A Life Not Ordinary

Disclaimer

This is a movieverse story set shortly after the events of the first movie. Basically this is my attempt at introducing Beast and Gambit into the X-Men movieverse. This story centers on them although other characters will be appearing.

What does the word mutant bring to mind? Monsters, freaks, genetic mistakes, those are just some of the terms for those who are born different. The difference lies in our DNA, we are born with the X-factor in ours genes and whether that's a blessing or a curse remains to be seen. We have gifts, powers of which mundane humans can only dream and we use them for good or ill. At heart we're neither angels nor demons, despite our differences we are as flawed and as magnificent as the rest of humanity. In fact most of us look exactly like you; you probably pass mutants in the street every day without noticing. If we're careful to hide our powers most of us can lead a normal life without anyone ever suspecting they are anything out of the ordinary. Unfortunately some of us are noticeably different in appearance; some of us look like monsters. For those unfortunates they have no choice but to lead a life not ordinary. I should know since I'm one of them myself. My name is Henry Philip McCoy and this is my story. Please though call me Hank.

The Duchess Tavern, Los Angeles

Heads had turned when the man walked into the tavern, curious glances mainly directed at his clothing. It was the middle of August and still fairly warm despite the late hour. The man was bundled up as though it was the middle of winter. A long trench coat, gloves, hat pulled down over his eyes and a scarf obscured his lower face. Still he merely nodded politely and went over to the bar to order a beer. Choosing a table in a far corner he sat proceeding to read a paperback novel retrieved from a pocket of his coat. The patrons rapidly lost interest in this eccentric but seemingly polite and harmless individual. One set of eyes, cold and predatory never left him.

Victor Creed stared at the stranger and then sneered. From the scent he could tell this man was something out of the ordinary and there was the question of why he was wearing so much clothing. Maybe he had something to hide, maybe he looked different. Whether he was mutant or not Creed was looking for a good fight and this stranger would be as good a victim as any. Rising to his feet he strode over to the table and deliberately sloshed his drink in the man's face. Startled the man muttered something about stars and garters and his blue eyes gazed questioningly at Creed.

"Ya made me spill my drink ya fat bastard. I'm going ta kill ya fer that," snarled Creed.

Hank sighed heavily, he'd just hoped for a quiet undisturbed drink but it looked as though these hopes were dashed. Certainly he hadn't wanted the attentions of someone like Creed. Nearly seven foot high, extremely muscular, wild blonde hair, shaggy muttonchops and rather prominent canines made him more like some sort of werewolf than a human. Still perhaps he could defuse the situation and avoid physical violence.

"My apologies sir, here let me by you another," Hank's mellow tone was rather forced.

"Are ya trying ta be funny bub? I said I'm going ta kill ya. Are ya chicken or something?"

Creed leaned in close, amber eyes smoldering behind his dark sunglasses. He was so close now that Hank could count the individual bristles on Creed's unshaven chin. Sneering horribly Creed deliberately spat into Hank's beer.

"Very well then it looks as though it will have to be a fight after all. Obviously you are too overdosed on testosterone to listen to reason. So shall we step outside or is there any chance you'll settle for a friendly game of chess or an arm wrestle?"

"Yer kidding me ain't ya, unless yer too much of a wuss ta fight."

Hank looked away from Creed deliberately provoking a snarl. A gloved hand reached into a pocket in the trench coat and withdrew a photograph. Hank glanced at the photograph, placed it back in his pocket and looked up at Creed. Sighing heavily he rose to his feet and cleared his throat.

"Very well I'll fight you if that's what you want. Let's at least take it outside into the alley. I'd hate to disturb our fellow drinkers and I have no desire for collateral property damage."

"Fair enough bub, yer choice since it's going ta be yer funeral."

Hank grinned slightly, revealing a hint of canine. The patrons watched as he led the way to the back door with Sabretooth ambling along in his wake. Heads were shaken in sympathy, they knew all too well what was likely to happen. Probably they'd find his corpse in the morning or at least pieces of it. The bartender on the other hand offered up a silent prayer of relief, Creed's fights tended to get messy. There were still some bloodstains that just refused to come out no matter what was done.

Alleyway outside the tavern

"Alright bub, ground rules, no mercy, no retreat, anything goes. I promise yer it's going ta be painful but if yer lucky it's going ta be quick. Try ta put up a struggle, I hate prey that won't fight. So are ya ready ta die fatso?"

Creed gave his chosen victim another sneer, revealing impressive canines and incisors. His teeth were more like those of a predator, say a lion than a human. That grin could intimidate the strongest of hearts and send people screaming in fear. Hank though simply stifled a yawn and returned the grin with one of his own.

"Sir I don't start fights but I will finish them. Now I promise I'll try not to hurt you too much. Still I'm afraid I must confess to look forward to seeing you bloodied, bruised, battered and unconscious at my feet. Those who live by the sword die by the sword and that's a lesson you need to learn," Hank's stern voice only served to further enrage Sabretooth.

Creed snarled under his breath and slowly removed his leather jacket. Gloves and sunglasses followed and Hank found his eyes widening in sudden realization. Creed had been noticeably hirsute and he'd had somewhat of a predatory look about him. He was huge, towering nearly seven foot in height and built like a bear. Still he'd seemed fairly human up until now. Those amber eyes and most of all the sharp claws at his fingers marked him as a mutant.

"Yeah I'm a mutant bub, a predator. I'm king of the freaking jungle and yer going ta be my prey."

"Maybe sir, we'll see shall we. Mind if I just get ready. I would prefer a little freedom of movement and well I'm rather bundled up at the moment."

Creed gave a short curt nod.

The trench coat, gloves, hat and scarf were swiftly flung aside and Hank finally kicked off his boots. It felt good to be free of the confining clothing he needed to disguise his rather bestial appearance. He sighed with pleasure as the breeze ruffled his fur. Hank grinned amiably at Creed showing fangs even more impressive than Sabretooth's.

"As you can see I'm a mutant too,"

Creed smiled to himself, his suspicions had been confirmed and perhaps this would be a challenge after all. Hank must have been a good eight inches shorter than him but he must have weighed nearly half as much again as he did. All of that bulk was muscle and there didn't seem to be a single speck of fat on the burly frame. At first glance he looked somewhat like a gorilla. Long muscular arms must have allowed him to scratch his shins without bending and those hands and feet seemed somewhat oversized. The most bizarre feature seemed to be the luxuriant blue fur which covered his entire body where it wasn't hidden from view by shirt or jeans. Taking a second look and seeing the sharp claws on fingers and toes he looked less like a gorilla. Perhaps more like a werewolf.

"Truly magnificent, yer the foe I've been waiting fer. Maybe ya will be as worthy as the runt I fought at the Statue of Liberty. Yeah I'm really going ta enjoy this fight. Yer a real beast ain't ya bub?"

He gazed deep into the gentle blue eyes searching them for a hint of savage feral nature. Those eyes seemed out of place in the bestial face. If the rest of his body seemed simian, his face had a much more lupine or feline cast. Slightly elongated pointed ears, a broad nose that was almost a snout, those long canines that protruded even when his mouth was shut. His hairstyle reminded Creed of the runt as well, almost identical in fact. It seemed aside from the fur he also had normal head and facial hair. Wild sable bangs rose from a widow's peak to tumble nearly to his shoulders. Those impressive muttonchops and the slight goatee only added to the general feral appearance.

"Hmm, Beast, a good a name as any I suppose. Well enough talking, let the battle commences."

Creed roared and leapt, claws slashing for Hank's throat but meeting only empty air. Growling uncertainly he sniffed the air. Looking up he saw Hank clinging to the wall, sharp claws finding easy purchase on the rough bricks. Hank leapt, somersaulting through the air to land neatly in front of Creed. Snarling Creed slashed wildly, a volley of swift blows that a bobbing, weaving Hank neatly evaded. For one of his bulk, Hank was extraordinarily agile and faster than even Creed could have anticipated. Creed snarled even louder as his frustration began to grow. Hank grinned and pulling back his fist slammed Creed in the jaw with all his strength.

Creed spat blood and went down like a sack of potatoes. His jaw felt as though it had been struck by a sledgehammer, plainly Hank was a lot stronger than him and if Creed hadn't rolled with the blow his jaw would have shattered. As it was his head was swimming and he was sure there was a fracture. Groaning he struggled to rise.

"Look I'm obviously not the pushover you thought I was. I don't want this fight so why don't you just leave me in peace. I really don't want to have to hurt you any more."

Creed simply snarled and leapt once again.

Several minutes later

Hank twisted to one side dodging another slash of those claws. His reply, a straight-fingered jab under Creed's ribs sent the other mutant gasping for breath. So far they seemed to be evenly matched. Hank was stronger, faster and more agile but Creed more than made up for that in sheer ferocity. Already Hank was bleeding from several small wounds, nothing serious but the aggregate damage would soon add up and he'd drop from sheer exhaustion and blood loss. Creed's wounds on the other hand were healing right before his eyes. Hank had to end this fight soon one way or the other.

"Stars and garters," grunted Hank as Creed's claws slashed across his arm.

He couldn't afford to hold back in this fight any longer. Hank waited for an opening and managed a perfect punch to Creed's solar plexus momentarily stunning him. Taking full advantage Hank charged putting his entire weight behind one devastating blow. Creed was flung back against the wall with a sickening crack almost rocking the building to its foundations. He snarled weakly, struggled to rise and slumped to his knees. Hank eyed his bloodied, battered opponent warily wondering if the fight was finally over.

"Please, I'm begging ya no more. I was wrong ta think ya were prey, ya defeated me and I'm at yer mercy. I surrender," whispered Creed weakly.

"I accept your submission. I won't hurt you any more, just go and leave me alone," Hank caught the glint in Creed's eye just too late.

"Ya naïve fool, I never surrender," growled Creed lunging forward.

Hank just managed to get his arm up in time to block his exposed throat. He howled in agony as Creed's teeth ripped free a bloody chunk of flesh, muscle and fur from his arm. Claws ripped open his side, scraping agonizingly along his ribs and white hot bursts of pain as some internal organ was punctured. Hank collapsed and Creed grinned as he prepared to rip out his helpless enemy's throat.

"Fer what it's worth bub, ya put up a good fight. Ya were a real challenge but in the end ya were prey just like all the others."

"Look behind you," whispered Hank through blood-flecked lips.

"I ain't falling fer that old trick," growled Creed. He suddenly caught the scent and whirled to face his enemy but he was too slow.

Then the Bo staff crashed against his skull. Creed blinked, cursed himself for being too distracted with his prey to pay attention to his instincts. Then blackness drew around the edges of his vision and he felt a falling sensation. He slumped first to his knees and then face down in the dirt out cold. A boot pressed lightly on his chest.

"Bang you dead mon ami,"

Immediately after

Hank didn't really feel up to doing much at the moment except bleeding. He slowly blinked his blue eyes and took a good luck at his savior. He was definitely one of the most handsome men he'd ever seen. Tall, lithe and muscular and wearing a long trench coat like the one he'd discarded earlier. The man poked his staff in Creed's ribs a few times and nodded apparently satisfied that the feral would be unconscious for some time to come. Long strides took him over to where Hank lay in a crumpled heap. Hank moaned in pain and tried to back into the shadows. He was uncomfortable with people seeing his true appearance especially someone as handsome as this man.

"Dere is no need to fear Remy mon ami. Remy save your life so he is friend s'il vous plait. He promise dat he will not hurt you. Just want to check you for de wounds so dat we can get you to safety."

"Please just leave me alone," whispered Hank.

"Non mon ami, you need help and Remy won't leave you in dis alley to bleed to death."

The Cajun accent was enthralling, the voice rich and deep almost beguiling as it became soft and soothing. Hank rolled on his back, lying prone and just gazing up at his rescuer's face. Almost delicate, pronounced cheekbones, straight nose, heavy stubble, long copper bangs and red on black eyes. Hank relaxed slightly, this man was obviously a mutant too and he seemed friendly enough.

"I apologise for my hirsute, bestial, atavistic visage which is doubtlessly aesthetically displeasing to your sensibilities," murmured Hank.

He couldn't tear his gaze away from those eyes. They seemed beguiling, he found he was enthralled by this man as though he were his best friend in the world.

"Non mon ami, you a mutant just like Remy and if de truth be heard, Remy think dat you rather handsome," perfect white teeth showed in his grin.

Remy knelt beside him, tearing strips from his coat and binding up Hank's wounded arm and the hole in his side. Gentle fingers touched his arm in a gesture of comfort and friendship sinking deep into the soft blue fur. Hank moaned a little and managed to sit up.

"Come mon ami, Remy take you back to where you can be safe."

Leaning against Remy's shoulder for support Hank limped along by his new friend. He was going to be fine, he knew that for certain now.