The unexpected high-pitched yell caused Mage to snap his head down and to the left. His eyes widened at the sight of his partner freefalling towards the ground. A string of webbing flapped uselessly from a red-gloved hand before opening to release it and send out a new web-line at the nearest building.
Instinctively, Mage knew that he was too close to the ground; there was no way that he'd be able to save himself.
The merest thought spun the lightning bolt around and down and Mage flattened himself against the broom, intent on catching Spider-man if needed.
The sound of something passing his head at speed even as a second something slammed into his broom with a solid thunk caused Mage to jerk the broom even further down. A third something flew past, only being seen in his peripheral vision but at least it was further away.
The nose of the broom was nearly pointed straight down now and Mage couldn't help but grin. The black bitumen loomed large in his eyes – not exactly the green grass of a quidditch pitch. At just the right moment, Mage pulled backwards, performing a perfect wronski feint even as a laugh was ripped from him. At speed, he dodged through the oncoming traffic before pulling straight up, his head whipping backwards and forwards.
Mage had no idea what had happened to Spider-man; the kid, he knew, could take care of himself. Spider-man, though, wasn't the one in danger, despite his potential crash down to earth. No, the one in danger was Daredevil – the shuriken still embedded in the shaft of his broom attested to that.
A touch of his wand with the correct mental command had Mage quickly flipping his broom over before rolling back upright. Half a dozen buildings zipped by as Mage honed in.
And then he saw them. Daredevil and Bullseye were going toe to toe, trading blows and leaping about. By the way that Daredevil was favouring his right leg and left arm, Mage guessed that he'd been injured already, most likely by something sharp.
As Mage closed in, he saw Daredevil backflip half a dozen times to give himself space.
You're giving him a chance to use his strengths, Mage growled internally.
And indeed, he was right. The instant that Bullseye had clearance, a dozen glinting objects were shot from his quickly moving hands, one after the other.
Mage's phoenix wand was already out, pointing straight ahead as he lay almost flat against the lightning bolt trying to coax every bit of speed out of it that he could. Instinctively, Mage twirled his wand in ever increasing circles, creating a vortex of wind, wind that quickly turned into tornado strength as it slammed into the flying objects, sending them wildly off-target.
Bullseye spun about, a grimace on his face as he realised that the Avenger was bearing down on him. With a casual salute, the man turned, his leather coat flaring behind him.
Mage's eyes narrowed as the marksman hopped behind a multitude of struts, obscuring his chance of hitting him with a spell. But there were more ways than one to catch a crook. A flick upwards and a jet of blood red shot from his wand, almost instantly followed by the lightest of blues.
The first spell impacted the water tower, smashing it to smithereens and sending a deluge of water careening on to the rooftop, right where Bullseye had last been seen. And then the light blue spell hit the water, freezing it into a bizarre sculpture of a wave of water.
Mage slowed his broom before beginning to circle the roof, staring into the ice, trying to see the image of a man trapped inside. Unfortunately, the ice was crystal clear. In fact, the only thing inside that he could see was a half-open door leading down into the building.
After slamming his fist into his thigh in frustration, Mage zipped across the roof to where Daredevil was leaning against a wall.
"You alright?" Mage asked.
"I am now," Daredevil replied in a near growl.
"What happened?"
"Caught me by surprise," Daredevil replied. "He was lying in wait to ambush me. Glad you happened by. I take it he got away?"
"This time," Mage scowled.
"Hey guys, what'd I miss?" Spider-man asked as he landed lightly on the rooftop, his costume a little torn and the worse-for-wear in a number of places.
ooo00ooo
Doreen scowled at the assignment question that she'd been given by her history teacher.
Describe the differences between the three types of colonies that existed in the British Empire in America during the height of its power in the eighteenth century.
How was she supposed to know that? She hadn't even known that there were different types of colonies in America.
Hopefully, the answer lay in one of the stack of books that sat on the end of her desk. As soon as the bell had rung, Doreen had raided the library for anything that looked as though it might give some sort of answer. The only problem now was that she was going to have to read through them all to find the answers she needed.
And then she had a brilliant thought: she was living with a living, breathing English guy. If anyone was going to know the answer, it'd be him, right?
Not that Harry was home right then. Really, the guy barely was ever home, or at least, that was the way it seemed. If he wasn't in the Den downstairs, he was 'out', wherever that was. He never said, only sort of skirted the question or changed the topic.
But Harry, she knew, had a library, a library filled with books – hundreds of them. Surely, somewhere in there, he had one on history.
.
.
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📖For everyone who wants to read it in full📖
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