ScornXY

@snapjaw:

Scorn’s brows furrowed, and his shoulders slumped. “Ohhhhh, f*ck.” As usual, everything would go wrong for him. He wished Xandra was here to fix this. But his phone was in the bag even if he could get ahold of her to telepathy the sh*t out of these guys. And he had another problem. If he dropped his knives, the officers might arrest him on site. The blades weren’t exactly something cops would just allow. If he kept the knives, they kept their distance. But things were never that easy. He could feel his tattered trousers sliding down. If there was anything worse than simply being on television, it was having meat out on camera. “Okay, just…” the knuckledusters held the knives onto his fingers as he extended his palms outward in surrender, “just gonna pull my pants up.” A fist grabbed the torn hem and tugged it up. He really needed to invest in sturdier clothes for his line of work. One of the officers panicked, assuming he was about to assault the reporter and shot Scorn in the shoulder. He winced, “Nnnn… OW. JESUS, MAN. Everybody just needs to CALM THE F*CK DOWN.” Another radioed medical support. “No… no. That will not be necessary. Would everyone just get out of the damn sewers?!”

The reporter was dumbfounded, keeping the mic trained to the amphibian. “Get that thing out of my face! I’m not a freaking ‘sewer thing.’ Or a fish. Don’t, don’t call me a fish. And why the hell would I be responsible for blowing myself up… that’s just CRAZY.” He smirked. Another of the officers kicked open the bag to reveal the stockpile of weapons and ammunition. Scorn pouted. “Oh, yeah. But this isn’t what it looks like.” The reporter had the camera train in on the rapidly healing gunshot wound. Then something snapped in his mind. “Actually officers, media.” His brows arched with inspiration. “I’m glad you’re here. I was actually investigating some questionable activity down here. You see, someone’s, some company, has been dumping toxic waste down here, right under your noses. I went down to investigate, and found rats almost as big as me…” raised an index finger, “no short jokes, a**holes… you smell that? That’s the smell of hundred of rats I vaporized, horrible mutant rodents with burning blood and razor claws and teeth that could have easily brought a panic to the city. You don’t believe me? Follow me further in. I’ll even leave the knives, my weapons. If I make any weird moves, ginger can shoot me again.” He glared toward the nervous firer before letting the blades fall from his grasp with a clatter onto the floor.

“ON THE GROUND! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!” The police officers, suddenly emboldened by the freak losing his metal claws, they made their approach to apprehend Scorn.

“Fucking cops…” He rolled his back eyes, his foot inching back behind him until he fell off the ledge into the pit. “Come and get me then, motherf**king pigs!” He landed on his bare feet, darting off, shouting behind him. “Watch out for the blood. It will burn. Get a shot of the remains of the toxic canisters.” He pointed a clawed finger before running off further into the sewers. He hoped they wouldn’t see Karisss out of view. He looked like some mutated monster anyway. Scorn planned to lead the officers and reporter further in. The barrels he had blown up still seemed intact previous. Maybe there were more that leaked into the sewers. Finally, he stopped, crouching on the ground before several mutated rats picking at a perforated barrel. It took a few minutes for the cops to arrive at his location, their visages changing as they saw some of the mutated roaches scurrying about, a series of unregulated chemical stores oozing into the sewer line. He smirked with his sharp-toothed grin. “Now, maybe you guys can do your f**king job and bust the guys responsible for the REAL monsters.”

@snapjaw:

F*ck. He wasn't alright. That's what people get when they play hero. Scorn stepped over to the now tiny Karisss, hovering over him. He stooped until he was resting on one knee. “Dammit. Uh… Karisss. Have you ever tried hypnosis? You’ve kind of got the natural thing going on with the swaying and voice thing. It helps. Helps numb the pain and speed the healing. Don’t really know much about your biology. Just close your eyes and breathe in through your nostrils, out through your mouth. Deep breaths. Cool breaths. Feel the cold concrete under your body. Can you do that?” His voice was strangely soft, having coaxed himself through many painful experiences of both physiological and psychological trauma. “Feel the weight of your body on it, the coolness from the floor spreading upward into your skin. It’s seeping into your muscles. It feels cool and calm, like you’re beginning to float in a stream of water. All you can feel is the lightness and coolness as your body rests.”

Scorn’s adept ears twitched at the sounds of approaching footsteps. Then voices. His own low, rhythmic speaking stopped as his black eyes darted toward the sound. His brows furrowed, his hands checking his waist. HIs knives had survived the blast even if his trousers were in tatters. The amphibious mutate glanced down to Karisss. This reptile was all sorts of trouble. Should he leave him to his continued rest and stop those motherf*ckers from stealing his stuff or did he pull him to somewhere safe to heal? That bag had his money, his livelihood, and his clothes. Scorn groaned, placing a palm upon Karisss’ chest. “Hey, can you move? There’s some guys here, and they are about to jack my sh*t.” F*ck it. They wouldn’t get far if he moved the healing creature. Not in these sewers. Scorn endeavored to move his reptilian comrade out of the line of vision from where the men might see if they entered.

Scorn crawled up the wall with his adhesive grip to engage the intruders. Coiling his muscles, he sprang up, landing on the balls of his feet, trench knives in each hand. Hair and clothes burnt off, pale skin, still healing from the flames, solid black eyes, lip curled up to reveal his sharp teeth. He was a terrifying mess. “Hands off the bag before I take off your hands.”

@snapjaw:

There were few things worse than being blown up. It was just miserable. Scorn managed it quite frequently as it was very often the least expected thing for people to do. But he certainly didn’t like it. It hurt to say the least. It took a lot of regenerative resources. But when he was expecting, waiting for the burning of fire, the impaling of shrapnel, resigned to his painful fate, something especially disappointing happened. A giant lizard came hurtling toward him, growing larger not just with proximity. “Oh, f*ck…” As the flames licked around him, the explosion expanding, his short frame was pummeled to the wall by a massive reptilian man. His ribs cracked as they made impact on the stone wall, his nose stifled by scaly flesh. Scorn would have been grateful for the save, but… no. That would go against everything he was. God damn heroes.

As the flamed subsided, continuing to lick up the remaining chemicals in the combusted canisters, Scorn wriggled out from Karisss’ protective grasp. He coughed up blood and fell down onto the floor, his black eyes looking over at his companion with irritation. “What was that for? That was NOT part of the plan. I was hoping you’d make sure all my cash didn’t get singed.” His skin was burnt off in places, scarred at least from the immense heat that had wrapped around him. But it was healing and fast too. He groaned and finally picked himself back up. He pulled the remnants of his trousers up as much as possible and nodded toward Karisss, possibly the closest thing he could muster towards gratitude. “Well, guess we should keep going if you’re alright. Are you alright?”

@snapjaw:

Scorn watched Karisss with an arched brow. This guy made him feel NORMAL with how strange he was. Venom sacs, dislocating jaw? It was like an especially ugly Queen Cobra. He shuddered and began peeling out of his trench coat. He'd need that for later. The amphibious mutate grabbed a grenade and hooked it to his belt, stuffing his coat and handgun back into the bag. He really hoped the blast wouldn't vaporize his things. Just in case, Scorn moved it as far down the tunnel as he could. He ran back to the ledge, his black eyes surveying the swarm of mutated rodents, thrashing around angrily in the lower level. He cast a pained glance toward Karisss. “This is really going to hurt…” With a running start, the amphibian coiled his muscles and jumped far into the pit, vermin cracking and oozing under his bare feet as the others raced toward the intruder. Razor claws slashed his skin from his muscles, pointed teeth piercing through his clothes and fleshy layers. Scorn desperately tried to recall his mental exercises, forcing his body to remember the sensations of a cool spring afternoon to hypnotically numb his nerves from the agony. But there wasn’t time to waste. If he lost anymore muscle fibres, it would be more difficult to reach his target as the rats poured in around him like pirañas. His muscles tightened once again and he jumped up and out of the larger cluster, angry rodents hissing and following after him as he bounded toward the barrels.

His adhesive grip latched onto the canisters, and the experiment pulled himself up until he was on top. The rats snapped their jaws, piling atop of each other to reach him. Scorn whistled, hoping to alert any of the other rodents to his precarious position. He detached the grenade from his belt and pulled the pin. He shouted back toward Karisss. “GET CLEAR!” A few seconds ticked, then BOOM. The explosive combusted, igniting the toxic materials and augmenting blast. The initial shrapnel tore through everything in its path before being thoroughly engulfed in a wave of fire. If Scorn had been conscious, he would have hoped it did something to the horde.

@snapjaw:

Scorn sauntered over to the dead rodent. His head tilted as his oversized pupils examined the corpse. The edge of his lips tightened into a disapproving yet slightly amused smirk as Karisss touched the rat's discharge. "No shit?" The sharpness of his teeth rivaled only by his sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. His bare foot avoided the puss to kick over the body, examining its physiology to get an idea of the threat the creatures below might hold. "Acidic blood, sharper and larger teeth and claws. Big bastards too. You'd better hope there are only rats and roaches in these tunnels. Since we haven't run into any chemical caches yet, I'd bet the bigger creatures are still further in. They had more time to mutate and access to a more direct mutagen." He threw his arms up in the air before shaking his head. "Fun times." A glance was thrown back toward the Reptilian. "And I'd recommend avoiding the blood."

The amphibious mutate trekked along with his companion, white torch alighting the blackness of the sewers as his handgun was pointed about. His solid black eyes darted around, noting the density of the red eyes peeking out at them as they went. Karisss seemed far less concerned with the growing number, focused on his task of finding the source. And finally, a hub of toxins was before them. The appeared to be intact.

"Verdammen..." He swore as he stared down at the seething mass of mutated vermin. He turned to Karisss with an incredulous face as the reptile spoke. Instead of answering, Scorn dropped his duffle, the weight of it crashing onto the ground with a thud. He squared down and unzipped it, flinging the canvas top open. Inside were a series of cases, a disassembled rifle, ammunition, and a few stacks of cash. He reached into it and pulled out his second handgun and an additional magazine. He held the barrel and pointed the grip toward Karisss. "Do you even know how to use one of these? You've got nine shots per mag. I wouldn't bother wasting the bullets on these things if you can help it. There are just way too many of these motherf***ers. Use it in a pinch or for the really big ones." His gaze wandered over to a rising swarm. "How much money you want to bet those barrels are explosive? I'd say we have a better chance using the environment against them. The flames might even change the chemical composition of the substance enough it could make it less... well, less likely to make mutant spawns as the doubtless poisonous gases expand through the sewers. My guess is only the initial explosion will do much damage to these rats, so I suggest we get as many as possible as close as possible to the source... and blow it up. Eh? You chase 'em back down into that pit, I lead them to the barrels. Then BOOM." Scorn clicked open one of the cases to reveal four hand grenades. "We'd have a better chance than trying to bullseye everyone of these f***ers."

@snapjaw:

Scorn stepped with surprising stealth down the sewer line, his bare feet padding softly upon the hard surfaces. The grip of both hands was firmly on his gun, the attached torch offering a stream of white light before him, illuminating the darkness in a cone. He followed the reptilian, his solid black eyes darting back occasionally to ensure they weren't followed by anything more troublesome than rats. The air grew more and more distasteful to his unique skin. It almost felt like it was trying to destroy his cells as they took in the oxygen. The atmosphere was unmistakably toxic and growing only moreso as the pair continued.

The Amphibian grimaced. The creature near him seemed entirely too friendly with his questions. Still, the conversation would distract from the stench. "Happens a lot. Humans are f*cking disgusting. If they didn't make booze and cigarettes, I'm not sure there'd be a point to keeping their miserable asses around." There was a heavy irony stating two great vices that often influenced the world negatively as being a boon while actively trying to stop the polluting of the upper world by chemicals. This wasn't lost on Scorn who grinned sardonically. "They dump toxic waste into their homes, their water supplies, even their own bodies. They live and die thinking they're immortal." It was a darker note for the amphibious mutate who often took his own regeneration for granted. Somehow in his gut, he knew he was going to die someday even if he never thought it would be whichever mission he was doing.

His pensive pause flowed right into Karisss' next question. Scorn sighed, the grip on his firearm loosening slightly. "Me? Some might call me a mutant. A bit like these rats here. Except my state was planned. Genetic experimentation before I was born. Always been this ugly since they spliced my DNA with amphibian bits. A lot of Salamander, probably." He gave wry laugh, looking directly toward Karisss. "Sometimes humans are careless. Sometimes they are intentional with their cruelty."

Both lids blinked, and Scorn caught sight of a glimmer of red eyes. "Let's find out which these are." He aimed his weapon. The reptilian alien started rambling apologies toward him to which Scorn just laughed. "If I had a middle name, it'd be danger. Dead sure I've dealt with worse than whatever these tunnels hold." He fired two shots toward the crimson glow, his mark set right between what he presumed were eyes.

@snapjaw:

Scorn stared at the creature incredulously. "Friends? Er, yeah. I don't think so." He scratched the back of his head, ruffling his black hair. "I save that term for people I like. And I don't like anyone. My name is Scorn." A sardonic smirk crept across his pallid face. "Karisss. And I thought my parents didn't love me..." In spite of his relentless snark, the amphibian really did listen to what his reptilian companion had to say. Maybe it was kinship, maybe morbid curiosity. With no profit, no one could really tell the motivation hidden beneath that indifferent exterior as it pushed on through the dank sewers.

Fake death? Scorn's brows furrowed. Somehow the male's inferior English made the whole predicament seem all the more sinister. A clawed hand grabbed the label presented to him. His black eyes scanned it. "Damn. This is never good news." He looked back up to the lizard man. "I'm guessing you have some sort of healing with those scales, right? Reptilian biology? We should be fine unless there's nuclear waste up ahead. That can slow healing a bit in conventional sorts, slowly rot those without. Not pretty. Hmmmm..." He dropped his duffle and stooped to rifle through it. He held a torch to it, hoping to catch any subtle hints as to what it was or where it came from. Then a bit of old school analysis, he sniffed and licked the label. He pulled out a plastic bag and shoved the item into it before sealing it. Scorn connected the torch to his handgun. "Well, if scum is dumping shit down here, mutating shit, that's bad for business upstairs. Somehow I don't think mutated rodents take a tab. Might as well figure out what the hell is going on down here." He jerked his head to motion toward Karisss to proceed, flinging the bag back over his own shoulder.

@snapjaw:

Scorn dropped to the ground to draw a pistol from his bag as he heard himself being followed. He clutched the weapon in his clawed hand, his solid black eyes watching at the stranger alighted before him. The amphibious mutate blinked both sets of lids and pursed his lips with mild irritation. The transparent lids slid over his corneas as his eyes widened toward the creature before him that suddenly appeared much larger and moved to place a hand upon him. He raised the gun.

"You want to get the f*ck out of my way?"

But then the reptilian did something less expected. It wasn't physically violent but effective. Scorn had honed his mind to be suggestive. Though he was immune to telepathy, control didn't have to pass his frontal lobe just his senses. He felt himself grow lulled by the swaying creature, his eyes lost in the inhuman gaze. It was vaguely familiar. His muscles relaxed, the gun dropping from his grasp as the reptile man spoke his words. The clattering of his firearm snapped the amphibian from his trance, and Scorn shook his head violently.

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. I guess I can spare a few minutes, just don't do that again." He muttered something about being sick and tired of being controlled by Reptilians, stooping to pick up his fallen weapon to latch onto his belt. Unlike the conspiracy theorists, the genetic experiment actually had been hypnotically manipulated by scaly people. Bad memories.

@snapjaw:

Scorn's black eyes were drawn to the side as he heard the nearly inaudible scraping of biological scale upon the sewer floors. He sniffed and blinked both sets of lids at the creature. The amphibian threw up a clawed hand in irritation. "Listen. I..." His eyes widened as he heard the ceiling crack under an explosion. He immediately threw himself forward and out of the primary range of the debris. He leapt back up to his feet, brushing the stone from him, getting some dark bruises on his pale skin but were quick to fade.

He saw Vein leap down the opening, phasing to ease his descent before opening fire upon the pair, hoping the other freak would scamper off. But if he didn't, he'd get a corpse full of metal, and he was okay with that option too. His glowing red eyes barely made out the forms lit by the street lights above. But then the albino saw not retreat but an offensive posture from the reptiloid. He phased to avoid the incoming projectiles, crossing back to avoid further oncoming attacks. Even his standard hearing could pick up the encroaching blare of sirens. He looked at Scorn with a scowl. "That's the fastest I've ever seen the pigs react. Doubt they'd care to be less two freaks. But I've got better things to do with my time than tango with you, fish." The white-skinned mercenary channeled the air around him to propel himself back through the opening and away from the authorities.

Scorn scoffed. "Yeah, better run, South African bastard." He cracked his neck, giving one glance toward the green stranger. "Don't know about you, but I've got hot sh*t in this bag and don't much want the cops to chat me up. Buh-bye, scales." He stuffed his boots into his bag before running up the wall to crawl away along the sewers innards into the darkness. The stench of the radioactive rodents only seemed to get stronger as he went along. This was fishy, and he knew a thing or two about fish.

@quietus:

Before she had even propelled herself toward him, a bullet tore through the table into her last leg. Thankfully it was only the shrapnel from the explosion of the bullet piercing the table and not the full exploding bullet that hit her foot as it propped her up. But it was enough to collapse her down onto her rump before in one last effort, she literally flipped the table up toward John with her whole arm.

The next shot was indirectly aimed at Scorn. Concerned more for the future than the present having the boon of vibranium-laced armour, the precog combatant aimed toward the fan. In an expert use of the environment, the oscillating blades were struck from the fan as the center combusted with a blast. The blades fell towards Scorns lowly position. As soon as his black eyes darted up toward the explosion, he was jolting backward with his knives in hand to avoid the collision. The agent had managed to distance himself slightly from the melee attacks. If he had more materials, maybe he could beat this bastard, but for know he was relying on attrition. He tried to keep his attention off Xia. She was strong enough not to be seriously injured. His mind flicked with analysis of the fight so far. Five bullets had been fired from a gun that traditionally carried nine rounds. However, this was no ordinary firearm, that much was clear. He couldn't rely on number of bullets.

There were a few ways to beat a precog or someone who seems to have impossibly fast reaction time. One was how to poison him. The window of opportunity of avoiding what looked like a harmless slice might be considered the lesser of two evils. Set a trap to exploit multiple scenarios forcing him to pick his own demise. Or figure out a way to deprive the agent of his senses. Without enough data on how to react, he would make a mistake. But this place was full of lights. John would surely be able to avoid an attack to the ears.

His pointed ears twitched. And then there was security. Damn. Three men in black came lumbering towards the two with guns drawn. "Good job picking a public place to make an attack, idiot. You aren't really planning on engaging civilians are you?"