This is Chapter 1, I think. If you think I should continue, please let me know. Title suggestions and stories line suggestions are welcome and very, very appreciated!
He sat in his favorite tree, watching the men and women tramp through the slushy snow below. Amateurs. Took 'em long enough to come after me. He jumped to the next tree, watching them search for him. Ten, maybe twelve. Small team. They obviously had no idea who they were dealing with. He could almost laugh at their incompetence.
What did he expect after thirty years now they thought he was a story, a boogieman made up to scare little kids into eating their veggies. They thought the stories were exaggerated , the truth was quite the opposite. He had done much worse.
He quickly dispatched all but the leader with inhuman ferocity, but with surprising mercy. It was contrary to his reputation. He only cut the leader's hamstrings so she couldn't get away.
"Hiya, sweetie. Miss me?"
"Victor," she acknowledged, "how could I not miss you?"
"How's the kid?"
"Dead. Killed before his mutation could manifest. Killed because of who his father is. But you knew that already, didn't you? That's why you hid out here," she said the word 'hid' with a snear.
It was true of course, but he would die before he world admit it. "Think what you want Mattie."
"You killed Trent. He was one of my best."
"If you say so..."
"And your son."
That brought him up short. "A human..." He said quietly.
"Yes. His twin didn't want to come after dear, old dad."
"Who sent you?"
"Who said anyone sent me? Maybe I came just to kill your a#$."
"Then how could you afford the help," he mused.
She started laughing hysterically. What had happened to her. Wasn't she tougher than this? "You should find your little girl. She's a monster. Just. LIKE. YOU!"
His claws were gripping her neck at monster. "No one calls my family 'monsters'. Not you, not Jimmy's whore of a mother, not my father, not even me." Her throat was ripped out and peace filled her eyes at last.
He buried her under his favorite tree. Most thought he was a mindless killer, but he actually loved this woman. Enough to have three cubs with her. Granted, he didn't know about two of them, but that didn't matter. Now his sons were dead. He needed to get his daughter before someone else did. So now it was back to all the noise, all the brightness, and everything he hates.
She knew her mother and brother would not be returning. From the stories her mother told her and her brother, Sabretooth was not one to go down easily. She'd had to watch her whole life as her mother slowly went crazy, and took her twin with her. She wanted to find this man. After all, her mother never missed an opportunity to tell her how like him she was.
Same wild blond hair, same retractable claws, however, her mother never knew about her senses or healing factor. She wanted to find her father, her only living family.
Maybe she should have joined them, if only to find her father. But no, seeing them killed would not be worth it. She could barely handle knowing they were dead.
He crouched on the rooftop of an apartment building in Anchorage, Alaska. He as waiting with a heavy lidded gaze, watching a building cross the street. Mattie's house. He shook his head sadly, he thought she was stronger than that.
His attention was suddenly diverted to figure walking down the sidewalk. It was a girl wearing a plaid shirt and cargo pants with leather work boots. She was tall with blond hair. Her sleeves were rolled up and she wore leather gloves on her hands.
Her smell was what really got his attention. She smelled like Mattie, but also like himself. It was her, his daughter. He could see some of his traits in the 18 yr old, but she mainly looked like her mother.
He jumped to the ground and intercepted her. She jumped back, startled. "Whoa!"
"Hi, I'm your dad."
Remember, if you think this story has potential, please let me know. Title and story line suggestions are appreciated and very, very welcome. Have an amazing day! If you review, you will get a special surprise... Please vote in my poll.
