“If everyone who had a gun just shot themselves, there wouldn't be a problem.”

George Harrison

The first of Matterson’s mercenaries went down quickly, a shot to the leg forcing him to bend over in pain, a second shot smacking into the side of his head and sending him to the floor.

Masked men poured in from two tunnels, at least 8 of them within Trials’ line of sight. The remaining 4 of Matterson’s were already retreating down one of the other tunnels, laying down a carpet of fire to prevent anyone following them.

Whoever these newcomers were, they were professional. With just a few hand signs to each other, they split off into pairs and broke, each heading off down a separate passageway, on the hunt. Muzzle flare and the pops of rifle fire reverberated down the passageways and into the atrium as firefights broke out around the catacombs. From the sounds of it, Matthews had brought more than just the group Trials had seen.

The few seconds in which this had happened had been barely enough time to stand. Trials returned his attention to Matterson, expecting to see a cowed and submissive figure. Instead, Matterson stood holding a pistol jammed against Mike’s temple, one arm locked around the dazed man’s neck.

“Don’t move, Trials. Not unless you want to say goodbye to another friend.”

Mike struggled weakly against Matterson, clawing at the arm around his throat. Matterson smashed the butt of the pistol against his head, and the struggling stopped.

Matthews, however, raised the rifle he had just picked up from the dead mercenary and took aim square at Matterson’s face.

“It’s over, son.”

Matterson spun Mike so that he partially blocked any potential shot. The dead thing in his eyes roared defiantly.

“DO NOT try that on me,” he shouted. “You cannot unsteady me by acknowledging me now, after years of scorn. Lower the rifle or I will kill this man.”

Matthews did not move.

“I know you would not hesitate,” said Matterson, speaking to Matthews as he swung his guard between both opponents, “but can you risk it in front of your protégé here? What would his reaction be, I wonder, if you are the cause of his friend’s death?”

Matthews looked over to Trials, the barrel of his rifle steady on Matterson.

“You know there have to be sacrifices, Jake. He is too dangerous to be allowed to escape. Now is our chance,” Matthews said.

Trials took an involuntary step forward towards Matterson, raising a hand towards both him and Matthews.

“Stop, both of you. Just…” His words faltered.

“I’m going to take the shot, Trials. I have to,” said Matthews firmly.

“DO NOT…” shouted Trials, “Do not do that, Matthews. I swear to god, if you fire, it’s not your son you need to worry about.”

Matterson’s rifle was wavering between the two men, increasing the pressure on Mike’s throat to keep him docile.

“I won’t let him escape, Trials. There’s no way I’m letting him get away with that man…” He gestured towards Mike, “… I won’t allow him to have even the potential of getting out what Mike knows.”

Matterson was slowly edging backwards all the time they spoke, getting closer and closer to the passage down which his men had retreated. Mike’s feet dragged across the floor as he was pulled along.

“And I will make you pay if you take the shot,” growled Trials. He turned to Matterson. “It’s over, Matterson. Just let Mike go and you have a chance of making it out of this alive. You’re trapped whatever happens. Just let him go.”

“It’s not over, Trials, not even close. You think you’ve won?” spat Matterson at Matthews. “You have no idea who your men are taking on, do you?”

The firing from down the passageway started up again at almost the same time as Trials realised that he had no idea where the man known as Korez was. He hadn’t seen him leave with the other mercenaries…

Something in the sounds of gunfire changed. The shots became more rapid, more erratic, muzzle light flashing down one corridor then cut off, only for more frantic firing to come from another. Shouts began to echo into the atrium, shouts that cut off abruptly to be followed by a tense silence.

Footsteps paced slowly towards them from the shadows of the catacombs.

Matthews took the shot.