From the part where you talk about Cain:
Symbolism
Rogers Way
[This is a story based on the history of Roger's Way as described in both the city guide and the Atlas in game. Enjoy. -Trikraft] It had been 48 hours since Roger had slept. He was tiring. He had been fighting non-stop since then. They knew now the prophecy to be true, Strike was The One, and they knew they had to get him to the Source. The Source, Roger had never even heard of it until yesterday, nor did he still know what it is, but he knew Strike had to get there to end the war. It had been a gauntlet, pure hell. They had lost men from their ship, the hovercraft Linenoise, they lost Wilco when he stood against an army of Lupines blocking the way to the hardline in Downtown. There were so many of them, hundreds. They lost Nove and Echo to Agents while retrieving the key to the door that Strike had to enter. It began to rain that night, thick, heavy drops that stung the top of you head when they hit. The rain kept coming, flooding the streets, forcing a populace indoors. The streets were empty, the water rose to the ankles on Roger's boots, the sky was black. Roger sighed heavily as he stood in the alleyway, Strike close behind. "How much farther Strike?", Roger said, out of breath. Strike walked out into the open street, which was illuminated with a ghostly glow, the streetlights making halos in the rain. "From what she told me, its just there, that building", Strike said, pointing to a tall office building 15 blocks down. Its lights were dim in the hammering downpour, but it was there. It rose above the squat houses in this place, standing out among the rest, the elevated freeway passed overhead, shielding the street below from the rain, and leading. Strike and Roger walked under the elevated highway, slogging their way to the building. "15 blocks", Roger thought to himself, "only 15 blocks, that ain't nothin'...nothin' at all. We can make it, we can....." It was then that Roger heard the sound he dreaded coming from the hotel lobby behind them. The loud screesching, echoed screaming, and horrific crunching as a human host was taken over by an Agent program. The hotel doors revolved, their gold trim catching the subdued light, and a trio of Agents stepped on to the road. Roger and Strike stopped where they were, and turned slowly. There they stood, in their full length leather trenchcoats, subdued class hidden under layers of kevlar and leather. They wore their sunglasses, even in this darkness. The Agent at the center of the blackened V walked forward and spoke. "Mr. Walker...Mr. Devlin...I am...impressed that you have made it this far. Not an easy feat", the Agent stopped for a moment to smirk before speaking again, "however, this is where you stand now, drawing your last breath. You shall go no farther, this, is where your trip ends." Roger and Strike stood, staring down the trio of Agents. Roger reached under his coat, and silently flicked a switch before turning to Strike. "Go Strike, get to the building, get to the Source.", Roger told Strike, his face grim. Strike's face grew concerned. "What do you mean? I can take these guys, easy.", Strike said with confidence, slightly concerned. "We don't have time Strike, the timer is running short. You can't delay while trying to take down these clowns, let me do it." Strike looked saddened, "Roger, you'll die, you can't face them down, everyone has died, and I don't want to lose you as well. You're my last link to the Real." Roger smirked, "I'm beyond that now, there are more important things than me, I know this. I want you to know something though...I never believed the One myth...never. Until now. I believe, Strike, I believe......now.....run." Roger turned and ran at the Agents, Strike turned and sprinted as fast as he could toward the building, he was a blur as he crossed block after block. Roger continued toward the Agents, who had drawn their guns, and were firing at Roger in short bursts. Their bullets kicked up spouts of water all around Roger as he closed the gap. The lead Agent smirked, aimed his weapon, and cut Roger down at the knees. Roger grimaced in pain, and toppled over, sprawling head over heels several times, landing prone on his back 15m from the Agents. The lead Agent slowly approached with an amused smirk on his face. The sky lit up brightly from a blinding white light from down the street...Strike had done it, he had reached the Source. Roger coughed, producing crimson blood from his mouth, he was dying, but slowly the cough turned into a laugh as the Agent drew ever closer. "You did it brother, you did it." The Agent loomed over Roger's head, pointing his submachine gun down, focusing on Roger's head. "Perhaps an introduction is in order. My name is Agent Park. My associates are Agent Mills, and Agent Smith. We already know who you are Mr. Devlin, so no introduction necessary." The Agent stretched slightly before levelling the gun again. "This, I believe, Mr. Devlin is the end of your time here. So sorry it had to be this way." Roger looked up at the Agent, beckoning him to come closer, as if he had something to tell him. The Agent, amused by all of this, bent slowly forward allowing Roger private audience with him. "I believe.....you can go to hell." Roger punched the detonator in his hand, and there was another bright flash as the nuclear device detonated. The heated shockwave blasted the support struts away from the freeway, sending it crashing down on himself and the agents. The facade of buildings were blown away as the world disentegrated into code, swirling symbols as the world was torn apart. It was the Reload. Strike had made it. Strike had returned to the Source. And Roger? Roger had his way. He made a stand.
