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One moment he's walking like normal. The next, he's falling sideways as something heavy barrels into him.
The next seconds are a scuffle of movement, amid shouts of "Lord Harbinger!" as his Fatui underlings attempt to block the assailants. But the person who originally hit Scaramouche is holding on tight, and they fall to the ground together within the fray, the heavy metallic clang of his body lost under the din.
It's a man, with perfectly unremarkable features and no traces of elemental energy that Scaramouche can sense. He's completely indistinguishable from any other human until he opens his mouth and demands fervently, "Are you the one who attacked our outpost last night?"
Scaramouche's expression hardens. Someone in his entourage must have been very sloppy indeed for them to have been noticed; only the best of the best were allowed to assist with the assassination of a figure who'd become inconvenient to the Fatui's goals, so this is a disappointment. But he'll deal with that later. For now, he replies coolly, "And what if I am?"
The other man's face contorts in anger, and his hands wrap around Scaramouche's neck. "Then I will have the pleasure of avenging our leader!"
Scaramouche lets this go on for a few seconds, observing the reddening of the man's face and the clenching of his jaw as he exerts all his strength trying to close a windpipe Scaramouche doesn't even need. A perfect example of the futility of human weakness. He sneers at the thought, then cackles in the man's face as his grip falters, the first hint of horror beginning to dawn in his expression.
"You filthy worm, daring to lay your hands on me like you know anything." The words echo out from the voice box in Scaramouche's throat. Moving his mouth is unnecessary. "Letting you dross live was the Tsaritsa's misguided mercy. You squandered it, so now you'll pay the price."
He glances around. The other Fatui have fully subdued all the would-be assassins; some of them are bleeding out on the floor, while others are restrained by agents waiting to see if their Lord wants them alive for questioning or not. Scaramouche pushes the man off of him with such ease it's laughable and stands, brushing the dirt off his shorts.
"Kill them all," he says aloud, and the humans' screams sound just like any other's.