Hi guys, the story continues! Feel free to comment if you feel the need. As always, Tate belongs to me, seeing as nothing else does… So. Let's continue.

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It had been two days since Victor Creed had arrived. Two days since I had witnessed his cat-like claws and fangs. Two days since I'd heard his drawl. Two days since I'd withstood his smirk.

They were a good two days.

The Professor had introduced him over dinner to everyone, presenting him as a guest teacher-slash-aide-whatever and pronounced him to be a godsend, saying that any questions that a student had, they could ask him. Creed, that is.

No one did.

Nope, not after seeing the way he smiled fakely down at them, mocking their insignificance to himself, as he added his fangs just for a little bit of fear. Not after seeing his sharp claws that raked the cafeteria tables with screeching.

No, no one went up to him and asked anything. And I think he was fine and dandy with that.

I, on the other hand, was not fine and dandy. I had a class with him in five minutes.

Self-defense class.

At least Logan would be there… He, after all, was the main teacher.

Groaning, I slipped out of my room and walked to my door.

I really didn't like Victor Creed.

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"Professor Logan," Creed's voice growled out as he paced the classroom and fifteen students within it. "Is indisposed at the moment, making me your teacher for the day."

I groaned internally, hating myself for not skipping class today. Why did I come again?

Creed, at least, looked about as happy as I about the situation. I don't think he liked kids.

"So…" Creed gave us a saccharine smile, looking like he wanted to shove a stick of dynamite down his throat. "What's this class called anyways?"

The room was silent. Was he serious? Did he not even know what he was teaching?

I coughed, hiding a laugh. "Self-defense?"

His narrowed eyes soon locked on me, and recognition bloomed within them.

Crap. He remembered me. I was hoping to hide in the middle of the class, avoiding his weird stare.

"Of course." He smirked as he stalked nearer to me. "How forgetful of me. Thank you for volunteering, Stripes, I needed an example."

I blinked as he grasped my arm and pulled me to the front of the room, setting me a few feet right in front of him.

"Did you just call me Stripes?" I scowled, crossing my arms. My marks were swirling a little faster than usual; they always seemed to when he was around.

He merely widened his smirk at me, ignoring my question. "Now, class, we're going to have a little demonstration on our topic of self-defense. Stripes, here—"

"Tate." I said.

"Will elaborate on how much you frails have actually learned so far by defending herself against a common mutant attack."

"Idiot," I hissed. "This is the beginning of the year. We haven't learned anything yet!"

The whole class seemed to gasp at my words, fearing Creed's reaction.

"Well then," Victor smirked, showing his eyeteeth very plainly. "Guess we'll have a change of plans. Show me what you can do then." His claws lengthened to their full length.

I internally cussed every known curse inside my head. Crap.

Creed crouched as he were about to pounce. "I suggest the rest of you should give us as much room as possible… This won't be a pretty lesson." He grinned as if that excited him, his dark sideburns framing his face.

The rest of the class scampered to the back of the room, huddling into one tiny unit. They were scared out of their minds.

Oh, boy.

I gulped, not knowing what to expect. Was he serious? My mind was so jumbled, and my marks swirled faster than ever, giving me useless information.

The temperature was seventy-three degrees. We were four-hundred and thirty-seven feet above sea level. The time was 10:24 A.M. Someone was wearing way too much Chanel No. 5 in the room.

Without warning, Victor pounced. Exactly like a cat.

Knew it.

Taken by surprise, I was tackled by a God-knows-how-much-he-weighs man, and I keeled over instantly. Tumbling in a ball, I soon, however, used my momentum to throw him off. Hopefully into a wall.

Unfortunately, he was part cat. So he landed on his feet.

Drat.

Snarling, he launched himself at me again, and through the quick calculation of his velocity, I stepped to the side at just the right moment. Thus, making him barrel right past me entirely.

Ha! And he calls himself a teach—

His clawed hand had flown out, flipping me over onto my back, helpless. He loomed over me with a crazy fanged grin, and I knew some part of him had snapped. With a bit more baring of his fangs, suddenly his sharply clawed hand was plunged into my chest. I gasped with shock as his fingers literally wrapped around my heart.

Screams were heard throughout the room. Seems like no one expected this on the schedule today.

I continued to gasp with effort as he didn't let go.

He leaned down toward me, brushing his sideburn against my cheek. "The lesson's not over yet, Stripes."

Anger over took me as I wrapped my legs around his waist and flipped him so I was on top of him now. Snarling with pain, I looked down at him. His eyes were alight with glee, as if he were enjoying all of this.

My marks, as well as my outrage, urged me forward with my attack. Using the last of my strength, I threw my head down at him and bit his throat as hard as I could, hoping to collapse his windpipe.

Groaning in pain, he finally released my heart, allowing my gaping wound to heal. However, as soon as his grip had released, his jaws had clamped onto my neck as well.

We literally had each other by the throat, and God, it hurt.

I could feel every drop of his blood that rushed into my own mouth, and it was disgusting. My mouth soon tasted like copper, but I couldn't release until he did, otherwise… Who knows?

He would kill me? At this point, I wasn't sure.

"Goddamnit, what the hell is going on here?"

A voice from heaven. Logan. Come to save the day at last.

Good. My body could only take so much.

Victor's head vibrated as Logan's fist pummeled into it, finally causing him to detach his teeth from me. I was abruptly picked up, and thrown to the side as I heard sounds of bone crunching from where Creed was.

I wearily opened my eyes to see an enraged, cussing Wolverine beating the hell out of a smirking, bloody Victor Creed. Blinking slowly, I touched my dear throat to discover it had already healed, feeling newly formed skin in its place.

But…there was an upraised part, my fingers analyzed as they traced my jugular region. They followed the raised line around in an oblong oval surrounding my throat.

I had a…scar? But that was impossible, I always healed flawlessly.

I looked up confused, only to lock eyes again with the infamous Victor Creed who traced a similar, yet smaller, scar on his own throat. Logan had stopped his beating of him to check on the rest of the class whom had practically turned into a puddle in the corner of the room.

"So you have one too, Stripes?" Victor eyed my scar curiously as he sat perfectly healed on the opposite side of the room from me. "Fancy that."

"You tried to tear my heart out." I accused him, pointing a finger for emphasis. "What were you trying to prove? How easy it is to kill?"

He merely threw a mocking smile my way. "If I had wanted you dead, you'd be dead. I didn't tear your heart out for a reason, Stripes. That would only serve to frighten the kiddos."

"Well, I think you already did. You're a monster."

"Really?" He crawled a few paces towards me as I scowled. "If I'm so much of a monster, why did I choose the one student in the class that I knew would heal despite anything I gave out? Why did tell the rest of the frails to get out of the way? And why did I let go of that tiny little heart of yours when I could have just yanked it out with a flick of my wrist?"

Why indeed…

By this time, he had crawled up in front of me, crouched out on all fours like a cat. He gazed at me intently before sliding a finger under my chin to tilt my head to the side, exposing my throat.

I swatted at his hand, but he merely ignored my feeble attempt. Despite my words, I was enormously tired after the fight. I had never exerted as much energy like it before, between all the sparring, healing, and blood loss.

I flinched as one of his claws followed the scar his teeth had given me. It didn't hurt, it just…felt odd. My marks, which had been flying furiously all over my body before, now quieted down to a smooth, rhythmic flow.

"Hmmm." Victor mused pensively, still tracing the bite mark. "I think this means the end of my teaching career."

"No shit." I growled, jerking my head down and thus dislodging his finger.

He merely chuckled at my resistance, withdrawing his hand to himself. "You need to work on your fighting skills."

I snapped. "I held you off, didn't I?"

He raised an eyebrow up at that. "You think that was holding me off? I was holding myself back so I didn't tear you into pieces, Stripes."

"Whatever." I scoffed. "Just don't call me that anymore. My name is Tate, FYI."

"I was aware." He drawled, leaning back on the wall beside me. "But it's a stupid name, so I choose not to use it. Your mother must have been very doped up on drugs when she gave it to you."

"She didn't give it to me." I muttered.

Things like this I didn't like to talk about. At all.

Creed gave me a mocking look. "Then I pity the soul who did. It's a man's name."

As if that made his argument all the more justified.

Regardless, exhaustion soon took over me as I leaned my head back against the wall and then closed my eyes in relief.

Such a long day. And then…

It all drifted away.

Unconsciousness was a nice place, but for some reason, I kept hearing purring in my dreams.

How odd.