Long ago, before the infection, I used to tell people I was the best there was at what I did, but what I did wasn't very nice. That was then. These days, I got myself a hell of a lot of competition in the nastiness department. Hell. That's the ideal word to describe the situation right now, with the world on the brink of death from things like me hunting and killing anything that's alive for its meat. Our teeth tearing into juicy flesh, and swallowing blood, and….Dammit, that's the hunger talking.
It's early morning, and I'm squatting on top of a mound of rubble and bones, when I hear something shoot by overhead fast. It's my old team mate Rogue, doing what I'm doing - looking for food. Most of the human population's dead now, but we've managed to catch a few stragglers here and there. Can't be many of them left now though.
I sniff the air. I got a scent, but it sure ain't food. I growl low in my throat and pop my claws as I see the person I hate most in the whole world appear from behind a heap of debris. Sabretooth looks at me and grins that evil grin of his, the one I know so well. He's hunting, same as me. Why couldn't the son of a bitch have been eaten instead of getting turned? He's still grinning when he darts away, out of sight.
Seeing Sabretooth brings something home to me. For years, the sick bastard tormented me, ruining my life, hurting - sometimes killing - those I was close to. I'd fight him, telling myself I was nothing like him, never would be. He was evil then, and he's evil now…But what am I now, if not a murdering monster? He kills innocent people to satisfy his sick urges, and I do too. I don't have the moral high ground anymore. As much as I still hate his guts, we're the same. That was why he was grinning at me. He knows this.
There ain't no difference.