So, here I am and I made it on time! Actually, I managed to finish it before I thought I would. This is a very long chapter, the longest one so far in this story. I'm quite proud of this actually, especially after the last chapter, which I really wasn't happy with at all.
Anyway, I just want to say thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted or added this story as a favourite so far. I love you guys!
He was running and he was angry.
Angry, being the understatement of the century. He was fuming, furious, absolutely enraged. The beast inside of him roared and spit, mirroring his riled mood. The creature rattled at its bars and demanded to take over. Any other time he would have granted that exit, he would have relished the chance to escape from the reality that was so cruel and pitiless towards him. But not now. Now, he was too angry to even take advantage of the escape that presented itself to him.
The feral mutant growled and lashed out at a nearby tree, using his deadly weapons to completely decimate it. But it wasn't enough, this pain; this fury would not be quelled with a sacrifice from one measly plant. A forest would tame it; a blood sacrifice would diminish it. And he knew who would be perfect for that sacrifice; his damn treacherous brother, that was who.
Upon realising the absence of his 'blood sacrifice', he let out a roar and attacked more plants. Soon, he'd have enough lumber to build a log cabin—a parody of what he and his brother made.
Damn it.
Anger, drowned for the moment by the intense tiredness of hurt and pain, dissipated and left him powerless to do anything but sink to his knees and look down at his hands and chest. His knuckles were red and raw, his arms littered with wooden splinters. His chest, his shirt and trousers were wet with a deep red liquid that his nose, if maybe not his mind, immediately recognised as blood. But then, of course it would be blood, wouldn't it? Everything came back to blood; started with it, ended with it. He didn't know if it was his or his brother's. Hell, it could have been someone else's for all he knew. He shook his head and released a huge sigh. It wasn't supposed to be like this. James Howlett and Victor Creed. They were supposed to be brothers, to be a team. To hell with all the times they had hurt each other, forget all the things they did to one and other to get ahead.
They were brothers.
It was simple. They were never meant to age and whither. Just like the sun, or the moon, or war; they were constant, unending, eternal. But what now? He wasn't so vain to call himself a god… although it did raise the question as to what he actually was. Neither mythical creature nor mutant. Not like all the others anyway; they could die, from pain or fear or age. But he did not age, and he did not feel fear. And from pain? He was in the most pain he had ever been in. His nerves had burned out and his soul had been tarnished with the suffering. But he was still breathing, panting, living. Fifty years ago, he'd have never said that having longevity mixed with invincibility was a curse, but hell, he sure doubted it now.
Over the deep African rainforest, the skies darkened and rumbled. They spewed the sound of giant marbles being ground in a fist in the form of thunder. Lightning followed a moment after and illuminated the pioneers of the many water droplets that would fall that night.
Neither Victor nor Logan were animals. But being told as much for so many years, they sometimes began to believe it and act accordingly. In the deep African rainforest, Victor Creed threw back his head and expressed everything in the howl of a wounded animal.
--
"So after I left, you just went back with Stryker then, yeah?" Logan asked in his gruff voice, making Victor's eyes flicker up to meet his brothers. He thought about his time in the rainforest after Logan left—abandoned him in—Africa. The pain had twisted him, made hate everything and lash out at anything. He would have gone as far as to say that he was seriously imbalanced in the days after Logan went AWOL. He knew that he promised to tell his brother everything, but there were some things that he was definitely not going to reveal. So instead, he nodded and sat back against the tree he was propped up on.
"Pretty much. I stayed with Stryker until the Three Mile Island blew sky high. You know what I was doin' durin' that time, don't cha? I don't have to go into it, do I?"
Logan grimaced and shook his head. He remembered Three Mile Island enough to draw upon the vivid images of the young mutants that he and Kayla saved from captivity. "I remember." He said simply, scratching the stubble on his neck.
Victor remembered too.
--
Victor was once again running when he heard the shots being fired from somewhere behind. Shots, not from a rifle or a machine gun, but from a revolver. A revolver that he knew had six adamantium bullets resting in its barrel. Only they weren't in their barrel anymore. Whether they were lodged in cement or inside his brother was another matter. Though instinctively, Victor knew that they had found their target. He stopped running and turned towards the sound.
A small body of water separated the Three Mile Island from the world and Victor stood on the mainland, on the elevated ground. He looked down on it, barely able to see the island through the trees. He couldn't see Jimmy, and he couldn't see Stryker. On the opposite side, he witnessed the young mutants who he had helped capture, escape with some old bald guy in a fancy looking helicopter. But that meant nothing to him. Instead his eyes desperately searched for the glint of adamantium, which would be seen long after his brother's image faded from sight.
Victor's jaw tightened. He waited three minutes, but there was nothing, no movement, no animalistic roar from his little brother. There was a vague sound coming from behind him, but Victor recognised it as a siren—not something he had ever come to welcome. Back down on the island, the plane he knew Jimmy had come in on revved its engine and took off. Victor growled with relief.
"Jimmy you ass," He muttered as he began to climb a tree, getting a better look at his brother's escape. "Makin' me worry fer nothin'."
But the plane went by and Victor's tense jaw tightened further. The mutant from New Orleans was flying, his eyes dancing gleefully at his freedom. Jimmy wasn't there.
"No!" Victor snarled through gritted teeth. "Damnit Jimmy, don't you dare be dead on me. If yer dead I'll…"
The threat was left unfinished. There was nothing to say, and no one to hear it being said. "No…" Victor whispered into the wind, his words carried away by the breeze. No one would know. Thank God. With Jimmy gone, he was on his own. He couldn't afford to lose face now. Perhaps if he waited for five more minutes, just in case he could catch a whiff or glimpse of Jimmy. There was nothing, he knew there would be, but he wasn't ready to go. The sirens were louder now. Time had passed—more than five minutes—that was for sure. He hadn't realised he had let it go. His eyes stared at a distant point, not the island, not the sky, but at his memories.
"Dammit Jimmy, no one's allowed to touch you but me. I swear to God, I'm gonna gut Stryker, I'm gonna make 'im pay. He'll beg me to kill 'im by the time I'm finished."
There were shouts now. People were coming up the mountain, searching for someone—maybe Stryker, but he hadn't come this way; his scent was non-existent.
"Hey there's footprints over here!" Someone shouted, not altogether far away from him.
"Would ya' gimme a moment ya assholes?" He ground out, pain making his voice achieve strange harmonics.
Victor shook his head and looked up to the sky. They'd be here soon. They'd see him and there'd be blood. Jimmy would have run, he'd leave and protect the people from the fate they'd never see coming. But he sure as hell wasn't Jimmy. He wouldn't run like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs; he was a predator. It all came back to blood, so what if it wasn't his, who cared? Nothing was eternal; those men would die anyway right?
Victor closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Inside, he felt wounded. He could feel the invisible claws rip through his chest and down to his stomach. Hell, he should just kill them and get it over with.
It ain't right, Victor…
Victor froze for a moment and almost fell out of the tree, trying to look behind him. He had heard that hadn't he? That was Jimmy's voice. Where was he? But his little brother wasn't there; it was only his voice playing on rewind in the back of his head.
Don't do it, it ain't right…
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" He snarled, lashing out at the tree in his confusion and pain, causing a deep crunching sound to attract the attention of his unwitting pursuers.
"Hey Bill, you hear that?" The sound was nearer now, but softer.
"Yeah, I hear it." Another man said, his voice tense and serious, "Get your gun out, someone's here."
Victor watched as the two men passed by him, his eyes followed as they edged forward underneath the branch he was perched upon. One was young, mid-twenties, maybe. He was green. The feral mutant could see the sweat dripping down his collar and his eyes darting everywhere at once. The other was older, more experienced and less visibly scared. He carried his weapon expertly, but his hair was greying and he had a belly on him. They were both wearing local sheriff's uniforms, but that wouldn't protect them. They wouldn't stand a chance. Victor's claws lengthened, digging more and more into the delicate wood underneath. All he'd have to do was jumped down and catch them in the jugular—quick, easy, painless. His muscles tensed and grew taut, and just as he was about to descend, the rookie sheriff turned and looked up.
"Holy crap!" The man cried out, raising his gun and stumbling backwards. The other was calmer, but still surprised.
"Get down here right now, you're under arrest." He commanded Victor. He sounded in control, but sensitive ears could pick up the frantic beat of the old man's defected heart.
Victor gave him a bored look and didn't move. It would still be so easy to kill them; he might as well do it now… But something stopped him.
It ain't right…
Damn, if Jimmy wasn't more trouble dead than alive. Still, his stomach lurched at the voice in his head. He closed his eyes in pain, almost sure he could feel his little brother's presence behind him, his brown eyes darkened with melancholy thoughts, and shaking his head. Jimmy hated involving civilians in anything—always had. He fought his nature harder than Victor and had lived better for it. But then, he had lived shorter too, hadn't he? The indestructible Weapon X, destroyed with six clicks of a trigger. Why? Because he was too weak, too human. He ran away and never fought, he cowered from the world and isolated himself from the reality that was their lives. Yet, in the end, he had fought, hadn't he? For her. Kayla Silverfox, the mutant that played him for the fool he was. He had fought for her.
And now, he was dead.
Another body on the battlefield. Everything he was, all the knowledge he had attained, the feelings he had experienced—lost.
"Did you hear me?" The sheriff shouted up at him, "Get down right now!"
Victor let out a long weary sigh. He shouldered his pain as if it had been a burden he'd held for longer. With little effort he hopped down onto the ground, descending from the great height without a sweat. The two enforcers of the law stumbled back, expecting someone to break their legs, jumping from such a height. But as Victor straightened up, he showed no signs of physical pain. He stood motionlessly for a while. His claws were no longer dangerously elongated. His fight had diminished.
The older man moved first, reaching behind him to get the handcuffs that were attached to his belt, he kept his gun trained on Victor. The younger sheriff's gun wavered in his hands. He was shaking. This was his first month on the job, but Victor didn't know that.
"Put these on." The older man ordered.
Victor looked at the cuffs distastefully. He snorted. "Not a chance." He scoffed before using his enhanced speed to punch the more experienced sheriff in the face and turning towards the rookie.
"Stop, I'll shoot!" His voice wavered as much as his gun. He stepped back and Victor followed.
"Sure ya will." He snorted before grabbing the man by the neck and throwing him off to the side. The kid hit his head off of a tree and was dazed. The older sheriff was on the brink of unconsciousness, groaning and holding his head as he rolled around on the muddy ground. Victor surveyed the situation. Now more than ever, it would be so easy to kill them. He was a predator, a fighter. He didn't run, only dogs and Jimmy ever ran. He was strong, a survivor. It was his right to kill these men. And yet…
Victor shook his head, turned on his heel and walked away from the scene. Only Jimmy ran. Victor would take his time.
--
"What the hell is with you?" Logan's voice broke through his memory. Victor's brows bunched together with agitation.
"Nothin', just thinkin'."
"Well, stop thinkin' and start talkin'. You take any longer and we'll die of old age before yer finished."
If it were any other time, Victor would have reached over and cuffed his brother's ear. Instead, to retain the fragile relationship between them, Victor crossed his arms and pinned his hands under them. He bit the side of his tongue for a brief moment; sure that any response that would come out of his mouth at that moment couldn't be beneficial to their uneasy truce. Instead, he decided to ignore the comment and continue divulging the information of his mysterious past.
"I thought you were dead. I was so sure Stryker had killed you. There was nothin' left fer me to do after the Three Mile Island. So I hunted him, tried to find him, kill him. I promised I would, ya know?" He stopped and licked his lips. "I never did though. The asshole hid himself too well, covered his tracks like a professional. So I wandered. I had no leads to Stryker, couldn't face goin' back to the cabin. I ended up in Mexico eventually. Drank myself silly, worked in whatever job was goin' and camped out in the desert. It wasn't what I wanted, but nothin' seemed to matter anymore."
"What changed? Yer not there now. Did Magneto find you while you were there?"
Victor shook his head. "I would've stayed there forever. But someone approached me. A mutant."
"Anyone I know?"
Victor shrugged. "Beats me." He said, somehow unwilling to divulge much information. But he couldn't help himself as he muttered, "She was a real looker though."
--
The bar smelt disgusting. But after enough alcohol, even Victor's nose couldn't distinguish the smell of drink from that of urine. It was a miserable place, no door in the doorway, no glass on the windows. But Victor didn't care.
"Yo, barman, gimme another round. That last one wasn't worth crap." Victor growled obtusely, his voice muffled from the material of his coat where his forehead rested in the crook of his elbow. The barman gave him a pointed look and spoke rapidly in Spanish. Victor shook his head, not lifting it from his arm. "Drink!" He ordered, bashing the empty glass on the counter three times. The loud noise made some of the other patrons turn their heads and mutter quietly among themselves. They wouldn't attract attention to themselves by voicing their opinions to the foreign man, they had seen what had happened the last time someone attempted it.
"Mister, you've had a lot to drink. Perhaps you should take a break."
Victor's head inched up just enough so that his eyes could meet with the bartender's. "Drink." He repeated and held up the glass that had only the smallest drop of whiskey left in it.
The barman rolled his eyes and took the glass from Victor's hands. He dropped it on the counter with a clunk and grabbed a half-filled bottle of whiskey from behind him. With a bored stare he filled a normal measure into the glass. Victor glared at him and indicated with his fingers to keep going. The barman complied unhappily, he wasn't told to stop until the glass was almost overflowing.
Victor nodded. "Good, 'bout time you poured a proper amount."
The barman threw up his hands and said something in Spanish in an exasperated voice.
"Yeah, yeah." Victor muttered before carefully bringing the shot glass to his lips and swigging back the whole thing in a massive gulp.
He smacked his lips and then repeated his order.
"I think, perhaps, you shouldn't drink anymore." A female voice behind Victor said.
Victor shuffled in his chair and glanced over his shoulder. "What's a frail like you doin' here with yer nose in someone else's business?"
The 'frail' put her hands on her hips and smirked. "I came looking for you." She told him.
Victor tensed. "Oh yeah, and why are you lookin' fer me?" His voice was light, but he was on full alert. He knew the woman wasn't armed, but that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous; she smelled like a mutant.
"I have a business proposition." She told him.
Victor looked decidedly disinterested as he gave her a quick up and down glance. She was very beautiful, this mutant. She was wearing a short summer dress with floral patterns that showed off her long, perfectly shaped legs. Her hair was black and fell in soft curls and waves around her face and down her shoulders. He couldn't see her eyes; she had hid them behind odd-looking red sunglasses that seemed to reflect the light uncomfortably. He huffed.
"I ain't interested." He told her before turning around and loudly ordering more alcohol.
The woman didn't get the hint. She just shook her head and sat down on the stool next to him. Her fingers tapped the wooden counter absent-mindedly.
"I'm a mutant." She told him in a soft voice.
Victor snorted, as if that had anything to do with anything. "Good fer you." He replied.
"You knew?" She asked with one brow very slightly raised.
Victor nodded. "Could smell you a mile away. Wanna be careful with that, I ain't the only one who knows a mutant when he sees one."
The woman smiled. "Thanks, but I can look after myself." She said confidently.
"I'm sure." He said.
Despite him being difficult, the woman remained pleasant. "My name's Sage." She informed him.
"Didn't really ask, but whatever." He shrugged.
Sage looked at Victor and bit her lower lip slightly as she thought. "You know," She announced after some consideration, "I won't go away just because you're being difficult. I have a proposition for you, all I'm asking you to do is listen."
Victor brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his forehead. "Fine. Whatever." He told her.
"This is sensitive information that I'm about to divulge. Is there anywhere we could go that's private? What about your hotel room?" She asked, looking pleased.
"Lady, I sleep outside in the dessert. I ain't got no hotel room."
"That's alright, I can rent one for the hour then."
Victor thought about it for a second and then dismissed the idea. "Aw hell. Listen, this is becomin' too much trouble. Forget it, I ain't movin'."
"I really must insist that you listen to what I have to say, Mr. Creed." She said sternly.
Victor sighed. The game was over, he was sick of this broad. "Okay, look here lady, it's been fun, it has, but you gotta' leave now. If you don't, I'm gonna' have to gut you like a fish, d'you hear?"
Sage looked unimpressed by the threat but stood up nonetheless. "Fine." She said curtly, taking off her glasses to glare at the other mutant. "Waste away in this hellhole. It's just a shame you survived and not your brother."
Victor snarled and shot up from his stool, sending it crashing to the ground. He lunged forward and grabbed the woman by the neck, pushing her up against the counted. He looked like he was about to start shouting at her, but he didn't. Instead, he went suspiciously quiet. Through narrowed eyes he studied her.
"I know why you cover them up." He said, surprisingly without anger in his voice. He brought a clawed finger up to his own eyes and tapped his cheekbone, to indicate what he meant. "You with the army?" He asked rather more curiously than threateningly, letting go of the woman's neck.
Sage rubbed her throat and glared darkly at him from her brown eyes. "No, not the army." She said, bending down to pick up the glasses she had dropped and putting them back on.
Victor watched her. He knew she wasn't lying to him, he could sense a lie like he could smell the sweat coming from the barman's pores. He thought for a moment. "Yer a mercenary?" He asked as it came into his head.
Sage didn't answer and after a moment Victor grinned, knowing he was right. "Thought as much," He said, "Saw those eyes of yers and I knew you were a killer."
"I do what I must to survive." She told him. "I don't regret what I've done in the past and I don't regret what I'm doing now. Tell me, Mr. Creed, do you regret any of your actions?"
Victor crossed his arms and scoffed. "Not a damn thing." He lied, pushing the thoughts of leaving Jimmy alone on the Three Mile Island to fend for himself to the very back of his mind.
She smiled sadly, as if she had heard his thoughts. "Honour his memory, Victor, don't degenerate to a lump of breathing flesh, your brother wouldn't want that. Listen to my proposition."
Victor didn't look impressed. "Honour him? Lady, I don't know who the hell you are, but you don't know squat. My brother hated war, and I have a feelin' yer not tryin' to get me to join Amnesty International."
Sage smiled slightly. "No, not Amnesty." She agreed, crossing her own arms and jutting out her hip. "But that's not to say we don't help people."
"I ain't interested." Victor repeated.
Sage's face darkened. "No. You're only interested in killing things, aren't you? That's why Stryker hired you, that's why you dragged you brother through every war since the end of the eighteenth century."
"Now listen here, frail," Victor warned, stepping closer and pointing his finger at Sage threateningly, "Yer crossin' a boundry here that there ain't no goin' back from. It's been fun so far, but don't push yer luck…. How'd you know about that anyway?" He asked suspiciously, his mind going through all the possible reasons.
"I already told you, Mr. Creed; I'm a mutant."
"Yer one of them mind readers?" He asked, trying to hide the horror he felt at the notion.
Sage hesitated. "I can catch glimpses of what's in a person's mind, yes. But I wouldn't worry; it can only be activated by skin on skin contact. Besides, telepathy is not my main ability."
"Oh, and what is yer main ability then?"
Sage shrugged. "Actually, there's a few. But to answer your question, I knew about you and your brother because I researched it. I have a mind like a computer. I can analyse and draw upon information with a greater accuracy than any supercomputer. In truth, we saw you with Stryker a few years back and the boss asked me to gain information on you. That's how I knew about you and James."
"And who's your boss?"
Sage lips turned slightly upwards in a faint smile. "I can't tell you that. Like I said, the information is extremely delicate; it wouldn't do for our enemies to get their hands on it. The only way I can tell you is if you've agreed to work with us." Sage paused and licked her lips, "So, what do you say? Hear me out?"
Victor studied Sage and then turned his head to look at the empty whiskey glass on the counter. He glanced around the room, noticing that everyone was doing their utmost to ignore him and the woman. They were all so scared of him; they had just sat there and watched while he strangled a seemingly defenceless woman. He turned back to Sage. She had taken her glasses off again and was looking at him with curious, expectant eyes.
Victor was a great appreciator of women. They were interesting, unpredictable. They added a little spice to an otherwise unsurprising world. Sage was no exception—even more so, for being a mutant, for being a mercenary, for being a killer. It was a welcome change to have someone look him in the eyes and not cower like a child. Besides, this place was boring.
And there wasn't enough alcohol to keep him entertained. Victor rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Alright," He said with a sigh, "Ya got twenty minutes to convince me." He told her before walking past her and out of the establishment.
Sage smirked, put her glasses back on and followed him outside. "I'll do it in ten."
--
"They were a group of mutant mercenaries, called themselves GENESIS. Kinda like what we had goin' on with Stryker, only some colonel with an anti-mutant policy didn't run it. 'Course, it wasn't condoned by the government either—that was a big plus. It was quite a big group, considerin' I was told it was small. There were about sixteen members, not includin' the boss, that is."
Logan frowned. "And who was the boss?" He wondered if it was someone he had had a run in with. It wasn't all that hard to believe, since he knew he had annoyed more than his fair share of mutants with powerful organisations on their sides.
"Janos Vargha. Some Hungarian baron or somethin'. The X gene ran through the family apparently, every generation were mutants. So, you heard of him?"
Logan shook his head. "Nah, could've sworn I clashed heads with every secret mutant organisation in this world."
Victor snorted. "You've just dealt with the small fish, Jimmy. This is the big league, little brother."
Logan raised his brow and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't comment on it though. "And what did you do with the big league?"
Victor shrugged. "This and that." He said, "Rescued a few mutants. Liberated a few oppressed countries. Killed some people, stole some top-secret information. You know, the usual kind of stuff a guy does in a mercenary group. It could've been anythin' really; Janos Vargha chose all the missions personally, he'd call us to meet once a month and tell his what we were doin'. We worked in pairs mostly, so most of the stuff I did was information retrieval. My partner was the mutant that recruited me. Called herself Sage, by the way. She had this amazin' head for information. Licked it up like a bear with honey—swear to god."
Logan's lips quirked into a gruff, knowing smirk. "You liked her." He said, recognising the subtle tone of admiration in his tone.
Victor didn't deny it. "She was a fox." He told him.
"You liked more than just her body. You admired her." Logan mused aloud.
Victor twitched his head, but again, he didn't deny it. "She was classy. Not like those other butch soldiers that have more testosterone than you and me put together. Really intelligent too, and she could take care of herself. What's not to like?"
Logan smiled and shook his head. "Never thought I'd see the day…" He muttered, "Did you ever go out with her?" He asked, truly interested. He had never imagined Victor in a relationship with a woman. Sure, he knew that there had been girls through the years, but none that he had actually given a damn about.
Victor slowly nodded. "A few times."
Logan was quiet for a minute, realising that there was a certain amount of delicacy that would have to be employed in this scenario. "Did you…love her?" He asked eventually.
Victor turned his head and gazed intensely at a wholly uninteresting blade of grass. He tried to hide the emotion in his eyes that his brother would undoubtedly pick up on. When he faced Logan again, he had covered the feelings expertly.
"Nah," He denied, "Don't be an idiot. She was just some broad."
Victor suddenly pushed himself to his feet and began to pace back and forward. "So do you want to hear the rest of my story, or are you just goin' to sit there wastin' both of our time?"
Logan shook his head. "No," He said, holding out his hands, "Go on." But as he watched his brother's agitated moves, he knew that he had loved that woman and he wondered mildly why Victor would lie about it.
Even as Victor continued on with his story, his own thoughts were half preoccupied with the memories of his time with Sage. He could almost see her sitting in GENESIS Headquarters, sipping the weak coffee with the single spoonful of sugar.
--
"You're late." Sage announced to the approaching figure of Victor. She hadn't looked up from her magazine, though at the speed she was flicking through it, she didn't seem to be reading it. Victor watched silently as she forfeited the position of the hand holding her head up to get the mug of coffee that was on the glass table beside her. Without moving her eyes from her magazine, she blew on the liquid to cool it down and took a sip, scrunching her face up as she burnt her lip. She returned the mug to the table with an expression of genuine agitation. Finally, Sage looked up and made eye contact with Victor.
"Sorry," Victor apologised with a shrug, "Left somethin' back at the apartment."
Sage's features turned into a frown as she went through a mental list. "Everything you need for the mission is already here, Victor."
"It ain't fer the mission." He said without shame. However, seeing the darkening mood of his teammate he decided to elaborate. "It's fer you."
He reached into the deep pocket of his coat and took out a small wrapped parcel, putting it onto the glass table before sitting down on the leather chair opposite her. Sage looked at the parcel with confusion and just a slight amount of mistrust. Slowly, she pushed the magazine to the side and an elegant hand reached over and pulled the gift towards her. She opened the packaging carefully, not ripping any of the paper and taking great care in untying the yellow silk bow on the front. Underneath the wrapping paper was a rectangular box, just slightly bigger than her hand. She took the lid off and stared at the contents.
"What is this?" She asked, her voice was a little harsher than you'd expect to hear from someone who had just received a present.
"It's to say sorry, ya know, fer ruinin' yer own necklace on the last mission. I got it made up fer you, by a jeweller near my place. I know it's not exactly the same but it's close enough right?"
Sage's fingers went over the necklace in the box. It was practically the mirror image of the one Victor had broke. It had been her mother's necklace, made in the small village she had come from; the only solid thing she had left of her family. It was the reason she was so annoyed with him. The reason she had 'forgot' to tell him they had a meeting today until only an hour ago. It had been an accident, him breaking her necklace, but she had freaked so he wasn't going to call her on it.
Victor studied her face. There was a strange look on it, like she was trying not to find anything good in what he had done. Yet her lips tugged slightly upwards as she pulled the golden piece of jewellery out of the box and watched it dangle from between her fingers. She watched as the light caught it and it sparkled. Victor watched it too. He was careful not to look too pleased with himself so that when she looked up and saw him, she wouldn't become angry again. Eventually, she lowered the necklace back into the box and looked at the other mutant.
"Your local jeweller made this?" She asked, her eyes searching his face in confusion, looking for something that gave away proof he had lied. She didn't find it.
He nodded.
Sage shook her head, making her dark hair flick over and back off her shoulders. "How did you get him to make it so similar? I can hardly tell the difference."
Victor shrugged. "I can be very persuasive." He told her nonchalantly.
It meant a lot to her. It really, really did. Sage didn't know how he had managed to get an almost exact replica of her beloved necklace. "It's just as well I suppose." She murmured, her eyes returning to the box. "Well, aren't you going to help me put it on?" It sounded like a rough demand, but Victor knew she was pleased. He nodded and stood up, picking the delicate chain up with his powerful claws and opened the clasp. He walked behind her and put it around her neck. He stepped back and admired the way it lay over her black top.
"Thank you, Victor." She said with a small, sincere smile, "I really… just, thanks."
Victor nodded and crossed his arms. "I ain't a complete savage, am I?" He smirked.
Sage scoffed and stood up. "I wouldn't go that far." She informed him as she walked by, giving him a mischievous look as she did. "Come on then, we're late for the meeting."
Victor stalked after her—a predator following another.
--
"I spent 'bout six years with GENESIS. It was a good place, good people. But it was time to move on. You know I ain't the settlin' type."
Logan nodded; after spending a hundred and sixty years with his brother, he really did know that Victor was not the settling type. "How'd they take it?"
Victor shrugged. "Vargha was sad to see me go. Said I was an asset to the group. He seemed to understand though; he was an empath, ya know, he could sense me being restless. The others didn't really care, I was the new guy—even after six years—they barely knew me."
Logan nodded. Victor really wasn't the bonding type either. This new information was really no surprise.
"What about your partner? Did you tell her? Did she not care?"
Victor gave his brother a pointed look. "I told her, she cried, I left. Simple as that."
The younger brother's eyebrow rose high. "You just left her? Just like that?"
Victor rolled his eyes. "I told ya, Jimmy, she was just some broad. She didn't mean nothin' to me."
Logan nodded distractedly. Maybe he really had been wrong about his brother's feelings for the woman? But Logan hadn't been wrong; his instincts were usually right. Now was one of those times.
Victor frowned, remembering how it had really happened.
--
It was the middle of the night. Well, more like the start of the morning. Looking to the clock on the wall of his apartment, Victor saw that it was almost four a.m. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the dull sting beneath his lids. He was tired. It wasn't a surprise really; he'd only returned from his mission. Six hours ago, his plane had landed on American soil. After getting debriefed, he had wandered back home and fell into bed. Victor glanced over his shoulder to the door of his bedroom, noticing how it was slightly ajar. Sage was in there, sleeping off the exhausting mission. It had been more tiring for her; she was the one that had to use her mutant ability to complete her duty. For Victor it had been child's play.
Turning back around to what he was doing, a fully dressed Victor reached down and picked up the black duffel bag from the ground. Inside of it, some of his clothes had been thrown in; other things like a toothbrush and a mobile phone had made their way in as well, but he hadn't put them there. Roughly he zipped it up and slung it over his shoulder.
It was time to go.
He put his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a quick note he had written earlier. He put the yellow post-it onto the table and put the keys to his apartment on top of it. Written upon the paper were two words; "For you.". It was the only thing he'd leave. The apartment was now hers—Sage's—he wouldn't be coming back.
He walked towards the front door, reaching to unlock it.
"You're leaving." Sage's voice, full of resignation, sadness, acceptance, announced from the bedroom doorway.
Victor stiffened and turned around to face her. She had clearly been sleeping; her hair was tousled and her eyes were just a tiny bit bloodshot. She was wearing one of his tee shirts and what looked like basketball shorts that went down to her knees. Her arms were crossed and she was leaning against the doorframe. Her expression wasn't blank but a cautious neutral.
"And you're not coming back." She continued, knowing as well as he did.
Victor lowered his eyes, feeling the rare emotion of guilt. "You wouldn't understand." He told her with a very slight note of sadness in his voice.
"I understand." She said with a brief, business-like nod.
Victor looked to her in surprise. "I gotta go." Victor shrugged.
"I know."
"This is fer the best."
Sage's eyes flickered up and gazed at Victor with eyes that glistened with hurt and unshed tears. "How?" She asked. Her voice was just on the edge of breaking.
"You'd hate me." He told her simply.
"What?" Sage asked, suddenly angry. It was the only emotion she could grasp onto without fear of feeling embarrassment later.
Victor elaborated. "This can't work. Think about it, Sage. Even if nothin' happens, even if this works out, what d'you think will happen in thirty years time? Forty years time? You'll age, you'll grey, you'll fade and die. I'll be as young as I am now, immune to everythin' in this damn world. You'll be on yer death bed and you'll realise you hate me and you just wasted your life with someone you couldn't experience it with."
Sage was quiet. Her lips were pursed and her eyes had hardened once again. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and using the time it provided to compose herself. She swallowed and nodded. "I'm going back to bed, Victor." She said slowly, "If you're going to come back, I'll see you in a second. If not…" She gave him a sad, but accepting smile. "Goodbye."
She turned and slowly walked back into the bedroom. Victor didn't move until he heard the creaking of the springs as she climbed back into the bed and curled up under the covers.
"Goodbye." Victor muttered. He turned on his heel and left the house.
He did it for her, all for her.
--
"I just went back to the cabin fer a few years after that. I fixed it up, bought a fridge and a cooker. Doubt you noticed though, you ungrateful ass."
Logan huffed in amusement. "Can't say I did."
Victor looked mildly offended but didn't hold the façade for long. He finally sat back down by the tree he had been at before hand. He picked up a small pebble from the ground and rolled it around his hands.
"I got bored waitin' around here fer nothin' though, so I went down south again, caught a few adds in the papers and got a job as a truck driver—"
Victor was interrupted by Logan's barking laughter. "You?" He gasped through laughs, "A truck driver?"
"Yeah, yeah," Victor growled, "Laugh it up. But you weren't exactly livin' the most high-flyin life either ya know."
"Better than drivin a truck." He retorted.
"Oh yeah," Victor replied, "Because cage fightin' is so glamerous."
Logan's laughter died down, the humour left his features. "How'd you know about that?" He questioned.
"On one of my runs, I stopped off in this godforsaken joint off one of the major roads. You had just come out of a fight. I thought it was my imagination, since I thought you were dead. But I followed anyway. Still, by the time I got outside, you had gone. I asked around for a guy called James Howlett but no one had ever heard of him. Thought I'd just made it up. So I left."
"Started free lancin' fer a while. Doin' odd jobs here and there. Spent another few years goin' around doin' that. Didn't pay much attention to my life really, kinda just wandered again. Then Magneto hired me and you know how that turned out."
Logan nodded. "Why didn't you come and find me after Liberty? I mean at that stage you knew I was alive. Didn't you think I might've appreciated knowin'?"
"Guess it never occurred to me" Victor said with a shrug.
Logan let out a frustrated growl. After everything he went through, Victor had been there and it had never occurred to him to release him from the pain of not knowing? He had lost hope, given into despair when all it would've taken was a quick visit to Xavier's mansion, a short explanation. Logan silently fumed over the lack of interest his brother had taken in him while Victor thought about what had actually happened.
--
It was on the edge of the Xavier manor.
He watched the kids go in and out, punching in the code that would allow them safe passage through the protective wall and security system. Otherwise, they'd be blasted to young, fashionable pulps in the face of such a high tech system. Victor didn't fancy healing from a multitude of wounds, which was the reason why he was sitting in a tree, overlooking the gate. He had long since memorised the numbers, now he was just waiting for it to be dark so he could sneak in undetected. Jimmy was in there; he knew the scent of his little brother. Though he doubted the other mutant would be able to smell him. One of the things he had taken away from GENESIS was a bottle of cologne that masked his smell. It had been a novelty invention by one of the mutants there; a joke that they had all laughed at. A joke that Victor had beaten the crap out of him for. Who'd have thought it would actually work? Victor shook his head with a grin, he already knew it had, he'd seen Jimmy pass by him, barely a hundred metres away with a group of kids. He hadn't suspected a thing. Good. Victor didn't need to get himself in a mess.
He didn't have long to wait now.
The sun was already going down and twilight was falling softly onto the grounds of the manor. The kids that were going in were probably getting in before curfew. It didn't surprise him that the curfew would be so early. Now was a dangerous time for mutants. There was a lot of hate towards them after what had happened with Magneto on Liberty Island. Frankly, Victor didn't give a damn that he had caused this trouble for the rest of his race, as far as he was concerned, it hadn't been him, it was Sabertooth. He'd had no control over it. And so what if people hated mutants? It had happened before and would again, probably.
No, Victor had a guiltless conscience. Only guiltless in regards to the current war. If he was truly completely without guilt then he wouldn't be sitting in a tree, spying on a brother that didn't realise he was a brother. If the whole Magneto incident had reaped any benefits, it was finding that Jimmy was alive. He hadn't believed it at first. It seemed impossible, as impossible as the day Victor thought he'd seen his little brother in the cage fights. But after their scuffle, Victor had taken the evidence, the dog tags back and from then he had physical proof that he wasn't just crazy. His beast had recognised kin, but instead of rejoicing, the damn thing had harboured all those dark feelings his human side had done away with. More than that, the instinctual competition within it had made him attack.
That was over now though, his beast was kept under a tight leash. Victor would never have thought he'd be like Jimmy one day; keeping check of his beast all the time. But times were different and he was older now. He could admit the defeat for what it was. He wouldn't have, if Sage or Jimmy was with him, but he was alone and that awarded him with the ability to act honestly. Victor waited silently until he knew the time was right.
Looking to the moon, he could see just how late it was. It seemed to be after midnight. He wasn't sure if Jimmy would be asleep or not, but that didn't matter. What was important was that the other mutants were. He didn't want a welcome committee. He'd also have to work extra hard to keep his brain waves on minimum so that the two physics in the manor would not be alerted to his presence. This wasn't going to be easy, but then, he could do with a challenge. Magneto had wanted him as brute force, not as muscle with a mind behind it. Victor shook his head as he jumped down off of the tree. Some good that had done.
Briskly, he sauntered over to the keypad by the gate. He punched in the numbers and listened with a satisfied grin as the system unlocked. From listening to Magneto all that time ago, he remembered the old man saying that even after it was unlocked, during the night, it would only stay that way for a half a minute. Just enough time for a friend to slip by and an enemy to not realise the ploy. Keeping that in mine, Victor skipped past the security perimeters and trotted up the main drive of the manor. He'd been watching the system for days, he knew most of the trigger points, the times of blindness, he'd even figured out the whereabouts of the sound sensors on the lawn. It was some system. One that would make any self-respecting evil genius green with envy.
Still, only a few minutes later, Victor had reached the manor, scaled the walls and gotten onto a balcony. There, he could see the sleeping form of his little brother, completely conked out and drooling through the glass door. Victor's lips twitched in amusement.
He hadn't seen Jimmy like that since he was a goofy kid in his false father's plantation house all those years ago. Without warning, the light humour he had been feeling gave way to a more melancholy one. He frowned.
He knew that Jimmy had lost his memory. He had come tonight to fix that problem. But seeing him, so happy with those annoying kids earlier and now, in a deep sleep without nightmares…
It was how it should have been.
Victor sat down on the balcony floor and watched as Jimmy shuffled in his sleep and turn his back to the balcony. He was happy here, surely. Not afraid of the people he had killed, the lives he had ruined. And now there was nothing left to do.
Despite his vow to take revenge on Stryker, it had been Jimmy who'd done it. Victor had been there too. After Liberty Island, Stryker had come out of hiding and had gone back to his mutant hating ways. Naturally enough, Victor had gone out hunting again. His trail had eventually lead to Alkali Lake, just in time for him to catch a glimpse of Stryker being sentenced to death by his little brother. That had been a good day.
It was just a pity he had to leg it out of there straight after it.
Back to the present, Victor shook his head. With Stryker gone, he was the last link to Jimmy's past. The only threat to his peace, his innocence.
Victor stood up and sighed. "See you around, Jimmy." He said, as he turned and hopped onto the railing of the balcony. "If you ever come lookin' fer answers, I'll be at the cabin." He muttered over his shoulder before jumping down and landing effortlessly onto the lawn.
As he retreated and fled from his almost crime, Victor realised he had finally found a way to protect his little brother. And he'd do that by staying as far away from him as he could.
--
"That's it, Jimmy." Victor said, "Ya know everythin' there is to know."
Logan nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do."
The two brothers were quiet for a long time.
"So what happens now?" Victor asked. "Ya got the answers ya came fer."
Logan was about to answer when his phone suddenly started ringing, startling him out of whatever train of thought he was about to voice. Reaching into his back pocket, Logan took out a small black phone and flipped it open.
"Yeah?" He said into the device.
Storm's voice came through the speakers. "Logan, Oh thank god you're alright."
Logan frowned. "Yeah, of course I am darlin'. Why wouldn't I be?"
Storm's voice hesitated. "You don't know?" She asked.
"Know what?" The agitation started to creep into his voice.
Victor listened silently to the exchange, well able to hear. He could only barely contain the sneer that was threatening to mar his features. Even after all this time, despite his brother's feelings towards them, Victor was not an admirer of the X-men. They had wounded his pride; a group of kids had beaten him. Keeping the darker thoughts inside his head, Victor once again paid attention to the conversation.
"Haven't you seen the news? It's all over the TVs."
Through gritted teeth, Logan replied. "I ain't exactly in the best place for watchin' TV."
Storm sighed through the phone line. "Ok, listen, just get back to the manor as quickly as possible. There's trouble. And be careful; mutants are being targeted."
"Sure." Logan managed to get in before she hung up. He looked to Victor. "I gotta go." He said.
Victor nodded. "Sure." He replied as he waved him off.
Still, Logan didn't leave just yet. "Are you comin' with me?"
Victor scoffed. "I ain't no X-man."
"That doesn't matter." Logan said with a shake of his head. "Yer my brother."
Victor didn't look impressed.
Eventually, Logan spoke again. "I want you there. Yer my brother. And, if I'm right, there's another war comin'. I'd rather have you on my side this time."
Slowly, Victor nodded. "Alright," He said eventually, "It's damn borin' here anyway."
So that's that. I hope you enjoyed it. It's a little different to the others; what with Victor being the main character this time. I don't know, did I make him a bit OOC?
By the way, the character Sage isn't actually an OC; she's a mutant from one of the comics. But since I've only ever really followed the movies, I'd almost bet my life that she's completely out of character. I wasn't sure whether I should add a love interest into this, and in fact I hadn't intended to either. It kinda just happened. But I figured that eventually, Victor would meet someone who would catch his fancy.
Anyway, tell me what you think.
Cheers.
