(Fifteen)

Sabretooth was not having a good day. He was still pissed off over the botched Kimble job. That had taken him weeks to set up and then he watched as three million dollars worth of bounty went up in flames. Damn. He was going to use that money for a well earned vacation for him and his crew. They had been pulling a lot of jobs lately and could all use a break. Now he got a note from Jael saying he wanted to meet with him. What exactly was he supposed to say in his defense? It wasn't his fault Kyle's spastic little plasma boy got a little carried away.

He sat in a comfortable metal chair in a roadside café sipping a nice little cappuccino, feeling the warm sun heat up his shoulders and enjoying it. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, taking in the warm air and scents of the City around him. Creed didn't feel pleasure often, it was something elusive and when found, savored. He was a large man, almost six feet and heavily muscled. He gave off an air of danger and as folks came here to sit, they left a ring of empty tables around him, subconsciously protecting themselves.

Creed was crazy, completely certifiable. He was an unstoppable killing machine and it came out in his posture of arrogance and superiority. He was comfortably dressed in expensive leather, the only clothing that made him feel natural. He also wore a long trench coat to hide his concealed weapons (he always carried at least two guns at all times) and had a pair of soft leather gloves to match. He looked a little like Gambit at that moment, wearing the garb of sneaks and thieves.

He looked over the pathetic norms around him, knowing he could wipe out half of them in less than a minute if he had a mind to. He wore the gloves to cover his claws whenever he was out in public. He been well trained in the use of all weapons and explosives. He knew how to arm a nuclear missile or disarm it if needs be. He had always been curious what it would be like to see one of those babies go off. To walk the streets of the charred city and view the dead, laughing. Like Wolverine, he was quite old, but hadn't been around when the first two atomic bombs had been detonated. He was too busy pulling secret service jobs in Russia at the time. What a shame. He did get to Nagasaki later, but by then things had been pretty much cleaned up.

Like Wolverine, Victor Creed was quite old, over one hundred years old. His regenerative and healing powers had kept him alive and in good health through all of his scraps and troubles. He looked little more than thirty-five or so. He had been born into abject poverty, raised by a cruel and embittered father. He had lived in a one room shack with a dirt floor as a bed and a bottle of whiskey his only comfort. He didn't have the luxury of a childhood and was put to work alongside his father as soon as he could walk. His father was the grounds keeper at a huge mansion and so he worked alongside him instead of playing happily with other children his own age. He recalled vaguely two playmates he did spend some time with when he was very young, but they were dim memories, unfocused. He probably could bring them up with sharper recall if he tried, but wasn't really motivated. Whoever they were, he hadn't played with them for long. As soon as he was strong enough to work full time, out to the fields he went.

He didn't own his first pair of shoes until he was sixteen and those he had stolen off an even less fortunate beggar than himself. His whole life had been one long continuous nightmare since the day of his birth and he didn't really know what it was like to be loved or live a normal life. He had known few kindnesses and those were long ago and forgotten. Those simple facts were the most basic cause of his madness. His mutation caused him to be more feral than most humans and denied the basic foundations of control and caring for others, he had evolved into the madman he was today.

Sabretooth was an alpha mutant, his powers being superior to most and he was well trained in the use of them. He possessed animal keen senses as did Wolverine and had long talon like claws at the ends of his fingers. He was stronger than most men his size and could slash through most anything. He also shared Logan's ability to heal rapidly. They had a long standing dislike for one another in spite of once having worked closely together on the same Weapon X team. He viewed Logan as weak because he refused to give into the beast as he himself had.

Both men had been lured into the risky business of soldiering as was fit for men of their abilities. Unfortunately it also led them to the same Weapon X program that shattered their minds and robbed them of their memories. The program had been restarted a couple of months ago and Sabretooth had been captured and had his memory restored as an incentive to rejoin his former affiliation. Creed had accepted, drawn in more for the large payoffs they offered than for a bunch of stupid memories he wasn't sure what to do with. So what if he remembered the face of his father, a man who had beaten him without mercy. That was one he could have done without, that and a pathetic, horrible childhood best forgotten.

He now performed odd jobs for the new Weapon X, being very well paid of course. An assassination here, a kidnaping there. He was too violent for the regular roster and was given his own team. He was autonomous as long as he behaved and didn't get too carried away with the blood. The Kimble job had been a side project and not part of Weapon X.

Creed startled as a pretty young woman accidently bumped into his table. "Oh! Excuse me!" she giggled.

"No problem, Ma'am," he growled back, swallowing the urge to gut her. It just wouldn't do to spill blood out in the open like this. She was quite beautiful and managed an uneasy smile at him before moving away as quickly as possible.

He watched her go, angered at the disturbance, yet aroused by her fine skin and large green eyes. It had been a while since he had been with a woman, the downside of working too hard. He knew there was no way he would ever get a creature as fine as her without a fight and he just wasn't up to a stalk and rape today. Not when there were much easier targets.

He paid his bill and rose, walking over to his car. He moved around the country a lot so he was driving a rental purchased under a false identity. It was just as well. This one probably wasn't going to get returned. Once he set his mind on something, it was hard to change it. He drove off to one of the less desirable parts of town and soon found what he was looking for. Fresh young meat, thumb outstretched, hooking in the middle of the day. How sweet. He lured the girl into his car with promises of a nice big tip and they drove off somewhere quiet.

The poor girl got more than she had bargained for. Creed was a man ruled by violence. Normal patterns of behavior were beyond him. The concept of making love for mutual pleasure was something lost to him long ago, he only knew how to abuse and rape. He had her half dead from being beaten before he ever got around to actually fucking her. Creed's pleasure came from the rape and torture of his victims. The beating was his idea of foreplay. He took her roughly, muffling her screams with a massive paw of a hand and didn't really care when she passed out from the abuse. He raped her viciously three more times before he grew tired of her. He was cursed with a high metabolism and had an oversized libido to match. He was insatiable once aroused. He dozed off lightly in between rounds, rousing when she started to wake. For the girl it was a never ending nightmare.

Her only relief came when he finally killed her. He never allowed any of the girls he used to live. He had fathered a child only once that he was aware of. It was accidental but had been enough. He had been seduced by the mutant shapeshifter Mystique and she had escaped before he could kill her. The monster they had produced had been born a normal human, named Greydon Creed. Mystique's little joke, giving him the same last name of his father. Once Greydon found out his parents had been mutant criminals of the worst sort, both assassins, he organized an anti-mutant terrorist group called Friends of Humanity.

The Friends of Humanity was a shadow group of mutant hunters and spreaders of anti-mutant propaganda and lies. They were largely responsible for most of the hate felt by mutants and drove most of the regular mutants into hiding. They were now lobbying for mutant registration and holding camps. To protect society, they claimed.

Sabretooth had been horrified and disgusted by the cowardly acts committed by his son and he killed him, vowing never to allow such a thing to happen again. Creed could later be tracked by the trail of dead prostitutes and unfortunates he picked up. The sad thing was, his martyred son had only fueled the Friends of Humanity's enthusiasm and they were still around, skulking in the corners, slaughtering all the mutants they could find, calling it self defense against a new race destined to oppress the norms. Creed made a point of killing any of their members he found as well, drawing out the pain just to hear them scream. It wasn't that Sabretooth cared so much about other mutants that he wanted to protect them, he was just embarrassed his son had been so pathetic.

Creed got out of the car, now dripping with blood. He had slashed the girl down to ribbons and feasted on her liver, the best part of the kill. He had parked in a deserted dockside alley and had total privacy. He stripped down leisurely, taking a moment to savor the smell of the blood soaked into his clothes. His mind was calmer now, his destructive urges sated for the time being. He opened the trunk of his car and found a set of fresh clothes and a large plastic bottle of water with some travel wipes he could use to clean up a little. He never allowed himself to be unprepared for anything. He cleaned up and changed clothes and reapplied his guns, donning a long coat of light material over himself. He set the timer on a small explosive device in the trunk and walked off, carrying a small black duffle bag.

He hadn't walked off far when he smelled Razel who had popped up behind him. He turned and regarded Jael's teleporter with disdain. "Yer early."

"Something's come up."

Creed looked past him to the car. "Well, let's go, then. That car's rigged ta blow in ten minutes."

Razel turned and looked at it nervously. "Um, sure. Whatever."

Razel lay his hand on Creed's shoulder, trying to hide his disgust for this man. He had to touch his passengers for transport. He could see traces of blood that Creed's quick wash up job had missed. He knew all about Sabretooth's appetite for destruction and his sexual deviancies. He had no doubt there was a dead body in that car. His only curiosity was whether it was a woman or a man. Creed was known to apply his torturous touch to either gender. He was driven by an insatiable thirst for blood and didn't discriminate.

Razel closed his eyes and worked his magic, transporting himself and his cargo down to Jael's lair. This was the only method Jael allowed for visitors. No one but his personal crew knew where this den was actually located.

Creed pulled away from Razel's touch, suppressing an urge to shred this one. He never liked Razel, he walked around with an air of disgust for everyone but his Master. Jael was very powerful and Creed didn't dare touch any of his personal guards. Sabretooth wasn't afraid of many men, but Jael was up there on the top of the list. He couldn't explain it, but there was some kind of powerful mystery at work around the man. Creed put up with it because Jael paid very, very well.

He followed Razel down the stone corridors, and like Remy before him, recalled the tunnels of the Morlocks. Now that had been a grand adventure, the hunting plentiful. Creed and the small band of Marauders had slaughtered close to three hundred that day, fun and games to be had for all. Of course for Creed, the most pleasurable moment had been the look on that poor Cajun thief's face when he saw what was going down. How Creed had laughed then, watching Remy's soul shatter for all time. The feeble little boy had tried to stop them and Creed ripped him open, watching his blood spill out over those fine leather boots. He had licked his claws, tasting the spice of Remy's blood and finding it good. If he hadn't been on the job, he might have caught the boy and feasted on his liver as well, but he didn't get the chance.

He wasn't disappointed to later learn Gambit had survived, it only meant they would meet again and meet they did. Creed had been partly responsible for laying down the seeds of distrust when he acknowledged to the X-men the two had met before. Logan's eyes had squinted, knowing that Creed was scum. For these two to have met before could only mean trouble. No one knew just how much and Creed didn't offer details, letting the pot simmer. When the word later came out of Remy's being booted out of the X-men, Creed made sure the mutant community knew why. Now Gambit couldn't walk among the various factions without being recognized and shunned as a pariah. He was worse than the killers themselves to some. Gambit's only decent company was among the norms who had no clue who he was. How Creed would laugh and laugh every time he skulked in the shadows, watching and smelling Remy's heart break when he was taunted and pushed around. The gift that kept on giving.

Sabretooth paused in his travel and cocked his head as he heard a strange squealing noise and a bizarre white winged creature barreled down the hall and slammed into him. He was surprised to see a tiny female pilot. She had been safely transported from Cerise and was now scampering naked and loose through Jael's cavern like halls without a care. Sabretooth was tall and sturdy, a human brick wall. The tiny pilot collided into him with all the damage to herself, not moving him back an inch. She fell back on her ass, startled, and chirped up at him an a daze. He scowled at her irritably and growled deep and low in his chest, a sure sign of his anger. She quailed, trembling and urinating all over herself in fear. This was no bright eyed, self aware pilot as Fallen was. This one was little more than a human dog and cowered in terror, whimpering.

"Kialay, where are you, damnit!" shouted her handler, a small young man who followed her swiftly. He paused in fear when he saw Creed, a man whose reputation was known far and wide. "Oh, excuse me!"

"What the fuck is that?" Sabretooth growled, pointing a clawed finger at the pilot. She looked vaguely like Kimble but not quite. She was bleached out and tiny, only half of Kimble's size. She certainly didn't possess a Mark or Kimble's ability to articulate clearly.

"Just one of Jael's pets. She got loose."

"Well, get this piece of shit out of my way!"

"Yes, sir!" The man snatched at the tiny, helpless pilot and hauled her away. She followed him meekly, her eyes straying back to Creed's face as if she didn't trust him not to follow her and hunt her down.

Creed looked back at Razel. "Yer boss's got a taste fer the strange, that's a fact."

Razel snorted impatiently, but said nothing, gesturing for Creed to continue down the hall.

Sabretooth strolled into Jael's large meeting room and eased down onto the fur in front of the big wooden chair. He would not kneel, he would die first, but sat comfortably, folding his large legs under him.

"You look well," Jael said, looking down on him from the high chair. "Razel tells me you hunted and fed this morning."

Creed hid his surprise. Razel had been with him the whole time. He had no idea the man was telepathic as well. Either way, his sexual adventures were none of Jael's affair. "What do ya want, Jael?"

"You know what I want. You haven't delivered."

"Yer boy got slagged. He's toast."

Instead of the argument and criticism Sabretooth expected, Jael reached to a stack of papers beside him. He pulled out some photographs and tossed them over. Creed picked them up and saw images of Kyle Franks landing down on Bishop's penthouse patio with Kimble.

"Those were taken yesterday. It seems 'my boy' is more resilient than you realized. I want him picked up."

Creed couldn't hide his surprise. "I saw this guy get melted."

"Indeed. I told you was special."

"Is he even human?"

"Does it matter?" Jael countered evasively.

"Not really," Creed said with a careless toss of his head. He had no further curiosity in the matter, he just wanted the money. He rose, leaving the photos behind. He was familiar enough with Cameron Bishop's territory not to need them. "I'll get right on it."

"Don't be so eager to leave, my friend. I'm not finished with you yet."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I am a forgiving man and I realize that you probably are not to blame, so I'll let you make it up to me."

"Oh, yeah? How?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret," Jael purred, his cat's eyes glinting. "It would seem that Terrel Jacobs, your son's successor, has rented Yankee Stadium. One year from now, on a Sunday. Whatever for, do you think?"

"Friends of Humanity Rally. Couldn't be anything else."

Terrel had succeeded where Greydon Creed had failed. He had been able to present this terrorist group as some kind of freedom force and was able to promote their beliefs, not unlike the Ku Klux Klan had been able to do. He drew upon the freedom of speech and right to assembly rights under the Constitution and was able to hold these rallies to gain followers. Nothing as large as this of course, but the fellow was obviously using Jael's recent terrorist attacks as a platform and was building strength.

"I suppose I should feel guilty the little twerp is using me to feed his followers but I'm not about to let him stop my work. If something...large and destructive...were to happen at this Rally. Well, my gratitude would reach new heights," Jael said suggestively.

Creed laughed and blessed his luck. This would be an easy job, especially with so much advance notice. He already knew the best way to pull this job. Cloaks and mules and bombs. What a treat. Perhaps a small nuke? He might get his wish after all.

"I can see you are pleased. Very good. Give me a plan and I'll finance it if it's decent enough."

Sabretooth's grin broadened. Was today his birthday? It sure felt like it.

To be continued in The Three of Me.