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THE PHANTOMS:Rise Of The Phantom Crusader

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Chapter 1 - The Beginning Of The End

Johnny's eyes flickered to the street below, the city's hum barely audible under the weight of his thoughts. Each light, each shadow, seemed like a ghost of something he could never touch—faces he had failed, lives he couldn't save. He leaned on the railing, hands trembling slightly, as the wind cut through him, sharp and cold. It mirrored the numbness gnawing at his insides, but it wasn't enough to dull the simmering anger that burned in his veins. A voice broke the quiet, distant yet oddly unshaken.

"Not gonna jump, are you?"

Johnny didn't look at him. The words were just more static, another voice in the storm of his mind. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to hear any more. The Man stood a few feet away, his posture loose but deliberate, as if this moment—Johnny's breaking point—was of little consequence to him. His dark mask was emotionless, unreadable, like it had been sculpted to hide every trace of feeling. He didn't move, just leaned against the stone, arms folded under his coat, waiting, as if the answer were obvious.

Johnny's teeth ground together, his fists clenching as that familiar bitterness rose up in his chest, sharp and bitter as bile. "What do you want?"

"Nothing." The Man's voice was disturbingly calm, too calm. "Just wanted to see if you're really going through with it."

Johnny stiffened, the railing cold under his grip. His heart thrummed, erratic, in his chest. His eyes locked on the Man's shadowy figure, narrowed, biting. "What's it to you?"

The Man's voice dropped just slightly, a dark chuckle buried beneath the mask, though it felt like he was speaking from a place far removed from this moment. "Nothing, really. But if you're going to end it, at least make it count. Don't just... fall."

Johnny's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if it was the Man's words or the cold air cutting through him that made him shiver. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The Man took a deliberate step forward, his body still like stone, his face an unmoving mask of indifference. "I'm saying, if you want to die, go ahead. But what's the point? You're already dead inside, aren't you?" His voice was almost too serene. "Dying without a reason... that's a waste."

Johnny's fist tightened, his knuckles white, heart pounding with a vicious thrum in his ears. The Man's cold gaze cut through him like a blade, sharp, unmoving. His breath quickened, erratic now, like a pressure valve about to explode.

"And you think you're the one to tell me that?" Johnny's voice cracked under the weight of his frustration, a fire igniting in his chest. "Who the hell are you?"

The Man didn't flinch, didn't even blink. His tone remained steady, unnervingly so. "I'm not telling you anything. I'm just asking you to think. You've got options, Johnny. You can end it right now, right here. No one's stopping you. But if you go out, make it count. Don't just... let go without a cause."

Johnny's heart beat in his throat. The Man's words didn't leave room for argument, each one like an anchor pulling at his mind, twisting his insides. It felt like a trap, like the air itself was closing in. But the Man's calm was cutting through the storm in his head, making him pause, making him question the very ground he was about to fall from.

The Man's eyes never wavered, steady as stone. "Look," he said, voice sharper now, filled with something resembling purpose. "I'm not begging you to join me. Hell, I'm not even asking you to follow me. I'm offering you the chance to die for something more than just... nothing. Because down there? Down there, there's nothing for you."

Johnny's gaze flicked to the ground, his breath caught, his mind spinning. He was this close, just a step away. But something in the Man's words, something real this time, cut through the fog of his thoughts.

"And what's in it for me?" Johnny snarled, voice low and full of venom. "What's your game?"

The Man's shoulders lifted in the slightest shrug, his posture still unnervingly composed. "Simple. You want to die? Fine. Die for a cause. That's all I'm offering. But if you don't? You'll be dead soon enough anyway." His gaze hardened, cutting through the tension like a scalpel. "So why not make it mean something?"

Johnny's grip tightened on the railing, his fingers digging into the metal until it hurt. His pulse thundered in his ears, every word hanging in the air like a question he didn't know the answer to.

"Alright..." Johnny breathed out, voice tight, almost a growl. "I'm listening."

The Man's mask was unmoved, his face a stone wall. "Good choice. Let's go."

Before Johnny could process the words, the ground trembled beneath them, and a deafening explosion split the air. The building groaned, its structure cracking as debris cascaded down in a deadly rain. Johnny's instincts kicked in, and he ducked, his heart pounding, eyes wide in shock. Before he could fully comprehend the chaos, two horses burst through the smoke, pulling a carriage at breakneck speed, heading straight for them.

The Man's voice rang out, sharp and unwavering, cutting through the chaos. "Let's go, my friend." His tone was like a command, unshaken by the world crumbling around them. "This is going to be one hell of a ride."

Johnny, still processing the chaos, moved on pure instinct, his feet carrying him forward before his brain could catch up. He sprinted toward the horses, the screech of the carriage wheels slicing through the air. The Man moved like liquid, leaping onto one of the horses with effortless grace, then yanking Johnny up beside him in a single fluid motion.

They tore through the streets, the explosion still echoing in their ears, the fire and smoke swirling around them. Johnny's heart raced, each beat a drum, his body soaked in adrenaline. His mind felt scrambled, but his feet didn't stop moving. With one hand, Johnny reached for the booze in his coat, fingers trembling as he yanked it free. He took a long, burning swig, but the liquid did little to still the storm inside him.

"Fuck it," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the chaos. His eyes fixed on the horizon as the city began to fade into the distance, the smoke and sirens melting away. The world felt like it was slipping into the past, leaving nothing but the raw, electric feeling of movement.

For the first time in a long while, Johnny didn't know if he was running from something or toward it.

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