Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate the feedback and to know that people are actually reading this.

He had been about to usher the brats out of the alley and bid them an almost fond farewell, when he heard the gunshots. He reached forward and none too gently grabbed the boys, shoving them behind him.

"What's going on," Patrick asked nervously.

"Don't know," he replied. "Stay here. Keep quiet." Wonder of all wonders, both boys obeyed him without argument.

His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head to the side, listening intently. He heard someone yell about calling the police, followed by three more gunshots. Then there was screaming and the sound of running feet. The sound of someone screaming didn't really bother him. He and the sounds of screaming were old friends. He was also well acquainted with whimpering, begging, crying and even retching.

He could hear sirens in the distance, but who knew when the police would actually arrive. More gun shots rang out, closer this time. Maybe half a block away. The people were running this way too, which probably meant whoever was firing the gun was pursuing them, herding them. If he was smart, he would leave the brats here and get the hell out of dodge before the police got there. Just when he had made up his mind to do just that, a crystal clear image pushed itself into his brain. It was an image of a shadowy figure holding a handgun, passing by the alley, and then for whatever reason, turning and seeing the brats there, by themselves. Defenseless. He growled in anger and a little self disgust. He didn't even know these kids, so what did he care if they bled out in some alley? Except, they weren't bad kids, as far as kids went. Also, they had provided him with the longest conversation he'd had with anyone for weeks.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the appearance of a body falling in front of the alley. It was a man and he hadn't been shot, he had just stumbled and fallen while trying to get away. The man tried to get up to run, but gunfire sounded again, and the man cried out and collapsed. He could smell the blood even before he watched it pool around the body on the sidewalk.

He heard sniffling coming from behind him. Great. Just fucking great. He turned his head slightly, still keeping an eye on the alley entrance. Patrick had both arms around Danny, holding him protectively. There was no evidence of his earlier annoyance with his younger brother. Danny had his face squished against his brother's chest, looking for all the world like he was actually trying to crawl inside of his big brother. He hoped that neither boy knew the dead guy. Yeah, because seeing a stranger get perforated was so much less horrifying somehow. He mentally rolled his eyes at himself and turned his attention back to the dangerous end of the alley.

Just in time too, because there he was. Crew cut, blonde. Dirty white tank top, covered in sweat and bloodstains. Oversized camouflage pants with the side pockets bulging, probably with extra ammo for the rifle he was carrying and the handgun he had stuck in his waist band. Black combat boots with scuffs on the toes. But what really pulled it all together, what really made the outfit, as the ladies would say, were the rainbow colored suspenders that the dipshit was wearing. Seriously? What the fuck? Where did this asshole learn to dress? The Crazy Douche Bag Handbook? Jesus Christ, he was going to have to kill this guy on principal alone.

Danny whimpered at just the right, and of course, absolutely wrong moment, attracting the gunman's attention . He growled back over his shoulder, "Get as far back as you can, and get down."

He didn't wait to see if they obeyed him before he started moving towards the shit head holding the gun. He could feel his face stretching into what he fondly called Victor Creed smile number six, also known as his come here so I can tear out your eyeballs and use them as finger puppets smile. It was when that smile had no effect that he knew the guy was truly crazy.

Crazy guy turned towards him and started to raise the barrel of the rifle. Victor started to run towards him, gaining momentum with each bounding step. He heard the rifle fire, pop-pop-pop, and felt the impact of three bullets slam into him. Right shoulder, right side and right hip. It barely slowed him down.

He barreled into him, knocking the rifle out of his hands, and bringing them both down onto the sidewalk hard. He tore into the wannabe mass murderer's chest with his claws. The punk screamed like a little bitch, but still had the presence of mind to try and get to the handgun tucked into his waistband. Victor toyed with the idea of letting him, but decided there was too much that could go wrong. He slapped at the offending hand with his claws extended and was rewarded with another scream. He grinned and brought his face down to the now whimpering man's.

"Wanna try again," Victor offered. "It could be fun, "he said almost playfully. The man just stared at him blankly for a moment before saying, "But I shot you. I shot you. Didn't I? I shot you ,didn't I?"

Victor smirked. "Yeah, you got me."

The crazy bastard smiled almost sweetly. "Then you're dead. Right? That's how it works, I shot you so you're dead." He nodded to himself while he spoke as if reassuring himself that because he said it, it was true.

Victor smiled at him, almost friendly. "Nah. Tickled a little , though."

"No," the man said, his tone heading towards panic. "That's not right. That's not how it works. I shoot you , you fall down and then it's quiet. I don't have to hear you anymore. Your lights go out and it's quiet. No more loud thoughts or feelings, just quiet. That's the way it works. It has to. It has to," he was almost yelling now. He bucked underneath Victor, trying to get loose. "It has to, " he screamed, and then suddenly went still and quiet.

He turned his head and stared directly into Victor's eyes. "I know what you are." He nodded to himself again. Great, Victor thought. Why were so many of the crazy ones talkative? Was it some sort of requirement? Wear rainbow suspenders and babble crazy shit? He sighed and started to stand up.

"You're a cat," the crazy man said quietly. "And you're playing with your food."

Okay Crazy, Victor thought, now you've got my attention. Not that you would want it, if you were you know, sane. Victor brought his face down close to his again. He found himself staring into grey eyes that were slowly turning silver, and regarding him without blinking.

"You make their lights go out too," he whispered to Victor. "And you've been doing it for so long, so much longer than me. Does it help? Does it make it quiet? Is it ever quiet?" His silver eyes closed and a lone tear fell from his right eye.

And the hits just kept on coming. He was a Path of some sort. Telepath. Empath. Didn't really matter. All people would see was another reason to hate and fear mutants.

He sighed. 'No, kid. It's never quiet."

The mercury colored eyes opened up again, staring at him. "Will you make it quiet? Can you ? For just a little while? I haven't slept in forever," he pleaded.

"Yeah, " Victor said quietly. " I can do that."

With a relieved sigh, he smiled and closed his now shining silver eyes. Victor reached out one hand and quickly, almost gently, broke his neck. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear his thoughts. Fuck, he hated mercy kills. They were never any fun.