Prey Drive Chapter 4
By Cadet Deming
I don't own the rights to X-Men or the Wolverine Origins Movie, Marvel and Fox Studios do, so please don't sue. I work in litigation so you wouldn't want to anyhow. Based on movie continuity. Thanks to the people that are leaving reviews, they're encouraging. Rated T for adult language, adult situations, and violence. Horror/Comedy. Takes place in the 1970's
Victor Creed walked Tabitha back to the car. Pankow's body lay on the gravel. Flies were already buzzing around it, and a few turkey vultures were already tearing into the cop's flesh. "The Wild" didn't waste its time.
"So, um, how are we going to get rid of the body? I really don't want to add cop-killer accomplice to my resume," she said, queasiness leaking out in her voice.
"Bury it, not that we have much time, "Creed said, staring at the view of her from behind.
He realized after he said it that he wasn't in such a hurry to complete the mission after all. It's not like Stryker had given him a specific deadline. Plus, with the extra publicity and this added complication, he had the perfect excuses for taking his time with this one.
"Do you have a shovel?" she asked.
"In the trunk," he said.
"You really are a serial killer," she said.
Victor smiled and walked towards the birds. They all stopped eating and looked up at him suspiciously. Animals had a second sense he was dangerous. He hissed at them and they took off squawking.
"Now you're just showing off. Should we switch and take the police car?" she asked.
"No. We're trying to stay under the radar. People pay too much attention to cops to make sure they don't get caught doing what they're not supposed to."
"We could at least siphon off his gas," she said.
He was starting to respect her a little. She seemed to be wising up quickly. Or tightening the noose on her own neck, depending on how things played out.
"Good idea, I only get 10 miles to the gallon," he said.
"You should get one of those new Japanese cars. They get better fuel efficiency."
"Hmmpf. A car made in Japan. It'll never catch on," he said.
Victor quickly buried the cop, stole the gas and hid the patrol car. They took off on the road again. The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky.
"So, um, I don't think anyone else is going to buy us as father and daughter. You're in your what, late 30's?" she said.
"Add a century, give or take a few years," he replied.
"Can I have your plastic surgeon, because you look great for your age? Are you a vampire? You drink blood, have pointy teeth, and wear all black…not that there's anything wrong with that. It's a really good look for you."
Victor was on the brink of gagging her and putting her in the trunk again, but he latched on to how she said he looked good.
"I'm not a vampire. I'm immortal from my mutation. Everything grows back exactly the way it was."
"Your powers are so much cooler than mine. All I can do is blow stuff up. I'm sure if I were a 14 year old boy that would seem great. So…um…where did you go to college?"
"Do I seem like a college boy to you?" he asked.
"Actually, no. You do seem really 'wilderness smart' though."
"I'm a regular fucking Boy Scout," Creed said sarcastically.
"So do you have any family members that are mutants too? They say it runs in families, like cancer."
"I have a half-brother," Victor replied, recent memories coming back.
"Is he a giant cat too?" she asked.
"No, a Wolverine. He's a dick."
"A bigger dick than you are? How is that even possible?" she said.
"Do you have a death wish, little girl!?" Victor roared at her. He felt his claws extending.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know it was a sensitive subject for you. You don't come across as the sensitive type. And my mouth is sometimes faster than my brain."
"Sometimes?" he said with sarcasm.
"I'm calling your bluff. I know you have orders not to kill me. If not you would have done it by now, probably with relish," she said.
"And ketchup with onion on the side," he said, winking at her.
"I'm getting hungry now for normal food," she said.
"Yeah. Me too," he said.
"But didn't you just eat?" she asked.
"I have the, what do they call it, metabolism of a hummingbird. I burn through everything."
"Your powers are so much cooler than mine," she said.
"The first town we get to that has a good restaurant, we'll stop. I need to get out of this damn car anyhow," he said.
"Ok. Do you have any weed?" she asked.
"No, I'm immune. Drugs don't have any effect on me. I've never even been drunk," he said.
"For once, I don't envy your powers. No wonder you seem so angry. What do you do to chill out?"
"I hunt. And I fuck the pain away."
He stole a side glance at her, to gauge her reaction. She blushed and quickly turned away, obviously pretending to look out the window. He didn't smell fear though. Nervousness, but not fear. Her heartbeat increased.
"So um, could we listen to the radio?" she said.
"The radio's been on the entire time. I just had it on low because my senses are so strong," he said.
He extended his claws and used one fingernail to adjust the volume. "Superstar" by The Carpenters came out from the car's speakers. He still kept it low enough to hear Tabitha's heartbeat.
"Funny, I wouldn't have taken you for a Carpenters fan," she said.
"I'm not. There's nothing else on," he said.
She finally was silent listening to the music. At first he was relieved by the end of her constant questions. Then he realized he kind of missed them. Anything was better than listening to The Carpenters.
An hour and a half later
Victor parked the car in an empty space in front of a diner. He tied a handkerchief over Tabitha's hair and put sunglasses back on her. It wasn't much of a disguise, but Tabitha was so hungry by then she was ready to take the risk, not that she had much choice in the matter. She didn't think it was a good idea to get between Victor and food.
"If we're trying to be under the radar, you need to get rid of these," she said, raising her hands and clinking the Adamantium handcuffs.
"I don't know if you've earned it yet. Cover it with a purse or something," Victor said.
"Great. Do you have a giant Gucci purse the size of a shopping bag in the trunk that I never let out of my hands through the entire meal? That won't draw any attention. Ooh, are those pancakes you smell now? Pancakes with butter that melts in your mouth and homemade maple syrup. Come on, the sooner you take these off, the sooner we can go inside. I won't run away."
Victor growled at her, baring his fangs.
"You're going to have to beg me for it," he said.
"Fine. Pleeeeease?"
"Please what?"
"Please…Master?"
"Ok. But I'm keeping you as close to me as possible. And if you try anything, I'll gut you like a fish."
Victor leaned over and opened the dashboard right in front of her. He took a key out and unlocked the Adamantium. He hid it under his trench coat.
"Wait, the key was right in front of me the entire time," she said.
"There's no place like home Dorothy," he said, smirking wickedly as he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her out of the car.
They entered and waited for the hostess to greet them. Victor held on to her hand tightly with one hand. They were so close she heard his stomach growl. At least, she thought it was his stomach. It was hard to tell with him.
The hostess smiled brightly and said: "Welcome to Finnegan's Diner. Do you two lovebirds want smoking or non-smoking?"
"Non. And can we have a private booth?" said Victor.
"Right this way," she said as she led them to a corner booth in the back.
He scooted in next to Tabitha, never taking his hand off of her. They both looked at the menu. The waiter approached them.
The waiter started to say: "Hello. Welcome to Finnegan's. Our specials for the day are…"
"Just bring me four all egg white omelet's with tomatoes and broccoli, 3 glasses of orange juice, and a side of buckwheat pancakes with butter and maple syrup. And make it fast, I'm starving" Victor interrupted.
"Will that be…all?" the waiter asked.
"Um, I'll have the buckwheat pancakes, but with blueberries please. And a coffee with cream and sugar please," Tabitha said.
"Coming right up," the waiter said, giving a skeptical glance to Victor's nails as he collected the menus and walked away.
"You really need to work on your people skills, Vic," Tabitha said.
"Why should I? I don't need people skills. And don't call me Vic, I hate that nickname."
"Do you have a nickname?" she asked.
"My call-sign is Sabertooth."
"It fits."
Ten minutes later the food arrived. They both devoured it as fast as they could. She felt like she hadn't eaten in a week.
She was finishing up her coffee when she heard Victor growl again. He was staring at the entrance to the diner. Then she saw what he was looking at: four cops.
To Be Continued