Page 105 of Playing with Fire

The familiar scent of burning wood and metal filled my lungs. Fire had always been my element, my weapon of choice, my ally in delivering justice. But here, surrounded by someone else's creation, I felt its alien nature. This fire wasn't mine. It moved according to someone else's design, consuming without discrimination, without purpose beyond destruction.

"This ends now," I said, my voice rough from the smoke.

Felix's smile stretched wider. "Oh, I couldn't agree more."

We circled each other, predators in a ring of fire.

"Where's Algerone?" I demanded, shifting my stance to maintain balance as the floor trembled beneath us.

Something flickered across Felix's face: amusement mixed with cruelty. "Still so concerned about dear old dad? The man who's been manipulating your life from the shadows for years?" He gestured vaguely toward a corridor behind him, nearly invisible through the thickening smoke. "Locked in what used to be the manager's office. I gave him a front-row seat to our little reunion."

My heart stuttered against my ribs. Algerone was still alive, still in this burning hell. The reality of it struck harder than I expected, a tightness in my chest that had nothing to do with the toxic air.

"You won't make it to him," Felix continued, reading my thoughts with disturbing accuracy. "This place will be rubble in minutes. I've been preparing this for years. The accelerant patterns throughout the building are my own design. They follow the structural weaknesses, creating burn patterns that ensure maximum damage with minimal waste."

"Then you'll die too," I pointed out, eyes narrowing as I searched for an opening, any vulnerability I could exploit.

Felix's smile returned, serene and terrible. "Of course. That's the point, Xavier. A father for a father. A son for a son. Perfect symmetry." He spread his arms wide, the gun still gripped firmly in his right hand. "This is where our story ends. Where justice is finally served."

The gesture, so theatrical and exposed, gave me the opening I needed. I fired without hesitation, the shot echoing through the cavernous space. Felix jerked back, surprise blooming across his face as the bullet struck his shoulder. His gun discharged wildly, the shot going wide as his arm spasmed.

"Fuck!" Felix stumbled, his left hand clutching at the wound, blood seeping between his fingers. His face paled instantly, the color draining away as shock set in. He staggered backward, colliding with a metal support column. His legs gave way, forcing him to slump against it just to remain upright. "You fucking shot me!"

"Be grateful I'm not my father," I replied coldly, advancing on him. "He would have gone for your head."

A thunderous crack split the air as a support beam gave way above us, crashing down in a shower of sparks and debris. I dove to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed. Pain lanced through my leg as a jagged piece of metal tore through my tactical pants, slicing deep into my thigh. The warm rush of blood followed immediately, soaking the fabric.

Fire bloomed from the freshly fallen beam, cutting off my direct path to Felix. Through the flames, I could see him struggling to stay conscious, his face ashen, breath coming in shallow pants. The shoulder wound was bleeding heavily, the bullet having likely hit something vital. Without medical attention, he'd be dead within the hour, maybe less, given the rate of blood loss and the smoke filling his lungs.

"This isn't over!" he shouted, his voice significantly weaker now, slurring at the edges. "This place is coming down... with all of us in it."

"It is for you," I called back, wincing as I tested my injured leg. The cut was deep but had missed the artery. I could still move, still function.

I left him there, hoping he was too injured to pose any further threat. He'd either find a way out or die where he lay. His choice, his consequences.

My leg throbbed as I picked my way toward the corridor where Felix had indicated Algerone was being held. Each step sent fresh pain shooting up my thigh, but I pushed it aside, focusing solely on the mission ahead. Find Algerone. Get out. Deal with Felix if the opportunity presented itself.

The corridor was partially blocked by fallen debris, forcing me to climb over twisted metal and broken concrete. The heat intensified as I progressed deeper into the building, sweat evaporating from my skin almost instantly. My tactical gear, designed to withstand extreme conditions, was already reaching its limits.

A noise from my earpiece startled me—static, then a fragmented voice trying to break through the jamming signal. Leo. I recognized the cadence even though I couldn't make out the words. The familiar rhythm of his speech patterns unmistakable even through the electronic distortion.

"Leo," I tried, knowing he probably couldn't hear me through the interference. "The building's coming down. Stay back. I repeat, stay back."

Only static answered me, punctuated by occasional fragments that might have been words. The connection was too degraded to be useful. I was on my own.

The corridor opened into what had once been an administrative area. Office doors lined both sides, most hanging from broken hinges or missing entirely. At the end of the hall, a heavy steel door stood closed. Unlike the others, this one appeared intact, with a digital keypad lock that still glowed with power.

The manager's office.

My pace quickened despite the pain in my leg. I scanned for traps or triggers as I approached. The keypad looked standard, but I knew better than to trust appearances. A closer inspection revealed subtle modifications: additional wiring, a secondary power source, tiny pressure sensors at the edges. This wasn't just a lock. It was a trigger mechanism.

I reached for my phone, intending to connect it to the keypad and run a bypass algorithm, only to find the screen cracked and unresponsive.

With no tech solution available, I resorted to more primitive methods. I examined the door frame, looking for weaknesses, any point that might yield to direct force. The hinges were on the inside, inaccessible. The frame itself was reinforced steel, designed to withstand industrial accidents.

But the wall around it... that was different. The drywall had already been weakened by heat and structural stress. Patches had begun to crumble, revealing the framework beneath. With enough force applied at the right point, I might be able to create an opening.

I stepped back, calculating angles and pressure points with the same cold skill I applied to my hunts. Then I launched myself at the section of wall beside the door, shoulder first, putting my full weight behind the impact.

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