The Intruder

Part title

Max:

The night draped the landscape in inky darkness as Max maintained his vigil, carefully observing his prey from the shadows. Harrison Mercer reclined on a plush couch, lazily watching TV while scrolling through his phone. Max's heart beat with a steely resolve, determined to carry out his mission.

"He is oblivious," Max muttered, his voice laced with disdain. Harrison's false sense of security would prove to be Max's ally. The irony of Harrison's self-assured ignorance both fascinated and repulsed Max. This was the chief of police, and he remained unaware of Max's presence for the better part of three days as he surveyed him.

Using his instruments, Max kept a watchful eye on Harrison's every move. Dozens of microscopic, high-resolution cameras captured the movements of his prey with precision, while an array of microphones placed around his home, office, and vehicles intercepted his conversations, both consequential and mundane.

Within the confines of Harrison's opulent home, he followed a predictable routine, his movements mechanical, devoid of purpose. His eyes rarely left his phone. Max marveled at this man's lack of appreciation of what he had,
from the meticulously organized study, adorned with polished mahogany, to the extravagant dining area that showcased his indulgences, Harrison roamed through his kingdom, seemingly impervious to the danger lurking outside.

As night descended, Harrison retreated to his personal sanctuary, a well-appointed bedroom. Cutting the power supply would be the first step of the plan, plunging Harrison's sanctuary into darkness. The sudden disruption would jolt him from complacency, shattering the illusion of invincibility that he had carefully constructed. 

With precise execution, Max would leave behind signs of a struggle, carefully arranged to mimic the chaos of a robbery gone wrong. Broken windows, overturned furniture, and scattered valuables would paint a picture of an intruder looking for a big score.

But, amidst the staged disarray, Max alone knew the true purpose of his presence. Like many before him, Harrison Mercer would die tonight. Max would put a bullet in his brain. But not before he suffered. Most of the bodies were quick, painless. Of course, Max had been paid to commit those murders, end those lives. This time, there would be no payment. His thoughts were interrupted as his attention shifted to a woman walking up Harrison's doorstep, bearing a tray of freshly baked cookies. The clicks of the high heels she wore were audible for Max's perch 6o yards away.

Max observed with detached curiosity as Harrison opened the door, his face adorned with a forced smile that barely concealed his impatience. She extended the tray of cookies towards him, her smile unwavering. Harrison's gaze flickered with a hint of appreciation, a rare break in his facade of indifference.

Mrs. Thompson uttered a few polite words before bidding him farewell, her departure as swift as her arrival. Finally. Harrison closed the door, a flicker of bemusement crossing his face.

In the depths of the darkness, Max checked his watch, 12:36 A.M. He took a deep breath, closed the binoculars, and placed them back in the bag before zipping it shut. Only then, he addressed the silent witness, the narrator of his thoughts. "Harrison Mercer, your time has come."


Harrison:

Harrison reclined in the living room, the new chair already annoying him, he could never seem to get comfortable. Why did he buy all new furniture if he wasn't going to able to sit in it? His attention wavered as his phone vibrated. A text message. From her.

He eagerly unlocked his phone, his heart quickening at the sight of her name on the screen. The message was hidden in invisible ink, which added to the suspense, and always managed to send a shiver down his spine.

Her: "I can't wait to finally get you alone. Can you send me the address?"

Harrison's grin widened, his ego swelling. The illicit thrill of the affair electrified him, a secret world he loved to explore.

His fingers practically glided across the screen, typing his response. Yet, just as he pressed send, the service faltered, betraying his plans and leaving him frustrated.

His features twisted for a moment. As he contemplated his next move, the sound of a knock echoed through the room. Irritation flashed across his face, interrupted from his thoughts by an unwelcome intrusion. Mrs. Thompson, his meddlesome neighbor, stood at the door.

He managed to summon a smile to his lips, forcing politeness as he interacted with her. He concealed his impatience as best as he could beneath a thin veneer of courtesy.

"Isn't it a little late for a Neighborhood Watch meeting?" Harrison jested, his tone laced with condescension. The corners of his lips twitched with thinly veiled disdain as he regarded her with a mixture of annoyance and impatience.

Mrs. Thompson stood before him, clutching a tray of freshly baked cookies, her eyes showing signs of fatigue. Her face wore a soft, sheepish smile as if she were caught in an act of vulnerability.

"I am sorry for the late hour, Harrison," she apologized, her voice carrying a hint of weariness. "Lately I haven't been sleeping so well, and I have taken up baking to help calm my nerves. I made an extra few dozen cookies tonight, and I saw your lights on, so I thought I would bring some over while they are warm."

Harrison's annoyance softened, replaced by curiosity. He had always had a sweet tooth. He glanced at the tray, and his mouth watered as he saw his absolute favorite: chocolate chip. Their aroma wafted through the air, teasing his senses. He used her first name now.

"Linda, you NEVER have to apologize for bringing over sweets. Chocolate chip is my favorite."

Mrs. Thompson's face lit up, a touch of relief replacing her weariness.

"These are my famous chocolate chip cookies," she quipped, her eyes shining with pride. "They are still warm, so I would suggest getting some milk and devouring a few, it should put you right to sleep."

The idea of warm cookies with milk was enough to bring an ear-to-ear grin on his face. He didn't think he would be able to wait until he had a glass of milk to taste them.

As Mrs. Thompson bid him farewell and retreated into the night, Harrison closed the door behind her. His fingertips grazed the edges of the cookies as he selected one, savoring the warmth. The chocolate melted on his tongue instantly, its rich sweetness punctuating his senses. In that fleeting moment, he indulged in the simple pleasure.

As he ascended the stairs, a niggling sense of apprehension tugged at him. He checked his phone. He still had no service. In fact, the wifi wasn't working now either. The dimly lit cascading hallway cast elongated shadows, heightening his uncertainty. He pushed his concerns to the side, he had nothing to fear in his own home.

Yet, as he reached the top of the stairs, the house plunged into darkness. The abrupt loss of light caused his confident stride to falter, and his heart skipped a beat as he tripped on the last stair, causing him to fumble the tray of cookies as he crashed onto the floor.

An unsettling silence enveloped the house, broken only by the echoing thuds of his own heartbeat, which pounded in his head. Something wasn't right. He had to get to the basement, to check the breaker box.

Unease transformed into a creeping sense of foreboding as Harrison began his descent down the stairs. With each step, his senses sharpened, his heightened awareness attuned to the subtlest of sounds. The inky blackness made it impossible to see, but Harrison knew his home. As he fumbled his way through the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Thompson's home, noting that her power was still on. And then, he heard it - a faint creek, a telltale sign of a door opening. The sound reverberated through the silence, amplifying his unease. His heart quickened, pounding in his chest.

The air grew heavy, Harrison's pulse thundered, his breath catching in his throat. A chill crawled up his spine, as if icy fingers traced their way along his skin. The darkness now felt suffocating, wrapping him in its oppressive embrace.

A new sound followed, distinct from the creaking—a soft, deliberate footstep, echoing through the black hallway. The hairs on the back of Harrison's neck stood on end, and a cold shiver coursed through his body. The realization settled upon him like a heavy weight: Someone was in his home.


Linda:

Linda walked back to her house, her steps quick and purposeful. The encounter with Harrison still lingered in her thoughts. She couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected charm he exuded during their brief exchange. It was the nicest she had ever seen him, a side he rarely showed the world.

As she approached her own doorstep, a sense of contentment settled within her. Her mind wandered to the batch of rich, decadent chocolate fudge she had prepared until the early hours of the morning the night before. The smooth texture, the irresistible sweetness- it was a labor of love.

A smile tugged at the corners of Linda's lips as she entered her cozy kitchen. She swiftly packaged up the fudge, wrapping each piece with care and placing them in a small box. With a sense of satisfaction, she admired the neatly arranged treats, ready to be shared.

Her gaze then turned to the remnants of her baking —the scattered ingredients, the utensils waiting to be cleaned. Linda took a moment to tidy up, washing the dishes and wiping down the countertops. The familiar routine provided a comforting rhythm, grounding her amidst the silent chaos of the world outside.

As she finished cleaning, a thought struck her- why wait? He was clearly still awake. Without hesitation, Linda decided to head back over to Harrison's house, fudge in hand, eager to deliver her gesture of kindness.

The evening air was crisp as Linda stepped out into the night, her determination guiding her steps. She clutched the box of fudge tightly, its weight a symbol of goodwill.

But as Linda approached the house, her steps faltered, and her heart skipped a beat. A figure, obscured in the shadows, moving with calculated stealth. A surge of panic washed over her. She froze in her tracks, hidden by the shadows of the trail between the homes, as she observed the intruder's methodical movements. The figure seemed to possess an uncanny familiarity with the house, navigating the nearby terrain with an eerie precision. 

Linda's legs froze beneath her, her heart pounding in her chest. The darkness seemed to close in around her, filling the air around her and closing her throat. No. she couldn't let fear guide her actions; she had to help Harrison. She thought of calling the police, but she knew nobody would be able to arrive before the Intruder was finished.

Linda's eyes narrowed as she strained to see every detail, her curiosity tinged with a growing sense of alarm. Silent as a ghost, the figure glided through the darkness, evading detection. What was their plan? Harrison surely kept his windows and doors locked.

Linda was only viewing glimpses amongst the darkness. She was able to catch a glimmer of something unusual- a tool of some sort. She watched, transfixed, as the intruder inserted the slender instrument into the window, manipulating it with practiced precision. The window yielded to the figure's touch, granting them entry to the basement.

Her legs were moving before she realized it. What would she even be able to do? It was hard to tell, but the figure looked like it might be twice her size. It was her second step forward when Harrison's home was plunged into darkness. Her pulse quickened, her breath catching in her throat. What was happening?

She approached Harrison's front door, her anticipation mixed with a growing sense of urgency. However, her attempt to turn the doorknob came to an abrupt halt- it was locked, denying her entry. She steadied her breath and looked around the porch. A row of carefully maintained plants adorned the wide patio. Her eyes widened as she saw a plant that looked out of place, the shimmer of the moonlight on the leaves slightly off. She slid the plant to the side and was relieved to see a key.

With newfound determination, Linda retrieved the key and inserted it into the lock, praying that it would grant her access. She turned the key, and with a creak, the door swung open, granting her passage into his home.

The air felt different. Heavier. The dim light filtered through the windows was the only escape from shadows. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her shoes sent a shiver down her spine. The furniture seemed to loom like silent sentinels in the shadows. The intruder could be hiding anywhere. Her ears pounded with the sound of her heart, which quickened with every step, its rapid rhythm reverberating through her chest. She swallowed hard, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Her gaze shifted to the hallway, its darkness seemed to scream at her. "RUN AWAY." She hesitated, her fingers were clenched into fists tightly enough to draw blood. Every step she took seemed to echo through the house, yet she wondered why she couldn't seem to hear Harrison or the Intruder. She questioned her decision to go further, her imagination conjuring up lurking figures around every corner.

The kitchen beckoned its entrance a threshold between the known and the unknown. Linda's breath caught in her throat as she stepped over the threshold, her senses on high alert. The room was a sea of shadows, the moonlight casting distorted shapes on the floor.

And then, a sound. The barely audible rustle of fabric. Linda's heart skipped a beat, and her breath hitched. Now, every fiber in her being, every instinct in her screamed to flee, but she held her ground.

Her eyes darted around the kitchen, scanning every corner, every nook and cranny in the house. The tension in her body was only building, her ears straining to catch the slightest hint of another noise.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Linda stood, frozen in place. The seconds stretched into agonizing minutes, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Fear, curiosity, doubt- waging a war within her.

And then, out of nowhere, strong arms were wrapped around her from behind, and Linda let out a startled gasp, her body jerking in response, but to no avail. Panic surged through her veins like a lightning bolt, her entire being jolting with a primal, instinctive response.

She was losing air, fast. How had the intruder found her so quickly?

"What are you doing in my house?" A voice snarled against her ear, its familiarity only adding to the shock of the sudden attack.

"H-H-Harr-isss-on" Linda stammered, her voice trembling as she tried to form coherent words, tried to give Harrison a warning.

"L-Linda?? Is that you?" said Harrison, genuinely surprised.

Linda could faintly hear herself uttering "ss-ome-one.. I-I-In.. Y-Your basement.'" But as the words left her lips, the edges of her vision had begun to blur and a heavy weight settled upon her. Her consciousness wavered, and then, everything faded to black.

Max:

As he slid through the basement window's narrow entrance, Max landed on the floor with a heavier thud than he should have.

The musty scent of damp earth and aged wood permeated the air, enveloping him like a suffocating shroud. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Max took in the eerie sights that surrounded him.

Amongst the cluttered furniture and forgotten memories, his gaze settled upon a bookshelf. The spines of the books, worn and weathered, stood like silent testaments to the stories they held within. His fingers grazed the titles, feeling the texture of the well-worn books. One particular book caught his attention - "The Art of Escape."

Intrigued, Max reached out and grasped the book, his fingers tracing the embossed letters on its worn cover. He pulled it off the shelf, and to his astonishment, the entire bookshelf shifted, revealing a hidden passageway.

A wicked smile curled upon Max's lips. He stepped forward, his heart pounding with anticipation. The stairs creaked beneath Max's weight as he descended, the air musty and heavy.

At the bottom of the staircase, Max found himself in a chamber bathed in a dim glow. He glanced at the desk and filing cabinet in the corner.

With cautious steps, he made his way to the desk. His heart was pounding. As he reached down to open the drawer, he found a combination lock impeding him from the inside. What was the combination? Then he remembered who he was dealing with.

Time slowed as he entered the combination, hoping against hope that Harrison's narcissism would grant him access. A moment of hesitation, a lingering doubt, and then with a twist, the lock clicked open, rocking the stillness of the chamber.

Inside the drawer lay a weathered ledger, its pages filled with detailed notes and entries. Each line was more damning than the next as the truth was revealed. The weight of the evidence in his hands filled Max with a mixture of excitement and dread.

He had come here to kill Harrison. However, with this ledger, he now held the power to shatter the veneer of the perfect life he had "built."

Max too, had once been a cop, a defender of justice, a protector of the innocent. But Harrison Mercer's sinister influence had seeped into the very heart of the department, twisting loyalty into corruption. Max had resisted at first, his moral compass unwavering. But Harrison had known how to get to him. A daughter in need of medical care, and a wife threatened with harm- they were just pawns to Harrison, who wielded his connections and power to gain leverage however he could. Max's fall from grace had been a slow descent, his actions were blurring the line between black and white until he had no choice but to bend to Harrison's will.

The final straw had come when Max's own investigation into Harrison's illicit dealings had led him to a dead end, his evidence mysteriously disappearing. Then, the unthinkable: a damning trail of fabricated evidence pointed squarely at Max, branding him a rogue cop, a dirty officer who had crossed the line.

It had shattered Max's world, leaving him abandoned by the very institution he had sworn to protect.

Amid the heavy silence, a muffled thud echoed from above. Max's senses heightened, every sound magnified in his ears. His breath, now shallow and quick, created a cloud of vapor in the cold air.

Max hesitated, his eyes darting between the damning ledger before him and the echoing sounds from upstairs. His mind was a battleground, torn between the weight of his original mission and the new opportunity to get his life back. With this ledger, maybe he could prove his innocence in a way that couldn't have been proven before.

Every second spent pondering was a second potentially lost. There surely was more damning information in this office if he were to stay and look, but surely the documents in his hands were damning enough to expose Harrison's corruption, right?

With a conflicted sigh, Max made his choice. He swiftly snapped the ledger shut and tucked it into the bag by his side. As he rose to his feet, his heart raced not just from the adrenaline of the mission, but from the uncertainty that awaited him.


Harrison:

Harrison's heart raced as he struggled to make sense of the chaos around him. Panic surged through his veins, his mind pounding with a mixture of fear and disbelief. His legs began to feel weak beneath him as he held onto the unconscious woman he had incapacitated in his moment of blind panic.

Harrison knelt beside Linda, his heart still pounding from the sudden ruse of events. He studied her face, a mix of concern and guilt evident in his expression. "Linda, are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Linda took a shaky breath, her gaze locking onto Harrison's. She nodded, her lips trembling as she tried to steady herself. "I... I think so," she stammered, her voice quivering. "I just... I saw someone break into your basement through the window. I thought maybe someone was in trouble, and I... I wanted to help."

Harrison's brows furrowed in confusion. "You saw someone break into my basement?" he repeated, his mind racing to make sense of her words. He cast a quick glance towards the staircase that led down to the basement, his thoughts swirling with a mixture of disbelief and unease.

Linda nodded again, her grip on Harrison's hand tightening. "Yes," she said, her voice growing more steady. "I saw him get in through the window. I couldn't just stand there. I had to do something."

Harrison's gaze remained fixed on her, his mind racing to process the information she had just shared. If there was an intruder in his basement, then they were probably still here.

"Why didn't you call the police?" Harrison demanded, his frustration palpable.

Linda's eyes began to glisten with unshed tears as she looked at Harrison."I came straight back to bring You some of the fudge I had finished earlier, and I saw him coming in. I didn't even bring my phone with me."

Just as Harrison opened his mouth to respond, the sound of a creaking door echoed through the air. Harrison and Linda tensed, their eyes locking in shared apprehension. Suddenly the reality of the situation hit Harrison like a sledgehammer. This was no drill, no false alarm. The danger was very real, and it was here, inside his home.

Fear surged through Harrison's veins, but he refused to let that paralyze him. He needed to act. He looked at Linda, his eyes a split portrait of determination and urgency. "We need to move," he said, his voice low and resolute. "We can't stay here."

Linda nodded, her grip on Harrison's hand tightening once more.

He led Linda cautiously through a maze of dark hallways, his heart pounding like a drum. Their options were dwindling fast as the intruder's footsteps grew louder, echoing through the sprawling house.

Linda's breath came in short, shallow gasps, and Harrison could feel her trembling against him. He had to make a quick decision. The Study, he thought. It was just ahead, with heavy drapes for cover.

Without words, he tugged Linda towards the study, and they slipped inside. The room was an eerie reminder, he hadn't been in here in years. The walls were lined with shelves of old books, and adorned with antique furniture.

The drapes were their best hope. Harrison guided Linda behind the heavy drapes, and they huddled together. The footsteps seemed to scream down the hallway at them as they grew closer. Eventually, the dim glow from a flashlight pierced through the fabric, casting eerie patterns of light and shadows across the room.

The room held its breath as the intruder entered.

They held their breath as the intruder's footsteps approached, the floorboards groaning in protest with each step. This guy must be HUGE, Harrison thought. The footsteps drew closer, and Harrison could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. He could smell this guy.

Time slowed to a crawl. Harrison prepared himself to fight if need be. He glanced over at Linda, her eyes begging him to remain still, to stay with her. He began to think of their escape. Once the Intruder left the room, he would take the screwdriver from the desk, and use it to open the window, and - no, the fall from the second floor would kill Linda, and he wasn't in great shape either. They would have to use one of the two exits on the first floor: The front and back doors. Harrison was thinking of the shortest and most reliable route to safety when the intruder finally spoke, snapping him to reality.


"Harrison, my old friend, you can't hide forever. I came here to end your miserable life, but I'll settle for this ledger I found instead."

The words rang in the air like a death knell. The Ledger??? How did this intruder know about the ledger? Harrison thought. The intruder was back at the door now, surely moving to the next room. Before he left, he let out one more taunt: "You thought you could bury your secrets forever, didn't you Harrison? Nothing stays buried forever. Not me, not your sins, and definitely not the skeletons in your closet."

Harrison's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Whoever this intruder was, they seemed to already know his darkest secrets. No one was supposed to know about the ledger. As the intruder's footsteps receded, Harrison silently realized that he couldn't just escape this intruder, he had to kill him.


Linda:

Linda's heart raced like a hummingbird's wings inside her chest. The intruder's ominous words hung in the air. Her mind raced with questions, but fear tethered her to silence. There was one thing she now knew: This was no accident, this intruder wasn't some harmless thief, he came with ill intentions.

Her wide eyes darted between the dimly lit room and Harrison's anxious face. As the intruder's footsteps moved away, a shiver tan down her spine and her fingers clamped onto Harrison's arm. Linda could feel the seconds ticking away, and the urge to escape reverberated throughout her entire core. Yet, something had changed in Harrison. He had been so eager to flee, but now she could almost sense him preparing for a fight.

She needed answers, needed to understand the magnitude of the situation. Finally, she mustered the courage to speak, her voice a mere whisper. "Harrison, Who is that? What's going on? Why is he here?" She could barely get the words out, her trembling sentences mirroring her shaking body.

Harrison leaned closer, his lips barely moving as he responded in hushed tones. "I think he is here for something he thinks I have. Something from my past, when I first joined the force." His eyes were cold, resolute. "Linda, you need to get out of here. Find a way to get out of the house and go to the police. I'll deal with this."

Panic clawed its way into Linda's chest, How could Harrison WANT to stay here with the intruder? "No Harrison, I can't just leave you here."

His eyes bore into hers with a mixture of urgency and even tenderness. "Linda, you are safer out there, and I was trained to handle situations just like this. This guy thinks he knows me, but in reality, he has no idea who he is fucking with. But I can't handle it if I am worried for your safety the whole time. Now I will distract him as you make your move, he may not even know you are here. I promise I'll follow you as soon as I can. Now, go to the back door, it's closer, and don't look back. Call the police as soon as you're out."

Linda clung to Harrison's arm, she could feel her nails digging into his skin, her voice pleading now. "Please, Harrison, come with me. If something happens to you, I don't think I will be able to forgive myself."

Her words seemed to punch a hole through his steely resolve, and for a fleeting moment, doubt flickered across Harrison's eyes. At that moment, Linda couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this story than he was telling her. Much more. She had decided to trust Harrison and make her way to the back door, and she was not inching her way through the dimly lit hallway, one agonizingly slow step at a time.

Her progress was interrupted by a creaking, squeaky floorboard which moaned in protest of her progress. Her breath hitched, and she froze, her heart pounding in her ears.

The intruder's voice, cold and mocking, cut through the tense silence, from far closer than she would've liked. "Harrison, my old friend, what happened to you? When did you become a coward? You're too scared to face me, too scared to face your past."

Linda's eyes welled with tears, and she clamped a hand down over her mouth to stifle her sobs. She was going to die. Her misstep had drawn the intruder's attention. Yet, just as she thought she had been exposed, a deafening thud echoed through the house. With trembling hands, she seized the opportunity and rushed towards the back door. It was now or never. She flung the door open and tumbled outside into the chilly night air.

As she caught her breath, she glanced back at the house, half expecting the intruder to follow her out there to finish her off. Surprisingly, no one came. Surely the intruder had heard her exit. But nobody came. Then she saw the intruder's entry point- the broken window to the basement. Her instincts screamed at her to run for help, to call the police. But something was very wrong. Harrison's words, his actions, and the intruder's words left more lingering doubt in her mind than she could handle. She couldn't ignore the need to know, the feeling that the truth was slipping through her fingers.

Linda lowered herself through the basement window, landing hard on the cold, concrete floor. Pain reverberated through her side and the hip she landed on, but she pushed it aside. The basement stretched before her. In the dim light that filtered in through the broken window, Linda hesitated. The basement was a labyrinth of dust, discarded furniture, and old cobwebs.

She could see her breath as she scanned the room, wondering what mysteries led the intruder to the basement, and where he had found this ledger. Her steps echoed in the confined space, and her heart pounded like a drumbeat. She opened boxes, and peered into every corner, looking for the clue that would put the picture together. It was the gap in the basement wall that finally made her heart skip a beat.

As she stepped through the gap, the room lit up, revealing a desk with an open drawer, and papers strewn everywhere. Her eyes scanned the documents, her hands trembling as she pieced together the puzzle.



Harrison:

Harrison's mind raced as he considered his options. He couldn't shake the worry that rocked him. It all made no sense. He had to get the ledger back, no matter the cost. Once Linda left the room, Harrison moved to the desk directly in front of the shades they had just hidden behind and felt around underneath the desk until his hand grazed against the cool metal of his pistol. The same pistol that had started this whole mess in the first place. Memories of his early days in law enforcement flooded back to him- the mentor who had taken him under his wing, being asked to protect that mentor's secrets, and then being forced to kill that same mentor when he discovered he was being framed for his actions.

He had changed that day. Sometimes, he wished he was the one who had died. Well, a not-insignificant part of him did die that day, he thought. He had hoped sending Linda out would reveal the location of the Intruder. He wasn't sure if the intruder would kill her, but with as much as she had heard, he wouldn't be against that possibility.

He was debating his options when he heard something that sent a chill down his spine. A voice, cold and mocking, echoed through the house. "Harrison, my old friend, What Happened to you? When did you become a coward? You're too scared to face me, too scared to face your past."

Recognition struck him like a lightning bolt. It had been years, but he should have still been able to figure out who the intruder was. He had spent too much time with Max to forget him so easily. This was no regular intruder, Max was here for vengeance. He would not hesitate to kill Linda if given the chance. He had been a ruthless lieutenant for Harrison in the past. Harrison had thought he could make a great lieutenant but was shocked to discover Max had been investigating him. Sure, Harrison had threatened his family, but that was just a formality. Harrison knew Max. He was still green from the academy, and he hadn't yet appreciated the world for what it really was, not what he wanted it to be. But money talks.

For years Max had benefited from the corruption of Harrison. Max became a clean-up man, a fixer of sorts. Covering up evidence, placing evidence in places it shouldn't be, and even silencing those who might uncover their secrets. But Max had betrayed him. He eventually began leaking information to a journalist, who was quietly building a case against Harrison.

Framing Max was a cinch, he was already under suspicion for the crimes he had actually committed. It didn't matter that Harrison had threatened his wife and kids. Max had never been able to prove that, and Harrison knew it. But the betrayal of Max was something that could not be ignored. This was a rare opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. It was easy to have the journalist's brake lines cut, and as news of his death spread through the department, the discovery of Max's fingerprints in the journalist's home and in his car made him an easy target. Max was never supposed to see the light of day again, and when he was sentenced to life in prison 10 years ago, Harrison thought that would be the end of Max. Yet two years ago, there was a mysterious break-in at the prison Max was in, which resulted in the escape of Max and 3 other inmates.

Harrison still remembered finding out, he was filled with a terror he wasn't prepared to face. This was something that was priority one. Harrison deployed teams of investigators and hit men alike to find the fugitives. Eventually, the team caught the other three inmates. Despite them being tight-lipped at first Upon some meticulous questioning and the use of timeless techniques such as waterboarding, the fugitives eventually admitted that Max had died along the journey.

Harrison had never believed that Max had actually died, and this suspicion was all but confirmed when authorities and fixers alike weren't able to find Max's body. Harrison was sure that one day Max would return, but in the two years that had passed, He had begun to believe that maybe Max had died overall. Yet here he was. Harrison's fingers tightly gripped his pistol, the cool metal leaving marks on his fingers.

He had to act fast. He could hear Max's footsteps outside the room, getting closer and closer. The time to take back his house was now.


Max:
As he stepped through the house, Max had to steel his resolve. Here he was at the precipice of everything he had wanted for as long as he could remember, but he couldn't help but think it didn't have to be this way. If he had never spoken with the journalist, he would never have been here.

Max opened the door to the study and raised his weapon, a hefty pistol. He stepped inside and began to scan the room with trained eyes. There was movement, an unnatural sway by the curtains, and Max reacted before he could think, firing two suppressed rounds into the curtain before he was sure what he saw. His heart was thundering in his chest, and he awaited the thud of a body falling but was surprised to notice that the shots had gone through the curtains and went out the window on the other side, and the following fall and shattering of glass made entirely more noise than he hoped to make.

Shit, Max thought, he was nervous, and it was showing. He had to get his shit together, or he was never going to make it out of here alive. He began to focus on his breathing and attempt to center himself. He was breathing hard as if he was back in College running track for Stanford. He took a deep breath in, making sure to hold for six seconds, and released for six seconds. Time began to slow down, and Max began to return to his calm baseline. He repeated the routine, taking the time to feel himself reach a calm.

His resolve returned, and he remembered his mission. His first priority had been to kill Harrison, then he had retrieved the ledger, and everything changed. Should he kill Harrison? Would he manage to slip his way out of the reach of the law again? No, Max thought, he hadn't come this far to just come this far. This was his ultimate mission. Harrison would die and would then be condemned for his actions.

It was when he realized this that Max heard the step of someone behind him, and he turned just in time to avoid having his head blown off by a point-blank pistolshot. The bullet had been redirected by Max's turning body and had ripped right through his shoulder.

Max let out a guttural scream as he dropped his weapon and his arm fell limp. He couldn't feel his fingers in his right hand, and the shock managed to embed itself into his very core. He raised his gaze and his eyes met the cold eyes of his former mentor.

"Max, my old friend, what happened? It looks like you were the one who was scared to face the past," Harrison said with a chuckle. "You should've left with the ledger when you had the chance." Max moved before he realized what was happening.

Wounded and enraged, he unleashed a primal fury, tapping into reserves of strength ignited by the pain in his shoulder. His movements became erratic and animalistic.

Harrison, who had spent half his life in the boxing ring with his father, adapted swiftly. He skillfully evaded the initial onslaught, the Room echoing with each impact.

A vicious right hook from Max connected with Harrison's jaw, momentarily stunning him. The follow-up of a swift kick to the chest had Harrison dropping his weapon to the polished floor. The metallic (insert word here)clattered echoed through the study.

A wicked smile wrapped itself around Harrison's lips, it was that same smug-ass grin he always had when he was right about something. He smoothly Transitioned to a defensive stance, his eyes locked with a quiet poise.




Harrison:

At this point, the pain from the individual punches was starting to fade. It was the cumulative effect of the damage that was bothering Harrison now. His body ached all over, but his mind held firm, focused on his goal: kill Max.

Max, sensing his opponent's resilience, sneered with contempt. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You've gotten slow without our sparring sessions, and fat."

Ignoring the taunt, Harrison squared his shoulders and advanced once more, his movements slow and efficient despite his fading strength. Max met him head-on, his fists flying in a blur of motion as he launched into another ferocious assault. Amidst the chaos of the brawl, Harrison's mind slowly began to drift back to where everything went wrong.

Harrison and his partner and mentor, Jake, had been running their usual patrol. That night had been relatively mild, with the most drastic event of the evening being the ongoing debate if incoming rookie LeBron James was going to live up to the hype.

A routine call towards the end of patrol led them to a seedy nightclub on the outskirts of town, where they stumbled upon a meeting featuring a prominent mafia boss, Rafael Silento. But before they could act, they were discovered and overpowered by Silento and his men. Bound and helpless, they expected a slow, painful death. Instead, they were met with an opportunity: a million-dollar-a-year salary. But there was a catch. They had to alert Silento of any action the police had into him and do everything in their power to keep Silento on the streets. Harrison was speechless. Then Silento said something that would change his life forever.

"However, I can only offer this deal to one of you. This kind of money does not come easily. To gain my trust, you must earn it," he whispered, with a grin so wide Harrison was able to see the shine of his golden teeth. "If you want to live, to earn my trust, you must kill your partner."

Harrison had expected him and Jake to die that day. They had both already been commended for their service many times, and Harrison was quietly garnering respect amongst the senior members of the department. Jake was on the fast track to getting promoted.

Then Harrison looked at his partner and saw the look in his eyes. The hunger. Jake had already done the math. Harrison didn't know this at the time, but he would soon discover Jake was a degenerate gambler who had some serious debts. He was ready to do anything to get some extra money.

"Jake, please," Harrison whispered, his voice barely audible over the din of the nightclub. "Don't do this. We can find another way. We can get out of this alive, together."

But Jake's resolve remained unshaken, his eyes glinting with a steely determination that sent a chill down Harrison's spine. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "But I can't go back now. I've made my choice."

And with that, he raised his weapon, the metallic click of the hammer sending a shiver down Harrison's spine. At that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl as Harrison watched in horror as his partner prepared to pull the trigger.

Back In the present, the memory of that night weighed heavily on Harrison's shoulders as he faced Max once more. With a renewed sense of purpose, he launched himself at Max with all the strength he could muster, his fists flying in a relentless barrage of blows. Max, who had become cocky with his earlier advantage, was caught off guard by Harrison's sudden resurgence, his defenses crumbling under the force of the other man's onslaught.

As Harrison pressed his advantage, driving Max back with each relentless blow, he felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, pushing him beyond the limits of his endurance. With each strike, he could feel the weight of his past bearing down on him, urging him forward.

As the two men locked eyes in a silent battle of wills, Harrison felt a sense of determination wash over him. He may have been battered and bruised, but he refused to be broken. With one final, decisive blow, he unleashed all the pent-up fury and frustration of years of betrayal and a life of crime thrust upon him, his fist connecting with Max's jaw with a sickening crunch. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of Max's labored breathing as he crumpled to the ground in a broken heap.

But as victory seemed within reach, Harrison's body began to betray him. The relentless assault had taken its toll, leaving him battered and bruised, his muscles screaming in protest with every movement. He stumbled, his vision swimming as waves of dizziness washed over him, threatening to pull him under.

For a moment, he fought to regain his footing, but his body refused to obey, collapsing beneath him as if all the strength had been drained from his limbs. He fell to his knees, panic clawing at his chest as he was struggling to draw breath, each gasp coming harder than the last.

And then, as darkness closed in around him, Harrison felt a strange sensation creeping over him, like icy tendrils snaking their way through his veins.

And then, just as everything faded to black, he heard it: the unmistakable sound of heels clicking against the floor, drawing closer with each passing moment.


Linda:

As Linda's heels clicked against the hardwood floor, her mind remained steel. She retrieved lengths of sturdy rope from a nearby cupboard, methodically securing Max and Harrison's hands and feet to the wooden chairs that held them.

As the two men began to stir, their groggy eyes fluttering open to the harsh reality of their captivity, Linda's demeanor shifted. Gone was the facade of innocence, replaced by a cold, steely resolve that sent a shiver down Harrison's spine.

"Linda, what's going on?" Harrison's voice was hoarse with confusion and apprehension as he struggled against his restraints. "What happened?"

But Linda remained silent, her lips pressed into a thin line as she regarded him with a gaze devoid of emotion. It was only when Max spoke, his voice laced with smug satisfaction, that she broke her silence.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Max's tone was mocking as he cast a knowing glance at Harrison. "This is just like Bethesda."

Harrison's jaw clenched, his mind racing as he searched the room for clues. Something that could explain what was happening. Before he could get his bearings, Linda's voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"You think you're so clever, don't you, Harrison?" Her words dripped with venom as she fixed him with a withering glare. "But you can't hide from the truth forever."

Harrison's heart skipped a beat as the weight of her accusation settled over him like a suffocating blanket. He opened his mouth to protest, to deny the damning truth that lurked beneath the surface, but Linda silenced him with a raised hand.

"I know what you did, Harrison," she continued, her voice low and menacing. "I know about my husband, about how you had him killed to protect your secrets." The color drained from Harrison's face as the enormity of Linda's revelation washed over him.

"Linda, please," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. "You don't understand. I didn't have a choice I-" Harrison was cut off by the sound of a bullet flying through his knee.

Harrison's screams were guttural and desperate.

But Linda's eyes remained cold and unyielding, her resolve unshaken by his feeble attempts at justification. "You took everything from me, Harrison," she spat, her voice laced with barely contained rage. "And now, it's time for you to pay the price."

Max's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Wait a minute, Linda," he interjected, his voice tinged with skepticism. "If you knew what Harrison did, why didn't you just let me take care of him? Why go through all this trouble?"

Linda's gaze flickered towards Max, her eyes ablaze with a fury that matched his own. "Because you're not off the hook either, Max," she seethed, her voice laced with bitterness. "You think I don't know what you did? You think I don't know how you dragged my husband into this mess?"

Max recoiled as if struck, his features contorted in a mixture of shock and indignation. "I didn't have a choice, Linda," he protested, his voice tinged with desperation. "I was just trying to survive, just like you."

But Linda's anger remained unrelenting, her resolve unshaken by Max's feeble attempts at justification. "Survive?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with contempt. "You ruined our lives, Max. You dragged us into this mess. And tonight, you'll both pay the price."

"And what's that?" Max spat, his voice tinged with desperation. "You're going to kill us? Is that it?"

Linda's grip on the weapon tightened, her knuckles turning white with the force. "You're damn right I am, I'm going to make it look like you killed Harrison in a fit of rage," she explained, her voice cold and calculating. "And then, I'll make it look like you couldn't live with what you'd done, so you took your own life."

Max recoiled at the implication, his mind racing as he struggled to come to terms with the enormity of Linda's plan. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart hammering in his chest like a jackhammer. "But Linda, I swear I didn't know," he protested, his voice tinged with desperation. "I would never have gone along with it if I had known what Harrison would do."

But Linda remained unmoved, her resolve unshaken by Max's feeble attempts at justification. Her grip on the weapon tightened, her knuckles turning white with the force. "It's too late for apologies, Max," she said.

With a final, steely glance at Max, Linda turned towards Harrison, her expression unreadable as she prepared to carry out the final act of her twisted revenge. The room seemed to close in around them, the air thick with tension as the seconds ticked by in agonizing slowness.

As Linda raised the weapon, her hand steady and sure, Harrison's eyes widened with dawning horror. He struggled against his restraints, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat. "Linda, please," he begged, his voice choked with fear. "Don't do this. We can find another way."

But Linda's resolve remained unyielding as she squeezed the trigger, the deafening crack of the gunshot splitting the air like thunder. Time seemed to stand still as the bullet tore through the silence, finding its mark with unerring accuracy.

Harrison's body jerked with the impact, his eyes widening in shock as he slumped forward, lifeless. Blood pooled beneath him, staining the floor a deep, dark crimson as Linda turned towards Max, her expression unreadable as she advanced towards him with slow, deliberate steps.

She didn't hear his pleas for his life, or his eternal curses as she lifted the weapon to Max's head, she only heard the voice she still didn't quite recognize as hers,  "Say Hello to my husband for me."