Burden of the Beast
The call itself wasn't too surprising. It had already been assumed, that in Phoebe's lack of presence, that she had gone off to do something stupid. It seemed to be a reoccurring thing with her. Either Mystique or Magneto neglected the girl, as they generally did so well, causing her to seek some alternative means of gaining their approval. So when Creed heard that she was at the nations capital it was no big surprise. Nor was it too hard to comprehend the fact that she was wounded and currently being hunted like an animal. It was doubtfully a serious wound, likely a leg or some other appendage. But, it still warranted attention. From what Creed got, it sounded like an assassination gone horribly wrong. The call itself was short, and lacking details. Knowing Phoebe, she likely only wanted his advice. But, that wasn't going to happen. He'd come personally. Much like a parent, he hadn't even thought of asking for detail, instead he opted to set out as quickly as possible. An address, two pistols, and some medical supplies were all that time really permitted. At least so he told himself.
There was a time when the feral man-beast would have wondered just why he was rushing off to play hero. For a kid too. At least by his standards she was a kid. Hell, anyone else would have been ignored and left to rot. But, their relationship had long since surpassed such thoughts. Helping Phoebe out wasn't a matter of will he or would he.. It was almost a given. An impulse. The two went way back to when she was just a little rug-rat. Magneto, A man that even Sabretooth respected, had frequently trusted the feral to watch after his kin. A job that Mystique quite frequently neglected. At first, it was a bit of a demeaning task. One that Creed frequently protested. But Magneto, being quite the linguist, always seemed to assure him otherwise. Over the years, he played a rather close and protective role in the child's life. Enough so to the point that he even gained the nickname 'Uncle Sabes' as Phoebe later learned to speak. As she grew older there relationship kept in tact, despite that incarnate of the Brotherhood eventually falling apart. Even afterward, the girl was still like a daughter to him though. In time, Creed actually began to take comfort around the girl. Having known her so well, him placing his trust in her wasn't all too hard. Maybe it was the fact that in her youthful innocence, she never seemed to fear him.. scoldings aside. Perhaps it just took him a whole lot longer to open himself up.. Then again the two did have some things in common. Both knew what it was like to be instruments. Tools in the greater schemes of others. Sabretooth more so by his own choice. Both of her parents tended to get caught up in human-mutant politics. Often they'd forget about those around them. Mystique though, as they both knew, could be quite spiteful. Much like Phoebe and her mother at times, Creed and Mystique had a bit of an undeveloped love-hate relation. Despite whatever the reason may be, it was a simple fact that Sabretooth still had a better bond with this girl than anyone. In his vast lifetime, Phoebe was the first to really ever get so close to the infamous murderer. No. It wasn't an infamous murder she knew. Phoebe did know of the monster he portrayed... But she, unlike the world, had vague glimpses of the man behind it all.
The sight of the stolen black Mustang soaring down the interstate likely infuriated it's share of other drivers. The vehicle weaving in and out of traffic, blazing on at speeds well exceeding the speed limits. Sabretooth had to be going at least one hundred and ten miles per hours (177 Kph), likely faster. Considering that the drive itself was only really about two hundred and forty miles (387 Kilometers), he was making damn good time. Illegally though, as the speed limit in the country was generally fifty-five. But, law had never stopped him before. It definitely wasn't going to now. Were he to be pulled over though, it'd have been an interesting sight none the less. With the pistols clearly resting in passengers seat. Not to mention that you'd obviously have to factor in his renown temper, added along with his over-protective tendencies, and the fact that someone he was obviously over-protective of had called him for some kind of help... Such a stop would have become a massacre like no other. Fortunately though, as Creed pulled off the exit ramp, he consciously lowered his speed. He wasn't too far now, and had to assume there to be law enforcement combing the general area for the girl. A slower speed would attract less attention.The sight of a wild haired, amber eyed, homeless looking man; behind the wheel of a mustang generally did garner enough attention without any additional help.
The area seemed to be more of rural offshoot of the nations capital, than actual area itself. That was a good thing though, this was virtual wonderland of nooks and crannies. It was the perfect, nearby place to lay low. It was obvious Phoebe knew just what she was doing to an extent. Something was good to know. But, then again she was trained by ol' blue.. of course she'd have some clue. A motel, where she had supposedly taken refuge, was only a few streets away now. Seeing as a car could easily be traced and tracked, Creed rather opted to ditch it. Finding a nice parking place behind a local gas station, the engine came to a halt. As the feral swung open the car door, a boot went to the ground. One of his serrated hands reached into the passenger seat, grabbing up the pistols. As they were compact enough, Sabretooth easily managed to slip the weapons into his token grayish black trench-coat. The first aid kit however, he'd have to carry. It would be much of inconvenience though, as he'd likely take a more direct path, cutting through properties and all.
The trip in whole, from phone call to the point where he could actually pick up the girls scent, was about two and half hours in total. As he emerged from the light thicket, onto the stone covered parking lot, his nose already had the precise location identified. Truthfully, he wasn't even sure the girl knew he was coming. She might have guessed. But, all he said was 'Stay right there.', nothing really specific. Everyone knew he did a lot of traveling. He was always switching locations. Hell, Phoebe hadn't even known he was in New York at the time. It was supposed to be a surprise. As Creed stepped onto the wooden walkway, he continued on passing door after door. It was room three twelve that brought him to a halt. His large natural skewers closed the best they could, the loose fist forcefully knocking against the door. "Open up, Red.. " His tone, perfectly calmed. Although mentally, Creed was already counting down. Fifteen seconds was all he'd give before forcefully breaking down the door.
Feminine fingers curled around the handle of a gun, drawing it closer to her face, the fabric of the bed soft beneath the collapsed figure and her slender body face down onto the bed. It had been a rough day… no, scratch that, it’d been a rough time all year. But from the glory of her first mission Phoebe Darkholm seemed to have swiftly and harshly fallen from her mother’s graces. With the team mission to the X-men’s island failing miserably… and then this. The young woman groaned irritably with the hand fate had dealt her and was already contemplating various ways in which she could head back and finish what she had started.
So close, so painstakingly near to her target, and where Phoebe was concerned there were no limits she seemed unwilling to cross.. if she could slip through the cracks without going to extremes then she would, but she’d never risk her mission by being squeamish about something. From sleeping with her targets, or those close to her targets, be male or female or she herself having to alter her form to fit the desired appearance of whoever she needed to seduce, right up to even having exposed herself to drugs in order to fit into the group or lifestyle role she fell in to. Mystique’s daughter pushed herself beyond her own limits, and the worse opinion the infamous Raven Darkholm had towards her daughter the further those limits were pushed by Phoebe in an attempt to win back her mother’s approval.
This mission had been no different as far as pushing limits were concerned, only it had been more then just to win her mothers returned affections, it’d been planned in order to shove it in the faces of all her other Brotherhood members who slacked around stuffing their mouths with food and alcohol while smirking at the disapproval Mystique held towards Phoebe. If only killing them were an option that’d not be frowned upon by her mother, but then again, that’d be too easy, wouldn’t it?
The day had just gone… wrong. Utterly, completely, freakishly wrong. Tired eyes closed, yellow spheres hiding away… it was so nice to rest her eyes, so many years, so few moments of actual rest. Twenty-one this year… she felt so old… as if life had flown her by, yet so much more was left, wasn’t there? If she didn’t die… did she care? Hell… at least when she dies there’ll be no more running in circles trying to impress, then again, it meant too much to Phoebe to see the Brotherhood succeed and overcome all their obstacles. And while Phoebe didn’t run blindly into things, she did set herself extremely high risk factors which she felt she’d manage to make… as long as everything ran smoothly to plan, with just a few hiccups needing on the spot rethinking. Usually Phoebe set out some form of plan, a trap, some string of ‘trip wires’ in any form possible. At least she knew her traps worked, not that they hit her target, one rigged gun only got the back of the head of a body guard who got in the way. Instead of the planned three guards, the bloody politician had six, which seemed to be drew to his wife tagging along at the last second.
That was just one of the changes that happened between when she left the Paul Kennoly’s side and the night it took her to fully prepare her scene for the ambush. Well, she died for interfering with Phoebe’s carefully laid out plans, that was some comfort for the multi-powered mutant. The laser triggered gun had been set to what was programmed, speaker would introduce Paul Kennoly after going on about some rubbish or another, then the anti-mutant ‘Push for a Cure to the Disease’ official was to step up and babble on about his ridiculous ideas. As the ‘day gone wrong’ continued however, his wife went up with him to the pedestal and it had been her head that broke the beam instead of her husbands. Down one wife. As planned, the body guards ran to him, down on guard to the left, clipping another luckier guard to the right, though he went down, he didn’t die. It was the swarm of other guards that deprived Phoebe of the clean shot she had so patiently and expertly waited for, bloody 6astards. She had to get closer to her target, get back in there while things were up in chaos, she had to try and get close, it seemed easier in her mind, but doing it was surprisingly difficult and it shouldn’t have been.
It seemed the darkly lashed eyes ceased flicking open, breathing was slightly strained from the aches she felt but they too slowed and grew even more shallow. The blackness of her mind soon swelled with colours, forming images and shortly after even sounds of the days events that so heavily weighed on her mind. Though it seemed so brief a moment before her eyes yet again flickered open, always the light sleeper she never took any sound carelessly, some called her paranoid in amusement, but caution wasn’t always such a bad thing. Unlike her uncle, Phoebe didn’t have the heightened senses he had to tell her effortlessly what was causing whatever it was that disturbed her, so alert and focus was a necessity.
A hand moved to the metal rod leaning against the side of her bed, even wounded Phoebe was still dangerous, and few people who knew her would ever doubt it… though that didn’t stop a few idiots from thinking they could mock her in the past. There was a knock, and between the knock and the voice that followed, Phoebe had rolled onto her side, one hand remaining grasped to the rod that was leading down to the floor and the other hand moved to hold the gun behind her back, her stomach facing the doorway and her body shielding the weapon from view. One step in, the intruder would notice the carpet soaked with water all the way from between the bed to the doorway and windows. Crispy greetings for anyone who wanted to say hello. While with the abilities of her parents, though weaker, Phoebe also had her own electrical second generation ability of her own, and she never failed to find beneficial uses for her powerful surges of electricity.
Red. That came clear, so calm, familiar… Sabes?…the bullet wound in her thigh stopped any chance of her running to the door, aggravated even more after she removed it from her flesh, suffering bruises, and a wound on her back from a fall, not too deep a cut though. Phoebe had gone out of her way not to visibly use her powers once they started chasing her, she’d not let them have proof so easily she had been a mutant. It hadn’t been easy getting away… sometimes the young morpher envied not having her mothers wider range of morphing abilities.
A struggle to sit up, carefully moving her leg over the edge of the bed, bare toes touching the moist carpet and her right hand resting, with gun in her grasp, on her lap calmly. Left hand released the metal pipe she found, lifting up to focus her magnetic abilities in order to control the locking mechanism of the door, a simple turn here, a twist of the handle, and there she had it, the door opened as she pulled the metallic nob towards her. Fiery red strands were then brushed behind her ear as Phoebe curiously waited to see if her ears hadn’t be playing tricks on her.
"I thought you’d have sent Toad to do your dirty work." There was a curve to the edge of her ruby lips, a playful hint towards old times in regards to when things got too… messy… with Phoebe, and toddlers were high maintenance. Toad never let one forgot how HE dealt with Phoebe just as much as anyone else, especially when Phoebes tried to muscle in on him and he’d pull the ‘you owe me’ card that only relatives and care takers could ever effectively pull. Granted, Phoebe found it amusing shocking Toad whenever he touched her as she hit her teen years, so the two didn’t have the most fuzziest of relationships. Her mother trod all over him and so Phoebe wasn’t really raised to respect the smelly member of their faction.
Phoebe failed.. regardless of anything, that was the core of the matter, the whole reason she was wounded, the only thing that mattered. Failure was not acceptable, public or private, even personal failure had been frowned upon as Phoebe seemed unable to reach the levels of power expected of her by specific ages. To fail was the ultimate signs of disrespect in Phoebe's mind, if you can not do a job asked of you, then you've let someone down, it just so happened that in most cases Phoebe hardly cared.. on the other hand when it was her family asking things of her.. that was another matter, that's when she took things beyond the professional expectations expected of her.
Re: Burden of the BeastTwelve.. Eleven.. Still not even the slightest attempt at a movement. The sound of her breathing however kept him from worrying too much. Ten.. Still, no movement. It became apparent to Sabretooth, that she was likely immobilized. A fact that could be either bad or worse. Hopefully, it'd be the least severe of the countless possibilities. A shot to the leg, foot, ankle.. Something along those lines. His mental count down had ceased, as it was only out of a mutual respect that he had even initiated such a thing in the first place. A hand, just short of the door knob came to a dead stop. His amber eyes giving the knob a slightly shifty look. Although Creed was slightly humored now too. At minimum, this door was locked. There was no dead bolt, so breaking it down wouldn't be too hard. But more likely, his "niece" had gone all out and rigged the entire room with various death traps. It's what Mystique would've done in such a situation. This was the tough decision, whether to open the door or not. Had his thoughts not been interrupted, the fool likely would have rammed right through anyways.
"I thought you’d have sent Toad to do your dirty work."
Sabretooth grinned slightly, with almost arrogantly proud expression on his face. Those were some fun days, tossing poor Toad around like he were nothing more than a rag doll. Giving him the worst imaginable tasks, and only having to offer up a small guttural threat in return. But Phoebe too used to harass the amphibiously named yes-man. Unlike Toad though, Creed could take her comments, and quite frequently turn them back on her. "Come on Red, I'm guessing ya ain't walkin' right now... But, it ain't no s'cuse for ya t'still be doin' that at yer age.." The door slowly swung open about halfway. Now that she had spoken, Creed wasn't so worried. Phoebe would have likely warned him were there anything set to automatically maim upon entry. Atleast, he hoped so. She had better. His other hand with medical kit still firmly in his grasp, moved behind the door, tapping around the door knob for any sort of wires or the likes. It was better to be safe than not. However, the door wasn't what would have caught him. The initial splash and following swooshing of the carpet as he laid his boot right into it, caught the former assassin. The timing of that couldn't been any better planned, following their playful taunts so wonderfully. Only adding to the hilarity of the situation, Creed cocked his head visibly to his right, his left brow rising, while taking on a mock-bemused and semi-frightened appearance. He could in fact have a sense of humor at times. Most people just weren't given the chance to see it.
A first, the sight of the girl almost always seemed to be reminiscent of Mystique. As they were clearly alike in many aspects. The similarities were just beyond obvious.Although wasn't like they couldn't be told apart or anything. Obviously, Sabretooth had known the elder Darkholme for a longer period of time. However, that was a more distant and awkward relationship. The biggest difference being Phoebe. He could understand her most of the time. Mystique however, her thoughts were something foreign. Who knew what she'd devise in that twisted little mind of hers. Sure, at times he could pull off a good guess, but at others he'd be ridiculously off. Although the unpredictability was probably what had kept his pointless interest in the woman alive for so many years. An interest he tried to keep a secret. Even with Phoebe, it was a subject Creed just didn't bring up. Although more likely than not, their were probably some that could see it.
Despite the conditions and all, it was good to see Phoebe again. It had to have been atleast three, maybe even four years since they had been in the same room together. Thus was the life he lived though. Constant travels, odd jobs around the world, government dirty work.. it kept him busy. But, as he padded closer, the door closing behind, his demeanor was no where near what one would expect. For one, the infamous temper was in check. Even after the girl damn near ran off and killed herself. Sure, he was pissed. Disappointed as well. Yet, it was suppressed for the moment. Both of their lives had been hard enough, there was no point in making things any more difficult. "Hey kid.." Came the belated and rather docile greeting. Kid. That was exactly how he saw her. A daughter. Thus, she wasn't forced to deal with lascivious and degrading comments as many women were when confronted by the feral. There was too much respect there for anything like that to be spewed in her direction. "Brought some supplies.. Getcha' bandaged up." The first-aid kit dropping on to the bed. Although he hadn't thought about it until that moment, but that did seem rather caring of him. Truthfully, it was. But, he'd never in an eternity choose to admit that.
The wounds, although he hadn't taken too close a look, bothered him. Who knew how long it'd take her to recover. Hopefully, just a few days. But, that was idealistic of him really. "Brought 'cha some more firepower too. Cuz' when yer healed enough, We're finishin' this job.." His words could be taken in so many different ways. But, clearly the emphasis was on the 'We' there. "But, til then.. I got us another mission we'll be workin' on." Came a vague reference. They, under her lead, were going to revive their long time affiliation. They'd try recruit new members, and replace those that had fallen out upon Mystique's departure. They'd make a force more destructive than it's previous incarnates.
Re: Burden of the Beast
"Come on Red, I'm guessing ya ain't walkin' right now... But, it ain't no s'cuse for ya t'still be doin' that at yer age.." A silent chuckle came, brief yet there, always a rarity to see Phoebe laugh and yet she had her moments, given her companions it was more likely with certain ones then others, Creed was definitely one of the minimal few who could bring a smile to the ruby lips of the indigo skinned young woman. It was also interesting to see the caution her uncle had, it made her slightly proud to see someone of such reputation offer her techniques an air of caution she herself felt they deserved. Sometimes Mystique walked through Phoebe’s landmines as if they were just toys scattered across her room. Not that Phoebe ever really had many things to actually scatter in the line of children toys… There was a smile that lightly touched the redden lips as he finally entered, a man who had barely changed, even through all of Phoebe’s own changes, from the usual teen hurricane of emotions and issues to the few odder phases…
Which ranged from her identity crisis phase that most kids went through only had taken a greater spin due to her metamorphic abilities (including a male phase that lasted almost four months in which she had a relationship with another girl who later broke it off after the new brother hood member discovered ‘he’ was really a ‘she’, which angered Phoebe to the point to demanding the girl, Joel, to leave). Though there was an interesting ‘Goth’ phase that was on and off, black tail and slit eyes, amongst other shifts in appearance. Though most were just random and brief and between 14 and 18 the swirl of instability was eased only by the comfort of familiar faces, despite the highly rebellious attitude Phoebe had, and still has, she was always able to put aside her day to day issues and take up her role as Mystique’s daughter. Perhaps that did more harm for Phoebe then she realized, as while trying to get her mothers attention her mother just left Phoebe alone to do whatever the child wanted, letting extreme’s take hold and yet fully aware that when the time came Phoebe would still do her job.
Victor Creed was hardly the kind of guy Phoebe would go to for any kind of advice, but she did lean towards him more then her mother, even if all Creed could do was listen as she rambled on about some issue that at the time seemed all important to her. Then again, Phoebe was hardly a normal personality and even as a child her anger was tuned and her annoyance sharp whenever someone did something that she felt was disrespectful or even harmful to the brotherhood, to the only home Phoebe knew and the one thing that Phoebe was always told would be hers. More often then not, what little Phoebe had to rant on about ended up becoming something that had to be dealt with, then again, that didn’t mean she hasn’t gotten angry about some pretty tramp that was moving in on a particular male friend of Phoebe’s. Which her mother never cared to really hear about, simply for the fact that Phoebe never made a move to date anyone save for the random flings and yet got all worked up when someone she liked was approached by someone else. It may not have happened often during her youth but when it did Phoebe made it known, even if she hadn’t intended on it to be… though if you can’t rant and rave about boys to your mother, then who? It wasn’t like Phoebe had a great deal of friends… people come and go and usually the ones who stay are more often then not intimidated by the full throttle head on approach of the dangerous metamorphic mutant.
"Hey kid.." Yellow eyes watched the face that, to her was a comfort to see, even if most would have fled in fear… she smiled a little, though it was faint, riddled with her emotions of disappointment and shame at her failure. "Brought some supplies.. Getcha' bandaged up." And her mother would have said ‘you got yourself into that mess, get yourself out of it.’, yet here was the surrogate uncle doing what he does best…being there for her, if it was just a random greeting or to help her when she trips up, it seemed if anyone would come, it’d be him. Though the fact he didn’t pop up at every misstep also helped their relationship because it told her that he didn’t think her incapable of saving herself, he just wanted to try and lend a hand, which wasn’t how her parents made it feel whenever Phoebe had originally summoned them for help. It was always as if Phoebe was dragging them down into the mud and forcing their hand, whereas if she had just done things properly then they’d not have to get themselves dirty. Then again Phoebe knew they cared about her… at least deep down, they just had their own way of dealing with her, and that way just happened to seem rather neglecting at times…
"Brought 'cha some more firepower too. Cuz' when yer healed enough, We're finishin' this job.." Plans were already being thrown together in full motion, from what location would best suit and wondering what kind of funeral would take place… her target was a political figure yet maybe there would be a private family funeral? Or maybe a street parade… whatever it was she needed to find out if there was a chance she could get him then, or if she had to wait for another public meeting, or if she should wait for a public meeting just for the symbolism of it all. The thought that Sabes would be there assisting wasn’t thrilling, yet it wasn’t offputting either. If she succeeds with him there, naturally her mother will declare that Phoebe can’t do anything without help, then again, if things were just left it’d still be ‘you can’t do anything right lately’ or something of the like. At least with Sabes help she could finish what she started sooner rather then later and that was something!
"But, til then.. I got us another mission we'll be workin' on." A brow raised slightly, wondering what on earth he had in mind, she’d do it, even if she was spurting blood from her neck if an order was given Phoebe would put a stiff upper lip and carry out what was given to her. Such blind obedience was really the only thing that eventually kept her in her mother’s good graces even when letting her down occasionally.
"What would this mission be?" Curiosity tickled the words as Phoebe requested the details, the gun in her hand being pushed away from her and the slender fingers releasing their grip on it.
Re: Burden of the Beast
It didn't happen every time. But, on several occasions spread through out their history, Phoebe had gone and done just as she did moment ago. It was something far more than awkward. Even bewildering at times. She smiled. At him of all people! That was something that people just didn't do around him. If they did, it was likely meant to be either sarcastic or mocking in nature. How was he even supposed to react? Was he even supposed to notice?? The expression would have been far more understandable if it were like his more familiar variants of the expression. Being ever the sadist, Creed usually tended to smile at the sight of others agony, their torment, and misfortunes. But sadly, he wasn't in any pain. She might be, but again this wasn't the first time he had seen her do such a thing. Besides, Phoebe was tough, but not in that way. Even after two decades of familiarity, Sabretooth had yet to understand why she would send such a simple expression his way. It was such a positive gesture thrown to a man that had lived almost two lifetimes devoid of any such kindness. It was a question the former assassin had long thought to ask. But every time he thought about it the words always sounded far too stupid.
As confusing as it all was to him, there was another reason he hadn't shared his thoughts on the subject. It was soothing. The sight brought a calm over the rage driven monster. Much like the calm he once found in drugs, and later through his psionic exploits. That was all Victor really had to compare this feeling with. That calm though, it was what made it so easy to be around the girl all these years. She made him feel important. Needed. Like family, the kind that didn't lock their kid in a basement, only to beat him in god's name. Phoebe was more of his daughter than any of his biological children. It was harder to accept them.. Acceptance.. Maybe that's what it was. It made the most sense after all. Despite knowing him, and what he was, Phoebe seemed to smile anyways. Even if the expression was diluted right now, it still was still a welcomed sight.
Were it not for the thick metallic scent of her blood, he'd have never guessed the girl to be injured. Disappointment seemed to overwhelm all else. No doubt it was just another in the myriad of effects that her mothers standards created. He didn't need to know the situation to proud of her anyways. They were in an unpredictable line of work. One in that everyone, Mystique included, from time to time tend to find their share of hardships with. Quitting was his only concern. Seeing those very standards cripple and overwhelm the young protégé. Thus his insistence upon them finishing the job. They'd regain her mothers favor through other means.
"What would this mission be?"
She was so quick to take the bait. The wild looking mutant gave a slight grin. Not that she had long to see it. His back soon turned to her, Creed taking a seat upon the edge of the bed. There was a good amount of room left between them still, an intentional precaution so not too disturb her. A claw riffled around in his coat, removing and placing the guns upon the cheap water drenched night stand. The fact that it too was watered down only made that smirk grow that much more. As for her intrigue, Sabretooth was perfectly contented toying with her patience. She was so eager, even though she likely knew what he was doing, it didn't take away from the humor he found in it. He shifted slightly, facing her a little better. But, still he kept a brief silence before finally tossing out something. "Somethin' even yer' momma ain't been able to do right.." Her father too for that matter, but that wasn't brought up. Creed had a lot more respect for the proclaimed master of magnetism. Hopefully, it'd be just enough to settle her mind on the whole other situation. Yet, still keep her wondering for now. Sweet torment. How Creed loved it so..
Before she could she had a chance to reiterate her previous question, her surrogate uncle interjected again. "So Red, you gunna get t'tellin me just what went down?" It was probably a good idea to evaluate the situation before hand. Besides, this was the second time around, things would have to planned with even more precaution now. "Think you'll be able to get'cherself a clean shot this time? Or are we gunna hafta play a lil more creative..?" Creativity was always fun. Unlike Mystiques more calculated thought out style, Sabretooth often took more unorthodox means. But, like an over eager child, he even had a preferred method at this given moment. Explosives. Although a vehicular dragging death was looking more than appealing too.
Re: Burden of the Beast
Not the first, nor the last, that Creed would develop a patience so unlike himself merely in order to cause another’s suffering, while Phoebe contained her curiosity, fully aware that when the time was right he would divulge to her the things that were on her mind, that hardly stopped an air of impatience squeeze at her very core. As long as surprises were in her favor Phoebe didn’t mind them, and could be patient in her own way, but only few had the rank in Phoebe’s mind to keep things from her, no matter how frivolous it may be she’d not tolerate any lower ranked member toying with her in the same manner that caused the shapeshifter to curiously watch Creed in a patience rarely seen in the Darkholme lineage.
Phoebe never could understand her mother, an affair with Magneto, an affair with Wolverine, an affair with Sabretooth, none of which were truly explained to Phoebe, and most likely never would be and yet out of all of them the only one who was still there was Sabretooth, he of all people. How strange for outsiders it may seem, the great Magneto, who while Eric did love his daughter, he didn’t take the time to teach her the things that meant the most to him, and so while Phoebe tried to impress him in the same ways Mystique had done, it ended up causing disappointment for the master of magnetism who hadn’t wanted his flesh and blood to be caught up in the same ruthless blood feud he admired Mystique for causing.
There was something about the feral that clicked with Phoebe, something that had helped bonded them that the young metamorph couldn’t quite figure out in words. This man was her uncle, and while most may not think anything great could be derived of that, it meant the world for Phoebe, because so often he was the only one that was there, for the important times like now, what was the point of having everyone there to tell her how great she screwed up when instead they could just try and be useful themselves, that’s something Phoebe loved about her uncle… he never cared about getting his hands dirty, sure both mother and father were powerful leaders in their own right and both had killed for their cause… but none had ever been as deep into the dirty work as Victor Creed.
"Somethin' even yer' momma ain't been able to do right.." Another thing that made the indigo mutant fond of her uncle… he lived so dangerously, even a comment such as that ,vague as it was, would send Mystique into a defensive snarl, an aggressive and dangerous recoil that never boded well for those who suffered the focus of such attention. There was a slight thinning of the red heads lips, he was such a tease and the only reason he was succeeding with keeping Phoebe in suspense was simply because it was a right he had earned over the years, anyone else who tried would be sorely regretting it.
"So Red, you gunna get t'tellin me just what went down?" Yellow orbs peered away briefly, not out of shame, instead she let her eyes examine the weapons placed down, he always knew what toys to bring for her to play with. "Think you'll be able to get'cherself a clean shot this time? Or are we gunna hafta play a lil more creative..?" How much did Sabes know about this? Phoebe wondered if her mother even realized that she had been gone for any number of days… it wasn’t uncommon for Mystique to be oblivious to the comings and goings of other brotherhood members, even that of her own daughter, but heaven forbid if Raven decided she wanted her daughter’s presence and Phoebe wasn’t even in the state.
"Paul Kennoly, the guy who’s classified mutants a disease, last minute change of plans means his wife got the bullet instead of him, there’s a funeral going to be organized, I’ll get a shot… I just have to figure out the best method… I have a few ideas." There was a pause as Phoebe looked down at her thigh, "I already removed the bullet." Sometimes it was really handy have magnetic powers, even if her powers were weaker then her parents, she had the best of three worlds, for Phoebe, that was definitely an advantage. Her mother’s powers, her father’s powers, and god knows how or why but the ability to generate electricity was definitely welcomed, even if it did feel out of place with her family genes.
Re: Burden of the Beast
Teasing her was, and always had been for that matter, rather fun. There was something reassuring about knowing that he unlike most wouldn't be killed for it. Though he'd have likely done it more we're she to actually seem bothered. In essence, the lack of a response was unfair to him. Phoebe used to be bothered by such when she was little. But, how many children ever really have that kind of patience? Sabretooth never claimed to know much about kids though. But now, all grown up, she Phoebe was used to his little games and tests. They just weren't effective anymore. Even worse yet, the little brat actually made him feel vaguely bad about it! Thats right.. Somewhere in that vast chamber of agony most referred to as a mind.. Just past the mangled and gore-ridden memories, Beyond the blinding anger that fuels him so, stirred a tiny little dust-encrusted thing. A conscience. An ancient voice of reason that had long since drowned under all of animalistic roarings. She was so loyal, so obedient.. Almost like she was with Mystique. Some day he'd get the girl to break that. To think on her own. Just thinking about Mystique and how she'd react to an act of her daughters defiance was well worth whatever effort it might take.
"Paul Kennoly, the guy who’s classified mutants a disease, last minute change of plans means his wife got the bullet instead of him, there’s a funeral going to be organized, I’ll get a shot… I just have to figure out the best method… I have a few ideas."
Such a good kid. Just like her momma, Phoebe knew how pick a perfect target. It was just a pity things went wrong for her. Though at least the bullet wasn't wasted. The message was still sent. Kennoly had to be living in fear now, perhaps he'd even regret his stance on such a political topic. Not that it was going to save him or anything. Phoebe was shot damn it! The bastard, even though he himself hadn't pulled the trigger, had shot her! Creed always thought he couldn't be around Shalimar because he was damn sure he'd end up killing people for just looking at her. Phoebe, through the years had ascended beyond the relationship Creed had with his biological daughter. There were no words horrible enough to describe just what such scene would look like. Bloodbath or atrocity, being the closest possible definitions, would have been laughable in comparison. And yes, in those brief two minutes, Sabretooth had in fact gone from hating her mother to having a rather nostalgic view of her. Things there were complicated.
"I already removed the bullet."
That was one thing done then. Now back to the matter of this little assassination bit. "We'll burn tha whole damn funeral parlor down, all we gotta' do's watch the exits. They'll come right to us.." Came a rather ruthless idea. It was one thing killing someone. But, burning down an entire building filled with people, A building often considered to hallowed at that!, was just plain despicable. "B'sides.. It'll show that tha' Brotherhood means business this time... We're gunna take all two a' yer members and show 'em a real team." Two members, he said it clearly, as if having been there. "I was there lookin' for ya.. but tha damn place was practically dead." The feral assassin added.
Re: Burden of the Beast
"We'll burn tha whole damn funeral parlor down, all we gotta' do's watch the exits. They'll come right to us.." Perhaps some would have managed even a flicker of surprise at the overkill suggested, but for Phoebe it was quite a common thing for uncle Sabes to go overboard, and in her mind that made him such a perfect guy. Don’t hold back, give it your all, no one could do that better then uncle Sabes as far as Phoebe cared. Even her mother had limitations, sure, even Sabes did, but to Phoebe they were near on non-existent. A smile graced the younger womans lips as she seemed almost appreciative of the suggestion, it was always nice swinging from the big bangs to the discreet blows, the latter being Phoebe’s more commonly taken route if only because it caused her parents the greatest pleasures.
"B'sides.. It'll show that tha' Brotherhood means business this time... We're gunna take all two a' yer members and show 'em a real team." Interesting. Did he think they could handle it? All sorts of rift raft ended up in the brother hood and yet few were mentally sound and head strong, most were there due to some form of rebellion they were going through, at least that’s what Mystique would say. "I was there lookin' for ya.. but tha damn place was practically dead." A brow raised slightly… dead? Ok, they were having some form of cardiac arrest but they were hardly deceased yet, as long as the Darkholm ladies were there then the brotherhood lived, pathetically so, but alive none-the-less.
"You want to bring them in on this?" Usually Phoebe never questioned her elders when they spoke, not unless she felt she had something vital to add, but considering the teams dismal outcome down on the X-mens training grounds she wasn’t entirely sure what Sabertooth had in mind, it was more of a question towards what he had planned. Did he want to push them back into another mission or was he still testing them or what? Don’t get Phoebe wrong, there was nothing she loved better then leading a professional team head on into war, but the people she had worked with on the island had not been all that professional. Though… Kal-El had proved to be strong, and Mareesa had proven quite useful as well… perhaps hording up the group of would-be brotherhood members was infact a good idea, even if it would just help give her a decent cover while they proved a distraction to the humans.
Re: Burden of the Beast"You want to bring them in on this?"
There wasn't even the slightest hint of hesitation before the feral retorted. "Hell no." Taking an adamantium skewer to the brain was less painful than the few days he had spent with those rejects. "We don't need no more than us two ta' claim it a Brotherhood job. 'Less a'course you want the glory fer' yerself.." Now Creed didn't mind that option either. Although personally, he'd rather not see Phoebe drawing criminal attention to herself. Yet, Sabretooth had learned long ago that she'd never live life like a normal person. His adoptive niece was bound to the very lifestyle he and her mother loved so. Blue senior, she practically demanded it to be so. Knowing Phoebe's need for approval, her uncle brought forth a slightly devious question. "Tryin' ta' get on yer' momma's good side are ya...?" Maybe it was just his general love of getting under the skin others, or maybe Creed strived to see her as own person for once, he himself didn't really know why he treaded where he did.
The strong metallic scent of blood still toyed with his senses. There was a time when that smell was almost heavenly to him. Yet now, in conjunction with the water that had awakened dormant smells deep within the carpet, it was simply foul. Not to mention the size of the room, it left the bathroom a bit closer than he'd have liked. He could bare it for now. But, sooner or later he'd need an escape from such odors. A hand came up without explanation, resting onto his wild beard. His index claw took a rest just under his nostrils where it could help block the multiple particles in the air. It was almost an involuntary action, and just as he started to settle in that position, the feral man-beast realized just how weak he'd look bowing before mere scents.
There was another faint 'squish' as Creed shifted his foot slightly. Sure, it was an ingenious defense she had set up... But, that didn't make it any less ridiculous. Had she really intended to stay in this place like this? This was almost worse than a Brotherhood building cursed with both Toad and Blob on clean up detail.
Out of no where, a new subject sprouted. "Messed up another one of my kids. Big surprise eh? I tried to tell Shalimar to leave that sh*thole uva' school... It all went downhill from there. I just don't know how the hell to be talkin' t'her." He complained, knowing Phoebe if anyone would listen. "Just ain't what i do.. I ain't even got a clue how you ever turned as well as ya did." Again, he referred to his influence over her youth.
Re: Burden of the Beast"Hell no." No need to ask what the infamous Victor Creed thought about the new recruits then.. "We don't need no more than us two ta' claim it a Brotherhood job. 'Less a'course you want the glory fer' yerself.." Glory wasn't always part of the deal in Phoebe's mind, at least not the kind most wanted. Where world fame was a bargaining tool for many, all Phoebe just wanted was mutual respect. Not from the human, no.. she hated them and their arrogance, but her anger was distilled upon her by her mother, the skill was there in Phoebe to be harvested and as rebellious as Phoebe was she wouldn't have gone as far as she has in her young life if the drive for attention wasn't there burning its way into her very core.
Trouble was in the mutant’s blood, but the kind of trouble could have been anything, anything she wanted. In the end, Phoebe had a set path in life, but one she was choosing to walk in the extremes. Mutants had every right to be respected, and if humans refuse to respect them, then they will damn well fear them!
"Tryin' ta' get on yer' momma's good side are ya...?" It wasn't a comment to be taken lightly, not from Creed.. he didn't talk to others like he talked to her and Phoebe had long since realized that. Though as obvious as her reply was, she refused to admit it, biting down and tensing her jaw as she let herself focus only on the pain in her thigh.
There was that look again, that one he got.. if anything, Phoebe's hygiene was definitely well kept around her uncle, there was nothing worse then being paranoid about what was causing his nose to wrinkle like it did when he was disturbed by whatever it was he could smell. Sometimes there were sparks of Phoebe's feminine side, seeming all so out of character and yet undeniable consider how well looked after the girl appeared. Fashionable clothing and neatly trimmed silken red hair.. it hinted so strongly at the woman and yet at the same time, she tossed it all aside when diving into the mud swamps or god knows what else.
Getting dirty wasn't a problem.... as long as the Brotherhood heiress could clean herself up nice enough for her uncle so that she didn't get to see him wrinkle his nose. Toad always told her how much Creed hated dealing with stinky babies.. but kept referring to Phoebe as such long after her toddler years whenever she irritated the hell out of him. It was something that was never really thought about, and yet subconsciously haunted her still. It was like having nightmares you can't remember, but still getting nervous when the lights go out.
"Messed up another one of my kids. Big surprise eh? I tried to tell Shalimar to leave that sh*thole uva' school... It all went downhill from there. I just don't know how the hell to be talkin' t'her." Shalimar? Oh that girl! Smack her around the head till she sees the light of day! Not that it would really help, Phoebe didn't understand how someone with a father like Creed could end up in a place like that. Such a great man, free of almost all chains that tie a normal man down, that keeps them as nothing more then obedient dogs. And here she is spitting in his face by going to the one place she shouldn't...the nerve. "Just ain't what i do.. I ain't even got a clue how you ever turned as well as ya did." If only others thought she turned out so well, and amazingly enough the gratitude in her eyes seemed only visible when Sabertooth was around.
"They say people bond quicker when they hunt together." There was an almost malicious curve of her ruby lips, the smile callous despite it's curves. A cruelty lay within the gesture and Phoebe had no doubt that she spent more hours with Creed then the forsaken brat that's pranced her way into Xavier's delusional little world. Humans were animals in Mystique's eyes.. it's how Phoebe was raised to think of them, worthless and disposable. There was only one weakness Phoebe had towards doing her mission, one flaw that she couldn't seem to right, no matter what the cost. Children. She didn't know why, and it humiliated her to know, but no matter what her mother demanded, the death of a child was an order Phoebe could not carry out. Luckily, so far, such situations had been widely avoid. "Speaking of which, I'm packed and ready to go when you are."
Re: Burden of the Beast"They say people bond quicker when they hunt together."
Yeah, that didn’t seem likely to happen at all. Hell, by now the blond brat had probably gone vegan, wedded a human, and joined People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Sure, people bond while hunting; but people also bond quickly when you stuff them into cement mixers. As of this moment the later seemed to be more of a feasible option. The whole situation was just one big hassle he intended to avoid. The feral would eventually deal with it just as he would any other frustration. He’d have to take it out on some innocent and unsuspecting bystanders.
Despite his frustration, a small hint of that Cheshire-like grin grew. Sabretooth had to give Phoebe credit. She knew him well enough to know the thought of a good hunt would raise his spirit. He was after a master of the sport. There was only one thing better than the feeling of a good clean kill. It was a variant of hunting, one that he intended to do as soon as things with Phoebe were settled. Ironically, killing was never involved in this hunt. See killing, despite all his past vocalizations, would ruin all the fun. Hurting Wolverine, it was a thought that came synonymous with hunting and would elevate his mood exponentially. With one little word Phoebe had wiped away most of annoyances.
"Speaking of which, I'm packed and ready to go when you are."
In his more cheerful state Sabretooth often tended to come off as more devious than cheerful. Although the likeness would undoubtedly anger him, Creed was a bit reminiscent of a mischievous kitten. He liked to test boundaries, and take playful verbal swat at those around him. Friend or foe, it didn’t really matter. “Huntin’ eh? Whatta you know ‘bout huntin’, girlie?” The elder mutant teased in his own way. The comment could easily come off as offensive, but it wasn’t intended to be. Otherwise it would have been far worse, as she should well know Sabretooth wasn’t usually one to pull punches. Plenty of allies in the past had mistaken his playful jabs for intentional digs, but those people never understood how his broken-puzzle of a mind worked.
As much as he’d have liked to avoid the nasal assault barrage the room offered, leaving didn’t seem like much of a good idea. Wounds weren’t usually a problem, but on her, it was a different story. He could risk furthering his own injuries, had he any, but not Phoebes’. “’Bout that… I’m thinkin’ that ain’t gunna happen.” Came a softer tone, his tawny eyes avoiding her as he spoke. His body shifted slightly, giving away just how uncomfortable he was speaking in such a manner. “I think you should uhhh..” The mighty Sabretooth trying to vocalize concern for a living being… No one would ever believe it. But, that didn’t make it any more comfortable. “…You should get some sleep.” There. Done. Concerns expressed. Now to try to unnecessarily cover it up in hopes that she wouldn’t notice the general care he had shown. “And don’t try none of that half-asleep bullshit yer’ momma pulls… Ain’t nobody gunna hurt ya while im here. “ The feral warned her, assuming the stern raspy and seemingly irate tone would mask the obvious worry. Little did he know that in these brief few moments he was actually starting to sound like a decent person. Like a father almost.
“Huntin’ eh? Whatta you know ‘bout huntin’, girlie?” As a child it was always hard to boast about how well she had improved in areas, the people around her weren't the heartfelt sobs that the X-whimps got. They didn't pet or stroke or praise their youngsters as the student in Xaiver's were, Phoebe felt it would be better for their people if occasionally recognition was showed now and then, not just disapproval and shame. Not that Phoebe wanted to be cheered, but occassionally not being told how disappointing whatever she had done was, that would be worth something. For a moment, the image drawn up by Sabertooth's words was just of her as a child, guns in hand and shattered glass bottles lined the base of a stone wall fence as her aiming was ruthlessly practiced, till it felt like the weight of the guns themselves just might snap her arms from their shoulder sockets and her hands were numb and fingers raw.
A hundred bottles in a row, it had been her goal for months, she even went out on the streets and gathered all the bottles once she'd depleted even the trash heap of the Brotherhood's home. At first it was just hitting as many as possible, and then, with a simple look from her mother, it became an obssession to hit the right spot on the right targets. She said the same thing once, 'what do you know about fighting?' it was always questions, always ones that cut people short and undermined efforts that didn't surpass all expectations.
It was different from Creed though, it always had been, which was strange, because when he talked down to her, it was for good reason, when he snapped at her it was ok because that's just who he was, but when she did something right, he rarely threatened her without reason, even if his reason was personal he would later return to somehow make up for it. Even if Sabertooth's version of 'making up for it' involved him just grunting from the other side of the room.
“’Bout that… I’m thinkin’ that ain’t gunna happen.” Quietly, the shapeshifter lowered her gaze to the gun, she's shot more limbs and bodies with these weapons than she could recall. People weren't people to her any more, they were just targets, glass bottles she can use to practice on. They got in the way, they ruined the lives of mutants like her, even if she could shapeshift, even if she could pretend to be as human as all the other humans out there, she shouldn't have to, and she hated them for taking that freedom away from her. “I think you should uhhh..” Yellow eyes lifted, gazing at Creed's face, he was doing that thing again, the awkward thing he did when he tried to be soft.. “…You should get some sleep.” It would be a lie to say that wasn't inviting, pain tended to also make people rather sleepy in general, her thigh throbbed, but at least she could feel it, that meant no nerve damage.
“And don’t try none of that half-asleep bullshit yer’ momma pulls… Ain’t nobody gunna hurt ya while im here.“ It had been a bane of Phoebe's youth back when she was younger and had to travel with her mother for training. There was rare oppertunities to sneak out with the other members of the team as most of the other youngsters got to do, running off and making their own mischief, because so much as a shuffle and Mystique's voice would cut through the silence in order to demand Phoebe sit back down and get some rest .. or warm up for the upcoming.. whatever they were out doing atthat time.
What was it that calmed her most, the way he now treated her, or the thought that should anyone try and disturb her now that he would rip them apart. A curt smile graced the girl's lips, mischivious, the gun was held up slightly for Sabertooth to see, her head tilted, then turned to watch as her weapon was placed carefully on the bed covers beside her, easily within arms reach and fingers still brushed gently against it.
"Get a little swiss cheesed on the job and suddenly my cerfew's pushed up," Arms folded firmly over her chest. "Adults," There was a mocking sigh and then her eyes closed, at least if sometimes happened then she could better handle it, because nothing is as worse as missing out on a fight. "If anyone does need a beating while I'm out, try not to trash the room, my pocket allowence can only cover so much." The tease was really all she could say at this point, things like 'good night' and 'thanks' were still to far out of reach at this point.
Re: Burden of the Beast
After a few moments passed, secure in his assumption that the younger mutant had since dozed off, Victor softly padded his way to her bedside. Looming over her, he had first thought to tuck her in. Tucking her in, it was something Sabretooth hadn’t done for countless years. In fact, it was a ritual he had stopped when she was about six, and with just reason in his mind. One night Mystique just so happened to catch a glimpse of her fellow assassin in the act, and all hell was unleashed. The two bickered for days on end, Creed enraged by her brutal hazing, eventually turned the conflict physical. It was a scuffle that seemingly lasted for hours, other Brotherhood members watching on, too terrified to intervene. As he thought about it, the bittersweet image of his claws firmly grasped around Raven’s throat came to mind. Who didn’t want to choke Mystique every now and then? With the peculiar smile that image conjured up, he stepped back from her daughter’s bedside. Despite their more than obvious similarities in appearance, the two were polar opposites in his eyes, at least when it came to the reactions they invoked from him. He recalled Phoebe’s younger image struggling to push past the jell-O like flesh of the behemoth that blocked the doorway, and Mystiques last verbal dig before he somewhat reluctantly let her go. Even to the very day, Sabretooth refuses to admit to his old habit, he often still becomes irritable when questioned about such things.
Thousands of glass bottles cluttered the surrounding area; endless row upon row was crammed into a minuscule little space. Thankfully the lights were dim and in a few cases just plain broken. The floor seemed as if it had been some sort of cooking recipe gone wrong. Take some mud; add a little grape juice, a few shards of glass, and season lightly with dirt. Even the advertisements were old, faded, and just plain out dated. The view of the store from the motel hadn’t seemed so filthy, but that really didn’t matter much. The fact was this place had booze, and damn that sound good at the time.
Roughly twenty minutes later Sabretooth never would have guessed he’d be stuck in a liquor store behind what at the time seemed to be the foulest smelling child in existence. What was a kid even doing in a liquor store? Where were its damn parents? And what in the hell where they feeding the little brat? In his delay, every little aspect of the situation exponentially angered the blood starved feral. It had been days since he had felt the wondrous ripping and splitting of human flesh, and at the moment the urge couldn’t possibly seem any more tempting. “Count yer damn change, take yer’ damn candy, and get outta here…” He calmly growled in a soft close ranged whisper, frustration fueling his every word. As fun as it’d be to turn the filthy little rug rat into a human pin cushion, it’d only serve to make the situation a bit too hectic. Chaos, despite being very dear to his heart, wasn’t ideal at the moment. “…or I’ll find yer’ mommy and daddy, and mash them like bugs. I’ll smear their blood all over like a finger painting.” The feral added, sending the boy off in a panic. With a Cheshire like grin and wide step over the dropped candy, Sabretooth placed a wad of cash on the counter. It was stolen money no doubt. But, there was more than enough to cover the two six packs tucked under his arm and allow him to get the hell out of there.
A faint rasping of sand and street came with every footstep. Gentle wafts of air had long since dried the shifting deposits of sand. Yet, the pavement stubbornly held on to its moisture. Amplified not only by his senses, but heavy steel toed boots, it was distracting. But, combine with countless other noises and you’ve created something rather obscuring. Obscuring enough to make the animalistic mutant second guess what possibly could have been a human scream. Creed’s amber eyes darted toward the motel only to find the doors to Phoebe’s room were wide open.
In an instant, Sabretooth dropped everything, and sprinted on. In all of his haste, the following Russian exclamation was almost as if it were spoken in clear as day English. Blue devil. For years Creed had toyed with opponents, often acting wild and emotionally driven. It was a common tactic of his intended to hide a deeper cerebral understanding of combat. Sure there was always anger, but it was never his driving force. But now, the anger that those two little words evoked was nothing if not personal. Creeds earliest of memories be they real or not, were reliving themselves. He could smell the cold decrepit air of the basement, and felt the confining shackles clasped tightly around his demon child hands. There were no other thoughts. There was no screaming, growling, talking or anything of the likes. There was only a frigid blank stare, the sound claws whooshing through the air, and a quick abrupt thud. So much for her allowance.
Despite Phoebe being sound asleep, now seemed like a good time to make leave. For once, despite all of his senses screaming out in protest, the Brotherhood building seemed like a fairly decent place to go.
Topic Commands
Click to receive email notification of replies
Click to stop receiving email notification of replies
