You are Gregory Krakatoa. You are currently bleeding out thanks to three lucky shots Phillip landed in your stomach. You have to admit that he's a damn good shot even after all of this time. It was hard keeping up with him. Crawling across the fronts of buildings like a spider, phasing into the ground to evade your blows at the last second...it was tough.
The two of you have finally tired yourselves out after spending who knows how much ammo. He's standing a dozen feet away from you, standing next to a bar. You have planted yourself underneath the shadow of the clock tower. It's been a while since you've seen a robot struggling for breath.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8984sH3n4E8 - A CHOICE TO BE MADE
"YOU KNOW HOW THE STORY ENDS. YOUR PRODUCER PAL WAS THE ONE WHO WROTE IT, AFTER ALL." Phillip clenches his gun tightly in the wires pooling out of his hand. "A FINAL DUEL BETWEEN RIVALS. ONLY ONE SHOT NEEDED TO DECIDE SOMEONE'S FATE." Your memory has begun to fail your aging brain but you still remembered that old scene Audrey wrote.
"Indeed. At the strike of midnight." The clock tower looming over you rings out a warning chime. You barely have to turn your head to make out it's set to 11:59. "The last man standing wins."
"I NEVER DID GET TO SEE THE ENDING BEFORE YOU THREW ME TO THE DOGS." The electric buzz of anticipation can be felt through the air around you. To be quite frank, you never did write the ending in time before...everything happened. Your grip tightens. So does Phillip's. "I know. And I'm sorry it took so long for us to finally finish this."
You try your best to ignore how much hesitation is evident in his voice as he speaks. "DRAW YOUR WEAPON, CLINT." He raises his gun. You raise your gun to match his. The clock tower behinds you keep ticking, ticking, ticking. Your index finger gently squeezes the trigger, ready to fire it at a moment's notice.
Your body has been augmented far beyond a normal human's. You could absolutely dodge the shot and blow that damn thing's head wide open with ease. Yet would that be right? The ticking continues. You put even more pressure on the trigger.
10. 9. 8. 7. 6.
"...IT DIDN'T HAVE TO END THIS WAY, DID IT?" A hollow laugh exits the robot's speaker. "IF ONLY WE COULD'VE RESOLVED OUR ISSUES BEFORE IT CAME DOWN TO THIS."
5. 4. 3.
"If only. What's in the past is in the past, though. Isn't that right?" Yet would it be fair to throw just to appease him? To let him win? Would he even want that?
2.
"THE FIRST WISE THING YOU'VE SAID IN YOUR WHOLE LIFE, HUH? BUT THE SHOW MUST GO ON. A DIRECTOR MUST FINISH SHOOTING HIS FILM." For a moment, you can almost see the young man you fired all those years ago. "ISN'T THAT RIGHT?"
1.
"And what use is a director without his cameraman?" You chuckle.
You have to make your decision now. At the clock reaches 12:00 and the final shot between you is being filmed, you decide to...
>Pull the trigger. >Not pull it. 