— The 𝐵𝑜𝓎 𝐹𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝐼𝓅𝒶𝓃𝑒𝓂𝒶 presents — ╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗ 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐚 𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚 ☼ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓☼ ╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝

ᅠ Alright, buddy ol’ pal. 𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙈. His fist slams into his palm. Time to do this! ᅠ

ᅠ When 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 she choose that...? Overt or her slimy sneaky style, it’s all the same to him. Messy. ᅠ

ᅠ Keep yelling. Makes the chasing easier. ᅠ

ᅠ Maybe not, but screw it, right? Cain throwing purple around ain’t gonna make much news. ᅠ

ᅠ It ain’t fat, pal! Wait... isn’t that the same person-- nevermind. Too much thinking for one day. ᅠ

ᅠ “Ain’t half bad, muscle miss. Keep it up, some of the skintight heroes are gonna want ya on their stinkin’ little hero groups.” ᅠ

ᅠ Yer 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, purple. ᅠ

ᅠ “Stay outta it, punk... I’mma crush his skull beneath my goddamn feet!!” ᅠ

ᅠ “Rggghh. My job is just puttin’ down buildings and takin’ care mutants until they reach that Krakoa place.” He does too much for his pompous bald step-bro. ᅠ

ᅠ Betta say the full name--. ᅠ

ᅠ Oh shaddup, purple. ᅠ

ᅠ Just. You. WAIT. ᅠ

ᅠ He’s just gonna assume she’s another gamma being or Hulk groupie at this point. ᅠ

ᅠ “Man. You love just talkin’ out ya ass, huh?” ᅠ

ᅠ “London was eh. Got ta’ time travel though, so that was a kick. Other ‘an that... crappy food.” ᅠ

ᅠ “Yeah. Try not to get ahead of yer’self there, big ugly. There’s a reason why only a magic demon would love that mug of yers.” ᅠ

ᅠ      “All you’re doin’ is buyin’ time,” He yells, irritably tossing a random piece of rubble in the direction of the man, “This is gettin’ real fuckin’ old. Either let me leave, or let me beat ya to a pulp.” ᅠ