Team 2: Abaddon & Scion
Scion was loving his battle gear. It was sexy as hell, he had thought, looking at it in the mirror when they got it to try on earlier. The material was thick, skintight like a wetsuit, but somehow managed to offer better support and yet give greater freedom of motion. The garments fit like a second skin, but were supposed to be more durable than Kevlar. Apparently Magneto had secured some of those fancy unstable molecule outfits for himself before parting ways with the Haven. At least Frederick was pretty sure he hadn't paid for these. He might come across as an airhead, but he knew exactly where every penny he had endowed the Brotherhood with had gone, or was going.
The shades of grey in his uniform made his unique coloring all the more striking, but for tonight's proceedings, he had cut off the sleeves off of a charcoal grey hoodie, because it was a size too small for his big shoulders, and worn it over his top to cover his bright pink hair.
He had been assigned to Abaddon, and he was fine with letting the pushy broad take the lead. He liked pushy broads. In fact, Abaddon acted more like a man than most of the guys at Omega. Little did he know...
Once they got to their entry point, a good, old-fashioned wire fence stood in the way of their progress, so Scion shifted his arm into a gigantic blade and made short work of it. No guards yet. They shouldn't be coming for another five minutes or so, or at least that was the intel they had obtained. Although, in Frederick's opinion, why anyone would trust anything that came out of that skeevy, disease-ridden Brit's mouth was anyone's guess.
"Cover your eyes," he muttered, turning his face away and raising his other, normal looking arm to shield his face. His bladed arm sliced through the side of wire, a few friction sparks flying as it did. He stretched out the opening and gestured to Abaddon to go first. "After you," he said, mock gallantly.