So, I recently saw X-Men Origins Wolverine. I was forced to take my little brother to see it, and before I saw it I was an adamant X-Men hater. This movie was awesome, however, and I love X-Men now. I was quite fascinated with Liev Schreiber as Sabretooth/Victor Creed. Before X-Men, I also wasn't that fond of Schreiber, as I hadn't liked his character Keppler on CSI. But the movie flipped my view on both, and also gave me some other actors to watch out for. Ryan Reynolds is a crack up. Taylor Kitsch has awesome hair. And Dominic Monaghan is getting more roles!!
Anywho, enough ranting. This here came out of batshit nowhere at about three this morning. I was listening to music, and suddenly Victor wanted to come out and play. So I started this. I don't know if I'll write more, but I just may, seeing as how Botcon is in a week and I'll have plenty of time till then to be pacing upstairs at three AM. And also I'll be helping with one of the booths, so I can just write down any ideas that may come to me :3 So here's the first part in what may become a long, drawn out drabble of my obsession with Sabretooth/Gambit.
This IS based off the movie X-Men Origins Wolverine, so it MAY contain spoilers both in this chapter and in the future if I so choose to write more.
He had a hunger to kill. A hunger to devastate. A burning, aching desire, a primitive need for bloodshed; to completely and utterly crush the fragile being of life. His hunger for murder only grew with time, and over the years, this beastial instinct turned Victor Creed into a savage animal. He was a mercenary, but he did not kill because he was paid to. Victor killed because he wanted to. Because it fullfilled him. It made him what he was. It made him an animal. It made him Sabretooth.
His looks only added to ferocity, and that along with his brutish demeanor only instilled fear and panic in his marks. Victor towered above most men at a height well above six feet. He was a barrel-chested 230 lbs of muscle, a result of his services in many a war throughout his years alive. His muddy blonde hair was cropped close to his head, but grew down the sides of his face in sideburns that gave him a resemblance to his namesake, a saber-toothed tiger. Sharp, pointed canines and retractable claws only added to the brutish mutants feline features. Most intersting of all, however, where his eyes. They were a soul-piercing ice blue, and they dilated and slitted like a cat's in the light. Victor's eyes allowed him to see in the dark, which made it easier for him to track down his charges, along with his enhanced sense of smell and hearing.
Victor had been working for Colonel Stryker for some time now, and that was precisely why he had been sitting uncomfortably in a small air conditioned office for an hour. He waited in silence until finally the door opened, and a man in a pressed green uniform stepped in holding a file. Victor eyed him, not bothering to get up. He remembered this man; he was one of Stryker's trained monkeys, Lieutennant Lombarde. The man cleared his throat and sat opposite Victor, the two separated by a hulking wooden desk.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Creed. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."
"Then don't do it." Victor replied, staring unwaveringly at the Lieutennant. Lombarde looked away nervously, then slid the file across the table. "Colonel Stryker has issued your next mark." he said. Victor took note of the waver in the man'a voice, smirking as he placed a hand on the file folder. Lombarde averted his gaze and Victor gave a hoarse chuckle, taking the folder and opening it. Inside were several written documents, a playing card, and a few snapshots. Victor took them and studied them. They were of a young man, seemingly in his mid to late twenties, with rich, wavy chocolate brown hair that reached his shoulders. He had a defiant, cocky grin that also had some amount of charm to it, and was not unpleasant. Victor took note of his eyes, which were even more interesting than his. The pupil was a rich red, and the iris as black as night. He was not clean shaven, and dressed like a blackjack dealer. Victor didn't like him.
"Remy LeBeau." he read from the file.
"This kid is a mutant...?"
"Yes." Lombarde replied, gesturing to the documents.
"Everything you need to know about him is in there. His abilities, his personality traits, everything down to where he went to school. We've tracked him to down to New Orleans. Stryker wants you to bring him back here."
"Doesn't seem worth it to me." Victor responded flatly. "he doesn't need me to catch this runt." Lombarde shook his head.
"LeBeau is not what he seems, Mr. Creed. Not to be underestimated." Victor stared at the file and wondered what qualities Cajun little swamp rat could have that he was 'underestimating.' It didn't matter. He might be able to kill the runt when Stryker was done with him, and that alone was worth it.
"When does he want him?" the feline mutant asked, closing the folder.
"As soon as you are able to have him here." Lombarde replied, draping one leg over the other and leaning back in his chair as Victor stood.
"Then tell Stryker I've already started." He turned to leave and walked out the door without so much as a backward glance at Lombarde.