Bab 16: Chapter 16: Final Descent
You quickly scan the area and spot a nearby staircase leading to the rooftop. You race up the stairs, taking them two at a time. As you reach the top, you see Dilson revving his engine, preparing to make a getaway. You take aim, but your hand shakes with adrenaline, causing your shot to miss. He speeds off, leaving you no choice but to follow.
The rooftop is a maze of obstacles - air conditioning units, vents, and pipes. You weave through them, trying to keep up with Dilson. He suddenly makes a sharp turn, causing you to crash into a large vent. You scramble to your feet, wincing at the pain from your bruised ribs, and resume the chase. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you push yourself to catch up.
Dilson makes another sharp turn, this time onto a narrow ledge overlooking the bustling streets below. You hesitate for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of following him sends a chill down your spine, but the thought of losing him is even more terrifying. You grab your motorbike, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you accelerate. The roar of the engine and the wind rushing past you fill your senses as you speed after Dilson. The narrow ledge looms ahead, and you can't help but feel a sense of unease as you approach it. The gap between you and Dilson narrows, and your heart races with a mix of fear and excitement.
With a deep breath, you commit to following him onto the ledge. As you merge onto the ledge, your tires screech against the rough surface, threatening to send you careening off the edge. Dilson, just a few feet ahead, glances back, a sinister grin on his face. He knows the danger he's putting you in, and he revels in it.
Your heart hammers in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you grip the handlebars tighter. The wind howls past you, drowning out the roar of the engines and the pounding of your pulse. You think this is not going to work, one false move and it's game over. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but there's no turning back now. The gap between you and Dilson narrows, and your heart races with a mix of fear and determination. The wind howls past you, drowning out the roar of the engines and the pounding of your pulse.
The ledge is barely wide enough for the motorbikes, and any mistake could send you plummeting to your death. You find yourself hurtling down a narrow ledge, the roar of your motorbike's engine mixing with the howling wind. The thought of what could happen if you make a mistake sends a shiver down your spine. "This isn't going to work," you mutter to yourself. "One false move and it's game over."
But there's no turning back now. The gap between you and Dilson narrows, and your heart races with a mix of fear and determination. With a deep breath, you push on, leaning into each turn as you navigate the treacherous path. Sweat drips from your brow, stinging your eyes as you struggle to maintain focus. Your hands tremble on the handlebars, but you push through the fear, determined not to let Dilson out of your sight.
The ledge suddenly curves, and Dilson takes the turn with a reckless abandon that sends your heart racing. You can't help but admire his skill, even as you grit your teeth and force yourself to follow. The wind tears at your clothes, threatening to rip you from the bike, but you hold on, muscles straining as you lean into the turn. Your tires screech in protest, but you push them harder, knowing that you can't afford to lose Dilson now.
As Dilson takes the curve, a gunshot rings out, shattering the stillness. You instinctively duck, narrowly avoiding a bullet that whizzes past your helmet. A chill runs down your spine as you understand the risk you're facing, but the thrill of the chase drives you forward. The wind howls past you, making it difficult to hear or see anything else. You lean further into the turn, desperately trying to keep Dilson in your sights.
"Looks like you're in a bit of a pickle, Vercetti," Dilson taunts, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engines and the howling wind. He slows down just enough for you to catch up, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "Care to join me for a little game of chicken? Qwack! Qwack! Qwack!"
Your heart races as you comprehend the gravity of the situation. A game of chicken on this narrow ledge, hundreds of feet above the ground, means certain death if either of you fails to swerve in time. "A game of chicken, huh?" you shout back, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "You must be desperate if you think I'd fall for that."
You squeeze the trigger of your pistol, aiming for Dilson, but the recoil throws off your aim. The bullet whizzes past him, harmlessly embedding itself in the brick wall of the building. Dilson laughs, taunting you as he continues to accelerate. You know that if you don't do something drastic, he'll escape, and you'll lose him.
Your heart races, your hands gripping the handlebars tighter as you take a deep breath and steady your aim. You make a split-second decision. You lean back, letting go of the handlebars and balancing the bike on its rear wheel for a moment, before launching yourself through the air, gun pointed at Dilson. Time seems to slow down as you fly towards him, your bike tumbling end over end through the sky.
Dilson's eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't have time to react before you land on his bike, your combined momentum sending it swerving wildly. The bike careens towards the edge of the ledge, and you can feel the hot sun on your face as you realize how high up you are. Your stomach lurches as Dilson struggles to regain control, his face twisted in fear. With a surge of adrenaline, you wrestle the gun from his hand, pointing it at him.
"Not so fast," you growl, your voice barely audible over the roar of the engine. Dilson glares at you, but you can see the fear in his eyes. The motorbike is teetering on the edge, you and Dilson fighting for control, adrenaline surging through your veins. The bike suddenly lurches forward, and you feel yourself slipping. With a burst of strength, you shove Dilson off the bike, sending him tumbling to the ground below. The bike wobbles precariously on the edge before toppling over and vanishing into the abyss below.
Your heart races as you stare down at the empty space where the bike once was. The sound of sirens grows louder, closer. You look down and see Dilson is latching on an edge with a desperate grip, his legs dangling over the void. Your heart skips a beat, the sight of him struggling to pull himself up starkly contrasting the cold, calculated nature of your earlier actions. A twisted mix of emotions surges through you – relief, and an unsettling satisfaction.
The sirens grow louder, and you know you have to make a decision quickly. You could leave him there, let the police take care of him, and be done with it. You stare down at Dilson, his legs kicking wildly as he struggles to pull himself up. His voice, strained and desperate, reaches your ears. "Please, you don't have to do this."
Your heart pounds in your chest, and a myriad of emotions swirls within you. Relief at having bested him, satisfaction at seeing him dangling there, helpless – but also unease, a gnawing guilt that threatens to consume you. "Rot in hell," you mutter coldly You scan the area, searching for a weapon to use against Dilson. Your gun had fallen with the bike, leaving you unarmed and vulnerable. Your eyes land on a rusty pipe nearby, and you turn towards it, picking it up with a loose grip. You glance down at Dilson, his grip loosening on the ledge, his face twisted in desperation.
"Please, spare me," he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper.
But you steel yourself, ignoring the pang of guilt that threatens to surface. You ignore him, focusing on the task at hand. You raise the pipe above your head, ready to strike. The sound of sirens grows louder, closer. You have only seconds to make a decision. Your heart races as you look down at Dilson, his legs kicking wildly as he struggles to pull himself up. His grip on the ledge is loosening, and you know it's now or never.
You bring the pipe down with all your strength, aiming for Dilson's fingers. With each strike of the pipe against his fingers, you growl through gritted teeth, "YOU... CAN'T... RUN... ANY... MOREEE!!!" The impact is brutal, and the sound of snapping bones echoes in the air. Dilson's screams fill your ears as he loses his grip and falls, his body disappearing into the void below. The pipe slips from your grasp, clattering against the ledge before falling out of sight.
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
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Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone