An especially stealthy employee smoothly drew the specialized handgun from his belt, shooting tranqs into five of the villainous remnants before making the mistake of pointing his silent weapon of choice towards Kyrie Black.
Rolling to the side and picking up a loose riot carbine dropped by one of the phantom’s retired teammates, she aimed for the chest of his darkly-armored body. Flicking the trigger like she was mashing an arcade button, she watched in horror as the rubber weakly ricocheted from him, facilitating her next dodge to narrowly avoid a tranquilizer dart aimed right at her.
“Find cover!” She issued to those still standing, feeling the sweat of her hands cling to the short weapon. “Get hit, and you get caught!”
Anyone with half a brain panicked to put their body behind one of the few standing shelves or boxes. Anita, delirious as she failed to understand how she’d made it for this long, took shelter in a back room. Not quite so lucky, all the sisters could reach in time was a kicked-over table so thin the guy’s darts could probably shoot straight through it. Nobody wanted to leave their co-commander to fight alone, but only one such villain was so foolish.
“Spider? What are you-“
He shot Thomas forward, gripping the assailant’s gun using the trusty spider gadget and flinging it aside.
“Leave it to me, Kyrie! Gotta redeem myself sometime this century!”
The agent pulled a knife from his suit. Only, this one couldn’t be called dull if the whole world was made of scalpel blades. The deadly tool shined underneath the light from the broken roof as he held it in a tight reverse grip.
“What’s your name, punk?” Spider asked him.
“Call me Anti. You make that thing?”
“Guess so. What’s it to ya?”
“You’re a gifted engineer. It’d be better to put those skills to work somewhere else.”
“Like you’re gonna give me the chance to do that.”
“I dunno. I’m sure you’ll find some use for it in the Venge City Correctional Complex.”
“Spider!” Kyrie shouted over the boys’ inane quipping. “Can’t you see he’s stalling?! Shut up already and help me fight!”
“I ain’t going to jail, bucko.” The kid stuck up his chin at the fighter, taunting him.
“So you are a fool.”
Right as Anti took his first weightless step in, just before he could rush in and restrain both the targets with whatever force he needed to, Kyrie gasped at something else entirely.
The nearest shelf had fallen over, spilling even more legacy action figures onto the plastic-flooded floor. Bozo finally reappeared, now carrying the battered body of their leader Arsene.
“No…” Kyrie’s quaking palms fell to her open mouth, her weapon dropping to the disorderly floor.
Throwing him into the pile of collectibles to hear him groan in pain, Bozo let the leader cry all he wanted. It took as much, just to prove the pulverized meat was still alive.
The hero surveyed the battlefield, quickly finding the pile of his employees defeated and motionless on the ground.
“Okay.” He popped his short neck, stretching. “Yeah, you guys really are the worst. Wish you hadn’t killed my entire career, sorry little pieces of shit. Your likenesses would’ve made for some great antagonists in my comic. Everybody would’ve hated you.”