"Babe," Mark huffed, raising a brow. "He deserves it. He's weak. It's called survival of the fittest."

That was all the reasoning he needed to give you. Or so he believed.

Before his feet lay a perversely beaten, bruised, battered, and unconscious Guardian of the Globe, thin trails of maroon seeping down the wounds on their face and body. They definitely weren't going to get up anytime soon.

But that didn't matter! Couldn't you see that this was simply the way it had to be?

He gently took a hold of your arms, giving you a soft smile, a stark contrast to the brutal display of violence shown just seconds ago.

"Come on. I'll fly us out of here, yeah? Maybe visit our favourite bakery in Germany? I know you're a little hangry right now."