Paris, France: 1982…

Moonlight elegantly swept across the glass doors of an upscale Parisian bar in the heart of the city. The glistening doors gently swung open and two people walked in.

They stopped short, sneakers briefly squeaking on the glossy marble floors as the doors softly closed behind them.

Twins, Dale and Delilah stepped into the upscale bar and immediately felt out of place.

People who just exuded elegance strutted around, or sat in idle conversation as they sipped their drinks. The air was heavy with cigarette and cigar smoke, and the occasional whiff of no doubt some gourmet appetizer. Elegant music played in the background as the wealthy patrons indulged in light banter.

Several people briefly cast their eyes in contempt at the rough-looking redheaded twins, who were dressed in nothing more than jeans and T-shirts, with tattered jackets and patched up bookbags.

Dale tried to smooth down his somewhat unruly hair. "Are you sure we're in the right place?" He asked his more confident twin sister Delilah, in his distinctly British accent.

"Yes!" she glanced at him. "This is definitely it…" her emerald green eyes carefully scanned the room, until she spotted one particular person by the bar. She gestured ahead of them. "It's her…"

A woman sat at the bar, casually sipping a glass of brown liquor, with a lonely cube of ice floating around the top. She swirled it around slowly, letting the ice melt into it some more. Graceful hands, the color of smooth milk chocolate, accented with sharp, perfectly manicured black nails, grasped the elegant glass as she put it to her lips.

After taking a sip she set it down, then licked her lips, making her small, sharp fangs briefly visible. Her yellow feline eyes stared into nothingness as she lifted her other hand. She took a brief puff of a cigarette sitting on the end of a stick, then crinkled her nose in displeasure as she set it aside.

Just then, one of the black feline ears sitting atop her head twitched.

"They say smoking is bad for your health." The young British female voice announced.

The woman let out a barely audible chuckle. "It isn't when you've got health to spare." Her voice was smooth, with just the hint of a Spanish accent.

"Ms. Merino…is it?" Dale asked cautiously.

The woman looked nonchalantly over at the pale, out of place teens. "Who's asking?"

The girl stepped forward. "My name is Delilah." She gestured towards the boy with her. "And this is my brother, Dale." She took a seat next to Ms. Merino.

Ms. Merino looked at her warily.

Delilah caught her expression, and slid away from Ms. Merino a bit. "We came here looking, for you…we desperately need your help."

Ms. Merino pushed the offensive cigarette aside and raised an eyebrow as she looked at the two teens next to her. "Help?" She shook her head slightly as she turned and reached for her glass. "I don't do…'help'."

Delilah almost pleaded. "Ms. Merino, please." She looked around briefly as her voice dropped and she leaned in slightly. "There's a man, or barely so actually; a terrible beast of a man. He's been sent to kill us. He's big, he's ruthless…they call him Sabretooth."

Ms. Merino's expression suddenly changed, and she paused mid-sip.

Dale piped up. "But his real name is Victor…"

"Creed." Ms. Merino set down her glass. "Victor, Creed." She looked over at the two. "You're mutants."

Delilah looked around somewhat nervously. "Yes…"

Ms. Merino looked at them carefully. "Stryker's in the wind, so he isn't continuing his collection…" she took another sip of her drink. "So what on Earth does Creed want you two for?"

"To kill." Dale answered incredulously. "He wants to kill us, ma'am."

Ms. Merino took another sip of her drink. "Work for hire…hm…I guess he's gotta make a living somehow." She muttered, thinking out loud. She then carefully set down her drink, and turned to the two wayward teens. "Just out of curiosity, why do you think I can help?"

"Because..." Delilah spoke up. "We've heard that…that you're the only one who survived a fight with him. Not just survived, but beat him."

Dale leaned in. "Is it true?"

Ms. Merino turned away, a brief smirk crossing her face. She nodded slightly. "It's true…in part." She took another sip, then gestured to the bartender for another. "I can't help you though. I don't do protection." She looked back at them. "What you should really be concerned about is who even sent him."

"We have an idea…" Dale muttered, as Delilah rolled her eyes.

Ms. Merino turned back to the bar. "Well then start there. Like I said, I don't do protection."

Delilah and Dale looked incredibly disheartened.

"But ma'am…please. We'll die out there. We're no match for him." Dale was almost in tears.

"You're no match for him…." She paused briefly. "And he's no match for my name."

They looked confused.

"Your name ma'am?" Dale asked.

She ran one claw along the edge of her glass. "My name. Say my name…" she looked at them. "Alexa, Merino."

"But what will…"

Alexa cut Delilah off as she turned back to her drink. "And mention where you saw me; here, at L'Amour." She swirled the contents of the glass in her hand. "I promise, he won't care about you anymore…"

The twins looked utterly confused.

Alexa, realizing they were still there, turned to them. "I've given you all the help I can." She eyed them carefully. "And get out of France…go to the US…I hear there's a place for young mutants like yourselves, upstate New York. Get yourselves cleaned up." She waved her hand, shooing them away. "Now go."

Dale and Delilah stood there a moment longer, before reluctantly leaving.

"Now what good was that?" Dale asked in frustration as he leaned towards his sister on their way out of the lounge.

Delilah sighed heavily. "Let's just hope she's right about the name…"