ScornXY

Le post

Scorn sauntered down the urban streets after making a handoff to his last employer. A big, black duffle was slung over his shoulder. The amphibian winced as he felt the continuous pressure threatening to push his shoulder out of his socket. Damn joints. He turned into an alleyway to drop the bag at his boots. Reaching into it, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Leaning up against the brick wall behind him, Scorn placed the cig between his lips and lit it. With a satisfying inhale and smokey exhale, his ebony eyes slowly scanned the alley.

There was a buzz in one of his belt pockets interrupting his smoke break. His eyes rolled as he dug the phone out and answered it, clawed fingers drawing the cigarette from his mouth. "Yeah."

A familiar South African accent greeted him. "Hello, stranger. Long time, no see."

The cigarette dropped from his grasp as his black eyes widened. He jumped up from his leisurely position to look around. "Vein." His grip tightened around the cellular device, his breathing quickening. "What the hell do you want?"

"Saw you got a new payday. Things have been a bit slow for mercs recently. Thought I might just skim some of yours." The albino's voice indicated his lips had been drawn into a smile.

Scorn knew Vein was around. His eyes flicked through the shadows, ascending to the rooftops to spot the white form. "Over my dead body."

"That's what I like to hear!" A shot rang out as a bullet tore through Scorn's chest. The amphibious mutate screeched in pain, his ribs shattered by the metal projectile, his body jolted back by the impact. His jaw clamped shut as he used his mental training to fight back the agony and follow the path of the bullet. His keen eyes caught sight of the glint of a sniper scope. It was too far for the materials he had within his pack, but he was not about to be target practice for a sociopath.

His specialized skin was already regenerating over the gaping wound as he dropped down to grab his duffle, another bullet impacting where he had been. Tightening his fist around the grip, Scorn's other hand flinging a manhole open from the sewer entrance. He leapt down, feet first into the dark stench, uttering one last goodbye before the signal was lost. "Vein, go f*ck yourself."

The manhole cover crashed back down over the opening as the amphibian landed with relative grace upon the pavement below. The hasty descent caused sharp pains to shoot up his legs, eliciting a grown from the genetic experiment. He stood to his full, underwhelming height and cracked his neck, the hole in his chest completely filled in by flesh and sinew, bones rebuilding themselves out of sight. He swung the bag back over his shoulder to continue his way back home via a subterranean route.

The air felt saturated by filth, the disgusting medley of smells overwhelming his potent senses. His skin tightened to try to keep some of the foulness from seeping into his pores. Any kind of respiration was a chore in this place. But with a bit of slow breathing and thought exercises to draw his attention to his sight and sound, the unpleasantness became more bearable. This shift in attention made him aware of creatures ahead, scurrying around in the darkness. Their footfalls seemed heavier than ordinary sewer rodents. Even the roaches seemed to emit a louder chirping as their legs scraped against the cement inside. Blinking his clear lids to moisturize his delicate eyes, the amphibian continued on until he reached a junction, the labyrinth populated by scurrying critters abnormally large and mutated. Scorn did a double take as one of the enlarged rats scurrying past seemed to be carrying a human arm covered in torn synthetic material. The hell was going on here? Someone must have had a real nasty sh*t.

@quietus:

Before she had reached his chest with her adamantium claws, a bullet blew up like a miniature grenade as it impacted Xia's fist. The bones in her hand shattered, the flesh ripped from it. The astonishing wound ruined her attack. She was down two limbs. If she managed to gain her balance on her single leg, MAYBE she could get another swipe at him with her left hand. Her leg muscles coiled as she propelled herself toward him with her left claw to skewer him or at least throw him off him off balance with the weight of her body thrust upon him.

Scorn's black eyes widened as his blade was trapped under John's heel. That was an impossibly fast and agile move... balancing on one leg to bring full force down onto a knife that hadn't been there seconds before. His knife could have gone anywhere in the man's lower section, but somehow he knew Scorn was aiming for his left calf despite not seeing him angling from his position facing forward. Time manipulation? Precognition? Super speed? It wasn't the last as Scorn could still see the man moving at a normal combat speed. It was just... predictive. How does one beat someone who can predict an opponents moves? This would require testing and adaptation.

All these thoughts happened in an instant, his right hand grabbing his other knife to lodge it under the agent's ribs while he was switching his balance to the foot upon his knife, the blade of which was already being pulled out from under the sole from behind. He hoped the slippery edge would cause John to put all his weight back onto his right leg, forcing him not to be able to dodge the other knife to his torso.

@quietus:

The sound of the bullet exploding from the agent’s specialized barrel was unexpected by the pair. The combustion bullet shattered Xia’s kneecap before she had a chance to react, the impact spewing bone and shrapnel in all directions beneath the table. Her leg hung by a thread as her injured lower body managed to thrust itself upward onto the seat, balancing on one leg, claws extended as he hands pressed against the table. To propel herself toward the man in a rage. Her leg would heal soon enough. She could manage with one for a few minutes. Propped up on one hand, her other slashed at John across his chest.

After the bullet struck Xia, Scorn was already reacting, dodging out of the chair onto three limbs below the table, his clothes and flesh torn by the exploding round. With near lightning speed, another bullet seemed to be shot right into his changing trajectory but the slight of hand was not fast enough to reach the amphibian’s chest impacting the wall just behind where his arm had been.

As Xia lurched over, he hissed and gripped his trench knife in his hand, rolled forward to stop behind the man, and gashed at John’s calf muscles to sever them from his fibula as the man sprung to his feet to fire more shots. If disabled, the agent would be much easier prey fro the two genetic creations. Even while injured, Scorn was counting on their regenerative endurance to outlast their assailant and speedy agility to outpace him. Or so he hoped. He had no real knowledge of John’s abilities. Damn. He hated being left in the dark about these sorts of things for this very reason.

@quietus:

The amphibious mutate blinked both sets of lids as the man across from them spoke. His lips pursed in irritation. He had really only brought Xia along after she begged him. The poor girl needed guidance, needed something to do. She had the potential to be a brilliant weapon, but her heart still clung to the heroic streak instilled in her by Kurt Pendragon. Scorn knew this. He hated Kurt for breaking his Xia's heart, but at least appreciated the positive influence he had on her. The reptilian girl didn't need to fall into his own sad existence of meaninglessness. For now, his primary attention was on the sharply dressed man before him. John. Cookie-cutter name. The man seemed to be a walking cliche.

"Scorn. Xia." He threw a thumb in the girl's direction. "That's the real trick, isn't it? Everybody wants a professional. Proven, seasoned, meta. I wouldn't be here, wasting both of our times if I didn't think I could offer certain qualities to be useful. JOHN." He spat the name with disdain. To be fair, it wasn't so much John that irked him as everyone. Backstabbing employers, bum jobs, assignments stolen by newfangled powerhouses, his own self-hatred. Scorn was small and unimpressive by metahuman standards. Versatile but not the best at any one thing. "Xia and I have special genetics. Between us, we are more stealthy, perceptive, lethal, enduring, faster, and stronger than humans. I've got an arsenal of personally modified equipment that I'll stock depending on the job. Infiltration, distraction, sabotage, capture..." his solid back eyes reflected the light with a eerie shimmer, "kill."

The last one made Xia squirm a bit in her seat. It was in part due to the inevitability of her genetic programming and biological supplements. Having knives come out of your appendages wasn't good for anything except cruel violence. Kurt had taught her restraint. It was all she had left of him, so couldn't just abandon it easily. She avoided the perspective employer's piercing blue eyes. She couldn't bear to have such a handsome man disapproving of her internal weakness.

The amphibian ignored Xia's unease, focusing on the mysterious man before him, his ebony eyes staring deep into the baby blue orbs, demanding their attention. "We're good enough for you." He spoke derisively, his lips curling up into a sharp-toothed smile.

@canuck: (Aaaaahh! Missed this. I'm sorry! D:)

"And armoured van you say?" Scorn rubbed his chin, a bit of oil transferring onto it. "Dammit!" The amphibious mutant worked on wiping it from his face while pondering the request. Somewhat artistically minded, the challenge intrigued him. "I bet I could do that. What sort of mats are you thinking? You have any scrap metals to use?"

@canuck: The amphibious mutant scurried out from the garage, his keen ears picking up on the feeble shout. "Yeah!" He wiped a bit of oil from his hands on a dirty cloth as he approached the counter. His black eyes examined the man. "Here, Canuck. Whatcha need?" He tossed the rag over his shoulder, his clawed hands settling on his hips leisurely.

@canuck: Scorn tightened his muscles to keep his body gripped close to the ceiling while one hand shot out to catch the bundle of cash. His lips spread into a sharp-toothed grin. "Yeah, I think we'll get along just fine..." He quickly shoved it in his belt before finishing this work in the rafters. The amphibious hybrid flipped from his secured location to land on his feet, the usual sharp sting of pain from such a jump causing him to wince momentarily. He shot a thumb to the side, grabbing his tool kit in hand. "I'mma go check out what else needs fixing in this dump." He muttered something about being glad to have something to do that didn't involve nympho snakes as he wandered off.

@pyrogram: :3

Yeah. They figure they'll give the turn in to Detective Terry after all she's been through. LOL Give her a note on how to handle the superhuman.

@canuck: The Amphibious Mutate extended his hand to shake Canuck's with a fanged sneer. "Oh, yeah. I'm not much trouble at all. Got a totally real name and passport, neither of which you bothered to check, coulda put two in your chest right now, but you're so high you probably wouldn't even care." He withdrew his hand. "And quite frankly, I don't care so long as I'm paid. Name's Scorn. If you call me 'fish' I will maim you beyond recognizability." He gave a wry laugh. "I'll fix this place up, but I'm installing a huge ass heater in my part of the shop ASAP." Activating an electromagnet in his left gauntlet, his toolkit snapped up into his palm. He removed a few pieces before grabbing the fallen piece of rafter and climbing up the wall to repair the ceiling. He dropped down a business card on the counter. "I'll try to be in weekdays, standard hours. If I'm not here, people can f*cking reschedule because I'm obviously busy. That's how you can contact me if I'm needed."