Title: Ears
Disclaimer: Marvel owns the characters and does far better things with them then I do. I own nothing, nor do I mean to infringe on anything.
Setting: Ultimate X-Men - Post-Weapon X story arc…sorta
Rating: At least R for language
Acknowledgement: Mamfa - my one, my only comrade in Creedly insanity, my daily inspiration, and bearer of the one true ring. *wink*
Summary: What you listen to ain't always what you hear…
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I knew damn well the runt wouldn't have the sand to finish me off. Yeah, the fucker hurt me. Bad. But he didn't kill me though. I would'a done him in a heartbeat if our situation had been reversed. Hell, I still wanna do him. Bastard ain't got no business nickin' the Creed family stones like that! Cheap shot.
He's run off again with those Xavier kids. That redhead must be a fuckin' volcano in the sack to get the Wolverine all hot and bothered. Almost makes me wish I'd scheduled a little private time with her myself durin' her stay with Weapon X. She's obviously got a thing for men with a wild side. Fuckin' stupid choice for the runt to make, though, despite the lure of hot pussy.
He ain't never had much but shit for brains; don't even know why I bothered tryin' to explain some of the simple facts. He's all happy n'doped up n'smilin', listenin' to their lies about who he is, what he is, and what he could be. Stupid asshole, always tryin' to be something he ain't. Always lyin' to himself n'willingly listenin' to pretty human stories about peace n'cooperation n'shit. He's got it all wrong. He's too busy using his fuckin' ears to hear with… like the humans do. He don't understand that he ain't human. There ain't nothin' about himself he can learn usin' his ears.
It's inside everybody, s'just that no one else can hear it anymore, that deep, slow urgin' in the blood, slidin' through veins an whisperin' all the time. They've evolved different, to where they can't hear it inside themselves. The common herd is too distracted by what their ears pick up to listen to the song beneath their skin. Either that or they're just better at ignorin' it. Pisses me off. Makes it all the easier to open 'em up, to let the voice in their blood that's screamin' at me out into the air, red and wet on my claws. I think that maybe then they can finally hear it too, so I take it slow, givin' 'em a chance to listen. I try to get 'em to hear the way I do instead of with their ears. I slide a claw into their eardrums, take my time slicin' off that fuckin' flap of cartilage, just waitin' for them to give in, to hear the wild roar within their bodies.
In the end I'm just left with their ears in my hand and a corpse at my feet. I keep the ears, countin' 'em too. Wonder how many I'll collect 'fore someone'll listen to the hunger inside.
I know the Wolverine's runnin' from it, denyin' it. The only thing people like him n'me need ears for is for huntin'. Thought maybe I could beat some sense into him, get him to stop listenin' to his head, to the candy words his pretty new friends spew whenever they open their stupid yaps. Maybe then he could start hearin' the truth sneakin' round inside his chest, rumblin' an growlin'. He could listen to it the way I do. I hear the truth every fuckin' moment of my life, and I sure as hell have never had to use my ears.
~fin~