After a couple minutes of swearing to himself and ripping out pieces of his
hiar that had contact with a pink bow, he looked up to see the specter
smiling at him.
"So what'ya want to leave me alone," he demanded from the form in front of him. He saw her slowly pace back and forth, contemplating his demands.
"I haven't decided yet," that simple reply made him enraged even more.
"What'ya mean 'I haven't decided yet'" he yelled back at her as he saw her saunter over to his couch and lay down on it.
"Wouldn't it be fun ta just ruin yer 'good name' -- 'Sabretooth the furniture designer' sounds good doesn't it," she explained her thoughts out loud and leaning back with a smile plastered on her face.
So he was stuck with her -- this couldn't be real. He just got up, got his trench coat while not making eye contact with 'the frail' and left the cabin slamming the door as he left. He walked a couple miles and looked back. For the first time after he awoke -- he smirked. No frail behind him. He walked onward, repeating to him what happened just didn't -- an illusion -- that's all it was.
* * *
He ended up at the one place that could make him forget. He entered and felt the smoke wafting in the air and the replaceable furniture all around, this bar would be suitable.
He sat at the nearest bar stool and ordered shots of vodka. After the first, he tried reasoning to himself, but he never had illusions of the frails he killed -- ever. Well maybe some euphoric glee, but...
When he got to the third shot, he already shrugged it off and focused on the next job he had to do for a client. He looked in the vodka, when a familiar figure became clear within the bottom of the glass.
"Miss me," she asked as the annoyed Creed threw the glass in a random direction; the crash made him feel better.
"This ain't a dream furball, you can't get rid of me that easily," He heard right next to him. There she was on the next barstool looking the other direction.
"Frail, don't tempt me to --," his reply was cut short when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You gotta problem punk," a greasy tough man with a couple of newly formed scratches on his face.
Sabretooth grinned, "No, now ya have one," his fist connected to the man and he felt something hit his side. The patrons of the bar weren't pleased at what happened. A bar fight ensued.
This is where Sabretooth was most comfortable, broken noses, crushed faces and screams of agony in various corners. He did them all as a wide grin came across his face -- only one other thing would make him truly happy.
He turned to the next unlucky body that was in his way and decided it'd look better with a couple of added holes in it. When his claws were going to strike its mark an Asian face appeared in front of him. The shock made him go back a little.
"I wouldn't do that if I were ya, unless you would like a polka dot dress to add to those nice pink bows I added earlier." The threat was made.
He growled as he ran out of the bar, leaving a pile of hurting behind him.
* * *
He ran as fast as he could but he couldn't escape. The frail was floating next to him the whole time -- not saying anything. He was losing his mind and he only knew one guy that would know what's going on.
"Where we going now furball," the feminine voice interrupted his thoughts.
He growled in reply as he traveled towards the lab of Mr. Sinister -- he'd be glad when this is all over with.
"So what'ya want to leave me alone," he demanded from the form in front of him. He saw her slowly pace back and forth, contemplating his demands.
"I haven't decided yet," that simple reply made him enraged even more.
"What'ya mean 'I haven't decided yet'" he yelled back at her as he saw her saunter over to his couch and lay down on it.
"Wouldn't it be fun ta just ruin yer 'good name' -- 'Sabretooth the furniture designer' sounds good doesn't it," she explained her thoughts out loud and leaning back with a smile plastered on her face.
So he was stuck with her -- this couldn't be real. He just got up, got his trench coat while not making eye contact with 'the frail' and left the cabin slamming the door as he left. He walked a couple miles and looked back. For the first time after he awoke -- he smirked. No frail behind him. He walked onward, repeating to him what happened just didn't -- an illusion -- that's all it was.
* * *
He ended up at the one place that could make him forget. He entered and felt the smoke wafting in the air and the replaceable furniture all around, this bar would be suitable.
He sat at the nearest bar stool and ordered shots of vodka. After the first, he tried reasoning to himself, but he never had illusions of the frails he killed -- ever. Well maybe some euphoric glee, but...
When he got to the third shot, he already shrugged it off and focused on the next job he had to do for a client. He looked in the vodka, when a familiar figure became clear within the bottom of the glass.
"Miss me," she asked as the annoyed Creed threw the glass in a random direction; the crash made him feel better.
"This ain't a dream furball, you can't get rid of me that easily," He heard right next to him. There she was on the next barstool looking the other direction.
"Frail, don't tempt me to --," his reply was cut short when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You gotta problem punk," a greasy tough man with a couple of newly formed scratches on his face.
Sabretooth grinned, "No, now ya have one," his fist connected to the man and he felt something hit his side. The patrons of the bar weren't pleased at what happened. A bar fight ensued.
This is where Sabretooth was most comfortable, broken noses, crushed faces and screams of agony in various corners. He did them all as a wide grin came across his face -- only one other thing would make him truly happy.
He turned to the next unlucky body that was in his way and decided it'd look better with a couple of added holes in it. When his claws were going to strike its mark an Asian face appeared in front of him. The shock made him go back a little.
"I wouldn't do that if I were ya, unless you would like a polka dot dress to add to those nice pink bows I added earlier." The threat was made.
He growled as he ran out of the bar, leaving a pile of hurting behind him.
* * *
He ran as fast as he could but he couldn't escape. The frail was floating next to him the whole time -- not saying anything. He was losing his mind and he only knew one guy that would know what's going on.
"Where we going now furball," the feminine voice interrupted his thoughts.
He growled in reply as he traveled towards the lab of Mr. Sinister -- he'd be glad when this is all over with.