Through the empty streets he runs. The empty streets of the empty city. Tall buildings looming over him as he runs; a small figure against their towering size.
Glancing over his shoulder as he runs he sees no one, but keeps running; running from him.
The ground shakes and he stumbles to keep his balance; windows of the high rising buildings shake and shatter with the vibration. Glass falls around him but he keeps running as he dodges huge shards that explode hitting the ground.
He cannot stop; if he stops, it will all be over; he will destroy him.
Through the streets he races on, running around and over abandoned cars as the ground shakes and heaves; trying to slow his escape, but he determinedly keeps on moving.
Concrete and steel start to fall in great chucks along with the sheets of glass from the tops of the buildings as they begin to crumble down; a voice shouts out for him.
Looking back he sees another small figure far down the long street he had just run along.
No features can be seen, but he knows him on sight; he who has pursued him all his life; he who would not stop; he who would destroy him.
As the other figure shouts out for him again, the ground shakes anew and more buildings start to crumble and crash down, smashing the cars and lamp posts he passes mere seconds before.
The city core ends as he runs on and comes to a far spanning bridge, crossing over a large valley where the multiple lanes of a highway runs along side a winding river.
His chest burns as he races on to the wide bridge, bordered by high reaching wire cables, strung tight to hold the weight of the massive bridge.
Along the middle of the yellow lined road he runs, and the other figure walks deliberately behind him, the city's buildings falling down around him as his earth shaking yell calls out.
In the middle of the bridge, the lone figure slows and stops his run; panting he puts his hands on his thighs to catch his breath. He could run no longer; he would not. He would face his pursuer; face his destiny.
Turning, he stands up to the approaching figure as he steps onto the bridge. Their eyes meet; the same eyes; the same face. Mirror images.
Both outstretch their arms to the side as the thick cables of the bridge begin to waver. Cracks in the road split in jagged lines as the two figures yell with hatred and anger.
From far off the two look tiny on the massive structure that swings back and forth high above the valley as huge pieces fall off, splashing into the river bellow and smashing onto the roadway.
As they rage at each other, the bridge begins to break off from the edges of the sloping ground. More pieces fall as the bridge lifts into the air, the two men stepping forward, toward each other heavy-footed as the noise of their shouts is drown out by the ripping sounds of the steel support girders as they are rend apart from the solid ground.
Higher the bridge lifts as they continue to raise their arms up, until they are directly above their heads.
And then, as they both sense each others' next move, the two drop their arms and dash towards each other. The bridge, a full thousand meters in the sky, drops as suddenly as their arms.
As they run to each other, they scream out one another's name; the same name. And as they near each other bridge hurdles down toward the ground below.
When only a few meters separate the two, they both jump into the air with their fists clenched and pulled back to strike.
In the silence before their devastating blows land, the bridge smashes down upon the earth, erupting in a cloud of dust and debris that covers everything for miles around.
The dust slowly settles. Through the mists, in amongst the heaps of rubble, stripped wire cables laying gnarled and twisted, one figure stands atop a great hunk of concrete, looking down at his unclenched hands.
The only one there ever was. Me.