Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.
3. Choosing a Vic
Mystique was wearing a plain looking face on a plain looking body when Creed got to the restaurant. She had warned him it was an everyday family sort of Italian diner, so he was just wearing jeans and a shirt, much like Mystique herself. One of the waiters took him to his table and he got the chance to get a good look at most of the folks having dinner. Mostly couples and families, as well as a few small groups of young people. At a corner, he spotted three men that got his attention. Two were clearly at ease but the third one seemed nervous. It could be nothing but, besides a very nervous guy facing a woman (probably sweating a proposal in the make), no one else in the joint seemed fidgety. Of course he could just be nervous over someone's late arrival, seeing as they were sitting at a table for four and the waiters hadn't taken away the fourth set of dinnerware.
"I know it's not your type of place," Mystique grinned. "But the food's passable."
"Really? What exactly is my type o' place then?"
"Either fancy enough for the help to be bowing at you or crass enough to have nothing but blood dripping meat and a fight every five minutes."
"Ya're confusin' me with him again."
She laughed. She'd keep poking him until he either made a mistake or she got tired.
"So what is your type of place, huh?"
"Anywhere I can blend in." Her grin widened, mischievous. "Much like this, really."
"Looking like you do, I can't help but wonder where on Earth you go to blend in." He cocked an eye as he bit one of the bread and garlic butter appetizers. "The Canadian wilderness perhaps?"
He shrugged.
"Yeah, sure. There's nuthin' like Canada ta find big blond guys around. Ya know what's even better 'an that? Spain. That place is crawlin' with my look-alikes."
She laughed again, the sound vibrating with ease and just a bit of purpose.
"So you're based where? Germany?"
He chewed thoughtfully before answering.
"I find it smarter not ta be based nowhere. If ya're always on the move, it'll be that harder fer the wrong crowd t'get a fix on ya. You?"
She waved a hand, claiming she got bored easily as the waiter came in with his madams and monsieurs, and with their lasagnas.
"Ya know, I'm a patient guy," that got a hearty laugh out of her and Creed made an effort to frown seriously. "I am. But ya got me here t' tell me somethin' and, if ya don't mind, I'd rather hear what ya gotta say 'fore dessert."
"This is just too much," she had that slightly golden twinkle in her eye irises that meant her true self was getting horny. Funny how she could shapeshift perfectly no matter what but have that little telltale sign ruin all the effort. At least for him; he doubted most people could notice it. "I'll tell you something, if you were trying to pretend you were him, you'd get discredited in no time."
Good to know his ruse was working.
"Why's that?"
"No matter where he was, he always had an eye out for any excuse to pick a fight. Even if he was in a fancy place surrounded by whimps. Especially if! But you, you've got this whole..."
She once more waved her hand, her eyes going over his body, tip of the tongue brushing hungrily against her lips. Creed tried not to smell in the teasing scent of the woman's arousal. That was one type of scent he usually found difficult to ignore, but having been cooped up with the X-morons for nearly two very chaste months, he was starting to find himself on the verge of ending dinner and getting the woman somewhere else, fast.
"This whole 'I'm so good, the assholes around don't even exist in comparison'. It's really very refreshing. Very... manly, if you know what I mean."
Oh, he knew alright. Still he wiggled, slightly uncomfortable in the chair, getting another laugh from the woman. Fortunately, she couldn't as much as dream that Isabel used to say something along those lines. Even last January, when a group of tourists had stopped by Creston, military most of them. They'd been full of themselves and, as usual when cocky assholes showed up, Isabel had scorned them, saying real men were above cockiness and boasting. Real men didn't need to start a fight to show how big and bad they were, because people just glanced at them and knew. Like him, Victor, she'd purr, brown eyes more enticing that Mystique's flashing golden ones. He never needed to intimidate anyone because even just sitting anonymously in a diner, any guy with eyes would know to keep his distance while every woman, eyes or no eyes, would...
"See the guy who's just come in?"
Creed snapped from the memories, deep breath to get his woman off his mind, and noted the short, dark haired and dark bearded man in his forties.
"He's yer mark?"
"No," she sneered. "I'm doing business with him."
Creed cocked an eyebrow.
"I don't mean ta meddle but what the hell is a former Brotherhood of Mutants dealin' wi' these assholes. I could get it if ya told me ya was out t'kill the whole lot fer persecutin' former mutants and all that, but actually doin' business wi' them?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's just a service like any other."
"What d'ya mean?"
"For someone who doesn't want to meddle, you ask a whole lot of question, Hyde."
He shrugged a just curious and went for a purposefully amateur mistake, nodding towards the corner where the four men were now talking conspiratorily.
"He's the one I can't touch, then?"
Naturally, it pissed her off and she hissed an angry yes.
"Hope they don't stick around fer too long," he said half to himself, then he looked up at Mystique's quizzical expression. "I wanna stop by the table and get a good sniff of his scent. Wouldn't want ta mess up yer deal by mistake."
She frowned, incredulous, and nearly looked back at the men's table before leaning over to Creed.
"You mean to tell me you can't catch his scent from here? Weren't you supposed to be Sabretooth's clone?"
Creed twitched his nose in an obviously annoyed way in order to hide a smirk of satisfaction.
"I don't know if ya're aware, but he had a few more decades of intensive practice than me, and it ain't exactly easy ta connect a face to a specific scent from far in a room full o' people."
Mystique lifted both hands in a cheeky apology, an amused grin on her plain-looking mask of a face.
"I'll be sure to book us a closer table next time." Creed looked peevishly at his half-eaten lasagne and forked some more. A foot suddenly sliding down his thigh prevented him from swallowing though. "I do hope they hurry up too. I've planned a busy night."
Damn it! If the woman had an inkling of how long he'd been playing the monk... Creed felt himself going red from the effort to swallow while maintaining Hyde's pretence of patience and tame civility, especially when he heard the woman croon over how cute a blushing guy is. At least she would never even dream he was anything but a freeking clone. Creed shook his head, forced the food down and took a deep breath.
"My mark is the short one, by the window." He grunted, seething inside at the heat still simmering in his face.
"Him?"
There was something in her tone that helped his body start getting in check. Not looking up, he nodded a uh-huh and took another bite of his lasagne.
"Friend o' yers?"
Creed had no idea who the guy was. Gambit had gotten the name of Mystique's bearded middle man, Vincent Gautier, but the other three guys had never been made on any previous surveillance stints. However, since Creed would have to point a supposed mark for Mystique to be happy and his cover to be kept, he had chosen one of the group. The fidgety guy looked too unprofessional to be chosen for a legitimate mark, while the runt he'd picked looked calm but keenly aware of things around him.
Mystique chewed on her last bit of lasagne and wiped her mouth clean. Creed felt mildly uncomfortable. He hoped he hadn't...
"Excuse me," and Creed quickly gripped her wrist as she got up.
"Don't ya play no games wi' this, woman," She had better realise Hyde might be tame, but was not safe to toy with, even if Creed couldn't forget Hyde didn't want to get involved in memorable shenanigans. "If that one's off limits in yer eyes, I'd better learn about it ASAP an' fix the problem 'fore it escalates stupidly."
Creed let her go the moment she clenched her muscles to pull herself free.
"If you're really so set in keeping out of the big fish radar, you might want to throw the towel on this job. That guy's a bodyguard to someone I don't want anyone touching. Not until I've got what I want."
Eyes ablaze, she walked away, towards the restroom, he quickly realised. Seeing an opening, he got his mobile and punched the first number.
"I picked my mark," he muttered before Cyclops could say a word on the other side. "Short, dark haired, coal suit, purple tie in a group o' four guys. He's a bodyguard to some sort o' big fish Mystique doesn't want touched. Better if ya pick 'im up tonight once he leaves the restaurant, but leave me out o' the stint, ya hear? I don't wanna risk gettin' my looks associated to my Tigard alias."
"Fine. But get ready to act if we don't identify him or somehow lose his track."
Creed glanced about the restaurant, feigning boredom while waiting, and, as his eyes went over the group, he took a very deep breath in, frowning in concentration as he parsed all the scents in the air and tried to pinpoint his recently chosen mark's. Mystique had way too much faith in his ability to identify folks' scents in a crowd. Sure he had four scents for those four faces, but who owned which was a matter better fixed by getting closer to them.
"Oh, by the way, stay clear o' Vincent Gautier: he's Mystique's contact and I don't want her thinkin' I'm gettin' in her way, got it?"
"We'll keep watch over him but that's all. See if you can get any more names."
Mystique was approaching from behind.
"Will do," he said while switching off and putting the phone away. He offered her a placatory grin. "Yer guy's safe."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She was still pissed but he pretended he hadn't noticed it.
"Just got in touch with my team." He grinned at her frown. "I don't do the lone wolf thing. Anyways, I just let 'em know yer guy's off limits."
She huffed.
"You're a real box of surprises, aren't you, Hyde?"
From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the men call the waiter and ask for the bill. Hoping he didn't sound impatient, he allowed an honest wolfish grin spread through his face.
"They're leavin' in a minute," he warned her, licking his lips. "So maybe I'll get ta show ya just how surprisin' I can be."
"Well, you really only need to be half the man he was to make me happy. But seeing you're his sloppy seconds," Creed breathed in to keep himself from reacting to the provocation. He'd have to spend the night biting his tongue not to let the wrong thing slip, but damn if it wouldn't be worth it. "Maybe you'll even manage to get me near his trademark ecstasy."
I've forgotten to mention it, in case anyone's interested, but I'm uploading a collection of 'sketches' I created as a way of adjusting how Creed and Isabel's relationship works. It picks up after the end of 'Taking the Tiger' and goes all the way to just before 'The Ressurrection' begins. I've named it 'Hidden Years'.
If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.