TITLE- I Am, Therefore I Kill, pt 1
AUTHOR- candy aka candylynn
E-MAIL ME- darksydelady@aol.com
RATING-R
DISCLAIMER-I don't own anyone in the story, expect the characters I created.
NOTES- Creed makes a friend...uh oh Batman!!
South Chicago, five years ago.
Cornered. Victor Creed had his back against a brick wall, a spotlight in his face and about one hundred bullets flying in his direction. Death had come calling, again. The memories of times gone past visited him with a quickness. His father's abuse, the Nuns' abuse, marring Mystique believing she was a post World War 2 German spy, the pain and hell of Weapon X, and his many run-ins with The Runt.
He growled one last defiant roar and waited for death to finally find him. The bullets tore into his flesh releasing a fountain of red blood. Pain racked his body, then the numbing effects of shock began to take hold. Then...darkness, but not from the pain or his imbending death. It actually was growing darker, like someone had sucked the life out of the spotlight that had blinded him.
He could feel a small soft hand on his bare chest. A soft pink light surrounded him, then there was nothing but the sound of screams coming from all directions. His pain left him, but his relief would only be momentary. Suddenly, he was laying on a roof top looking up at the fuzzy stars. The screams he had heard eariler were distant now.
When his vision cleared, he could see the seductive form of a young woman with a flawless chocolate complexion and a crimson streak in the front of her brown hair not far away from him. The girl stood at the edge of the roof, and every few seconds a bright rose colored pulse of pure energy left her hands. The force of the blasts were so powerful, as they collided with her targets below, a gust of wind travelled up whipping her long hair into a frenzy.
The cries for help quieted to yelps, then moans, then there was blessed silence. Creed's 'savior' looked down into the alley, painted red with the blood of her victims, and smiled. Turning away, completely satisfied that no one was still alive down there, she nonchanlantly stalked over to Creed. Standing over him, she whispered, "Name's Lori, and what duh HELL did YA do tuh bring duh C.I.A. tuh South Chicago," she demanded? Her bitter sweet voice was dripping an sttitude someone as young as she was could only get from living the street life.
Before Creed could answer, the pain of being repeatedly shot and the shock of being 'moved' in the manner she used to get him to the roof, conspired together and Victor Creed blacked out.
************************
To be continued...
AUTHOR- candy aka candylynn
E-MAIL ME- darksydelady@aol.com
RATING-R
DISCLAIMER-I don't own anyone in the story, expect the characters I created.
NOTES- Creed makes a friend...uh oh Batman!!
South Chicago, five years ago.
Cornered. Victor Creed had his back against a brick wall, a spotlight in his face and about one hundred bullets flying in his direction. Death had come calling, again. The memories of times gone past visited him with a quickness. His father's abuse, the Nuns' abuse, marring Mystique believing she was a post World War 2 German spy, the pain and hell of Weapon X, and his many run-ins with The Runt.
He growled one last defiant roar and waited for death to finally find him. The bullets tore into his flesh releasing a fountain of red blood. Pain racked his body, then the numbing effects of shock began to take hold. Then...darkness, but not from the pain or his imbending death. It actually was growing darker, like someone had sucked the life out of the spotlight that had blinded him.
He could feel a small soft hand on his bare chest. A soft pink light surrounded him, then there was nothing but the sound of screams coming from all directions. His pain left him, but his relief would only be momentary. Suddenly, he was laying on a roof top looking up at the fuzzy stars. The screams he had heard eariler were distant now.
When his vision cleared, he could see the seductive form of a young woman with a flawless chocolate complexion and a crimson streak in the front of her brown hair not far away from him. The girl stood at the edge of the roof, and every few seconds a bright rose colored pulse of pure energy left her hands. The force of the blasts were so powerful, as they collided with her targets below, a gust of wind travelled up whipping her long hair into a frenzy.
The cries for help quieted to yelps, then moans, then there was blessed silence. Creed's 'savior' looked down into the alley, painted red with the blood of her victims, and smiled. Turning away, completely satisfied that no one was still alive down there, she nonchanlantly stalked over to Creed. Standing over him, she whispered, "Name's Lori, and what duh HELL did YA do tuh bring duh C.I.A. tuh South Chicago," she demanded? Her bitter sweet voice was dripping an sttitude someone as young as she was could only get from living the street life.
Before Creed could answer, the pain of being repeatedly shot and the shock of being 'moved' in the manner she used to get him to the roof, conspired together and Victor Creed blacked out.
************************
To be continued...