Protectors- Wrath of The Stranger

Chapter Four: Zavant VS The World

Noctum Prime braced his whole body, turning and reducing his centre of gravity. Bjorn's fist slammed into his shoulder, jarring Zavant's right arm, which hung limply from his side. Zavant retaliated with his pistol, missing the first two rounds, before firing the final two into Bjorn's right kneecap. The bullets shook alongside Zavant's arms, vibrating from the deadly sensation that took over his arms, caused by the Liquid Silver (the name of the drug) which ran through his veins. Bjorn hopped forward but Zavant threw himself aside, reloading with a spare mag from his leg compartment,

"You can't kill me with that," Bjorn boomed, his kneecap snapping back into place, the metal round clattering to the road,

"That's... not... the... plan," Zavant panted, pointing the gun at the floor,

He fired a round, causing the tarmac to spark, igniting his shins. The modified iron rust burning quickly at the intense provocation. Zavant made a beeline towards Bjorn, picking up speed. His shin crashed into Bjorn's arm, which was raised to deflect the attack. Fire burned away the blue tinge in his skin and burned the remaining flesh, but Bjorn thought quickly. Grabbing Zavant by the still burning shin, he swung the man around like a rag doll. The series of cracks and crunches as Bjorn swung his foe like a stockman's whip were deafening as the bones in Zavant's left leg were turned to powder. Breaking through the pain, Zavant reached to his shoulders, drawing a blue knife in each hand. The knives flashed as Zavant lowered them, slicing through his leg with a fluid motion,

"Fuck!" He shouted as he slipped, the knives cutting irregularly,

His leg hung on by a thread of skin, blood spurting from the wound which had cut through many important veins and arteries. The crimson droplets sparkled with silver, the drug leaving Zavant's body alongside his lifeblood. Bjorn swung Zavant towards the ground, attempting to crack his head on the road. Zavant was face down, staring at the hurtling ground. He sheathed the knives, knowing that the end was near. The leg came apart with a sickening rip, and Zavant shot towards the patisserie, bracing for impact. The metal doors slammed into his outstretched arms, and he could feel them folding irregularly, snapping the sturdy bones that had once held him together. This slowed him enough that his head did not immediately crack open against the rustic wooden floor, but the impact was enough to make his vision swim,

"He has lost this battle," the voice of the High Priestess echoed, so very faintly, in his subconscious, "We shall take his life and commence the second battle,"

Something inside of Zavant sneered,

'No,'

He did not know where the voice had come from, or who had spoken the word. All he knew was agony as he lay there. Then he heard the voice again,

'Never,'

He wanted to remember all he had done, all that he had sacrificed to be here, to have a chance to fight,

'Get up,'

He realised that the voice in his head was his own. It was the voice of Noctum, the one from this world. Goading him into getting back up, one last time,

"My legacy is your legacy!" The voice roared, this time coming from Zavant's mouth, the connection between the two Adams growing stronger,

"Fight for it!" 

Bjorn took a step backwards, fear flickering across his face before switching to steely determination. He approached Zavant, uprooting the traffic light to use as a club. Zavant hopped onto his remaining leg, such anger in his eyes that even the High Priestess gave pause,

"Bjorn, stop," She commanded,

"No fucking way," Bjorn shot back, "I'm gonna take this chance to kill him,"