Roy shouted his plan out loud, making sure Hughes and the others knew not to shoot him by mistake.
In a dark and tense environment like this, friendly fire was a real risk, and Roy had no intention of dying at the hands of his own allies.
As he cautiously made his way upstairs, the old wooden staircase suddenly creaked beneath his feet.
*Whoosh—*
Roy heard something cutting through the air. Instinctively, he dodged, but the object still struck his right shoulder.
A sharp pain shot through him as the gasoline canister fell to the ground. He finally saw what had hit him—it was a hammer.
Standing at the top of the staircase, Michael stared at Roy with a cold, unblinking gaze, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him.
Roy immediately called out to the three police officers.
"Sheriff Hughes! Michael is at the staircase!"
Michael didn't seem to care that Roy had given away his position. Roy couldn't help but wonder if this guy even had a normal thought process anymore.
Then again, he had gone insane when he was just six years old—maybe his mind had been stuck at that age ever since.
Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Roy picked up the fallen gasoline canister, unscrewed the lid, and threw its contents all over Michael.
Michael didn't even try to dodge. He just kept walking toward Roy.
*This guy has no idea what gasoline means!*
This was his chance. Roy reached into his pocket—then suddenly realized he didn't have a lighter.
Back in his previous life, he had been a smoker, so he always carried one. But in this life, he was a full-fledged athlete—he never smoked and had no reason to carry a lighter.
*Damn it! How could I forget something so important?!*
Without a lighter, was he supposed to ignite the gasoline with a bullet?
"Roy, catch!"
Just as he was thinking about it, Sheriff Hughes tossed him a revolver from the second floor. However, because of his injuries, his throw was weak—the revolver fell short and bounced off Michael's head before landing nearby.
Michael looked momentarily confused by the sudden impact.
Seizing the opportunity, Roy relied on his old instincts as a former quarterback, jumping forward to grab the revolver mid-air.
In football, there's a position called wide receiver—players who specialize in catching passes from the quarterback. Before Roy became a quarterback, he had played as a wide receiver, and his body still remembered how to move.
He successfully caught the revolver—but now he was dangerously close to Michael.
Michael had already picked up his hammer again and swung it toward Roy's head.
Roy instinctively used a boxing technique called the "V-slip" to dodge the attack.
But this wasn't a boxing match, and Michael seemed even faster than before.
Roy managed to avoid a direct hit to the head, but the hammer struck his right shoulder again—the same spot as before.
A fresh wave of searing pain shot through him. His entire right arm went numb, and he dropped the revolver he had just caught.
Seeing that his attack had landed, Michael swung the hammer again. This time, however, Roy was ready—he dodged successfully and quickly grabbed the revolver with his left hand.
Roy wasn't left-handed, but at this range, he didn't need to aim—he just had to pull the trigger.
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
He fired three shots. But to his shock, the bullets didn't ignite the gasoline on Michael's body.
*What the hell?! Hollywood movies are all lies! Bullets can't set people on fire!*
This unexpected setback threw Roy off for a second. Meanwhile, Michael, unfazed by the gunshots, was already lifting his hammer again, stepping toward him.
Seeing the hammer raised high, Roy suddenly had an idea.
He aimed the revolver at the hammer and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck it dead-on, causing a small spark where the two metals clashed.
That tiny spark was enough.
The gasoline on Michael's hands ignited, and within seconds, flames spread all over his body.
*It worked!*
Roy quickly backed away, making sure not to get burned himself.
Michael, now engulfed in flames, kept walking forward without making a sound. But after just a few steps, his body finally collapsed to the ground, consumed by the fire.
Just then, Roy realized an even bigger problem.
Jennifer's old house was entirely made of wood, with carpets and other flammable materials all over the place.
The fire on Michael's body quickly spread, igniting everything around him. Soon, the whole house was catching fire.
"Get out! The house is burning!"
Roy shouted up at Sheriff Hughes, only to see the man give a weak, pained smile. He was badly injured—he couldn't move.
The fire was still in its early stages. Without hesitation, Roy ran upstairs, hoisted Sheriff Hughes onto his back, and carried him down.
"Easy! My leg is broken!"
"That's still better than being dead! Sheriff Hughes, are your two officers still alive?"
"Yeah. One's in the bedroom, the other's in the bathroom."
"Alright. I'll get you outside first, then I'll go back for them."
"Please, Roy..."
Roy used every bit of his 16-point agility, rushing Hughes to safety before sprinting back inside.
First, he found the officer in the bedroom—unconscious, likely from a hammer blow to the head. Roy slung him over his shoulder and ran.
By now, the fire had spread further, but it wasn't bad enough to block his way out yet.
Next was the officer in the bathroom. His stomach had been slashed by broken glass, but thankfully, the wound wasn't too deep—his intestines were still inside.
This one was trickier. If Roy carried him like the others, he might make the injury worse. So, he took off his cape, wrapped it around the officer's abdomen to keep everything in place, and started carrying him out.
But that short delay had made all the difference—the fire had now completely engulfed the staircase, cutting off Roy's exit.
And to make matters worse, Roy saw something terrifying.
Michael, still on fire, was slowly climbing the burning staircase toward him.
*How is this guy still alive?!*
"Officer, do you have any bullets left in your revolver?"
"Yeah, I reloaded it earlier."
"Good. Mind if I borrow it?"
"Go for it."
Roy set the injured officer down, took the revolver, and aimed—not at Michael, but at the burning wooden staircase beneath him.
The bullets shattered the already weakened wood, causing Michael to lose his footing. His leg got stuck as the stairs collapsed beneath him, and he struggled to pull himself up.
But then, the entire staircase gave way.
Still, Michael refused to go down without a fight. As the stairs crumbled, he managed to grab onto the edge of the second floor, hanging on with both hands.
But only for a moment.
Roy walked up, placed the barrel of the revolver against Michael's forehead, and pulled the trigger five times.
*Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!*
Michael's grip loosened. He fell, disappearing into the raging fire below.
*Game over, brother-in-law.*
**(End of Chapter)**