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Alright, bub... [It's a little hard to understand him with that cigar clenched between his teeth, and he's puffing furiously on it even as his claws slide free with a threatening snkt.]
You've got three seconds to tell me what the hell's going on here, and maybe you get to walk away with your guts intact. [Prison? Yeah, right. More like one of Magneto's schemes. He's coasting along on that dick's motorcycle one minute, and he's stuck here with this thing on his face the next.]