Chapter 8 - The Rooftop
The night air was violently chopped by the spinning rotors of a sleek black helicopter waiting on the mansion’s reinforced roof. The storm had broken, rain lashing against the concrete.
Arthur Vance, clutching a titanium briefcase, ran toward the chopper, two heavily armed bodyguards laying down covering fire at the stairwell door.
Elias burst through the door, diving behind an HVAC unit as bullets sparked against the metal. He popped up, returning fire, taking out the first bodyguard with a clean shot to the shoulder, sending the man tumbling over the edge of the roof into the dark water of the lake below.
The second guard hesitated, and Elias closed the distance, engaging in brutal hand-to-hand combat. He disarmed the man and knocked him out with a savage strike from the butt of his pistol.
Only Arthur remained. The helicopter pilot, seeing the carnage, panicked and lifted off, abandoning his boss.
Arthur stood near the ledge, rain plastering his hair to his face. He held the briefcase over the edge. “Stay back, Elias! I’ll drop it! The backup drives will shatter on the rocks, and you’ll have nothing!”
“Jenkins already has the master files,” Elias said, walking slowly toward him, the rain washing the blood from his hands. “It’s over, Arthur. Your empire is dead.”
Arthur sneered, his eyes wild. “You think killing me changes anything? The monster doesn't die. It just changes faces. People want power, Elias. They will always pay the price for it.”
“Maybe,” Elias said softly, raising his weapon. “But they won't pay it to you.”
Arthur reached inside his tuxedo jacket, pulling a concealed silver revolver. But Elias was a ghost who had spent three decades training for this exact second. He fired twice.
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Arthur gasped, the revolver slipping from his hand. He stumbled backward, his knees giving out. The titanium briefcase slid across the wet roof, stopping at Elias’s boots.
Arthur Vance collapsed, the light fading from his eyes as he stared up at the stormy sky. The monster was dead.
