George was not going to think about the invasion of toy-sized robot cops on pitchforks who’d transported through microwaves after an alien parole-breaker and thoroughly wrecked the Vegas casino HYDRA had just bought for money laundering. Just, no.
The local construction crews had apparently loved them, though. And George had decided he was not going to ask about possible interesting concrete foundations poured after the local HYDRA area commander had packed them off back to headquarters for punishment, then marched off with everyone but Zed Team to discuss matters with a supposed ex-head of the Mafia.
George shuddered, trying not to remember the alien comet fungus-rain they’d been sent to get samples of, that had mutated every tarantula in ten miles into giant man-eating monsters. Specifically men, for some reason HYDRA scientists still hadn’t figured out; meaning he and Plantain had been benched looking after rug-rats while Mullen and Goldenrod went after the communal nest with axes, welding torches, and the local Ladies’ Spinning, Weaving, and Anarchy Society.
Mull hadn’t been able to go near a creepy-crawly since. So when that redhead in black had wiggled a giant spider plushie in her face-
Well. A bull in a china shop might have done less damage. Maybe.
A/N: If anyone thinks they recognize a Blue Devil comic ref – well, yes. My bunnies have never been shy about Marvel meeting DC….