Orion had very good senses; a result of his time as an owl. Already on edge from Artemis’ words, he had been preparing himself for conflict when he heard the sound of an approaching enemy. His head turned toward the back door just as it burst open, the snarling, drool and blood-covered monster howling at the top of its lungs and heading toward he and Artemis at an uncanny speed. Orion barely had time to think shit, before he had to move.
He removed his arm from around Artemis’ waist with haste, stepping in front of the Goddess and her hound, his left hand forming into a loose fist, coming up into position by his cheek, guarding his face. He heard the sounds of the yelling drug addicts, the scum fleeing the bar as quickly as they could – the sound of boots thudding with haste on the floorboards of the bar filling Orion’s ears, receding just as quickly as they had come.
It only took a few moments for the monster who may have once been human to reach him, and he seemed not to care that it was not the Goddess of the Hunt that stood in front of him but her lover – his eyes were filled with a sort of mad hunger, and there was a crazed, determined glint to his eyes. His hands outstretched, he leapt from the ground to an unnatural height, aiming to land on top of the Hunter.
Orion, a man who had always had great reflexes, managed to take a step back in time – moving his right hand up in a strong, forceful uppercut – hitting the beast under the chin with a resounding ‘crack’, the mutant being knocked off course by the blow and crashing into a table, splinters of wood flying in various different directions; the mutant laying still.
Orion, thinking that he’d dealt with his foe, relaxed some – turning back to face Artemis, a worried expression painted on his face. He barely had time to look her over before he was grabbed from behind, the monster with the broken jaw having moved up behind him quietly. Obviously, the beast was a strong fucker – the skin over Orion’s knuckles had been ripped open by the force of the punch he’d delivered. There wasn’t much Orion could do at that moment – he was dragged backward, flailing and thrashing, as the unnaturally strong mutant readied itself to dig into its next meal.
However, it never got the chance – Orion’s left foot shot back, hitting the beast in the groin. Even if the monster was highly resistant or immune to pain, there was still a reflex in a man’s body that, when hit in the genitals by a steel-capped boot, you let go of whatever you’re holding. The mutant groaned, doubling over as Orion took a few rapid steps away from it, looking around for a tool to finish it off – and he found it in the form of a sturdy metal chair, left in the middle of the bar, likely by one of the drug addicts who’d quickly fled the scene.
Orion ran over to the chair, picking it up and turning around, just as the mutant began another charge toward him; howling a bloodthirsty cry – a disgusting sight to behold, as its jaw was broken, and blood poured out of its maw.
If it had existed in Ancient times, Orion would have been a baseball player – his swing was impeccable, his timing excellent, the chair slamming toward the mutant’s head just as it came within range. It hit the man’s neck square on, a sickening snap being heard as his head shot back, the mutant crumpling to the ground, motionless. Orion stood above him for a few moments, holding the bloodspattered chair at the ready, but it seemed like he was truly dead.
Heaving a sigh of relief, he turned to engage his next opponent.