It wasn’t difficult to do when it was Felix; the sudden shock of seeing him had been enough to tangle up his attention, to shake the foundation of what he here to do. He was dead, he was here, he was…fucking stabbing himself in the chest.

Holy shit.

Tucker dragged his eyes from the knife to the battered helmet, listening to the promises of violence and death. Himself? Fine. His friends? That was enough to set him off. But his kid? His fucking kid? Calling his kid a mutant and then—

Dude, we’ve got a fucking mission and I can’t waste my time with this asshole. He’s not touching Junior, he can’t, he can’t-

“Shut the fuck up about my kid, asshole,” he growled, taking a step backwards, then another. The hand not holding the sword rose, and eyes narrowing, he channeled his magnetic pull to try to rip that knife from the dead man’s chest. It was the first time he had used this in battled and it was either make it or break it; what better asshole to try it out on?

He just didn’t want him with the weapon, especially with a goddamn knife.

“All this is doing that I get to keep having fun kicking your ass just like I did when I blew your ass up,” he tossed out, trying to hide the thudding of his heart under this veneer of nothing; Felix would like that. “It’s like a fucking toy that never breaks.”

No explosions. JFC, he hoped that York was okay, because if he wasn’t then this was all for nothing.