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Chapter 120: phisto Scratcher
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"But seriously," He said, tilting his head. "Why did you let monologue for so long? Do you just really love theater?"
He smiled, gentle, almost kind. "I an, you're a lovely audience. Any perforr would be grateful. But that's not going to save you from eting phisto today."
One of the soldiers; older, probably an officer; seed to understand English. His face drained of color. His finger tightened on the trigger.
Adam took a single step forward.
The night erupted again.
Bullets stread toward him in a continuous, panicked torrent. Adam watched them approach, his enhanced perception stretching seconds into eternities.
He could see each round individually; the spin of the rifling, the heat shimr of the gunpowder, the trajectories converging on his position.
Finally, his biological eye was no longer holding him back; it could almost keep up with his cybernetic eye, which is enhanced by his chanical force.
He dissolved.
His body beca mist. Not the theatrics of smoke machines, but true, supernatural vapor; a black-red fog that the bullets passed through without resistance.
He flowed between the projectiles like water around stones, coalescing instantly beside the nearest soldier.
Human form. Right hand on the man's shoulder. Left hand; blood hand; cupping the back of his head.
Snap.
The soldier crumpled. Adam was already mist again, flowing to the next target.
What followed was a massacre; bullying would be an understatent. The skill based matchmaking isn't working today.
Adam moved through the compound like a force of nature, testing each of his abilities with the detached curiosity of a scientist and the savage joy of a kid playing with their new toys.
Bat form for rapid repositioning, folding his body into impossible aerodynamics to slip through narrow gaps.
Wolf form; a massive, black-furred beast with crimson eyes and fangs the length of daggers; for close-quarters brutality.
Mist form for invulnerability, passing through walls, bullets, and flesh itself.
His blood manipulation was the true star. He shaped it into whips that lassoed fleeing soldiers and dragged them back.
Into blades that extended from his fingertips, carving through body armor, even ballistic plates, like tissue paper.
Into grasping hands of blood that erupted from the ground to seize ankles and pull n screaming into the earth.
Into a tide, a literal crimson wave that washed over a machine gun nest and left only silent, empty helts behind.
A soldier broke and ran. Adam watched him go, counting his strides. One. Two. Three. Four.
Then he raised his blood-arm, and from his palm shot a harpoon of solidified crimson that punched through the man's calf and pinned him to the dirt.
Adam walked over, stepping around the screaming, and crouched beside him.
"Running is smart," He said conversationally. "But where can you run? Your family's in Lyon, right? Wife, two kids? Had you managed to sohow run, I wouldn't even need to do a thing."
"Hydra will take care of it all because to them, you're all consumables, yet you've done so much for them, killed so many, captured so many innocents knowing they will experience hell underneath."
"All of you knew what you were doing. Trust , I investigated this place thoroughly just so when I massacre every one of you, I'd feel that much better, so thank you."
The soldier or agent's expression kept changing before settling on resignation, muttering, "Hail Hydra!" He uttered it with every bit of conviction he could muster.
And it brought a smile to Adam's face, "That's the spirit. To reward your belief, I will find ti to visit your wife and kids, should be a lovely experience."
The way he said it, the nacing way he spoke, it was so eerie that it instantly crumbled the agent's expression.
"Don't!! You fucking bastard!! What Hero are you to bring innocents into this!!!?? Please Please! Don't!! I beg of you!!"
The way he went from swearing to begging upon seeing Adam's calm, eerie smile; was hilarious to Adam as he laughed for a second, the laugh dying out directly after.
Adam would stare the man in the eyes, whispering, "So you have a conscience after all. You have emotions. You do love. Yet have you ever hesitated to inflict hell on others' children?"
"I think maybe, but that never stopped you... The human psyche, I still have difficulty understanding it."
"Oh well, life is hilarious that way, but worry not, if I visit your wife, it would be to take her on a date and show her the best ti of her life, hahahaha." The despair on the man's face amused him greatly.
He patted the man's cheek. "Better luck in your next life... Scratch that, I will make sure you won't have a next life."
Snap.
The massacre continued. In fact, it never stopped, even as he spoke to the man, a cocoon of blood protecting him and harpoons of blood nailing any that dared fire to death.
Adam harvested them like wheat, a reaper in white, his blood-arm gleaming wetly under the floodlights.
He was not at all efficient, for he was studying and experinting with his capabilities, but he was brutal. He was, in his own way, artistic.
They had realized that he would not allow them escape, and that only by fighting to the death could they have a chance, so they fought against their fears and faced him.
A grenade detonated at his feet. He beca mist, reford behind the thrower, and drove a blood-spike through his spine.
An armored personnel carrier mounted with a heavy machine gun opened fire.
Adam beca mist that flowed through it all, then a wolf, circled behind it, and tore through the tires, shredding them apart with ludicrous force, along with the driver.
Three soldiers attempted what could only be described as a semblance of a coordinated attack, only for Adam's blood to erupt from all around him in a radial burst.
Each droplet is a tiny, lethal shard. They collapsed like puppets with cut strings.
If that wasn't enough, he followed with a leap, blood wings enveloping him to ignore all incoming fire.
Then he appeared between a group of soldiers, his hands becoming claws of solid blood, followed by a cross slash that sliced flesh and bones apart.
Adam was so locked in that he felt like he was experiencing things in slow motion, more than he usually does, due to his vampiric perception.
He glanced at the soldier a few feet away, shaking in fear so much that he could barely aim his gun straight, his trembling fingers on the verge of pulling the trigger.
He could see the whirl of emotions in the man's eyes, the utter fear. He could see his own reflection as he transford into a massive wolf, his fangs already upon the soldier's head.
Whooosh.
The man's head fell to the ground, Adam back to his human form, stained with blood, his luminous crimson eyes glancing at the last one standing.
The last of them, younger than the others, dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, sobbing.
Adam paused. He looked at the soldier's face; barely out of his teens, acne scars, tears cutting tracks through the dust and blood.
"Please," The boy choked. "Please, I have a..."
"No," Adam said gently, interrupting him. "You don't. Not anymore."
Snap.
[HE'S THE FUCKING APEX PREDATOR.]
[Damn! So many forms, didn't know vampires had it like that in Marvel.]
[Vampires would be pretty cool if not for their stupid weaknesses. Adam sohow avoided that. Magic!]
["Please..." "No." ZERO RCY. My man is cold-blooded.]
[U know, I was gonna ask how he's so sure the soldiers are actually with Hydra and not being used by them, unaware of Hydra's actions, but it seems he's got that covered.]
[Human psyche is weird, even though I know they did so much horrible shit, I still feel bad for their families but that's normal, no?]
[Eh, kinda, but u feel bad for their families who are likely innocent, not them.]
[They should've thought about their families first before falling to evil. It's entirely their fault.]
[Now, let tell you about free will, or rather, lack thereof...]
The philosophical discussion began...
Silence fell.
Adam stood in the center of the compound, surrounded by the fruits of his labor.
Bodies lay in grotesque tableaus, each a testant to a different thod of dispatch. Blood painted the concrete in abstract expressionist patterns.
The floodlights, those that remained intact, cast the scene in harsh, unforgiving white.
He breathed deep, drawing the scent of blood and death into lungs that didn't require air. The mist form receded, leaving him solid, whole.
Stress relief, he mused. Nearly rivals the cultivation sessions with Emma. Nearly.
Blood flowed around him in lazy spirals, dancing to so silent rhythm. He closed his eyes, a lovely, peaceful smile on his face.
"Vampiric abilities are so convenient, so lovely," He murmured. "Even my clothes transform with . So magic bullshit, probably."
He frowned slightly. "The mist form isn't quite to my taste, though. Too dark. Too... edgelord. If only I could buy costics to turn it white. It would match my hair. My aesthetic."
He sighed. "Alas, real-life costic stores aren't that convenient yet. Though in so circumstances, they're worse. You ever been to a Sephora on Black Friday? Genuine war cris."
His gaze snapped downward.
Beneath his feet, buried deep in the earth, was the true Hydra facility. The first layer of security was rely the welco mat.
Below lay the laboratories, the containnt cells, the archives of atrocity that Hydra had spent decades compiling.
He raised his blood-arm. A pillar of crimson erupted beneath him, lifting him higher, higher, until he hovered thirty feet above the carnage.
The wind caught his white hair, his blood-stained shirt. He looked down at the compound, at the hidden entrance to the underworld below.
"Alice," He said, his voice carrying across the silent night. "Initiate The phisto Scratcher."
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