Another gunshot rings out, this one fainter and not nearby. The shouting that comes after it is likewise muffled and faint. Easily unnoticed in the immediate fray of the fight unfolding down on the ground level across the street. They're not here to play at being an even match for these thugs nor to draw out a game of cat and mouse. Prometheus may not be at his True size but he towers over these men when he charges them down like a legionnaire out of an ancient world with how familiar he is wielding his spear and shield. Daredevil may not have his old suit with the same reds as these thugs bear or the arched back horns marking him as the Devil of Hell's kitchen but he is a wraith among them as they scatter, snapping bones and lashing out with devastating shocks that lock up the muscles. Leaving their attackers whimpering in the snow.

And Natasha? She doesn't need a suit or heels to stand tall over the man cradling his bleeding arm in the second story office where she's found him. All she needs is the empty gaze of a shark intent on devouring its prey when she raises her gun again to his face, letting him know that she will feel nothing for ending his life if he doesn't speak.

They should fear the people they've made into their enemies. For as altruistic as many who call the Nexus their home or stomping grounds can be they are also dangerous. Monstrous, depending on who you ask.

"W-wait, wait nngh please. Please don't impale m-me or break my wrist oh shit oh fuck--" By now the second thug who got taken out by the knees is upright and trying to scoot back to put as much distance between himself and Prometheus and Daredevil as he can. "I give up!"