but their eyes filled with questions.

Hunter nodded, and without a word, they understood. The battle was over, and the island was finally free.