He sighed as he grabbed another rock from the ninety-degree slope. She was next to him the whole entire time. She didn't say anything but her mere presence annoyed the hell out of him. He didn't have I.D. to get on a plane and he didn't have money to get another car. He hoisted himself up as concern furrowed on his brow.
His car, the Viper, looked good as new. The windows were in place. He hurriedly got to the back seat. His stuff that he bought a long time ago was still there: one and a half cartons of cigarettes, a bloody trench coat, the Desert Eagle replica and a box of cigars. Keys were on the hood of the car; he grabbed it and saw they were the right set.
He had three guesses on who did this and the last two didn't count. Now why would the X-men want to help him out?
"Ta good ta be true, huh furball," the hair on the back of his neck bristled being called that nickname.
"I know that Jubilee, I ain't stupid like ya," he roared at her. Usually most of his prey would cower in fear when he got to that level, she just rolled his eyes and went to the trunk of the car.
"Homing device, on the car itself, probably on the goods too," she phased inside the car, "wait no, the cigarettes seem good, ya can't put a homing device on somethin' that expendable," her tone hinted something.
He craved a cigarette right now, but he wouldn't do it. He'd light one up, she'd bug him for some, he'd say no and they'd get in a big argument ending where he's forced to see her sappy memories. He wasn't in the mood to for another headache - so he ignored her.
After a few minutes of silence, she phased back out of the car, "So what furball, where do we go from here."
He threw his hands up, "we start walkin'," he started to walk into the other direction, he didn't have to look back to know she was rolling her eyes at him.
"Ain't ya got them C.I.A connections ta help out in situations like this," she was obviously annoyed, so he'd have to play to that anger just to get a rise out of her.
"Nope, and I thought ya like the outdoors, what me killin' animals and ya away from those crappy malls ya like shoppin' at," he pushed the most well known button of the former mall rat.
"Argh," she let out a frustrated groan. He looked back at the distressed form. He must remember to press that button more often. He heard a car swerve and something hit him hard. He flew back a couple of feet, landing on his back. He'd seriously put a hurting on the person. He heard a car door slam shut and the engine still was running -- that persons mistake. He faked a groan as he heard footstep approach.
"Sir are you alright," he heard a guys ask him, why couldn't he get a woman to hit him. He rubbed his head as he sat up.
"Watch where ya goin' next time, now I need yer license and registration so I can sue the pants off ya," as he expected the other guy, who wore a suit that was little too small on him, turned pale.
"Sir you seem fine --"
He grabbed his neck as he groaned in pain, "that ain't what my neck is feelin'," reeling him in slowly, the next move would guarantee his victory, "ya can make it up ta me if ya want ta switch rides," Victor looked over the other mans shoulder. His luck, a S.U.V.
"Umm..." he smelled the surprised man taking the bait, "sure, let me get something out of my --"
"No time," Victor got up and pushed the guy to the car. The guy's head bounced off the bumper. The man was unconscious, that was a good sign. He went over to the car, smashed the backseat and took the cigarettes and started to head over the S.U.V.
"That wasn't nice furball," she wagged a finger at him. He just sneered at her.
"He ain't dead Jubilee, so don't get yer panties in a bunch," he brooded over to the S.U.V, "and I ain't fond of walkin' with ya jabberin' at me." He opened the door as he threw the cigarettes to the back seat. He smelled pine forests, he cursed the inventor of air fresheners and floored it out of there.
"At least ya coulda gave him the keys ta the Viper," she pointed out. He checked his pockets; the keys were still in there. That's when he noticed his apparel -- he hoped the guy had some clothes in the back.
He went to look in the back as he swerved to the side of the road.
"Why ya gotta do that -- oh," Jubilee started to say as she looked in the back from the passenger seat. Someone short, bound by cloth all over his/her body. He/she looked like a mummy and was moving like one too -- not that much.
He growled as he slapped his forehead, he should've taken the Viper instead.
"Is it dead?" her somber question made him sneer a little. Did it matter if that thing wrapped in sheets was dead or not? He'd have to deal with it in the end. He sniffed the air, the air freshener made it hard to know. He'd have the pleasure to un-wrap the mummified thing.
He unlocked the back door as he got of the driver seat. He went in through the back and took the mummified body outside. No sense getting his S.U.V. dirty with a corpse. When he touched the thing, it wiggled a little. So the thing was alive.
He drew his claws as her face appeared right in front of him, "Geeze, it only wiggled a little and yer tryin' ta kill it," he growled at her as he lifted the thing outside.
"Hold still," he ordered as he slashed down at the sheets and in a split second later they split in half the form beneath them unharmed.
He heard clapping from the backseat of the car, "now that's talent," she sarcastically gave out but he ignored her to study the figure that lay before him.
He perked his eyebrow. The sleeping form looked no older than a blonde, overall wearing, boy -- except for the dog ears that drooped from his head, claws that grew from his toes and fingers. He sniffed the air; the kid was definitely a feral. Now there were only two things he could do with another feral, kill it or...
He got up and walked over to the driver seat.
"Ya ain't serious are ya, leavin' a kid out in the middle of nowhere," she griped at him. What was wrong about living the boy out in the middle of nowhere? When he was young, he was forced to survive at that age and look how well he turned out to be.
"What d'ya expect me ta do kid," he opened the door as he stepped in. Again her face appeared in front of him. He knew that look she gave him and he didn't like it at all.
"He ain't mine Jubilee, we ain't takin' him -- he'd just slow us down," he slammed the car door as he turned on the engine.
"Look why don't we revise the deal," she blurted out quickly. He turned off the engine as he just heard the word of the day.
"I get to kill again, no problem," he announced quickly. He knew that he wouldn't get it, but the first rule of bargaining -- always go high.
"Yah right 'Tooth," he started the car again, "Alright, Alright one more kill the rest of the trip," he turned off the car. The seller always wanted it low.
"Fifty along the way, no randoms, just people that get in my way," a more realistic deal, his claws twitched in anticipation. She just rolled her eyes.
"If I wanted ta, I'd --," she argued.
"Why don't ya then Jubilee," he asked seriously. She could do that, but she didn't.
She gave a disgusted grunt. She stammered a little as she tried to gain her composure, "Seein' all those people ya killed, the fear in their eyes -- I can't stand it." If she could hit the dashboard she would, "how you enjoy it -- I don't know and I don't care."
Jubilee walked away from him. He knew that she gave away something she didn't want to. The boy was that important to her -- he flashed a small grin. Now he had to take the boy and use him to his advantage.
"One kill, if Logan gets in my way, I will kill him," he gave a very lenient offer. She slowly nodded her head.
"Not if he kills ya first 'Tooth," she confirmed, the deal took place. He got out of the S.U.V and gently picked up the mutant blonde boy. So the boy had a tail, he had to adjust his grip to carry him to the back seat.
He put him down, got in the driver seat started the engine and was off again -- with one more annoyance that he will be able to use to his advantage.
The boy slept peacefully, unaware that a psychotic killer drove in the front. Creed wasn't going to do anything though, Jubilee had some affection for this boy and he'd use those weak emotions to his advantage.
The drive bored him. The radio was on, but nothing caught his attention. Nightfall came and went and all he could do is try and not stifle a yawn. His gaze often wandered to the passenger side. She was too busy looking back at the blonde boy with compassionate eyes.
His mother used to have blue eyes. He shook his head as he tried to concentrate on the road. He was the man who didn't have a past, and if he did -- no one would give a crap. He shouldn't be the one to pity him now.
Her sudden movement jolted him back to reality. She floated from the passenger seat to where the boy slept. She tried to touch him but the boy shivered when her hand touched his face. She pulled her hand back right away as worry grew on her face.
Compassion wasn't one of the things that his mother portrayed a lot. She would usually peer down in the basement when his father smell didn't reek down the hallways. Her blue eyes pierced through the darkness as her words became embedded in his mind -- I'm sorry.
"The boy ain't wakin' up soon, so why don't ya leave him alone," he lashed out. This portrayal of affection made him sick. He had to focus at the task at hand -- manipulate Jubilee.
She obliged as she floated back up to the passenger seat, "yer trap yappin' like that will wake him up." She was defensive, time for the personal question.
"Why you care so much, ain't like he's yer blood," he pulled back the comment a little. Making her angry now wouldn't go anywhere.
"He's an orphan like myself," she pointed a thumb back at herself and winked at him, "also look what's in the glove." her tone abruptly became somber.
There couldn't be anything in the glove compartment that would shock him. He banged on it and it opened. Flyers flew out and landed on the seats. He didn't have to read the whole sentence before he ripped up the sheets in an instant.
"N.A.M.B.L.A," he muttered to himself as he focused on driving.
"He was goin' into a crappy life and he probably didn't know it," she jerked her thumb to the sleeping form.
He just sneered at the comment, "What? You think he be better off with a psychotic killer who's talkin' to a ghost?"
He saw her wince, which was a good sign, "We're goin' ta drop him off somewhere, so he can be picked up by the X-men."
He laughed out loud, "Yer gettin' delusional Jubilee, why would ya risk me gettin' captured by those X-twerps instead."
She grew silent, her plan was way off base and she knew it. He had a better plan. He knew this one would get a rise out of her, "The kid is bein' dropped of at the first house we see, then the authorities could take care of 'im and we --"
"I ain't givin' him to no foster home," every word accentuated full of anger. This didn't surprise Creed but he knew if he pushed on he would have a harder time manipulating her.
Suddenly, he heard a yawn come from the back. He looked forward as she looked back.
He smelled no fear from the boy.
"Hello ma'am what is yer name," a cheerful voice rang out and reverberated in the car.