Towering
Wilson Fisk was generally a collected, soft-spoken man, priding himself on his control. But when he was angry, truly angry, it was sudden, explosive, uncontrollable.
It was the man in the mask. He was ruining shipments, making people drop out of deals, and he just wouldn't let go. He was like a terrier digging for rats, reckless and relentless.
Now, he'd ruined a real estate deal by intimidating Fisk's partner to drop out, beating up his men night after night with his fists and black fury.
Fisk breathed deeply through his nose, his hands clenching into fists on top of the table in front of him. Without warning, he let out a roar and, hooking his fingers under the table, flipped the entire thing effortlessly. The man who'd brought him the news stumbled backwards, a marten winding anxiously around his neck.
The great grey owl resting on Fisk's shoulder suddenly flapped up into the air, her massive wings broader than his shoulders. With a piercing cry, she dove and neatly snagged the marten in in her claws. The man screamed, hands desperately reaching for the writhing creature even as the talons tightened-
A cloud of golden Dust filled the air.