Rising Fatality (Ultimate Spider-Man Fanfic)

2| Zver

Ava POV

This was annoying.

She wasn't supposed to be annoyed but she couldn't help it. Even though it's been two weeks since her Master told that she was part of a pack, Ava couldn't get over how terribly irritating the whole situation was. Besides, she's been cooped up in the stupid base for 14 whole days and it was driving her crazy. If her cold room didn't drive her mad, then her stupid pack-mates were.

Frankly, the only thing keeping her pack-mates alive was the deal her Master offered her.

Her master, Kraven the Hunter, had explained it briskly; she was to learn how to fight and survive with a pack, and if she succeeded he would let her go on hunting missions for him, by herself.

By. Herself.

She almost couldn't believe it when he told her. He's never offered something like to her before, and while a part of her was wary that it was some kind of test, she couldn't help but feel excited. This was definitely a step-up with them - this meant he trusted her!

So, as much as Ava hated these people, the reward was far too exceptional to pass up. For now, she'd bite her tongue and keep her claws to herself. For now.

But that didn't mean she had to like it.

They've been training together every day since their first mission against each other, whether it was through an elaborately pieced-together obstacle course, a strict mission to take out a specific target, or simply sparring with each other to better understand the other's fighting style. So far, it's been messy, crazy, and ineffective.

None of them worked well together. That's just how it was. Their packs dynamic was too out of place, too hastily done. The big, muscly one in their team – Guard Dog she's come to know him as – was big, blundering, and always in the way. He barreled through everything, uncaring for the rest of the Pack, as he grabbed whatever their target happened to be and tore it apart with his bare hands. He had no hunting strategy, no tact, and every bit a dog his name implied. No, he was less than that. He had the ferocity of a beast, but none of the skill.

Novae, the odd one with the helmet, was no better. He blasted everything without thought. While he's admittedly agile in the air, he's also bright and overbearing. He zipped in front of them without needing to and destroyed everything with a target on its back. More than once he almost shot one of his pack-mates, and even then he didn't stop. He was quiet, but often laughed at them to himself, muttering insults about their "small, little human intelligence" and fly off, shooting haughty glances over his shoulder. But that was when he even bothered powering up. In some circumstances, he didn't even have his helmet with him, and stood off to the side watching them fight while pointing the littlest mistakes and criticized them for their "crude Earthling tactics."

The one that got on her nerves the least was probable Disciple – the only name he answered to by his master, the red-caped sorcerer she heard Kraven call Baron Mordo - but even then she still felt bitter over their first training exercise. It was Disciples constant interference that prevented her from completing her kill. With his relationship with magic spells and distractions, she didn't bother getting close for fear of lashing out and invoking the wrath of her Master. Besides, Disciple always looked irritated, no matter what the time of day, like he always had better things to do. Always so impatient. The last one in the room and the first one out. During training his magical incantations were fast and to the point – sometimes TOO to the point. There had been more than one occasion where he'd simply blasted their target when they were supposed to sneak up and infiltrate. He never apologized for his crude actions either. Just turned and walked back to his starting position, let them infiltrate, then blasted the target when they were given the go-ahead.