Random art, also it'll be nice if yall voted with some power stones
Havok observed with keen eyes.
Miles exploded forward in a blur of pink and purple and threw a straight at Hairbag, who was still in a feral crouch.
At the same moment, Gwen launched herself at Ruckus. The Nasty Boys' loudmouthed leader barely had time to swing his bat back before Gwen's boot found his chin. She had maneuvered into a backflip kick in the middle of her dash and hit him right under his jaw. His head whipped up, the arrogant sneer wiped clean off his face.
Gwen landed light on her toes. Without giving him a chance to recover, Gwen lunged again, and a flat side-kick to the sternum sent Ruckus crashing backward into the lobby chair Miles had been lounging in before. The frame screeched across the tile and slammed into the wall.
"How does it feel getting your butt kicked by a kid, huh?"
"You bitch—"
Gwen shot a web at his mouth to silence him and emptied the web cartridge in a rapid-fire, lashing him to the chair with thick white cords. He thrashed, mouth working furiously, but he couldn't break himself free.
Havok could've guessed Ruckus would lose without any dignity. He was too arrogant for his own good.
Ruckus' friends wouldn't sit by and watch their teammate be bullied.
Slab closed the distance with surprising speed for someone the size of a standing grizzly bear and struck Gwen's back. The blow whistled past her ear as Gwen stepped at the last instant, moving like she had eyes in the back of her head. She crouched low and swept a kick across his tree-trunk equivalent shins.
"Whoa—hey!" Slab grunted, seeming more confused than hurt as his own momentum sent him stumbling. "Stand still, you little shit!"
"That's not how this works, pal."
Gwen narrowed her eyes as Ramrod and Gorgeous George surged in to back their stumbling teammate. Ramrod's shillelagh lashed out at Gwen, which expanded into a massive spiked club. George's tar-slick arm whipped around from the opposite side, trying to box her in between two lethal attacks. Gwen remained calm in the face of their pincer attack. She bent backward under the shillelagh, making George's tentacle-like limb swing around and slap Ramrod in the face.
George let out a high-pitched shriek. "You asshole—"
"Shut your mudhole, buffoon. It's her fault."
Ramrod swung again. This time, Gwen kicked the spiked club into hitting George across the shoulder. A spray of viscous mud flew as his shoulder exploded.
"Ramrod! You brainless, club-swinging idiot!"
"You blind cunt, can't you see she is doing this?!"
George wasn't accepting that "excuse". He started arguing with Ramrod.
Gwen didn't sit idly when they went at each other's throats. Aiming her web shooter at Slab, she fired a double-web blast into his broad shoulders, anchored him, and followed with a swinging double-kick at his chest. For all his bulk and size, Slab went down like a felled tree and landed flat on his ass.
"The bigger they are," Gwen said. "The harder they fall."
Gwen sprang and planted a foot on Gorgeous George's puddly shoulder, using it as a launchpad. George let out an indignant growl and tried to grab her ankle, but she vaulted past him and drove a knee right into Slab's face. A roundhouse kick to the temple whipped his head to the left. His eyes rolled white as he slumped on the ground, completely out cold.
Not even a minute into the fight, two of the Nasty Boys were already down.
"Aw, c'mon, Slab," George called. "You're making us look bad."
Ramrod, watching his second teammate fold so easily, lost what little patience he had and his face turned fierce with rage.
"Stand still, you twitchy little cockroach. GRAHHH!!!"
He swelled his shillelagh to monstrous size, making it the size of a small tree. With Gwen in sight, he swung it toward her.
Gwen ducked under easily and zipped to the other with a quick web. Another web was attached to the trunk-like shillelagh, which Gwen pulled with both hands. The thick wooden trunk whipped through the air and slammed right into the side of Gorgeous George's head.
A wet sound echoed as George's putty skull caved like clay, then snapped back into shape. He growled at his teammate. "You! You knuckle-dragging tree-humper, you hit me!"
"It was her, ugly fuck!" Ramrod fired back, pointing a finger at Gwen. "Get her first. We'll solve this drippy business later."
"Drippy?! I'll show you drippy, you splinter-brained fucker."
The two of them squared with each other again, the spider in their midst entirely forgotten. This wasn't the magnificent stupidity Gwen had been counting on, but she seemed to more than welcome it.
She fired a web to the ceiling and swung, hanging upside down and watching them argue like an old married couple. "Enough of that. You two should kiss it out."
She leaped and grabbed a fistful of Ramrod's collar in one hand and George's putty shoulder in the other before slamming them into each other. There was a loud splashing sound as George's head was blown, covering Ramrod's face in tar-like liquid. George's headless body crashed on the ground. He didn't recover again; his ability had hit its limit.
"George…?" Ramrod dropped his shillelagh and touched his face. "Ol' George is dead?"
"You should accompany him," Gwen said. "Sorry, I can't follow that non-lethal rule anymore. That guy can't count on an unreliable person."
She stuck a web to his mouth and pulled, crashing him into the ground. He fell right on top of George's body. Gwen kicked his head just to make sure he would lay there for a couple of hours.
Only one opponent was left for them.
Across the lobby, Hairbag had given Miles a far harder time. The feral mutant moved like an animal with fierce bursts of speed. His fangs and claws made him lethal and his quills made it hard to land direct hits. Miles had focused on keeping him occupied, waiting for Gwen to deal with the rest.
The moment Hairbag registered that the rest of his team was lying scattered across the tile, his mouth peeled back into a vicious snarl. He slowly backed away, his beady eyes darting between both enemies closing in on him.
"Two on one," he hissed, a string of drool hanging from his mouth. "Cowards. Little cowards. Come on then. Come bleed for me."
Gwen and Miles shared a glance before they moved in sync.
Hairbag's quill-hair flared into a bristling shield, deflecting Miles's first kick. His claws swiped the air an inch from Gwen's throat. He fought like the cornered animal he was, savagely and fearlessly, driven by animalistic instinct.
Miraculously, he held them both at bay with his feral aggression, keeping just enough distance to survive the battle. Granted Gwen wasn't at her peak state and Miles seemed to lack the experience of a real battle, but it was still a fascinating display for Havok.
"He's quick," Miles grunted, stepping away from a swipe. "Sis, you got any plans?"
"It's already two versus one. Let's not make it more unfair."
Miles jumped in and baited his fangs to the left, then Gwen swept in from the right and webbed his ankles to the floor. He was thrown off balance, but recovered quickly. Miles lunged and shot a projectile at Hairybag's neck, point-blank. Miles' hand recoiled back as a bullet exploded in Hairbag's chest, knocking the feral man flat on his back.
His fur deflated as he laid there, stunned by the impact. Blood dripped from the back of his skull.
Gwen zipped to the ceiling and backflipped through the air before landing with a double stomp to Hairbag's chest. He gasped hard before losing consciousness. Gwen pinned him to the ground with webs, finishing the last of the Nasty Boys.
Hairbag could have a chance at defeating Miles, but the double team of Miles and Gwen was too much for him.
Miles dusted off his gloves and looked around at the carnage. "That was kinda awesome."
"Don't think it's over yet, little bro," Gwen said, planting her hands on her hips and turning toward the only man still standing in the lobby. "My gut says he won't go down easy."
And her gut couldn't be more true.
Havok had only needed a second to wipe the floor with the Nasty Boys.
He exhaled a long breath through his nose. "They need more training."
He had expected them to win. First of all, Gwen was injured and exhausted after fighting the Spider-Queen. Not to mention her partner was a rookie. However, they had more than double the force, yet they hadn't even accomplished the bare minimum of bruising or tiring them. Instead they had been folded up and stacked like laundry in under two minutes, and left him with all the work.
'Father should work on their genes.'
Across the lobby, Gwen and Miles continued to eye Havok with caution.
"Miss Ororo," Gwen said, not taking her eyes off him, "Are reinforcements on the way? I don't have the energy to deal with this mini boss-threat."
"Jean is on the way," Ororo answered in a heavy voice. "But she is exhausted. She won't be able to provide any help."
"It's all on us, little bro."
Miles shifted his stance and glanced at Gwen. "Leave with Miss Ororo. I'll buy you time."
"Shove that noble offer straight down your throat." Gwen slapped a fresh cartridge into her web-shooter with a snappy click. "Our best chance is if we work together. Got it?"
"...Alright, sis."
Havok raised both hands. Cool white light raced along the circuitry of his suit as he gathered plasma in his hands. A thick beam of plasma erupted from his clenched fists.
Gwen and Miles split left and right, the scorching beam punching two inch-deep craters into the far wall where it struck.
"I should throttle it more."
He almost accidentally killed them, which would've been a disastrous outcome.
They dashed at him from opposite sides, weaving around the follow-up blasts that left small marks across the floor and pillars. For a moment, it looked like they would close and take him down.
But that would never work against Havok.
He discharged a wave of plasma from his suit that violently displaced the molecules around him to generate a concussive burst. Gwen and Miles bore the impact at point-blank range, taking them off their feet and hurling them back. They hit the opposite walls with loud thuds, the marble cracking from the sheer impact.
Gwen went limp the moment she hit the floor. The concussion from the impact had snuffed out her lights.
Miles fared little better with his suit. Through sheer stubborn will, he dragged himself back to his knees. He swayed on his feet but refused to stay down. "Gwen…"
Havok respected the determination of the young man. This was why they were the heroes and why he was the villain.
He aimed a hand at Miles and released a small burst of plasma. When released in a small amount, the plasma could give a severe headache to a person and even knock them out. That was what happened to Miles.
A necessary cruelty to get the job done. His objective was to deliver all three of them to Nathaniel. So long as he didn't kill them, he would succeed.
A lifetime under Sinister's mentorship had messed up his mind, he knew that. Anyone with a childhood spent watching twisted experiments to living people had quietly hollowed out his value of life. Nathaniel could bring people back to life. Healing a few broken bones and a concussion wouldn't be too much for Nathaniel.
Ororo rushed to Gwen's side and pressed two fingers pressed to the girl's throat, searching for a pulse. She was relieved to see Gwen still breathing.
"Don't you dare lay a finger on her," she said, rising to place herself in front of Gwen. Her eyes were filled with a cold fury… and a sense of helplessness. "You should know the consequences of hurting her."
Havok tilted his head, unimpressed. "I'm not afraid of Skullfire. He is going to die very soon."
"Nobody can kill him if he doesn't want to die." She looked like she almost pitied him for having that thought. "You have no idea what you're inviting by provoking him."
Havok shook his head and raised a hand. "Our data says Skullfire will meet his end today. Father has done every bit of research to make it certain."
Lowering the output down to a minuscule, he released a burst of plasma.
Suddenly, a piercing hum echoed as a swirling red portal opened between him and Ororo, swallowing the laser-thin plasma beam.
Havok narrowed his eyes. Even then, he was unable to react to the playing card that flew out, wrapped in magenta-pink energy. The card slammed into Havok's chest and the kinetic charge blew like a grenade, smashing Havok into a pillar.
"Mon ami," said a lazy, amused voice, thick with a certain thief's signature flair. "Starting the party without this Cajun? Now that's just rude."
However, the first figure to step from the portal wasn't Remy. It was a woman. She was tall, red-skinned, in long white robes cultists would usually wear.
Gambit walked out a half-step behind her, his staff balanced across the back of his shoulders behind his neck. His hands loosely gripped the staff near either end, his shoulders relaxed, chest open, and head held high in a confident stance.
The portal sealed shut behind him.
Remy's red-on-black eyes locked on Havok. "Havok, my boy, this building is under our protection now. Get the fuck out of here."
***
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