He had a weapon, an impressively sharp if ridiculously themed trident, but he'd left it behind. He had neither the training, nor the inclination to use it, not when he was so perfectly equipped as it was.

While the second was hefting the axe, he was already shifting, a blurred movement that saw him side-stepping the swing of the blade. A blink and he was moving again, closing in as the blow landed on air, a fist with all his impossible strength behind it swinging at Clint's face.