Title: "How Bold The Night"
Author: Pirate Turner
Dedicated To: Written for my beloved, inspirational, and always wonderfully amazing Jack who requested a story from Vic's POV when we had to contend with such worthless hooligans as those who appear in this story
Rating: R
Summary: All he wanted was a nice, quiet beer, but Victor always got more than he wanted.
Warnings: Het, Drabble
Word Count: 300
Date Written: 9 November, 2011
Challenge: For the Fanfic-bakeoff LJ comm's weekly challenge
Disclaimer: Victor "Sabertooth" Creed, Raven "Mystique" Darkholme, X-Factor, and the X-Men are ﾩ & TM Disney and Marvel comics, neither of whom are the author, and are used without permission. Everything else is ﾩ & TM the author. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
All he wanted that night when he walked into the bar was a nice, quiet beer. He was proceeding well into his second such frothy mug when a bunch of young hoodlums strolled into the bar. Normally, Victor would have ignored the so-called thugs, all of whom would have fainted with just one look at his claws, but tonight he had a slight headache and the punks were all talking at the top of their lungs. Their slurred voices shouted in Sabertooth's head, until finally, quietly, he growled, "Shut up."
"Or what, Pops?" one of the dark-skinned thugs demanded.
"Yeah." Another sneered. "What are you gonna do? Beat us with your walker?"
The first slammed his fists down onto Vic's table. Victor's glowing, green eyes barely lifted. He waved a hand carelessly, slicing through the punk's neck with his claws. His actions spoke the translation of his answer to the young idiots, who screamed as their friend's head hit the floor with a resounding splatter.
They turned to run but never made it as a machine gun ripped bullets into them. Victor finally looked all the way up from his beer as their bodies hit the floor. He smiled as all the other customers screamed and fled.
Mystique stood in their wake. "What?" she asked, blowing smoke off her gun. "I couldn't let you have all the fun."
Victor grinned. "Yer've always been th' funnest frail I've known." He raised his mug. "Beer?"
"Always," Mystique answered, her smile making her appear even more deadly than the skulls and guns dressing her blue body. She slid in beside him as the quivering barkeep sat another mug of beer on their table before fleeing.
Victor grinned, his fangs glinting in the darkness, as she clinked her mug to his. The night was already looking infinitely better!
The End