Explosion after explosion rocked the air. Shockwaves unleashed a staccato sonata of destruction. Any man in the vicinity would have had their eardrums blasted to smithereens, but alas, the unfortunate audience to this performance of ruin were only machines, their smoldering metal chunks and crackling, ripped wire innards strewn in droves across desert dry orange earth.
"You've improved, Fifth!" Clint leaped in mid air, a majestic set of brown feathered avian wings stretched out from his back. Harsh sunlight streamed down from various holes in the now not so very defensive dome that protected Meteor Labs.
The pupils in Clint's eyes narrowed into hyper-focused slits as they took in his target: Shuten Doji.
Where Clint's wings showed free flowing mastery over the skies, Shuten Doji's bare feet, his rough, callused toes digging, no cracking into the firm earth like mini anchors, showcased a rock-solid affinity for the earth.
