A green plasma cannon blast slammed into Pierce's chest, worsening his already-severe wounds and shattering his stance. Before the True Apostle could even stabilize himself, Sylar was upon him—his right metallic hand clamping down on Pierce's skull like an iron vise before smashing him into the ground with brutal force.
Sylar didn't stop. Not for a heartbeat.
Keeping his grip on Pierce's head, he blasted forward, dragging the Apostle across the rocky landscape at impossible speed. Sonic booms cracked behind them like angry thunder. The violent friction peeled skin and flesh away from Pierce's face, agony tearing a raw snarl from his throat. His body bounced and scraped, carving a bloody furrow through stone.
