GLOW!
I don't own him, I don't want him, ok maybe I do but not when he makes me do stuff like this…sheish, four o'clock in the morning and this is what had to wake me up…by him I mean Victor Creed, and ownership belongs to Marvel and all associated film makers.
Ugly dark Victor Creed Sabertooth stuff.
CLEARLY WARNING MATURE CONTENT RAPE VIOLENCE PLEASE DON'T READ UNLESS YOU CAN HANDLE IT
LAST WARNING...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DON'T READ IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE VIOLENCE AND RAPE
He pulled into the driveway, bags from the mall in hand. He waved to his neighbor and walked into the house. He had felt good, after the kill, almost Glow good. He had even bought her new clothes, because he knew he didn't need the Glow all the time, and she would keep the lusts at bay. He wanted to reward her, for a job well done. His reward would come later, hell he might actually take her to his room, spend some real time with her, and even get his clothes off before he fucked her. She'd earned it.
He walked in the front door, his high carrying him into the kitchen before the wave of rage hit him. WHAT the FUCK!? He didn't have any reason for this. This rage, it wasn't him. It felt like him, felt like when he needed the Glow, but it wasn't. He could feel the difference. It was her. She wanted him angry…he could almost step outside himself and watch her do it, watch her try to push him into a murderous rage. The bitch was trying to manipulate him, but to do what.
She didn't know, didn't know just how closely he monitored his own emotions. Too many years of paranoia, of experimentation, of remembering every fucking thing that had ever been done to him had taught him a valuable lesson…don't take anything for granted. She wanted him angry…Why?
Anger he knew, it was his friend, his constant companion, he had complete control over his anger, even with her pushing him, he was the one in control. She wanted him angry, she'd get him angry. But not until he knew what she wanted.
She didn't understand. Pushing him that hard, pushing him to the point of blind rage didn't bring out the beast, it made him think, made him cold, it brought out the worst in the human part of him. She had awakened the part that could smile while slitting a cub's throat in front of its mother, so the blood sprayed on her face; the part that planned; the part that was meticulous in detail, and always, always knew exactly what its next move would be.
She was still lying on the bed, hadn't moved. He could hear her heart beating; hear her breathing so she wasn't dead. Her eyes were closed, her face bruised from the attack he had saved her from, her body bruised from them, and from him. He felt a small surge of guilt. He almost slapped her for it, but he realized it wasn't HER, it was him. HE was feeling guilty. It wasn't a common emotion for him but it was his own, not something manipulated by her.
"I know what you are doing, and it isn't going to work." He said it calmly from the door. She didn't move, didn't look over at him but he felt the rage subside. He pulled the door closed and left her; she needed to rest, needed to recover from what she had been through. HE could wait. He wasn't entirely certain what she was up to, but suicide by VICTOR wasn't on his agenda.
He cleaned up from the kill, and went back downstairs. He grabbed a beer and went to watch some television. He had no plans and was in no rush. She would heal, and when she did, he would get to the bottom of this death wish of hers. Damned bitch wasn't going to control him.
The fire was on the news, the bodies were burned past recognition, and they were going to have to use dental records to identify them. He just grinned, another job well done. His body was relaxed, and so was his mind. When she wasn't trying to control him, her Glow lasted a good long while.
The sun was down and it had been a good day. He went upstairs and ran a hot bath for a soak, before checking on his 'guest,' she was still laying on the bed, but she had moved, gotten dressed. He set a napkin with some slices of pizza on it on the dresser. He wasn't going to give her anything she could use to hurt herself.
His bath was hot, relaxing and he leaned back. He closed his eyes letting the heat drain the residual anger and tension from his body. She was leaving him alone, letting him relax, maybe the frail was learning.
He walked into the door, the cub was squalling in the wooden cradle he had made for him. She was no where to be seen. He walked to the cradle, the cub was filthy. He grabbed a cloth to clean him up, and that was when the smell hit him. She was there, alright. He could hear them now, rutting in HIS bed, the bed he had made for them. Damned frail, damn her to HELL her and the fucking cub, was he even his. He couldn't tell. He was a human, not like him, but that didn't mean anything, the cub could still be his.
He picked it up by its filthy night shirt, not even touching its skin. It wasn't even a person just a squalling noisy weapon to use against the bitch. He walked into the bedroom. She hadn't even undressed, her skirts were flung up over her waist and her lover was holding her down on the bed. He reached out, grabbing the man by his throat and ripping it out.
She screamed…then turned and saw him.
"Victor, thank God…" He wasn't dealing with her lies. He slapped her hard, claws out across her face, four jagged cuts exposing her cheekbone under her eye.
"NO!!!! VICTOR…" He held up the cub, a cold smile on his face and without a word, slashed his claws across its throat. The blood sprayed across her face, and only her silent tears washed any of it away. He still didn't say a word, just reached out, cutting through her layers of clothing, the bone corset he had bought her, and ripped her gut open. He left her there, with the cub's lifeless body, bleeding out on the bed.
He started awake. SHIT! He hadn't thought about that in years. He had found out later, much later that she hadn't been lying. There had actually been three men, they had all raped her, and the third one was the one he had killed. The others had already left to go get a drink after using his woman. He had found them…and killed them, but HER death and the cub could still bring waves of guilt and grief after nearly one hundred years.
The water was stone cold around him, and he stood up, grabbing a towel. FUCK! He pulled back from his emotions but she wasn't there, wasn't twisting things. It had to have been the kill today, something about it triggered the old memory, maybe it was the Glow, when he was clear, and sometimes the old regrets haunted him.
He climbed into the bed, hoping sleep would be quick and without old memories to haunt him. Every time he closed his eyes tonight he saw the cub, and her on the bed he made her…and his heart ached. He had had a chance, at something normal, and he had destroyed it, just like he destroyed everything in his path. DAMNED empath…now he was second guessing everything, every emotion; he would get her trained, and in time, she'd be another Birdy, companion, lover, and assistant. It would just take time to break her in. He finally drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
