The Shadow Without A Face (Final Part)

 

The London skyline shimmered under a haze of fog as midnight approached. A storm was building over the Thames — not just in the clouds, but between two brilliant minds destined to collide.

Zane Faulkner stood quietly on the rooftop of the old Ashcroft Hotel, his long coat fluttering in the wind. In his palm, the silver chess queen gleamed under the dim rooftop lights — Lucian’s message. "Endgame begins," it said. And Zane was ready.

The rusted door behind him creaked.

"Took you long enough," Zane murmured without turning.

Lucian Vale stepped into the moonlight, dressed in a sleek black combat suit. His steel-gray eyes, sharp as razors, scanned Zane with cool precision.

"I almost believed you’d stay in your apartment tonight," Lucian said.

Zane smirked. "And miss the encore? I wouldn’t dream of it."

The two began circling each other, the London wind slicing between them.

"You’ve figured it out then," Lucian said, pulling off his gloves slowly.

"You’re after the Vault," Zane replied. "Twenty years of encrypted intelligence. Blow that up and the country goes dark."

Lucian gave a small nod. "And yet you’re here, alone. That’s either brave... or stupid."

Zane’s smile didn’t waver. "We’ll let history decide."

Then, with the grace of warriors, they moved.

Lucian struck first — a sharp palm thrust aimed for Zane’s throat. Zane sidestepped, countered with a twisting hook. Lucian ducked, rolled, and came back up with a spinning heel kick. Zane blocked it, sliding back.

"Impressive," Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder.

"I jog with kettlebells. You should try it," Zane replied, voice light.

Again, they clashed — fists, elbows, knees. Lucian was exact and calculated. Zane, however, was fluid — adaptive like water.

Lucian landed a strike to Zane’s ribs. The detective stumbled a step, but his face stayed calm, unreadable.

"Feeling that yet?" Lucian mocked.

Zane tapped his chest. "Barely a love tap. Try harder."

Lucian grunted, launching forward again. Zane caught his arm mid-swing, twisted, and slammed him into the metal ventilation shaft. Lucian rebounded fast, retaliating with a series of rapid jabs.

The rooftop echoed with their brutal symphony. Neither man yielded.

"You're predictable, Faulkner," Lucian taunted.

Zane ducked a punch, grinning. "And you're still quoting B-list villains."

Lucian swept low, aiming to knock Zane’s legs out. But Zane jumped, landed with perfect balance, and delivered a controlled elbow strike to Lucian’s shoulder.

"You should really stretch before these rooftop duels," Zane quipped.

They pulled apart for a moment, breath visible in the cold air.

"Why the chess queen?" Zane asked. "Why always that piece?"

Lucian's tone was cool. "Because the queen is the most dangerous — elegant and deadly. Like me."

"More like a pawn with delusions of grandeur," Zane said with a tilt of his head.

Lucian’s eyes flared, and suddenly he tore a metal rod from the air duct. Zane calmly broke the glass on a nearby emergency box and pulled out a fire axe.

Sparks flew as metal clashed. The rooftop became a warzone of steel and rain.

Zane swung with precision. Lucian blocked, parried, countered. Zane dodged a slash, rolled, and came up behind Lucian with a downward strike that missed by inches.

Lucian spun. “I trained with masters.”

Zane shrugged. “I beat them.”

Lucian swung the rod with vicious force. Zane ducked, kicked his legs out, and Lucian hit the ground with a grunt. But he was back up instantly.

Lightning split the sky. Rain poured harder. Their shadows danced across the rooftop like specters.

Lucian landed a clean punch to Zane’s jaw. It echoed. But Zane didn’t flinch. He stood tall, unfazed.

"You're tougher than you look," Lucian muttered.

Zane wiped his mouth. "And you’re slower than I expected."

They clashed again — and again. It was relentless. Two minds at war, two bodies refusing to give in.

Lucian finally caught Zane in a grapple, pushing him toward the rooftop ledge.

"Any last words?" Lucian sneered.

Zane grinned. "Yeah. You forgot to disable the backup firewall."

Lucian froze. "Liar."

Zane twisted sharply, reversing the hold, and slapped a blinking red tracker onto Lucian’s back.

Lucian broke free, staggering backward. "You’ve marked me."

"Smart people rarely notice the obvious," Zane replied.

Lucian reached into his belt and tossed a smoke bomb. Instantly, fog enveloped the rooftop.

Zane turned, searching the swirling gray. "Lucian! Running already?"

"This chapter ends here," Lucian’s voice echoed. "But the book’s far from over."

Zane caught a flicker of motion. A blade grazed his coat — but missed.

Moments later, the whir of a helicopter’s rotors cut through the smoke. Lucian sprinted, leapt across the rooftop gap, and caught the landing skid mid-air. The chopper lifted.

Zane ran to the edge, coat billowing. He stared up as Lucian disappeared into the clouds.

Seconds later, Eli burst through the rooftop door, panting. “Zane! Are you okay?!”

Zane, perfectly steady, nodded. "He’s gone."

Eli looked around. “That was insane. Did we win?”

Zane chuckled, wiping rain from his brow. "We didn’t lose."

Eli knelt beside him. "You sure you’re alright? That guy fights like a demon."

Zane’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve danced with demons before. He was just a little rusty.”

Together, they looked out at the city.

"He's not done, is he?" Eli asked.

"No," Zane replied. "Lucian Vale plays the long game. But next time, we’ll be ready."

He pulled the chess queen from his pocket.

"Let’s make sure the next move is ours."