Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, except for the "ghost".

Note 1: Based off Sabretooth's life during the House of M storyline. It's basically an explanation why he went crazy in Canada, after killing Senator Kelly, and started killing everyone in sight. The end also explains why the Black Panther managed to kill him so easily. Naturally, it all ties in with my Irbis stories.

Note 2: The last instalment of the Creed & Irbis saga, Taking the Tiger by Its Fangs, ends in February. That same year, on November 2nd (as per X-Men vol.2 #191), M-Day strikes.

House of M adness

I breathe in deeply. The air's warm an' dry, strongly scented by the garden flowers. The sky's blue an' the birdies are singin' all 'round. I starts growlin' an' pacin' to an' fro. If the man I'm here ta see wasn't who he is, I'd make sure ta brighten this lil' Eden inta bloody screamin' Hell. I try ta forget the hunger. The rage. The madness.

I ain't taken my pills this time and I been antsy with expectation. I sometimes sees me jumpin' on the Man 'imself, but I knows better 'an that. I must keep myself together till the time's right. Then I'll gut everyone. Then. I shakes my head. I almost felt her scent again, but it was probably just in my mind. My claws pop out when the wave o' bitterness and anger an' rage hits me at the thought. Just in my mind… Hell! It's always been just in my mind! Through all these years…

Just in my mind.

God, I wanna tear inta someone so bad it hurts!

But not yet. I swallow down my rage whole, and it burns inside me till my eyes start ta get watery. Swallow it down, dammit!

The Man had me taken off the joint where they had me caged ta work fer him as some asshole diplomat. Me! I'm a freakin' diplomat all right; diplomat from Hell. The freakin' ambassador linkin' Earth directly ta Hell. It's what he wanted me fer, anyways. It's what they's always wanted me fer. As long as I can remembers… Only I can't remember much.

I remember Canada, though.

I remember acin' that senator, whatever he was called, and bein' told ta keep low up in Canada. I knows my job. I'm the best there is at it. Wolverine kept sayin' he's better'n me, but he ain't got the stomach ta do half o'what I do. I'm the best. Why else would they want me? If he was the best, why didn't they have him doin' the killin'? 'Cause he's a low life yellow pansy, that's why. That's why.

I hears his voice in my head and it nearly turns my mind inside out again. I feel my blood boilin' inside me; the burnin'… "Ya ain't right in the head" his voice screams next ta my ears "ya've gone crazy". My claws are hurtin', but I still cling ta the darned tree trunk, slowly forcin' my fingers inta the wood. Dammit! Maybe I should've taken the darned pills… It's so hard ta think when I don't.

Ya ain't right in the head. Asshole! 'Course my head ain't right! Does he think his is any better? Does he think they didn't meddle with it? Hell, if he stopped ta think, he'd know. Just like I did, when I was up in Canada. Why did he think they called 'im ta catch me? 'Cause they got his head as mixed up as they got mine. 'Cause I finally saw through what they did ta me… and he didn't.

'Cause I saw her.

The woman.

Only there was no woman. It was somethin' of a ghost, if ya believe 'em. Stubborn brown eyes in the dark, which never seemed ta be able ta see me. A tinge o' green when she smiled. A faded voice, so whispery-like even I had trouble understandin' what she was sayin', callin' my name. Not Creed, not Sabretooth. Not even Victor… Veetohr. She never said much, and her accent was different, I couldn't place it. She was always tryin' ta get my attention, but she never ever saw me. So she'd just call my name. Veetohr. Soft an' tender an' longin'.

She had no body I could touch, 'though I could spot it sometimes. A see-through partially colorized shadow, stronger in her upper-half; vanishin' ta nothingness from her bust down. A petite Latino wi' dark wavy hair. I swear she'd never crossed my way before. Unless she was someone I had killed accidentally, in some sort o' sidetrack damage. God knows there's plenty o' those on my record! So yeah, like they says in 'em terror flicks, she coulda been a ghost tryin' ta get some vengeance on me. She could even be the first in a long line of 'em.

'Course I'd have ta believe in ghosts, fer that.

I don't.

But I believe in memories. That's why I finally saw through their lies: 'cause I knows all 'bout those military and how they got these meddlin' telepaths at their command. I knows how they get inside yer head and makes ya think everythin' they wants ya to. I knows all about those twisted maniacs that rip everythin' away from someone they thinks useful, just ta make 'em more deadly.

I searched back inside my head. I had always thought I was already too deadly fer them ta wanna do any messin' inside my mind. And, boy, had I been duped: everythin' in my past was either forgotten, erased or made-up. I had no idea how ta fix it, but whatever I did, it must've been done right.

She had a scent.

There hadn't been one before. Soon, it was constantly 'round me. Even when I couldn't hear her soft callin'. That's when things started goin' wrong.

Her scent was heavy with arousal an' somethin' else so allurin' I couldn't get away from.

I tried harder ta unravel stuff inside my head. I still couldn't remember more than before, but I knew. I knew in my gut that someone had done somethin'…

It was then her image got stronger. I could see her all the way t' her knees, most o' the time; and I sure as hell could see she was pregnant. A big round belly that looked strange on such a lil' figure as herself. She'd sit down on my bed, pettin' her belly and lullabyin' it passionately as if the baby in her gut could listen. I listened ta her soft singin'. Had I killed her? Her husband?

And my gut kept tellin' me there was somethin' wrong.

One day, she was lyin' on my bed, hummin' softly. There was that alluring scent I couldn't make sense of, pullin' me ta her. I crouched at the side o' the bed, studyin' her face. It was so clear that day. All of a sudden, she bit her lower lip and smiled. She didn't smile often an' she looked real pretty, even if she wasn't pretty. Then she looked at me. She didn't look through me, as she usually did, when she was callin' my name; she looked at me. An' she said it. It was only a whisper, as always, and I had ta strain ta hear everythin' she was sayin' but she said it.

"It'll be a boy, Veetohr, I'm sure! I want it be a boy so much!"

And it had broken, somethin' inside me. It had twisted painfully an' broken. Even as her eyes shone bright an' passionate, even as she bit her lip an' the slightest scent o' fear flickered fleetingly. She was lookin' straight inta my eyes when I tried ta reach fer her, ta protect her, tell her ''Course it's gonna be a boy, course it's…"

But her eyes lost focus and looked past me once again, and my hand went right past her. God, I could almost feel the warmth of her face on my hands… She was right there, dammit! I wanted ta feel her in my arms so badly, ta make her real. Ta make her mine. I tried an' tried an' tried, but she kept smilin' an' lookin' past me. As if I wasn't there; as if I wasn't real… as if I was the ghost she yearned fer… as if…

As if they had taken her away. Someone... Yeah, that was it. Someone had taken it all away from me. Ripped it from me, from my arms. Had even almost ripped it from my memories.

It's what they do.

And I was right. They wouldn't have sent Wolverine after me, if I wasn't. They had ripped her away from me, somehow, an' they was aimin' ta rip even those memories away, too.

He kept sayin' I had ta stop the killin'; that I had gone crazy. He wasn't completely off, the runt. I was crazy. Crazy with rage. And I was damned if I wasn't gonna make 'em pay. All of 'em without fail.

(Her scent fills the air.)

Through all those years in the prison, they kept her away from me. Drugs. They'd put 'em in my food an' water. I actually tried ta go without 'em fer awhile…

(But she's back, now.)

Through all those damned years, I tried ta think, ta remember. But I could never remember who she was. Never.

(Makes no nevermind. She's back again.)

Then on came the Big Man: self-proclaimed Lord an' Master of everythin' under the sun. An' here I am! Ready ta get my hands bloody fer him an' his plans. Again.

I breathe in deeply. Her sweet allurin' scent is all 'round me an' I close my eyes fer a moment, as if that way I could finally remember what I still can't remember.

Aftershave.

I open my eyes. The Man's sent one o' his pawns ta gimme my debriefin', as usual. He never talks. Just comes in an' gives me the envelope as I suppress the will ta gut 'im right there an' then. I fight harder today. The woman's scent is strong 'round me, but I ain't seen her yet an' it's gettin' me edgy.

I grab the envelope and hope he'll go away 'fore I lose it. I should've taken the pills. The Man'll get me right back in the cage he got me from if I mess up 'cause I ain't thinkin' right. If I starts killin' without his consent. But I got the chance and I don't regret it.

Sooner or later I'm gonna break free from the Man's control. Me an' everyone else. Them self-called resistance heroes are still causin' trouble an' there's nothin' not even him can do ta shut 'em up. When that happens, I'll break free from the Man's clutches. Then I'll have my revenge.

I growl. The little man is lookin' at me intently. Can he tell I ain't taken the drugs? I'll cut 'im from crotch ta Adam's apple if he says anythin'. But he don't. He just mumbles somethin' 'bout th'importance o' this job.

I open the envelope as I leave. Now here's a target worth my attention. Black Panther. I smile. I ain't gotten a challenge in a long while. This should be fun. The package includes a gun and a teleporter unit, which already has the coordinates insert…

I quickly turn 'round.

There she is. She's lullabyin' the baby boy, even if it ain't born yet. Good. It's good ta have her back. Now, back ta business… Black Panther. He's a tough one, but not as tough as he thinks 'imself. I'll finish 'im in no time. It'd be better if… The voice o' the woman, who had been singin' softly, breaks slightly and I look 'round ta make sure she ain't gone away. But it's OK: she's still there. As I was sayin', I'd prefer ta deal wi' the man in a straight figh… Ah, that's why she stopped her singin'. She changed tunes: now it's a foreign tune she's lullabyin'. That's nice. I lean back on a wall. I'm just gonna stay here fer a minute, lookin' at her 'fore I gets down ta work. Which reminds me: (I sure as hell missed seein' that pretty face o' hers.) I can't ferget the Man don't like (She looks up at me.) he don't like it when I go clawin' folks around, so (but she ain't seein' me…) so I definitely got (Why can't she just sees me at least once, dammit!) gotta stick wi' the gun. Can't ferget… God, I missed her whispered voice so much! The way she calls my name…

"I'll jus' take care o' this one job, here, girl," I tell her, even though I knows she can't hear me. "Then we'll get down ta fixin' those assholes who've done this ta me. An' t' you. T' us. As soon as I take care o' this…"

It won't take long.