Jordan Scott's Questionnaire

I live in a little apartment in Oakland, California. Why here? Well, it's a big enough place to blend in and keep a low profile, but not so big that I get lost in the noise. Plus, it’s got a nice mix of people who don’t ask too many questions, which is exactly what I need right now.

My home? Man, it's a mess. It's a one-bedroom dive with peeling paint and squeaky floors. The place is cluttered with all my old lab equipment, notes, and random bits of tech I’ve scavenged. The kitchen is basically a lab at this point—half the time, I’m cooking up more experiments than meals. The couch is my bed most nights, surrounded by empty coffee cups and takeout containers.

I guess it’s not much, but it’s home. It’s where I’m figuring out how to use this freaky gift I’ve got and trying to stay one step ahead of the assholes who want their serum back. It’s not glamorous, but it works for now.

Right now, getting money is a hustle. I do odd jobs and freelance gigs, mostly using my science skills. Sometimes it’s fixing tech, other times it’s more... off-the-books stuff. I don’t ask too many questions if the pay is good. I’ve even done some body modifications for people who want a little extra edge. Yeah, it’s risky, but so is everything else in my life.

Most of my money goes to staying off the radar. Rent, obviously, and keeping my gear in working order. A lot goes into supplies for my experiments—chemicals, tools, and anything else I can scrounge up to keep pushing my research forward. I also spend a chunk on keeping myself fed and caffeinated; takeout and coffee are my lifelines. 

And yeah, a bit of it goes into staying ahead of the game. Fake IDs, burner phones, and the occasional bribe to keep the wrong people off my back. It's not a glamorous lifestyle, but it keeps me going and keeps me hidden.

My ambition? Honestly, I just want to stop this madness before it gets worse. The last thing the world needs is a bunch of super-soldiers running around, turning every conflict into a bloodbath. I’m not looking to be a hero; I just want to prevent more wars and senseless deaths.

Right now, I’m focused on keeping the mutagen out of the wrong hands. That means staying hidden, figuring out how to control and potentially neutralize this stuff, and maybe even finding a way to destroy it if I have to. I’m not ready to kill for this—at least not unless I’m left with no other choice. But if it comes down to it, if there’s no other way to stop a disaster, I’ll do what I have to. I know what’s at stake, and I can’t let fear hold me back.

As for risking my own life, I’ve already come close a few times. I’m willing to put myself on the line because I know the consequences if I don’t. I’m not afraid of dying for this cause. Hell, it’s better than living with the knowledge that I could have done something to prevent a catastrophe and didn’t. So, yeah, I’ll push myself to the edge and beyond if that’s what it takes.

The most defining event of my life? Definitely the day I decided to steal the mutagen. Before that, I was just another cog in the military-industrial machine, following orders and convincing myself that the research was for the greater good. But as the project progressed, I realized just how dangerous our work was. The thought of my research being used to create killing machines kept me up at night.

One day, I overheard a conversation between my superiors about their plans to weaponize the serum. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew I couldn’t be a part of that. So, I made a decision. I grabbed the mutagen, the subject's jacket to disguise myself and I bolted. That moment, running out of the lab with alarms blaring and guards on my tail, changed everything.

It wasn’t just about the serum anymore; it was about taking a stand. I went from being a passive participant in a potentially catastrophic project to an active resistor. It forced me to face the reality of my own morals and the lengths I’d go to uphold them. Since then, I’ve been on the run, constantly fighting to keep this dangerous power out of the wrong hands and trying to make up for my part in creating it.

Dr. Elena Ramirez

Elena is my former colleague and the closest thing I have to a confidant. We worked together in the lab, and she was one of the few who shared my concerns about the military applications of our research. When I stole the mutagen, she covered for me, risking her own career and safety. She’s brilliant, compassionate, and always puts others before herself. We still keep in touch through encrypted messages, and she helps me with technical advice and moral support.

Marcus “Sparky” Thompson

Sparky is a tech-savvy hacker I met through a mutual contact. He’s resourceful, irreverent, and has a knack for finding information and making things disappear—whether that’s digital footprints or surveillance cameras. He’s helped me stay off the grid and provided crucial intel on those who are hunting me. While he’s not someone I’d call a close friend, he’s invaluable in my current situation.

Detective Laura Chen

Laura is a local cop in Oakland who’s been sniffing around, suspicious of my activities. We’ve had a few run-ins, and she’s sharp, not easily fooled. Despite being on opposite sides of the law, I respect her dedication to justice. There’s an unspoken understanding between us; she knows I’m up to something, but she hasn’t made a move yet. I think she senses that I’m not the real threat, but I’m wary of how long that truce will last.

My childhood was pretty standard, nothing too crazy. I grew up in a small town in California. My parents were good people—hardworking and decent. My dad was a mechanic, always tinkering with cars, and my mom was a nurse, always taking care of everyone else. They were supportive and encouraged me to pursue my interests, even when they didn’t quite understand my fascination with science and tech.

I went to school like any other kid. Academically, I did well—science fairs, math competitions, you name it. But socially, I was a bit of an outsider. I wasn’t into sports or the usual high school drama. Instead, I spent most of my time in the computer lab or buried in books. I had a few close friends who were into the same geeky stuff, but I never really fit in with the broader crowd. 

I guess you could say I was the classic nerd, always more comfortable around machines and experiments than people. That didn’t bother me much, though. I was always more focused on the future—on what I could build, discover, and understand. Looking back, I regret not being more childish were I could. I should have lived outside the books and that’s what I’m planning to do from now on.

Yeah, I've been in love once. Her name was Emily. We met in college, both of us nerding out in the science department. She was brilliant—smart, funny, and had this incredible curiosity about the world. We clicked right away and started dating pretty quickly.

Things were great for a while. We spent countless nights working on projects together, dreaming about the future and the difference we wanted to make. But as we got deeper into our careers, things started to change. I got wrapped up in my work at the military company, and she was climbing the ranks in her own field.

The long hours and stress took their toll. We started drifting apart, arguing more, and seeing each other less. Eventually, we realized we were heading down different paths and decided to call it quits. It hurt like hell, but it was the right choice for both of us.

### Journal Entry: My Worst Fears

Despite everything, I still have fears that gnaw at me. The worst? Losing control. This mutation has given me incredible power, but what if one day I can't control it? What if I hurt someone I care about, or even innocent people, because I couldn’t keep it in check?

Another fear is the idea of becoming what I despise. I stole the mutagen to prevent it from being used for evil, but what if, in my quest to stop others, I become the very monster I’m fighting against? The line between hero and villain feels dangerously thin sometimes, and I worry about crossing it without even realizing.

Then there’s the fear of isolation. With every new mutation, I feel more disconnected from humanity. My extra eyes, my glowing yellow irises, the inability to die from conventional injuries—it's all pushing me further away from being just another guy. I’m afraid of becoming so different that I lose touch with what makes me human.

And, of course, there's the fear of failure. The stakes are incredibly high. If I slip up, if I can't protect the serum or use my powers correctly, countless lives could be lost. The weight of that responsibility is crushing, and the thought of not being able to bear it is terrifying.

These fears keep me grounded, remind me of the gravity of my situation. They’re what drive me to keep pushing, to keep fighting, to ensure that I don’t become the very thing I’m trying to stop.

Out of everything I’ve managed to hold onto, the one thing I prize most is the Subject’s red jacket. It’s more than just a piece of clothing to me; it’s a symbol of my mission and the path I’ve chosen.

Even though it’s old, dirty and full of anarchist symbols, every time I put it on, I feel a connection to the past, to the reason I stole the mutagen in the first place. This jacket represents the responsibility I carry and the fight against the misuse of science for destruction. It’s a constant reminder of why I can’t afford to fail.

The jacket is also a part of my identity now. In a life where everything else is unstable and constantly changing, it’s a piece of consistency. It gives me strength and focus, grounding me even when the chaos around me gets overwhelming. It’s not just fabric and thread; it’s a piece of my soul.

The biggest problem in my life right now? It’s untangling the mess surrounding José and these damn contracts. Finding out he was a terrorist just threw a massive wrench into everything. I need to dig into his past, understand his mutation, and figure out what the hell am I supposed to do with this power. But doing that while staying off the radar is a nightmare.

My body’s changing in ways I can barely keep up with, and I’m trying to piece together a puzzle that might be way bigger than I ever imagined. Every step I take feels like I’m walking a tightrope over a pit of knives. One wrong move, and it’s all over. Besides all that, I’m scared. I don’t know what the next mutation might be. For the moment every change made me better, but less human. I’m starting to feel changes in my mind. I don’t feel fear or pain anymore. I have to be careful to avoid becoming a monster.

A typical morning for me starts with waking up in whatever safehouse or rundown apartment I’ve managed to crash in. First thing I do is check my surroundings—old habits die hard. I make sure all my makeshift security measures are intact and that no one’s been snooping around.

Next, I do a quick stretch, feeling the odd comfort in the strength and flexibility my mutations give me. Since I don’t need to breathe anymore, my morning routine is a bit different. No gasping for air, just a silent, almost eerie wake-up. I splash some water on my face, looking into the mirror at my unaging reflection, those yellow eyes staring back at me, reminding me of the power and the burden I carry.

Breakfast is usually something quick and portable. Protein bars, fruit, maybe some coffee if I’m lucky enough to find a place with a working machine. As I eat, I go through any intel I’ve gathered—notes, photos, anything that might give me a lead on José’s past or more info on the contracts.

I slip into José’s red jacket, feeling the weight of it, both literally and metaphorically. Before stepping out, I double-check my escape routes and blend into the crowd as much as someone with glowing yellow eyes can. It’s time to face another day of digging through the past, dodging enemies, and pushing forward, one step at a time.

If I had to go somewhere special and actually wanted to look my best—well, that's not something that happens often, but I’d make an effort. First off, I’d find a safe place where I can take my time without worrying about someone busting in. I’d start by cleaning up as best I can—shave, trim my hair, make sure I look presentable. It’s not about vanity, but about blending in and not drawing unnecessary attention.

Next, I’d focus on the eyes. They’re hard to hide, so I’d go with sunglasses, something stylish but not too flashy, to keep them covered. If the event was at night or indoors, maybe I’d consider colored contacts, though they’re not exactly comfortable with how my eyes have changed.

For clothes, I’d ditch my usual practical, low-key gear for something a bit more polished. Maybe a well-fitted dark shirt, beige pants, and a jacket that’s not José’s, something a bit more formal, like a leather jacket or a blazer if the situation called for it. Footwear would be solid boots, something that looks good but is still functional in case I need to make a quick exit.

Getting ready would probably take me about an hour, maybe more if I’m being extra careful. It’s not about looking flashy; it’s about looking like I belong, blending in.

For my next birthday? Honestly, I’m not one for big celebrations, especially with everything that’s been going on. But I might take the day to do something a little different, something just for me. Maybe I’ll head out to the coast, find a quiet spot by the beach, and just relax for a bit. It’d be nice to get away from the usual chaos and just enjoy the sound of the waves, the feel of the sun, and not have to worry about anything for a few hours.

I might grab some good food—nothing fancy, maybe just some fresh seafood or a good burger, something simple that I don’t normally take the time to enjoy. I’d probably bring a book or maybe just spend the time thinking, reflecting on everything that’s happened and where I want to go from here.

I wouldn’t mind a drink or two, either. Nothing heavy, just enough to take the edge off and help me unwind. And who knows, maybe I’ll even let myself have a bit of fun, watch a movie, or listen to some music I haven’t had the time to enjoy lately.

It wouldn’t be anything extravagant, but it’d be nice to have a day where I can just be Jordan, without all the pressure and responsibility. A day to recharge, reflect, and maybe even find a little bit of peace amidst the chaos. Now that I think about this, maybe I should try to make some friends…

My greatest regret has to be that time I let things spiral out of control and ended up killing that fawn. It wasn’t just the act itself, though that was bad enough—I mean, who the hell kills a creature like that? But it’s what it represents. That moment I lost control, the moment I let my own fear and desperation dictate my actions. I saw the tears of that nymph, and I knew I’d done something irreversible, something that was far from what I wanted to become. I’ve done some messed up things, but that one just sticks with me. It makes me wonder if I’m losing myself, losing that line between survival and becoming something monstrous. That’s what haunts me, the idea that I’m slowly becoming everything I hate. And the worst part? I knew it was wrong, even as I watched it. I didn’t stop it. That’s what really gets to me. And you know what? That haunts me more than the man I killed on the way there. That was a monster. Just like me

The nature of my Gifts? That's something I've been thinking about a lot. At first, I thought it was just some freak mutation, something buried deep in my DNA that got unlocked. But the more I go through these contracts, the more I realize it’s not just about biology or science. These Gifts—they're like answers to the darkest parts of my mind, the things I need or want most in those moments of desperation. It’s like the harbingers aren’t just handing out random powers—they’re twisting my desires, giving me exactly what I subconsciously crave to survive the next challenge. But there's a catch: they come with a price. Every time I gain something, I lose a little more of who I was. The Gifts feel less like something I was born with and more like a twisted reflection of my will, distorted by whatever force controls these contracts. So yeah, maybe they do grant wishes, but not in any way you'd ever want. But even though, I would say I dislike it. Yeah, I change. But maybe for the better. So to sum up, it’s a mutation, one inherited from José that was granted as a wish and evolves as the harbingers grant me want I wish… if that makes sense.