Face Off 2

The wall behind Victor exploded.

Zero had yanked him by the leg and flung him like a battering ram through the observation panel, sending sparks and glass flying in all directions. Victor’s body slammed into the far wall, metal folding inward from the impact. He dropped to the floor, rolled with the momentum, and came up in a crouch—blood dripping from his lips.

Zero followed through the breach like a descending vulture, his skeletal wings slicing through the haze of smoke and dust, landing with a twisted elegance that made the floor tremble.

“I must admit,” he said, his tone light, almost amused. “I haven’t heard this much fun since I was born but I haven’t been alive for long so don’t quote me on that.”

He paused and walked towards Victor, standing in front of him.

“Whatever you are, you have earned my respect. But since you refused my generous offer beside me, I suppose I must finish the job. As the humans say, any final words?”

Victor didn’t answer.

He sat from the couch, his joints creaking with pain. He used his tongue to lick the blood seeping from his gums, then spat it to the floor. He stood up slowly—wounded but steady—eyeing the far wall of the room. There, behind a collapsed support beam and a flickering light panel, was the emergency override terminal. Beside it, the blast door leading into the auxiliary cargo tunnel—a reinforced maintenance corridor designed for armored transport shuttles during full lockdown scenarios.

The cargo tunnel wasn’t for escape. It was for rerouting high-risk subjects to the outer loading zones during structural emergencies—equipped with its own power and sealed off from central systems. In theory, the blast door could contain a Class-X breach.

{If I can't kill him, I can isolate him. At least for now.}

That's all Victor could think in the moment.

Zero tilted his head. “Are you not tired of your schemes by now? You are so resilient but it’s pointless. I told you —I am invincible.”

He raised his arms—and from his back, blood spines burst outward, spiralling midair before streaking toward Victor like guided spears. They burned through the air, sizzling as they cut through steel and glass, homing in with cold precision.

Victor ran.

He zigzagged, dodging the spines by inches, one slicing his side clean through his jacket, leaving a trail of blood. Another missed his skull by inches, slicing through the support beam he’d just cleared. The floor buckled behind him with every near-miss, scorched by the acidic edge of Zero’s blood.

{His blood has also evolved? Damn it! I can’t allow him to keep going.}

He hit the console and slammed his palm against the screen.

Warning: Emergency Blast Protocol Engaged.

The floor shook as the blast door’s massive gears began to rotate, powered by an independent hydraulic system. Pistons hissed. Red lights flashed in sequence. The towering slab of reinforced alloy began to descend.

Zero snarled.

In a blur of movement, he surged forward—jagged wings slicing the air behind him like war banners. Victor spun, caught him mid-leap, and the two collided again in a blur of motion and fury.

Zero’s claws raked across Victor’s shoulder, tearing deep. Victor responded with a savage uppercut, cracking Zero’s jaw sideways. They crashed to the ground as the room dimmed—alarms screeching, the blast door inching lower.

“You fool,” Zero hissed, his mouth full of blood and glee. “You think steel can hold me?”

Victor gritted his teeth and drove a knee into Zero’s ribs. “It doesn’t have to hold you forever. Just long enough.”

Zero laughed—and then roared. Blood erupted from his back, forming writhing tendrils that lashed out, wrapping around nearby consoles and pulling him free of Victor’s grip. He tried to surge toward the blast door—but Victor was already there, slamming his body against the control lever, forcing the override.

Sealing Chamber Activated.

The door descended fully, slamming shut with a seismic BOOM, sending a shockwave rippling through the floor.

Zero’s shriek echoed from behind it—muffled but primal.

Victor collapsed against the wall, gasping. His shirt was shredded, his arm bleeding freely, but his eyes were sharp. His plan had worked but for how long he didn't know.