By: Stephanie Watson (SLWatson)
Mild warning for language. Nothing that would send your grandmother into spasms, but it might be enough to earn a smack upside the head.
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"That's it!"
*CRASH*
Victor Creed, the man usually known by most (who were usually being killed by him) as Sabretooth, walked up to the bar. His huge body was completely tense, green eyes narrowed in fury, and his hair was being even more uncooperative than normal. What's more, he was in a bad mood.
Well, at least that was normal.
"Somethin' hard, barkeep," he growled at the man standing behind the maple bar, flopping down on a stool. He was just plain old pissed off. Sick of being the complete and utter villain, sick of being Written with about as much personality as a glass of water, and raging at the fact every two-bit puppy Writer saw the need to kill him off without so much as a chance to win the f&^%ing battle for once. Was that so much to ask? To walk away the victor?
What the Hell was his name supposed to mean, anyway?!
The 140 proof liquor slid down in a mug. Shot glasses were pointless at this stage. He picked it up and downed it quickly, trying to reach that happy-drunk stage as quick as he could... would take probably a couple gallons, all healing factor aside, but he could do it.
The Villains' Bailiwick was hopping with various other abused villains. Off in one corner, Sinister was bemoaning the illogical experiments he had to do for the sake of plot convenience. In another corner, a meek and humble Apocalypse was sniffling into a glass of Guinness. In yet another corner, Blob and Pyro were arguing over who got the last chicken wing. All around the many many corners of the building (c'mon, it's a villains bar... those types like shady corners, and lots of 'em), the darkest of the dark complained.
Sabretooth scowled a murderous scowl, shoving his blond bangs back before reaching over and under the bar to grab the jug this stuff came from. Two refills later he was still feeling pretty damned mad.
C'mon, he's not completely evil. If he was, he would've never went to those X-Geek's home in the first place. But nooooo, he always had to be the complete jackass. A drooling idiot who liked to swear and had a fetish for little girls. He wouldn't touch Jubilee with a ten foot pole... intimidate her, sure. But screw her?! Geez, he was a killer, but he wasn't a pedophile! And Boomer, she was way out of the question. He hadn't been anything more than her pet kitty-cat, and that sure as Hell didn't make for a romantic thought... or even a f*&^ it thought.
Growling under his breath, he tried to forget about ripping apart some of those morons over at Marvel, or even a bunch of those preteen fic Writers who got off on killing him without giving him a fair chance. "Fer cryin' out loud," he muttered, to himself, "ya'd think there'd be some people out there who wanted th' badguy to win."
A pair of delicate hands rested on his shoulders, nearly causing him to leap and slash. But not even a breath later, a voice said, "Calm down, not like they're *all* bad."
Huh. Hadn't even smelled her coming... booze must be working after all. "What're ya doin' here, girl?"
Birdy slid up onto the stool next to him, a sardonic grin crossing her face. "C'mon, boss... I'm not exactly sweet an' innocent."
He answered with a grin of his own, casting her a sideways glance. "No, yer a flippin' martyr. What's it like bein' turned into a saint, eh?"
"Annoying," she answered, reaching over and stealing his drink from him. He growled, she smiled over the rim of the mug, he pouted, and she laughed.
"I was drinkin' that," he said, sulkily, shoulders slumping. "Y'know what? I oughta just paint a big ole target on my back an' give up."
Birdy shook her head, taking a few more sips of the clear alcohol before setting the drink back in front of him. "Mr. Creed, you can't jus' give up like that. Ya gotta go out there, kick some serious ass, an' maybe eventually someone'll come along an' you'll get a chance."
"Why? So they c'n tame me down, turn me inta some kinda sweet an' sensitive type?" That thought raised his lip, and he snarled softly. "I dun wanna be sweet, I dun wanna be sensitive, an' I sure as f*&^ don't wanna be tamed."
"Yea?"
He pouted again, mind casting back to a few times she had very effective tamed him. Maybe not turned him sweet or sensitive, but definitely tamed him. "That's diff'rent."
Birdy giggled, standing and going to rub his shoulders. "Yea, I know."
"An' yer not ever there, 'nless it's somethin' bad, an' I'm always chasin' Logan, or Jubilee, or servin' as a punchin' bag fer someone." He leaned back slightly, unconsciously, forgetting about the liquor and taking some refuge in his usually deceased telepathic sidekick... one version of her. Most of them were the same, though, which was fine by him. "Hey, speakin' of, why'd this version of you stab me in th' back?"
"Because you had it coming." She smirked. "Well, not you. My version had it coming. You don't."
"I don't?" Vic asked, almost hopefully. *Almost* because hopeful wasn't something he'd ever let slip to anyone... well, anyone who'd live. People who would be dyin' were a different thing altogether.
"No," she chuckled, resting her chin on his shoulder and leaning her head against his.
Creed frowned, drooping even further. Man, but he missed her. Sidekick, occasional screw, practical psychologist... friend, mostly. Not always, but most of the time.
Birdy nuzzled him, smiling a slightly sad smile to herself. "Hey, I gotta go an' get turned into the helpless victim again. You gonna be okay?"
He snorted, "I'm always okay." Then, a little more subdued, he gave her a mildly imploring look. "Hey, you gonna come back later?"
"I can try," she said, taking one last sip of the booze, then turning for the door.
"Yea... see ya later, Birdy."
Glancing back, a brighter smile ran across her features. "Take care, Vic."
Sabretooth watched her go, fighting down a smile himself. A minute or two passed, as the other villains went about their whining and griping, and he looked back at the jug. Eh, forget the liquor. He was in the mood to go out and kill something... yep, things were lookin' up.
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Disclaimers: Subreality is, of course, Kielle's. The Villains' Bailiwick belongs to Tapestry and Falstaff. Sabretooth and Birdy belong to Marvel.
Notes: This was mainly written because I've read no less than five fics in the past two hours killing Vic off. :::chuckles::: Now while offing 'Tooth is perfectly understandable sometimes, I'll never understand why he doesn't give nearly as much of a fight as he should.
Notes for those who have killed off Sabe, or tamed, or otherwise: Don't take this too seriously. It was written in the spirit of fun, and should be taken that way. Feel free to get me back for it. ;-)