The helicopter, a metal dragonfly against the smoke-choked sky, spiralled downwards and crashed into the building in a shower of sparks and twisted metal.
The horrific scene unfolded live on television, etching a raw terror into the audience's eyes. A colossal cloud of smoke and fire billowed from the top floor of the K.L.T. tower.
A crowd began to coalesce near the base of the towering inferno. Murmurs rippled through the throng, voices laced with fear and anger.
"This is what you get for messing with Montana, you sons of bitches!"
One man spat, his face contorted with rage.
"They'll burn this whole damn city for revenge!"
Others questioned the descent into anarchy.
"Is it right for them to take the law into their own hands?"
The division was stark, a chasm separating those who seemingly condoned Montana's brutal retribution and those who had lost all faith in the government's ability to protect them.
Police vehicles, sirens wailing, descended upon the scene. Officers, clad in their dark blue tactical gear, soon reached the scene in an attempt to stop Montana's rampage.
A car screeched around the corner, tyres protesting against the asphalt as it drifted recklessly towards the tower.
Montana's agent, acting under Fredrick's direction, had already been instructed to prevent anyone from entering or leaving the tower. One of the guards standing at the gates spoke.
"Who the hell is he? Coming in here like a goddamn maniac!"
Another one of the guards standing beside him barked orders, "Is he one of the officers?"
Several moved to slide the heavy security gate shut. The news had caught Zayn's name from the officers' frantic communications. Viewership numbers soared as the tension intensified.
The scene shifted abruptly to the top floor, a maelstrom of fire and fury. Victor, his face a mask of incandescent rage, stood amidst the carnage. Before he could react,
A swarm of heavily armed guards, clad in black tactical vests and helmets, their HK MP7 submachine guns raised, surged towards him.
Dimitri Krylov screamed orders on the radio, it was loud and clear. Their orders were to neutralise the threat and protect Leslions, at any cost.
It seemed that the staff and guards working in the K.L.T. building were starting to prepare for war under the directives of Dimitri Krylov. They were ready to give their lives.
As the guards started to force their way on him within the blink of an eye, a brutal ballet of death unfolded. Heads and limbs, severed with horrifying speed by what looked like a blur, spun through the air, painting the smoky atmosphere crimson.
The scene quickly descended into chaos, transforming into a nightmare for the guards. They had no time to react. The walls of the passage were painted red with blood splattered everywhere.
One of the severed heads plummeted from the shattered windows of the tower, striking the front windshield of Zayn's car with a sickening thud. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated horror.
Zayn, who had just emerged from his vehicle and was sprinting towards the building's entrance, witnessed the gruesome spectacle.
"So, it's started, you sick bastard."
He thought grimly.
"What the hell are you about to do, Victor? Are you planning on slaughtering everyone?"
Inside the ravaged office, limbs and a thick carpet of blood slicked the floor. But Victor moved with a terrifying speed and efficiency, showing no mercy.
The surviving guards saw him as a demon incarnate, a force of pure destruction unleashed from the depths of hell. Soon, their numbers reduced to a few people, some of them had fled the scene and went to hide in other offices and rooms
Even amidst the carnage, Victor sustained a few minor scratches, but nothing major happened. Just then, he spoke with a sigh
"Do you fuckers think that fucking bastard Lesslion deserve to be protected HUH?"
He swung his massive, monstrous hand and struck the wall with immense force, shattering it as his hand broke through and impaled the guard's chest.
The guard's heart was forcibly expelled from his body, killing him instantly. Victor, indifferent, let out a furious scream.
"WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU HIDING LESSLION!!!"
His voice thundered through the entire building, echoing powerfully so that even those outside could hear it. The sheer intensity left a profound impact on guards who stood confronting him
They began bleeding from their ears, and the majority of their consciousness dissipated as they collapsed to the ground, barely breathing and fragile. He continued to march towards a hall in the near distance as saying
"Weaklings dared to stand in the way of a Montana."
The gates of the hall in front of him jerked open with a stuttering whir, the motor struggling for a brief moment before settling into motion. There stood a person in front.
Amidst the chaos, he stood unwavering—black fedora angled just right, a cigar lazily burning between his lips. Draped in a brown pinstripe overcoat atop a crisp white shirt, with black trousers and polished shoes, he carried an unshakable air of quiet dominance.
Victor growled, a flicker of surprise in his bloodshot eyes. He spoke with confidence and anger in his voice
"Lesslion! Finally decided to show yourself!"
A strange buzzing sound was there in the background. Lesslion took his right hand out of his pocket, removing the cigar from between his lips, and throwing it away on the ground.
His hands appeared interspersed with shades of grey. Embedded within them was a blue-colored core. He possessed mechanical arms that operated and functioned through the use of a magical core.
"Haah... What do you want from me, VICTOR?"
"Answers..."
Laughing loudly, he remarked, "If you required answers, you could have called, searched online, or inquired. HAHAHA!" He continued to laugh, but Victor didn't like the feeling of being mocked.
"Something Funny?" Victor spoke in a sarcastic, angry voice
"What did you think, Victor?" Lesslion questioned.
"I think I might need to..." He moved swiftly from his position. Within three seconds, he was behind Lesslion. The air soon followed behind him. Lesslion's overcoat flew in the air, and Victor swung his monstrous hand again and said
"Ask your dead body!"
Lesslion's eyes had traced Victor's movements, and his mechanical arms moved three hundred sixty degrees behind and blocked the punch that was going to come from him
"Now that's a thing I won't recommend."