Alrighty now! Here's the second chapter I've fixed up. I deffinately think I'll end up demolishing the plot and working on a new one. So look out.
I might also mention, I'm just on my second week into the eigth grade year; I've got new names to learn, new things to lable, new lockers to get used to, newpeople to deal with, soccer practice, home work, and life outside of my computer ((eek! noooo!)) to deal with.b There might even be some junior college or maybe some high school classes to look at.
That said, these updates have never been frequent, and they're going to be VERY random for the next month or so. Sop don't kill me! I'm working at it! Writing's my biggest passion, and I'm just trying to get all this straight! I'll be back soon!
Victor Creed heard the sirens before his eyes opened, and indeed, even that felt like too much a hassle at this point. His entire body ached in such a miserable fashion, he didn't particularly care about the goings on around him any way. But even as he tried to ease himself back into the comfortable darkness he had been in on seconds earlier, a voice churned in the back of his head.
Come now Victor, up with it, back to business.
Magneto.
How many times had he heard those words? He sat up, instantly regretting it as pain pulsed up his side and set offall sorts of sirens and lights in his head.
Damn.
Pure animal instinct told him to care for himself before moving on to other tasks. He probed gingerly under the layers of thick leather and cloth, flinching when his fingers brushed a protrusion of steel, jutting from between two ribs, both of which seemed the worse for whear.
Suck it up, Victor.
He bit his lip, yanking themetal shard from the wound and casting it aside. The wound began to mend; a strange, tingling sensation that had become like breathing to him. Like the Wolverine, he possessed the healing factor. Also like the Wolverine, he could expect a few days on this particular wound. Best to keep an eye on it. He wasn't as foolish as his size and strength would warrant.
With a steap, heavy sigh, he began to take inventory - Two other broken ribs, steadily mending. Dislocated shoulder. He would only have to twist it back into proper form. Several splinters of glass had imbedded themselves deep into flesh and muscle, but the X-factor in his genes had already set his body against them, and they would have pushed themselves out within the hour. Most broken bones would mend before the second day, he knew.
What next? He glared around, the grogginess giving way to sharp clarity as his training under Magneto overtook his mind.
The mission.
The plan.
The X-men.
They had escaped him.
He had fallen.
Judging by the sirens and flashing lights, he hadn't been the only one. Where were the others?
Regroup later.
Then he heard the sirens again. Lights flashed on the dark horizon as police boats sped towards Lady Liberty, laden with armed men. Victor Growled in protest. It was time to leave.
"Fool, fool, back to the beginning is the rule." He whispered the words softly, the corners of his mouth twitching, despite the painful throbbing in his head. He had read that before, long ago, from a book that had found it's way into the brotherhood's small collection of literature. He had always whispered the little rhyme after first reading it. And now he would, in fact, go back to the beginning, at the brotherhood's head quarters.
There were plenty of boats the towering statue's base, all motorized. Victor made a rather crude captain, it was had always been The Toad's task to work the controls, but he wasn't helpless either. He started the engine just short of smoothly, wasting no time in wading into the fog that the weather which had left over the bay; with luck, he would by-pass the wads of officers speeding towards the island. The boat was heading in the opposite direction of the police vessels, but in an arc, so that he would soon dock at the mainland, where he could find a more suitable boat, with perhaps even a full tank of fuel.
And then back to Magneto, back to head quarters. Back to the beginning
Ocean spray assaulted his face, dampening his hair considerably. He snorted, having inhaled some of the salty droplets. Ugh, the polluted water stank horribly to his enhanced feline senses. And water had always bothered him any way... He reached up to wipe the spray from his face with his fur-lined sleeve. But just before he'd drew it across his cheeks, he picked up a familiar scent.
His nostrils flared. He sniffed again... Yes, he had definitely smelled it. He turned the boat as sharply as possible without capsizing, leaning with the curve. He lifted his head, inhaling sharply, repeatedly. Yes, there it was. He let the boat drift, turning the motor off so that he could listen. His eyes closed partially. There. Water lapping at cloth, ripples on the surface, radiating from... He opened his dark eyes again, peering into the darkness.
There.
A still, silent form, floating only ten, maybe fifteen feet off. Victor quickly gunned the motor to life, and slipped through the water to the creature whom he had spotted. His clawed hand darted swiftly into the water, grasping the back of the unlucky creature's shirt and hauling him on board, and only just in time. The lifeless body had all but sank just as he had arrived. It reeked of that familiar scent. That frogish scent.
He knelt next to the still form and roughly turned it onto it's back, laying it flat. As he looked over the listless face, his suspicions were confirmed.
"Mortimer..."
Victor knelt uneasily over Toad's body, taking in the horrific burns stretching the length of his jaw, down his neck and bellow his clothes line. Blood seeped timidly from behind the man's lips. He didn't appear to be breathing.
Creed dipped his fingers into the mess of clothing Toad wore to preserve heat, finding the cold, clammy skin of the amphibianiod's neck.
No Pulse.
He waited, counting to sixty in his head. Raven had explained this process before. Toad's pulse would have slowed significantly, like a frog's might have when it was deep in hibernation.
61, 62,63,64,65,66,67 6-
Pulse.
A faint chill of relief tugged at his belly.
Alive.
Just barely.
Frowning, he set a hand to Toad's middle, applying pressure carefully. Polluted water ran from the frog-man's lips, rippling down his cheek and dripping onto the boat floor.
Pushed a bit harder.
A stronger flow bubbled from Toad's mouth. Victor continued, pressing all the harder until the smaller man suddenly gasped, drawing in air before expelling another mouthful of water. His body jerked dramatically. As bay water rushed across the cool metal floor.
Creed placed a hand on either shoulder, restraining Toad to where he lay.
The erratic twitching became full on convulsions. Victor held his young charge until he stilled, laying his head to one side, energy sapped. Soft, ragged breaths struggled into the mutant's lungs, at which he trembled just the slightest. Creed sighed, releasing Toad's quivering shoulders.
" 'Tooth?"
Mort's voice was soft and drained, and slurred a bit more than usual. Victor answered.
"Yeah, it's me, runt. We're headed back to the mainland."
"D' we win?"
"...I don't think so."
tying next chapter over Eh? What are you doing here? The chapter's over! Shoo! Go work on YOUR Toad fanfiction so I have somethign todrool over! If you're not a toad fanfic writer, then GET STARTED!