Disclaimer: I don't own these two characters
A/N: Do I need to explain! No plot whatsoever in this one, just mindless violence. If you don't know who Bullseye is, he's Colin Farrell's character in Daredevil. If you don't know who Gambit is, there's no hope for you!
Gambit vs. Bullseye
The motorbike's engine cut through the night like an adimantium claw, its helmet-less rider relishing the cold air on his face, the closeness to death... Nobody would ever call him afraid. At least, not if they wanted to live...
He brought the bike to a sudden halt outside a seedy bar, dismounting and throwing his long black coat about him menacingly. His narrow brown eyes scanned the place briefly, madness dancing just under his surface. He'd been bored, but maybe this dive would provide him with a little light entertainment... Bullseye smirked as he pushed open the door, taking a moment stood in the doorway to slowly glance about at the bar's occupants. More than one glance up at him, wary as they should be, making Bullseye nod and smile coldly.
Entering proper, he revelled in the smoky atmosphere, the low lights, weaving between tables and chairs, men and women giving him curious looks. He cut a daunting figure, the Irishman, dressed in black leather with a black woollen hat pulled down low over his darting, mad eyes.
The loser lounging on the low-slung leather sofa was obviously not as daunted as he should be. He didn't even glance up in awe as he casually threw cards down on the oak coffee table in front of him, playing patience, feet up and one arm around a prett7 blonde. A tempting brunette sat on his other side, obviously captivated by the movements of the cards. How could he be so accurate tossing the cards down without even making an effort?
The redhead on the sofa at a right angle to where the bloke with the cards was lounging looked bored. She leant back on one arm, lying Romanesque on the leather with her hair in long curls like an aura around her. Bullseye tipped his head to the pretty lady, making her raise an eyebrow sceptically. That got the card-playing guy's attention all right, suddenly looking up through his scruffy hair with piercing red-on-black eyes. And people called Bullseye a freak...
"Need an ace?" The Irishman magic-ed the ace of spades out of thin air, before tossing it down on top of the bloke's game. It landed crooked, deliberately skewing the cards across the table. The man sat back, irritated but not showing it, putting his other arm around the brunette.
"Can I'se help you, Mon Ami?" The guy snarled, Cajun accent taking a moment for Bullseye to translate.
"You're quite the ladies' man, ain't ya?" Bullseye observed, folding his arms. The redhead on the other sofa rolled her eyes, smirking and getting up. She moved around the back of the guy's seat, running her fingers along the leather, hips swaying temptingly in her tight black jeans. Bullseye's eyes rolled back in his head a little as he watched her move to the jukebox. "T'ink your friend'll mind if I buy her a drink?"
"You wanna play wit Gambit?" The guy asked sharply in reply, sliding his booted feet onto the floor and releasing the two girls. "Name your game, Ami."
"How about catch?" Bullseye quipped, hands moving quicker than lightning he tapped his belt buckle, a silver throwing star falling gently into his fingers. The barest flick of his wrist and it was away, aimed to cut this Gambit guy's throat...
Gambit's fingers closed around the throwing star an arm's length from his neck, the bend of his arm taking the speed out of the attack. Bullseye's eyes bulged, he hated to miss! He never missed! That was it, this had been fun before, but now it was personal!
As he started forwards threateningly, his eyes were drawn to where the silver weapon was held in Gambit's bare fingers. It was no longer silver, as Bullseye watched it turned glowing and orange. The Cajun mutant looked at the throwing star curiously, then raised his arm and lobbed it right out of the nearest window, shattering the glass. Nanoseconds later the impounding sound of an explosion right outside sent the bar's occupants, including Gambit's two female companions, diving for cover and screaming.
Bullseye's jaw dropped open like a trout. He tried to laugh off what he had just seen, eyes darting from the unphased man on the sofa to the shattered window and the drifting smoke entering from outside. His attempt at finding humour failed, Bullseye cracked, and he flung himself roaring at the Cajun, fists flailing. The back of the sofa broke with a crack, spilling both men onto the floor as Bullseye's fist connected hard with Gambit's lower ribs, making the Cajun gasp.
Screams ran through the bar as its clientele ran for the doors. Gambit brought a foot up and kicked Bullseye square in the stomach, flinging the other man backwards. The Irishman hit a table and fell through it, wood splintering. In a flash Gambit was back on his feet, swiping the playing cards from the table in a whirl of brown trench coat and flashing red eyes.
But Bullseye was just as quick, his fingers finding shards of wood and launching them at light-speed at Gambit. The thief dodged most of them, heading for the bar where he would have a better range for an attack, but the last one caught his shoulder, stuck in his flesh. He hollered his pain, grabbing hold of the shard forcefully and wrenching it out.
"Aw, has the poor man got a splinter?" Bullseye smirked unsympathetically. Gambit didn't reply, jumping on top of the bar he unleashed a charged card that landed just in front of Bullseye, before exploding like a supernova. Bottles and glasses left abandoned broke in a wave of glass. Bullseye was hurled backwards again, slamming into a chair, feeling his breath escape him. A bottle fell off the table above him, landing sweetly in his hand. The Irish hit man looked at it, slightly in shock, and then grinned. With a forward roll out from under the furniture, he threw the bottle with deadly accuracy at Gambit, then ducked and rolled again, flinging himself back behind a makeshift barricade.
Gambit jumped down off the wooden bar just in time, the bottle smashing into the wall behind, its contents dripping slowly down the mossy green wallpaper. His eyes glanced around the deserted room slowly, trying to pinpoint Bullseye's new hiding place.
"What?" He called, mocking. "You don't wanna play with Gambit no more? This game too rough for you?"
"You wish!" Bullseye snarled, launching himself on to Gambit's unprotected back, shard of glass flashing delightfully as the madman tried to slit the Cajun's throat. Gambit quickly dropped his left shoulder, moved his feet and overbalanced the man behind him, throwing his attacker down heavily on the floor. Bullseye instantly tried to get back up, but Gambit lodged his boot on the other man's chest, charged card emitting a low light as it pulsed with deadly energy.
"Ain't nobody throw a card as well as me!" Gambit snapped, before hurling the card straight upward and diving away. Bullseye's eyes widened as the weapon hit the roof, exploding. He screamed as chunks of plasterboard and masonry dropped on his head, trying to protect his face with his arms as his doom fell to bury him alive...
Outside as the building crumbled, the redhead revved her motorbike, smile betraying her relief as Gambit emerged from the building, coughing from the dust but otherwise relatively unharmed. He winced slightly as behind him the building that had been a bar gave up the ghost and completely collapsed, the cloud of billowing dust and debris for a moment surrounding them both.
"I don't know who that guy was, Mon Amie." Gambit spluttered to the redhead when the dust cleared, going to his own bike as he spoke. "But he jus' 'bout brought the house down..."
A/N: Do I need to explain! No plot whatsoever in this one, just mindless violence. If you don't know who Bullseye is, he's Colin Farrell's character in Daredevil. If you don't know who Gambit is, there's no hope for you!
Gambit vs. Bullseye
The motorbike's engine cut through the night like an adimantium claw, its helmet-less rider relishing the cold air on his face, the closeness to death... Nobody would ever call him afraid. At least, not if they wanted to live...
He brought the bike to a sudden halt outside a seedy bar, dismounting and throwing his long black coat about him menacingly. His narrow brown eyes scanned the place briefly, madness dancing just under his surface. He'd been bored, but maybe this dive would provide him with a little light entertainment... Bullseye smirked as he pushed open the door, taking a moment stood in the doorway to slowly glance about at the bar's occupants. More than one glance up at him, wary as they should be, making Bullseye nod and smile coldly.
Entering proper, he revelled in the smoky atmosphere, the low lights, weaving between tables and chairs, men and women giving him curious looks. He cut a daunting figure, the Irishman, dressed in black leather with a black woollen hat pulled down low over his darting, mad eyes.
The loser lounging on the low-slung leather sofa was obviously not as daunted as he should be. He didn't even glance up in awe as he casually threw cards down on the oak coffee table in front of him, playing patience, feet up and one arm around a prett7 blonde. A tempting brunette sat on his other side, obviously captivated by the movements of the cards. How could he be so accurate tossing the cards down without even making an effort?
The redhead on the sofa at a right angle to where the bloke with the cards was lounging looked bored. She leant back on one arm, lying Romanesque on the leather with her hair in long curls like an aura around her. Bullseye tipped his head to the pretty lady, making her raise an eyebrow sceptically. That got the card-playing guy's attention all right, suddenly looking up through his scruffy hair with piercing red-on-black eyes. And people called Bullseye a freak...
"Need an ace?" The Irishman magic-ed the ace of spades out of thin air, before tossing it down on top of the bloke's game. It landed crooked, deliberately skewing the cards across the table. The man sat back, irritated but not showing it, putting his other arm around the brunette.
"Can I'se help you, Mon Ami?" The guy snarled, Cajun accent taking a moment for Bullseye to translate.
"You're quite the ladies' man, ain't ya?" Bullseye observed, folding his arms. The redhead on the other sofa rolled her eyes, smirking and getting up. She moved around the back of the guy's seat, running her fingers along the leather, hips swaying temptingly in her tight black jeans. Bullseye's eyes rolled back in his head a little as he watched her move to the jukebox. "T'ink your friend'll mind if I buy her a drink?"
"You wanna play wit Gambit?" The guy asked sharply in reply, sliding his booted feet onto the floor and releasing the two girls. "Name your game, Ami."
"How about catch?" Bullseye quipped, hands moving quicker than lightning he tapped his belt buckle, a silver throwing star falling gently into his fingers. The barest flick of his wrist and it was away, aimed to cut this Gambit guy's throat...
Gambit's fingers closed around the throwing star an arm's length from his neck, the bend of his arm taking the speed out of the attack. Bullseye's eyes bulged, he hated to miss! He never missed! That was it, this had been fun before, but now it was personal!
As he started forwards threateningly, his eyes were drawn to where the silver weapon was held in Gambit's bare fingers. It was no longer silver, as Bullseye watched it turned glowing and orange. The Cajun mutant looked at the throwing star curiously, then raised his arm and lobbed it right out of the nearest window, shattering the glass. Nanoseconds later the impounding sound of an explosion right outside sent the bar's occupants, including Gambit's two female companions, diving for cover and screaming.
Bullseye's jaw dropped open like a trout. He tried to laugh off what he had just seen, eyes darting from the unphased man on the sofa to the shattered window and the drifting smoke entering from outside. His attempt at finding humour failed, Bullseye cracked, and he flung himself roaring at the Cajun, fists flailing. The back of the sofa broke with a crack, spilling both men onto the floor as Bullseye's fist connected hard with Gambit's lower ribs, making the Cajun gasp.
Screams ran through the bar as its clientele ran for the doors. Gambit brought a foot up and kicked Bullseye square in the stomach, flinging the other man backwards. The Irishman hit a table and fell through it, wood splintering. In a flash Gambit was back on his feet, swiping the playing cards from the table in a whirl of brown trench coat and flashing red eyes.
But Bullseye was just as quick, his fingers finding shards of wood and launching them at light-speed at Gambit. The thief dodged most of them, heading for the bar where he would have a better range for an attack, but the last one caught his shoulder, stuck in his flesh. He hollered his pain, grabbing hold of the shard forcefully and wrenching it out.
"Aw, has the poor man got a splinter?" Bullseye smirked unsympathetically. Gambit didn't reply, jumping on top of the bar he unleashed a charged card that landed just in front of Bullseye, before exploding like a supernova. Bottles and glasses left abandoned broke in a wave of glass. Bullseye was hurled backwards again, slamming into a chair, feeling his breath escape him. A bottle fell off the table above him, landing sweetly in his hand. The Irish hit man looked at it, slightly in shock, and then grinned. With a forward roll out from under the furniture, he threw the bottle with deadly accuracy at Gambit, then ducked and rolled again, flinging himself back behind a makeshift barricade.
Gambit jumped down off the wooden bar just in time, the bottle smashing into the wall behind, its contents dripping slowly down the mossy green wallpaper. His eyes glanced around the deserted room slowly, trying to pinpoint Bullseye's new hiding place.
"What?" He called, mocking. "You don't wanna play with Gambit no more? This game too rough for you?"
"You wish!" Bullseye snarled, launching himself on to Gambit's unprotected back, shard of glass flashing delightfully as the madman tried to slit the Cajun's throat. Gambit quickly dropped his left shoulder, moved his feet and overbalanced the man behind him, throwing his attacker down heavily on the floor. Bullseye instantly tried to get back up, but Gambit lodged his boot on the other man's chest, charged card emitting a low light as it pulsed with deadly energy.
"Ain't nobody throw a card as well as me!" Gambit snapped, before hurling the card straight upward and diving away. Bullseye's eyes widened as the weapon hit the roof, exploding. He screamed as chunks of plasterboard and masonry dropped on his head, trying to protect his face with his arms as his doom fell to bury him alive...
Outside as the building crumbled, the redhead revved her motorbike, smile betraying her relief as Gambit emerged from the building, coughing from the dust but otherwise relatively unharmed. He winced slightly as behind him the building that had been a bar gave up the ghost and completely collapsed, the cloud of billowing dust and debris for a moment surrounding them both.
"I don't know who that guy was, Mon Amie." Gambit spluttered to the redhead when the dust cleared, going to his own bike as he spoke. "But he jus' 'bout brought the house down..."