@shelazarus
❝Man... It’s been a while. Haven’t done this in ages.❞ Wagging on to no one in particular, but to those few that stopped to listen. Though even with this nod to his own absence from an otherwise wholly pseudo concoction of awful writing and bloated structure, he could not do away with feeling--used. A confounding little notion, digging into the self-constructing ire in his mind, providing all the more reason to abandon this cause and retreat back into obscurity.
❝Right, yeah. I’ll just exit stage left then, shall I?❞ He could practically hear the chorus of formulaic laughter groaning out from a pre-recorded laugh track, rolling covered eyes into the back of his head. ❝Didn’t miss this. At all.❞ Annoyed. At himself, for the most part. This was all his own making, a poorly made choice, an already depraved setup to an atrocious punchline. But he was already halfway through the window to her apartment--the story was in motion, as far as anyone was concerned.
X-Force wanted her for themselves; dead or contained. It didn’t come as much of a shock to him, what with “phoenix” being about as triggering for them as “apocalypse” was.
❝On the one hand, ugly. On the other hand, it’s not their fault that a galactic-level-threat plot about as stale as a college dude’s cum-sock keeps being hammered over their head like they owe it money.❞ Prattled to some random corner of empty space, as if looking at something that existed beyond functioning reality. He was inside by now, of course, already taking note of the rather exorbitant interior of this Manhattan apartment. Yet he shrugged as he approached the door, like a ninja, on the other side, turning the doorknob with the delicate grasp that only a super-powered-cancer-fueled-psychopathic-fiend had.
❝Tch. I think all Manhattan cribs look like this by default. Saying “exorbitant” before that is redundant. Hack.❞ So spat the crimson and black covered mercenary, his venom wicked, yet cruel. But karma was a meticulous agent of malicious design at times, seeing as how the toe of his boot caught under a rug as he made to walk into the open hallway. ❝Oh for the love of--!❞ It was no use, try as he might, gravity made him a boorish clown as he toppled forward in vain--right over the banister in front of him. ❝--A BANANA PEEL WOULD HAVE MORE BEEN MORE SUBTLE YOU MOTHERFUCKER!❞ A cry of outrage, an expenditure of any suave, swag and method acting as he fell to the next scene below.
Ribs felt as if they broke upon crushing impact, bracing into the snapping wood of a decently sized oak table in the middle of a dining room--or perhaps, main hall. He did not have the knowledge of bougie layouts such as these, so it was a little lost on him. Although, the pain of broken bone and the discovery of someone witnessing all of this, was the more present distraction at the moment. Moreover, that someone had a head of matted, but still beautiful, pomegranate-red hair and stunning greenly eyes that he imagined woodland animals probably lived in.
The Target.
❝...Yo. Don’t suppose I can convince you that I’m an evangelical priest who descended from heaven above to give you the good word, can I? Don’t let the great ass fool you--I am quite godly.❞
