Chain shops, narrow pathways, stuffed carets, overloaded carriages, stumbling boozers, weird creatures, holes in the ground and maniac looking folks, the scene out of the doors was anything but pleasant—we blindly dogged in the crowded street, paving our way to any twist or turn that first lingered insight. Any sharp turn was welcomed as long as it took us away from the fuming, She-hulk.
Reluctantly, I looked over my shoulder to find Vasishta following our asses, dodging through the mass of people like a pro runner. No overloaded carriages, stumbling boozers, flying fairies, or negotiating customers seemed to interrupt her chase as much as they did to our escape. (Assholes)
“Great Szytra, just f*****g Great! You have to mess up with the She-hulk on the very first meeting. Screw you! We
