WHO: Tommy, Bullseye
WHERE: Idk, somewhere in the city.
WHEN: Friday, November 21st- beginning of the night? Fffffffff too many things happening to night.
WHAT: Tommy gets beaten by Bullseye.
FORMAT: Para-form
WARNINGS: BUSTED KNEECAPS ♥ More seriously, violence and swearing
(
I've been wanting for Tommy to be that much of a jerk for so long <3 )
The assassin was casually laying back on the ledge of the roof above an alleyway, cleaning his teeth with a dart, when his new "project" conveniently swooped on in. He peered over the ledge to spot kid beating down some failure of a crook going after a woman, who most likely, didn't have more than fifty dollars in her purse. Schmuck.
Whatever the case, the kid had skills. He was darting around like some crack-headed kitten. Oh. This was good. This was rich.Bullseye shifted into a crouch, hungrily peering down at his prey as it fumbled around with the money. He silently slipped down the building, carefully creeping along the edges ( ... )
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He was going to run back to his apt to leave the money there, possibly without being seen by Vision so he wouldn't ask about it and Tommy wouldn't have to explain that he was thinking about going Hero-on-Hire, when he was pushed on the ground and fell forward, effectively dropping the two bills.
Someone had just tried to tackle him. He should have been paying attention, it would have been easy to dodge. His natural reflexes had permitted him to get away partly, enough to be able to stand up at superspeed very shortly after falling in the mud anyway. The mud made him hate the rain forcefully ( ... )
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The assassin exhaled roughly, and staggered back. As he did so, one hand swiped out, attempting to grab a fist-full of Tommy's hair. If he could just get a hold on this little brat, the rest would be a piece of cake... he hoped.
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That was basically what Tommy was thinking as he looked at his opponent on the ground, barely able to get up again. It had been an overkill even without using any molecules destabilization - and it hadn't been a very interesting fight overall.
When Bullseye fell down again Tommy sighed audibly, wondering if he would have to bring him to the police station. He could probably knock him out and get someone else to do it. Or write something on the board to request some sort of assistance.
Tommy hadn't known what he was up against because he never would have stopped observing Bullseye's every move if he had known. He was going to open his communicator when something pierced through his left kneecap. A piece of gravel ( ... )
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And that basically meant that if they were overwhelmed by pain, just like any regular people, they got dizzy and tented to faint. Everyone just expected supers to be able to fight with 3 bullets in the chest or something - well that wasn't real life and normal bodies just drained all its energy to heal the wound and left none for consciousness. It was to wonder if Captain America stopped his body from trying to heal itself when hurt in order to stay conscious - which would have been pretty stupid and dangerous.
Tommy was hissing between his lips and his vision was starting to get blurry. He was in so much trouble. He managed to continue his movement just enough to start vaporising Bullseye's hand but couldn't continue the motion beyond that. ( ... )
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He didn't see that coming.
Within seconds, the skin on his hand had completely eaten away. A few bits and piece of it still clung from the now, completely exposed underbelly. He could see his own tendons and veins at work. At first, it didn't hurt. He was in too much shock. Then, in a sudden wave, the massive pain seared through his body. Bullseye staggered back, letting out a garbled mix of of a roar and a growl.
"You piece of shit!" He screamed, clinging to the wrist of his bloodied hand. If he actually touched the exposed flesh, he was in an even bigger world of hurt. "I'm gonna' fuckin' kill you you brat!" Bullseye let out another heave, and spat another wad of blood to the side. He was constantly cringing now. Oh yeah, he was feelin' it alright.
"You've got no idea how fucked you are, and you know what?" The uninjured hand retreated to his belt. He still had it in him. One more shot. One more shot was all he needed on this little fuck, and then he was golden. At least... somewhat. This was who ( ... )
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