X-Men Mission: Avengers vs X-Men: Thor 3

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Namor and Bevatron face off against Thor.



As Molly moved to take Namor's place against Iron Man, he got his first good look at Thor. The Asgardian was crackling with energy, which Bevetron was deflecting and grounded where ever he could. The onslaught was impressive, encasing both of them in a nimbus of electrical discharge.

It was truly impressive, but impressive had never been enough to phase the King of Atlantis. The baton pass from the small, monstrous girl had been clean enough, and Namor wasn't in a mood to play games. A golden trident, aimed true, sang through the electrical storm shot directly for the Thunderer's throat.

A hand reached up and caught the central trident spike, stopping the momentum cold. "Namor. I thought your kind was gone. We mourned you."

"If you mourned him," Jean-Phillipe grunted as he kept the worst of the electricity from his teammate, "perhaps you could see sense and halt this idiocy!" Sweat was pouring down his face, a testament to the amount of effort he was putting forward, and how little reserve was left in him.

Namor appeared then, his face a mask a mask of rage, to land on iron grip on the shaft of his weapon. Thor was now caught between two ancient artifacts; one in each hand. "So Asgard did hear the dying voices of my people. You did nothing."

This was a statement coated in ice and glazed with centuries of steeping anger.

"The All-Father must really be a fool."

"You had your time. It was not our place to save you from your own arrogance." Thor dropped a headbutt with a sound like a cannon when it impacted with Namor's forehead.

Namor stammering back, loosing his grip, but the sound that came from him was a low chuckle.

"I have seen what the histories have done with your ego, Thunderer. Look what has happened to your precious Migard in both our absences."

Namor gave a small gesture, almost nothing, but then again it may have been a signal for Bevetron to go ahead and do something already.

But Jean-Phillipe was having entirely too much fun watching the pair snipe at each other like a pair of catty girls in the schoolyard. And the verbal byplay was giving him some much-needed time to recover at least a tiny piece of his body's power reserves. And the longer the pair traded barbs, the better - he had yet to figure out anything that would do much to harm the thunder god. Still, this was a battle, even with the angry words, and he sent a stream of electricity to crackle around the moisture at the end of Namor's weapon, trusting to the stronger man to use it wisely.