It's a lot easier to throw the assailant than the big lug Kargash may suspect; Steve goes literally flying back out the alleyway, landing shoulder first and rolling across the pavement. He literally skips after the first bounce. There's already blood from a hefty dose of road rash Steve's got on his cheek and the palms of both hands.

Really, he's lucky he hasn't broken anything with how hard he landed. He's up on his feet as soon as he can pull himself up despite the wheezing protest of his lungs.

"That all you've got?" Bringing up both bloody fists in front of himself again. "I can do this all day, punk." Later, much later-- Steve will feel guilty about the thrill that courses through him as adrenaline floods his system. The satisfying sting of the scrapes on his hands. The sound of his shoes slapping against the pavement as he sprints right back in there and ducks under the the larger creature to sock the thug's partner square between his eyes.

The Nexus is a safe place, if not strange, most of the time. But Steve's finding himself almsot glad that it isn't completely, right in this moment. Even as a fist knocks the wind out form him bodily and sends him back down to the ground. This is where he belongs, and he'll feel guilty later. Right now there's too much at stake.