I'm soooo happy! I finally got my whole paragraph situation fixed! hahahaha :) Sorry it's been a while since I've uploaded anything. I was too busy contacting help from the website.
Well anywhos, here is my very first official Vicfic and I hope it doesn't turn out to be too disappointing. I'm going to change Victors personality a bit. I always have to add a little humor in my characters. Just a little haha I don't know how well my story is actually going to come out in the end, so bear with me, and I may also jump around to some other character's POVs later on in my story. Oh, and to all of you who read this Authors Note and possibly my story, thank you and congratulations. You probably have more patience than I do haha. All reviews are welcome whether they may be a pat on the head or a spanking, I look forward to it all! Suggestions for upcoming characters are also welcome. Oh and I'm not sure if I should make Logan oblivious to his past so he does not remember Victor, or make him like he never lost his memories. So any suggestions on what "ya'll" (that's Rouge talk) would like to read more, would be nice :) Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in my story.
Blood and killing. Killing and blood. That's all there ever is here. All there ever was and all there ever will be. Not that I'm complaining or anything. This is war. This is my life. Jimmy's life. It's all we've ever known. It's all we've ever done, all we ever do, and we're good at it too. I mean, why wouldn't we be? We were born skilled hunters, predators, animals if you will, and we're proud of it too! Or at least I am. Iv'e learned to accept what I am. What we are. We're both the same, like two sides of the same coin. We live together, we hunt together, we fight together, and we die together. The bond we share can not be broken easily like so many thing in this world. We're brothers and not just in arms, but in blood and that goes deeper than anything eles on this dying planet that's so filled with the shed blood of the broken.
I can hear the slow muffled thumping of helicopter blades high in the sky above me. Thump...thump...thump, like a bird flapping its wings against my ear drums. But it grew faster and louder, as did the shouting and sounds of gunfire as I began to regain consciousness. The smell of fear, courage, and death suddenly raped my senses, bringing me back to reality like a snap of a rubber band. My eyelids flew open just in time to see an enemy grenade go sailing over my head. I did't waste time watching it to see where it would land, for I knew its explosion would undoubtedly reach me. Believe me, I learned my lesson the first time around. Painful memories from WWII shot through my head, and I almost winced. Almost. I hoisted myself up from the sticky mud and ran a good distance, cutting down all enemies that were unfortunate enough to be in my path. Where are ya, Jimmy? I searched the immediate area for my little brother, and came upon his scent heading north bound. I took off on all fours, once again having to dodge bullets and cut down the enemies in my way. I saw a tank up ahead and decided to take a short cut at the last second, cutting through and around the dense forest and skidded to a halt at the edge of a cliff. It was a nice advantage point really. I scanned the gruesome scene below and saw Jimmy slicing and dicing away at enemy soldiers with his bone claws like they were swiss cheese. I smirked and jumped gracefully from the cliff, landing on an unsuspecting soldier below, taking great pleasure in the crunching sound his body made as my weight smashed his skull in, and resumed my running on all fours. Just then a bomb dropped from the sky and landed between me and destination Jimmy, throwing me backwards into semi-consciousness.
"Victor." I heard someone say my name. It wasn't a voice I recognized. "Victor, can you hear me?" The calm voice speaking to me said. Wait, calm? It's been along time since I've heard 'calm' from someone other than myself or Jimmy. "Victor, you are safe now. Wake up." The voice grew much louder in my head and the world around me faded away as I slipped into unconsciousness. Or at least I thought I did.
I felt a sudden sharp stinging blossom over the left side of my face and I shot up with a gasp. "Logan, there was no need for you to smack him. We had it under control." I tuned my head to see bare white walls, medical equipment, and a giant blue mutant frowning at Jimmy. "Well it was taking to long for my taste." Jimmy replied sharply. "Victor?" There was that voice again. I turned around to see... Charles Xavier. Egg Head in my book, staring at me with those know-it-all eyes of his. "How do you feel?" He asked me. What the heck? Why am I at the institute?...Where was I before I was in the institute? I tried my hardest to recall any memories before...before what exactly? I frowned. "You were in the Canadian territories when we found you." Professor Chrome Dome informed me, probably reading my thoughts. I glared at him. I never fancied the psychics. "You were unconscious." He went on, ignoring my glare. Before I could reply, the doors to the med lab opened up and the other psychic, (the red headed one) and her little boy toy One Eye(s) walked in. Perfect. I'm surrounded by X-Dweebs and no available exit. Just what I need right now.
"Charles, he's wake. He can leave now." Scott glared at me and the red head put her hand on his arm. I imagined myself gutting the boy scout for even daring to challenge me like that, but Charles interrupted my musings."It would be his choice as to whether he would like to stay with us, or go his own way, Scott." Charles looked at me with confusion and...admiration? "But before you decide Victor, I believe there is something rather important you need to know of."
I sat up and swung my feet off of the medal table they for some undoubtedly stupid reason, saw fit to place me upon, and-
My thoughts stopped mid sentence when my feet hit nothing but air. I looked down in surprise and saw short stumpy legs sheathed in dark green almost black cargo pants, and short stumpy bare feet. A child's legs and feet. I caught a glimpse of my hands holding onto the edge of the medal table and held them up for me to see. I saw little non-fully developed claws attached to my (big shocker) child's hands! The red head made her way over with a full length mirror in her hands, or maybe it was just full length to me, and held it up for me to see my reflection. "I'm sorry this has happened, Victor. We're doing everything we can to help you." Charles said mournfully. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt the icy fingers of fear slowly lick their way down my spine and the blood drain from my face as I saw an eleven year old Victor Creed, an eleven year old me, staring back into my eyes.
