Safehouse — Late Night
The air was thick with smoke and tension. Dave leaned against the cracked wall, eyes burning with a cold fire that no one dared challenge.
Jamzy lit a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his bruised face.
"Fuckin' rats everywhere. This shit's getting messy."
Tessa paced, fists clenched.
"We're bleeding allies faster than we can patch holes."
Dave's voice was sharp as broken glass.
"Good. Let those motherfuckers burn."
"The real question is who's gonna be left standing when the fire dies."
Suddenly — the room shook.
Explosions rocked the building.
Glass shattered.
Someone screamed.
Dave snapped upright, muscles coiled.
"Get down!"
Gunfire cracked through the walls.
They scrambled to barricade the door.
Outside, shadows moved like predators hungry for blood.
In the chaos, a voice growled.
"You think you can hide, Dave? You think you can fucking run from what's coming?"
The voice was Razor's — a ghost from Dave's past, now a storm on the doorstep.
Dave's eyes narrowed, heart hammering.
"Razor, you worthless shit. You're about to find out why I'm the king now."
The battle for survival erupted.
Fists, knives, guns — everything spilled into a savage dance of violence and desperation.
Dave moved cold, efficient — every hit precise, every breath measured.
But Razor was wild — unpredictable, brutal.
Their fight was a collision of past grudges and future wars.
Tessa shouted over the din.
"Dave! The back door!"
Jamzy covered her, firing into the advancing shadows.
Dave hesitated only a second — then bolted.
Outside — the street was a warzone.
Sirens screamed, lights flashing red and blue.
But no help was coming.
Only death, and the cold grip of the streets closing in.
The street was chaos incarnate.
Rain hammered down like a damn monsoon, mixing with blood and sweat to slick the pavement beneath their feet.
Dave sprinted, heart hammering like a war drum. Razor's voice taunted him in his head, sharp and venomous.
"You think you're untouchable, Reign? I'm the nightmare you never woke up from."
Dave's breath came fast, cold steel in his eyes.
"I'm the storm, Razor. You're just a goddamn breeze."
The alley ahead narrowed. The perfect trap.
Jamzy and Tessa covered the rear, shooting off warning shots that echoed like thunder.
But Razor was relentless, flanking from the shadows with a wicked grin and a knife gleaming.
Dave turned just in time to parry a slash — the blade carving a line of fire across his jacket.
Fury exploded in Dave's veins. He landed a crushing blow to Razor's ribs. The bastard staggered but didn't fall.
"You wanna die, motherfucker?" Dave growled.
Razor spat blood, eyes blazing mad hate.
"No. I wanna see you burn."
They collided again — fists flying, knives flashing. The fight was brutal, raw, and desperate.
Suddenly, a gunshot cracked.
Jamzy's voice rang out, cursing and shouting.
Dave broke the fight, rolling behind a dumpster as bullets sprayed.
"Move!" Jamzy shouted.
Tessa grabbed Dave's arm.
"We're getting the hell out of here — now."
Dave glanced back at Razor — who was bleeding but smirking, unbroken.
"This isn't over," Razor hissed.
Dave didn't answer.
They ran into the pouring rain — bodies aching, lungs burning, hearts cold with resolve.
Safehouse — Aftermath.
They slammed the door shut, locking out the storm and the madness.
Tessa leaned against the wall, shaking.
"That was fucking close."
Jamzy lit a cigarette, blowing smoke into the heavy air.
"Too close."
Dave wiped blood from his cheek, voice low and hard.
"Razor wants a war."
"Good. I'll give him hell."
But beneath the bravado, a darker thought lingered.
How many more battles can we survive?
Safehouse — Late Night
The rain had stopped, but the storm inside Dave's mind raged on.
He sat alone in the shadows, fingers tapping nervously against the chipped wooden table.
Jamzy and Tessa were asleep in the other room — but Dave's eyes refused to close.
The fight with Razor wasn't just a fight. It was a message.
You're still a target.
Dave's voice was a cold whisper in the dark.
"I'm not just fighting for me anymore."
He thought of Tessa — fierce and fragile — and Jamzy — loyal, but scarred.
If I fall, they fall.
Suddenly — a soft beep from Dave's phone.
A message: "They're coming. Tonight."
No sender. No explanation. Just those three words.
Dave's gut tightened.
"Fuck."
He grabbed his jacket and loaded his pistol.
Outside — The streets were empty but for the shadows.
Dave moved like a ghost, every sense on edge.
He checked his earpiece. Static. No contact from Lang or Maya.
The silence screamed louder than any gunshot.
Then a figure stepped from the darkness — a woman with cold eyes and a cruel smile.
"You're running out of time, Reign."
"This is your last warning."
Dave didn't flinch.
"I've heard your warnings before. And I'm still here."
The woman vanished into the night like a specter.
Back at the safehouse, Jamzy and Tessa woke to the sound of gunfire.
Dave was gone.
A note left behind: "This ends tonight."
The city was a beast of shadows and whispers as Dave moved through the empty streets alone, the night thick with danger and promise.
Rain had stopped but left the world slick and cold, the scent of wet asphalt mixing with smoke and sweat. Each step echoed against the walls — a heartbeat in the dark.
His mind raced — every possibility, every threat, every chance. Razor was hunting him. The Round was tightening the noose. And worse, traitors lingered in the shadows, waiting for their moment to strike.
Dave's jaw clenched. There was no room for doubt. No place for mercy.
He was alone, but the city belonged to him now — and it demanded a reckoning.
Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught his eye.
A figure darted between alleyways — fast, but not fast enough. Dave's body tensed and then surged forward.
In a heartbeat, he caught up, grabbing the figure by the collar and slamming him against the cold brick.
The man's face was pale, sweat mixing with rain.
"You're the leak," Dave growled, eyes burning like fire.
The man stammered, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't want to—"
Dave's fist smashed into his cheek.
"You're a fucking traitor. You've been feeding them everything."
The man's blood dripped, mixing with the rain.
"Tell me what I need to know. Now."
Back at the safehouse, Tessa and Jamzy waited — the silence gnawing at their nerves.
Tessa's fingers trembled as she gripped her phone, trying to reach Dave.
Jamzy paced, restless and angry.
"He's out there, walking into the lion's den."
"We can't just wait."
Tessa shook her head, voice tight.
"He's gotta do this alone. This is his war."
Meanwhile — Dave's captive spilled secrets.
"They're planning something big. An attack to finish you off. Tonight."
Dave's eyes narrowed. The noose was tightening faster than he thought.
He pulled out his phone and sent a message: "Prepare. It's coming."
The final hour approached.
Dave moved like a shadow, slipping through the maze of streets to the rendezvous point — a forgotten warehouse by the docks.
The place reeked of rust and decay, but tonight it was the stage for a war.
As he slipped inside, the air buzzed with menace.
Figures emerged from the dark — mercenaries, killers, shadows of the Round.
The fight was brutal, savage, and personal.
Bullets tore through the air. Fists met flesh. Blood painted the floor.
Dave moved cold and calculating — each strike precise, each breath controlled.
Suddenly, Razor appeared — bloody, wild, and furious.
"You think this ends here? You think you can take me down?"
Dave didn't flinch.
"I don't think, Razor. I know."
They clashed in a violent storm of rage and history, their fight the thunder that shook the warehouse.
Outside, Tessa and Jamzy watched from the shadows, heartbeats pounding.
They couldn't help — not this time.
But they believed.
They had to.
Because this fight wasn't just for Dave.
It was for all of them.
The warehouse echoed with the sounds of violence — gunfire ripping through the air, the harsh breaths of combatants, and the metallic scent of blood.
Dave ducked behind a stack of crates, heart pounding, every nerve alive. Razor's shadow loomed somewhere close, unpredictable, deadly.
Dave's mind raced — every move calculated like a chess master in a deadly game.
"Come on, Razor," Dave muttered under his breath, "Let's finish this."
Suddenly, Razor lunged, knife flashing.
Dave barely dodged, grabbing Razor's wrist and twisting it hard, forcing the blade away.
They grappled — two forces of nature clashing with raw fury.
Dave's voice was cold steel.
"This ends tonight."
Razor sneered.
"You're a fool, Reign. You think this war has an end?"
Dave's eyes burned.
"Maybe it doesn't. But I'm gonna win it."
Outside, Jamzy and Tessa waited tensely.
Each second stretched into eternity.
Tessa whispered a prayer.
Jamzy lit a cigarette, eyes scanning the dark.
Suddenly, a gunshot cracked, echoing through the night.
Tessa flinched.
"Dave!"
Back inside, the fight reached a brutal crescendo.
Dave slammed Razor against a pillar.
"Tell me who's behind this."
Razor spat blood.
"You don't wanna know. You'll wish you never found out."
A silence fell between them — heavy and deadly.
Then, footsteps echoed — reinforcements.
More shadows closing in.
Dave cursed under his breath.
"We're not done."
He turned, firing as the enemies swarmed.