When Sabretooth woke, he found himself strapped to what appeared to be a hospital bed in the middle of a completely unrecognizable room. This was at once confusing, alarming, and damn well pissed him off. Not that he would have been able to voice any of his opinions coherently.
The primal part of his brain had completely taken over his psyche, leaving the man somewhere in the dark while the animal took control. At some point, after taking a nose dive from the Statue of Liberty, his body had recognised a threat to his life and had defended itself accordingly, letting instinct rule over logic.
So, finding himself confused, alarmed, and pissed in unfamiliar territory, he roared. Loudly. Pulling against the thick leather straps that had his wrists and ankles tied to the bed, he easily removed them with a satisfying tearing sound.
A sharp bang from somewhere behind him had Sabretooth preparing to jump up and attack, to rend and tear and slaughter. A sickeningly sweet smell assaulted his sensitive nose before something cool and completely invisible to him clamped around his wrists, holding him steadily against the bed before he'd had time to make a move.
Finding these new bonds much more effective and far too confusing, Sabretooth roared again, flailing. He kicked his legs and thrashed his body, trying to tear whatever was holding him down away. These new bonds seemed to be made of incredibly strong stuff, as even when he was throwing his entire weight against them, they didn't budge an inch.
A soft mumbling noise started up, almost completely drowned out by his continued roaring. It wasn't until at least half an hour later, when Sabretooth had tired himself out and lay panting loudly on the bed, that the noise revealed itself to be a voice.
"Hey now, you're okay, you're okay, you're safe, I've got you, hey, settle, settle, there you go, I've got you," the mumbling continued.
Tilting his head as much as he could to try and see behind him, Sabretooth couldn't quite make out the person standing far too close for his liking. He knew that it was a woman from both her scent and now her voice, but other than that, he had no idea what was going on. Which only fueled his anger, and the deep rumbling in his chest.
"There, now," the voice continued, and he could feel the woman move closer. "That's better, isn't it?"
Something lightly touched the top of his head, and Sabretooth lashed out, trying to bite it. He growled when he missed, and the touch disappeared.
"Hey, none of that." The soft voice turned authoritative. "I'm trying to help you."
He just growled at her, flexing his arms, searching for a way out. After a moment of nothing happening, the woman tried again to touch his head. He let her, if only to have her distracted while he worked his wrists on the invisible bonds.
"You, my fine feral friend, could use a hair cut," the woman mused aloud, smile evident in her voice as she combed her fingers through his mass of hair.
Sabretooth growled louder at the comment, shaking his head to dislodge her hands. The woman laughed, a low, breathy sound, and then finally moved to his side, where he could see her.
She was completely and utterly average. She looked to be around five foot eight or nine, and had a solid build, curvy. Her hair was long with a gentle wave and black as ink, silky looking. Her eyes were bright blue, her skin pale white, her lips bowed and petal pink. There was nothing spectacular about her, nothing particularly notable.
But her scent. Sabretooth inhaled sharply, nose twitching, as she moved closer to peer into his face. She was far too sweet. It was overpowering, sickening, making him growl deeper. She inspected his face with roving eyes before smiling down at him. He lunged upwards to try and snap at her.
She reeled back, a frown of disappointment on her face. "Hey, I thought I said no biting."
The woman stared at him for a moment, as though waiting for the command to sink in, and then she smiled at him. Very slowly, and very cautiously, she raised her hand. Sabretooth stared at it as she gradually lowered it towards him, placing it gently on his chest. He froze, staring, low growl rumbling quietly.
"Here's the deal," the woman spoke softly, slowly. "I'm going to let you go now, and you're not going to move. You're going to lay still, so I can clean you up. Are you ready? Okay. One, two, three..."
On her final word, Sabretooth felt the restraints on his wrists loosen and lift. He waited for the briefest moments, waited until the woman started to smile, and then he pounced. Pushing forward, he launched himself off the bed and onto the woman, who crumpled beneath his bulk.
Roaring his victory and his intent, Sabretooth raised a clawed hand to disembowel his prey. The woman stared up at him with wide eyes, completely shocked and terrified, the fear spicing her scent to a more tolerable smell as she pathetically tried to shield her chest with her arms.
The next instant, everything was different. The woman beneath him frowned as Sabretooth brought his hand down in a move to grab her jugular. And then he was in the air, almost bumping into the high ceiling.
Startled and angry that his kill had been taken from him, Sabretooth roared more loudly than he had yet. Below, the woman clambered to her feet and looked up at him with annoyance written clearly across her features.
"That didn't go very well at all," she sighed, motioning with her hands from Sabretooth to the bed.
At her movements, the feral mutant felt himself moving through the air before being dumped on the bed, wrists tightly held down by the same cool something as before. Outraged, he renewed his thrashing and roaring and growling.
The woman allowed him his tantrum for a moment, and then she flicked his nose with a sharp, "Stop it!"
He gasped. Sabretooth actually gasped, eyes widening as he looked up at the woman that had dared to touch him, to flick him. Baring his teeth he glared at her, marking her for death whether she knew it or not. As soon as whatever was holding him down was gone, he would kill her, slowly, horribly, and enjoy every moment of it.
Still frowning, the woman put her hands on her hips and leaned towards him, obviously keeping in mind his apparent propensity to snap and not leaning too close. "I know that you're not yourself right now, but that's no excuse for being this rude! Now, I don't like having to restrain you, but if you won't cooperate, I have no other choice."
With a sigh, she moved away from him, behind him, where he couldn't see. It instantly set him on edge, and Sabretooth started to fidget on the bed, trying to get his hands free again. No matter what he did, though, it seemed that whatever was holding him down was there to stay.
"Now then, since you seem attached to your hair at the moment, I won't cut it," the woman began, moving things around behind him. "But those clothes have got to go. Do you have any idea how much you smell right now?"
When the woman reappeared, she was pushing a metal trolley along in front of her. Set on the trolley was a bowl of water, a sponge, a bar of soap, a large pair of scissors, and a stack of towels. She smiled reassuringly down at him as she picked up the scissors.
Sabretooth lost it.
Restrained as he was, even this unknown woman wielding the sharp instrument felt like a threat. And Sabretooth did not cope well with threats. He snarled and snapped and thrashed, desperately trying to get away, to get up, to defend himself, to kill.
The woman simply sighed, and a band of the same cool, invisible something that was holding him down laid across his waist, effectively restricting his movement further. The woman grunted with what sounded like exertion before shaking her head and sighing again.
"You're much more difficult than the last one... Now don't kick me, or I'll have to knock you out. Somehow."
And after sending Sabretooth a rather stern look, she began to cut away his clothes. At first he tried to kick her, still snapping and growling away, but once his pants were removed, she moved completely away from his legs. His tattered jackets and furs were the next to go, and finally she sliced away his tatty shirt, leaving him naked on the bed.
The band around his waist faded away, but his wrists remained inexplicably tied to the bed. Feeling even more vulnerable without the barrier of his clothes, Sabretooth continued wriggling, testing the limits of his bonds.
"I hope this is warm enough," the woman murmured, bringing the now wet sponge over to his chest and squeezing.
Warm water dripped onto him, and his growling grew louder. "Oh hush," the woman chided, bringing the sponge to his skin and gently rubbing.
After a few minutes of the strange woman simply wetting the sponge, applying soap and gently cleaning his body, Sabretooth's growling lessened to a low rumble. He watched as she went about her business, cleaning his torso, then his shoulders, underarms, arms, hands. By the time she made it to his waist, he had stopped growling completely, curious.
She methodically cleaned around his genitals without even a blush, then moved down his thighs, his shins, and cleaned his feet. Straightening out, she huffed her hair out of her face and stretched her back for a moment before reaching for a towel to pat him dry.
That was when Sabretooth noticed what she was wearing. Her plain green button-up shirt was three sizes too big, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her jeans were two sizes too big, hanging limply around her legs, her bare feet half covered by the rolled cuffs. She wore no jewelery or makeup, and wore no scents, her own sickly sweet smell still making his nose twitch occasionally.
When she turned her smile on him, Sabretooth realised just how placid he was being and growled, lifting a lip to bare his teeth as he tugged his arms again, kicking his legs belatedly. The woman seemed to think this was funny, shaking her head at him with a smile. He gnashed his teeth in irritation.
"Okay, okay, I get it. You're big and strong and not to be messed with," she placated, patting his shoulder once. He jerked away from the touch, growl growing louder. She just smiled more. "Up and over, big guy."
Sabretooth felt himself being lifted by his wrists then flipped over, being laid back down on the bed face down. He immediately turned his head to watch the woman with a snarl and a snap of his teeth, bucking as much of his body as he could. He didn't feel as threatened with his back showing as he would have before the sponge bath, but he wasn't happy about it in the least.
"Just gonna wash your back, then we're done for the moment, okay?" she muttered more to herself than to him as she began her task, ignoring his squirming completely.
The smooth, rhythmic motion of the sponge dragging along his back felt better than anything Sabretooth could recall. He relaxed against his will, movements gradually ceasing, snorting a sigh of contentment when the woman lingered on his shoulders even after they was clean. Eventually she moved down to his legs, pat him dry with another towel, then flipped him back over.
"There now, that was nice, wasn't it?" she asked, smiling as she draped the used towels over the little trolley.
Sabretooth watched the woman as she pushed the trolley out of sight, disappearing herself for a moment before coming back with a huge blue blanket in her arms. Snapping it open, she draped it over him and tucked it tightly against his body. He shifted uncomfortably as she tucked the blanket around his chest and legs, torn between moving closer to keep the warmth and moving away to be difficult.
She pat his chest once. "Okay. I have some stuff to do, so I'm going to have you leave you in here for a while. I'll bring food when I get back. Behave!" She added the last word with a finger pointed in his face, which he snapped at. It only made her grin.
Without a further word, the woman disappeared behind his head. The cool pressure on his wrists was lifted, immediately followed by a loud clang. As soon as he was free Sabretooth leapt off the bed, blanket pooling on the ground, and looked around the room.
It was solidly made, metal bolts visible along the corners of the room. Three of the walls were blank, steel gray and thoroughly uninteresting. The fourth wall was covered in monitors, each screen showing a different room in black and white. Pushed up against two of the other walls were wooden crates of varying sizes, most sealed, some open to reveal bottles of water and unlabeled cans of food.
Movement on one of the monitors caught Sabretooth's attention, and he loped towards it to see better. The woman was walking down a hallway, through one screen to the next, until he watched her disappear behind a door. A quick scan of all the monitors let Sabretooth know that she was gone, as well as shedding a little insight into where he was.
All of the visible rooms seemed to be made of metals, similar to the one he was trapped in, bolts and screws popping up in the oddest places. There wasn't a single window anywhere, and the doors that he could see where all thick and had no handles, fitting seamlessly into the walls around them. It confused him, unlike anything he'd seen before, and his confusion annoyed him.
After scanning through all the monitors and finding nothing else of interest, Sabretooth moved to the door of his room and tried to push it open. It was thick and heavy and didn't budge an inch. Growling, he threw his shoulder against it, jarring his arm painfully. Ignoring the pain, he shoved at the door again and again, only giving up after he dislocated his shoulder with a sickening 'pop'.
Furious at his incarceration and inability to push the door open, Sabretooth proceed to mess up everything in the room that he could. First he tore the mattress off the bed, tearing it to shreds and throwing the stuffing over his shoulder. Then he banged up the metal frame before turning his attention to the wooden crates. He broke open all of the sealed ones, throwing everything he got his hands on against the nearest wall.
Satisfied with the carnage for the moment, Sabretooth pushed his arm back into it's socket, grabbed the blue blanket, and hunkered down opposite the door to wait. When the woman came back, he would pounce and end her as he'd planned, then escape wherever the hell it was that she had him locked up.
When Laura Hart got home several hours later, her arms were full of large plastic bags. Her handle-less front door swung open in front of her and closed with a heavy clang behind her. Moving into her kitchen, she dumped all of her purchases on the chrome countertop. Sighing, she stretched her back, then turned to the corner of the room, smiling up at a small black dome against the ceiling, a tiny red light winking within.
Many people would call Laura paranoid, having cameras hooked into every room in her solid metal house and a panic room that was better protected than most bomb shelters, but it wasn't paranoia if there was someone out to get you. Besides, she believed in the age old adage, 'better to be safe than sorry'.
Slinging two bags on her arm and leaving the remaining groceries in the kitchen, she moved down the hallway towards said panic room, which was housing her newest feral friend. Smiling at the thought of past acquaintances, she pushed the door open with one hand, opening her mouth to greet the current occupant.
There was a roar, and then Laura was flat on her back, a heavy mass pressing above her. Gasping, she stared up at the feral mutant as he bared his fangs at her, roaring again in her face. 'Hm. Perhaps I should have gotten a toothbrush, too.'
His hands gripped her shoulders tightly, the tips of his talon-like claws digging into her back, making her wince. His knees pressed into either side of her waist, trapping her effectively. His hair fell around his face and tickled her cheeks. And he was still naked.
Laura gasped when the grip on her shoulders turned crushing, bone grinding painfully against bone while blood began to seep into her clothes from deeper puncture wounds on her back. She tried to wriggle her hips when the knees around them pressed closer, tighter, crushing. Another roar and then a fanged mouth was aimed at her neck, intent to kill obvious on the feral's face.
Taking a deep breath, Laura flung her arms up against the burly chest above her an instant before teeth met flesh. The naked man was sent hurtling upwards, slamming loudly into the ceiling before falling a foot and stopping midair. He thrashed against his invisible restraints while Laura caught her breath, hands still stretched upwards.
The beast of a man continued to roar angrily down at her as she got to her feet and glared up at him. After a moment of scrutiny, Laura turned her attention to the room that was open in front of her, eyes widening at the sight of it.
"What have you..." She trailed off, finishing her sentence with a shake of her head and sigh. Turning a stern gaze back onto her still struggling and growling captive, she quietly asked, "You're going to be a handful, aren't you?"
He roared at her, claws red with her blood slashing in her direction. Glowering at the reminder of her stinging wounds, Laura gestured with her hands from the man to the doorway of the panic room. The feral moved through the air and back into the room, fighting all the way.
"I was going to let you out of here, let you do as you please, but I see I'm going to have to be a bit more strict with you," Laura said as she entered the room after the air-born mutant. "And not only have you ruined my stockpile, you've ruined your own bed. So I hope your happy."
Lowering her hands, Laura watched as the man lowered to the ground. As soon as his feet touched the cold metal, he gnashed his teeth and tried to leap forward, reaching out for her. But he didn't move, feet slipping backwards, arms flailing, rage evidently building in his face.
While the feral strained and roared, trying his best to reach her, Laura moved about the room, shoving destroyed supplies out the door and into the hallway, keeping her would be attacker a safe distance away from her. He settled down a little after a while, when it became apparent that she just wasn't threatened by him. He did keep up a steady growl, though. Probably to show his displeasure.
Once all the cans and bottles were rolling along the hallway, the metal from the bed just outside the door, Laura huffed with her hands on her hips and surveyed the remaining debris. The wood from the crates and the demolished mattress would probably be entertaining for the feral who she strongly assumed was feline. And the blanket had been spared, which meant the man was still aware inside the animal enough for logical thought. Which made her smile.
"Okay, here's the deal," she announced, facing the trembling man. She scanned his arms and legs for goosebumps, or other signs of cold, before concluding that he was shaking from rage. "I'm going to have to leave you in here while I go and make something for you to eat. I had bought clothes, but I doubt you'd let me put them on you at the moment. The blanket will have to do until I bring you more bedding later."
She wasn't expecting a verbal reply, but she paused and watched him for a moment anyway. The man ground his teeth loudly before renewing his efforts to grab at her. Laura sighed before slowly backing out of the room, maintaining eye contact until she finally released him. He shot forward with a triumphant roar, but she had already slammed the door shut.
Laura sighed again at the heavy 'THUNK!' that echoed on the other side of the door, followed by a ferocious, lion-like roar. More sounds of destruction vaguely filtered through the door as Laura arranged any of her supplies worth keeping into stacks against the wall, the metal frame from the destroyed bed folding in on itself and placing itself against her neat pyramids of unlabeled cans.
Scratching the side of her head then running her fingers through her hair, Laura turned and made her way to the kitchen to begin unpacking her groceries. While her hands were busy moving the refrigerated items into the stainless steel appliance, cupboards seemingly opened by themselves around her, non-perishables moving themselves from their bags to their designated places before doors shut behind them. It would have been an unnerving sight, had anyone been there to see it.
In less time than it would have taken for an ordinary woman, Laura had tidily put everything away, down to folding up the bags and storing them under the sink. All that remained on her countertop were two packages of meat. While she tore open the paper packages, a frying pan moved from its place in the cupboard to the stove top, a chopping block and large butchers knife arranging themselves within reach.
She had to turn her face away at the smell of raw salmon, something she had never liked. The smell of the beef from the other package countered it nicely, but the thought didn't stay with her for long as she turned her mind to the man probably trying to tear through her panic room, her hands working on their own.
Laura hadn't met all that many mutants, and even less of the elusive feral class. In fact, she'd only met three to date. And each had had a different 'animal aspect', as it had been explained to her by the first feral mutant she'd ever met.
Apparently, each and every feral held a certain affinity to a particular kind of animal. For example, the second feral that Laura had met had been decidedly canine in nature. In some cases, a physical resemblance manifested. In most cases, however, it was as simple as personality traits and abilities. Her canine friend had definitely been a loyal defender, Laura recalled with fondness as she worked.
As for the man in her panic room, she had decided quite easily that he must be feline, though more closely related to the big cats. At first it had been his appearance, the way he had run on all fours, muscles visibly rippling as he moved with a fluid grace, his great mane of sun bleached hair. Then the way that he had slept, curled into as much of a ball as his bulk would allow. And of course, now he kept roaring at her, claws and fangs more than evident.
Smiling with an odd sort of fondness for the irritable lion of a man down the hall who she decided she would mentally call Leo for the time being, Laura set about cooking the pieces of meat and fish, leaving a handful raw on the chopping board. Placing several slices in the heated pan, a plate jumped down from its shelf and placed itself beside the stovetop. Laura moved some lightly seared beef and salmon onto the plate, putting more in the pan.
In no time at all, she had a plate full of meat at various stages of being cooked. Cats were notoriously picky eaters, so she'd figured she'd take the lot up and work a little trial and error until her guest revealed what he liked best.
Leaving the pan out for the moment, Laura carried the plate with her to the panic room. Pausing outside the door, she called, "I'm coming in, and I have food, so if you jump on me again I'll drop it and it'll get all gross from the floor. Fair warning."
She waited for a moment, then the metal door slowly began to swing open. Laura held the plate of meats as far out in front of her as she could, so that if the man decided to pounce again, he'd maybe be distracted enough to land on the food and not her.
Leo was crouched in the corner, the blue blanket scrunched under his feet. The mattress had been ripped into a little more, and a particularly mangled plank of wood was tangled in the blanket. When the smell of the food caught his attention, Leo's stomach growled in tandem with his voice, his face contorting into an enraged scowl.
"I don't want to have to always hold you back," Laura began, cautiously taking tiny steps into the room, being sure to keep the plate between herself and the big guy. "So, please don't try and eat me again. Look. Actual food."
Reaching the middle of the room, Laura slowly crouched and placed the plate on the floor before backing up. The man stared hard at her as she moved away, his hands twitching against his knees, caws glinting darkly. Once she was on the other side of the room, Laura lowered herself to sit against the wall and watch.
At first Leo just stared at her, eyes darting every now and again to the cooling meat between. After a little while, he darted forward so quickly that she gasped. He wasn't aiming at her, though, simply snatching up the plate and retreating back onto the blanket. He hunched almost protectively around his catch as he picked out the rawer pieces of meet, leaving the thoroughly cooked slices alone and ignoring most of the salmon.
Laura watched with a smile as her guest practically inhaled the proffered food. Once he was done, he unceremoniously threw the plate back into the middle of the room, leftovers rolling free, and licked his claws clean. Aware that he was watching her, Laura took the plate and food past the ten second rule before leaving the room.
Once she was safely on the other side of the door, she squealed with girlish delight. She'd just had a completely non-violent interaction with a man who seemed to want nothing more than to tear her limb from limb! This meant that either he wasn't as far gone as he had originally seemed, or he was simply biding his time.
And with that sobering second thought, Laura sighed, going into the kitchen to make herself something to eat. Once she'd eaten and cleaned the kitchen, she'd bring some more blankets and some pillows and dump them in the panic room for Leo the lion to either tear to shreds or make a bed.
Maybe tomorrow she'd try and get him to wear some clothes, too.