Sabretooth felt someone was watching him. He glanced at a storefront window but didn't see anyone behind him. There was a scraping sound and he looked up. A girl with coal black hair that was scarlet at the part was standing on the railing of a fire escape, smiling down. "Hi!" she waved.

He recognized her hair; dyed black but blood red at the roots. She'd been walking down the street and passed him a few minutes ago. Her behavior had been fairly unremarkable but hair like that was hard to miss. She'd tripped and stumbled against him in a way that made him check for his wallet immediately afterwards, but she hadn't lifted it.

He ignored her and kept walking. There was more scrabbling noise above him. He looked up in time to see her making a leap across an alley to the next fire escape. There was a clanging as she missed her footing and scrambled to catch herself.

"You're hard to keep up with," she said. "Don't suppose you'd mind stopping for a minute or two."

"Who the hell are you?"

"No one you know yet. I'm Quetzalcoatl dos Santos. Quetzal, if you like."

"Go away."

"I just want to talk."

He continued walking and she scrambled from one building to the next.

"Hey, Mr. Creed!" she called down. "I wanna talk to you!"

The use of his name meant she was more than just some crazy. "What do you want?" he turned and growled at her.

She sunk back a little, somewhat chastised. "Told you. I just wanna talk."

"Why don't you come down here?"

She laughed pleasantly and pulled forward again. "Not just yet. You got a bit of a reputation y'know." She had picked her location well. The amount of time it would take for him to get up on the landing would give her a long head start. And even if she had missed her footing in the rooftop scramble a minute ago, she was more agile than he was. She'd be able to keep her lead if he did go after her. "I wanna make sure it's relatively safe."

"Sure it is, come on down." He grinned as friendly as he could.

Her laughter pealed again. "I'm crazy as a junebug in May, but I'm not stupid."

The grin dropped from his face. "You know enough to find me then you oughta know I'm not safe."

"That's why I used a qualifier." Quetzal squinted at him, critically evaluating. "I guess it won't do much good to stay up here like flipping Juliet on the balcony . . . . still . . . ." She chuckled and shook her head. "This is such a bad idea, but . . . . you want lunch? My treat."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because I know enough about you to find you in the middle of the largest city in America. You gotta be a little curious about that." Her soft Texan accent kept that from sounding as menacing as it might have otherwise.

"You're betting your life on my curiosity?"

Quetzal's smile was brilliant and friendly, not one he was used to seeing. "A lot of people don't give you enough credit for being a smart guy Mr. Creed. I know better. And anyone who's any kind of smart has a pretty healthy curiosity." The smile briefly turned into a smirk. "Besides, I can outrun you." She leapt over the railing and twisted so she landed on the next landing. Then she stopped and stared, trying to see what his reaction was.

"What could a skinny little frail like you want with me?"

"It's an incredible story. Downright unbelievable." She jumped to the next landing and evaluated again. "I'm from a different universe. About fifty years ahead of this one. I can't get home." She corrected herself, "Yet. I can't get home yet. Anyhow, in my universe, you were one of my mother's peers. Well, you . . . . my universe's you . . . were freelance. She was working for the Russian mob back then. Of course, this was fifteen years before I was born."

"That is unbelievable." He watched as she dropped to the second story. The next drop would put her on the sidewalk with him.

She straightened. "So it's gotta be the truth then right? Nobody would make up a story that moronically unbelievable." She took a deep breath and dropped to the sidewalk, landing in a crouch just a few feet in front of him. When they stood there for a few seconds without him making a move to threaten her she smiled. "Of course, even if I'm crazy, you could still score a free lunch out of the deal. I know a great Mexican place not too far from here. Of course, if you wanted to pick the place I'd understand. Not everyone likes Mexican." She winked.

She wanted him to feel in control and safe. She wanted him to know she wanted him to feel in control and safe. And it was beyond ridiculous that a skinny little frail was worried about making him feel safe.

Sabretooth had been unable to find anyone that might be her backup. "You just want to talk?" This whole thing was strange and extraordinary.

"My mom had this habit. Every time she needed help, she went looking for Victor Creed. She had all these war stories." Quetzal wasn't smiling anymore. Her face was earnest and serious. "I just want to talk. I'll buy lunch."

"Talk about what?"

"I don't know," she was starting to lose her cool exterior. "I was thinking maybe I could find out a bit more about my mom. Why she thought you of all people were someone to go to in a clinch. I'm just curious myself."

"So find the me in your universe. Leave me alone kid."

"I can't," she snapped. Her eyes shut briefly as she took a deep breath, regaining her calmness. "One, no one knows what happened to you in my universe but the general consensus is that you're dead. Two, I can't go home. I can't find anything close to my home. You – you're the closest thing I have to a touchstone. And it kills me to admit that."

"It might you know. Literally kill you. Or rather I might."

She stared at him with wide golden eyes. The tension was thick before the stress snapped and she surprised him by bursting into laughter. Lyrical, pealing, infectious laughter that doubled her over and quickly left her gasping. She was still giggling as she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. "I'm still pretty sure this is a really bad idea. But it's worth it just for that laugh."

Sabretooth found himself smiling and lacking anything better to do at the moment . . . "There's an Indian place just around the corner."

"That sounds fantastic."

Quetzal was friendly and outgoing and despite himself, Victor was warming up to her. She was a breath of fresh air compared to the usual dark-minded individuals he frequently found himself surrounded by.

The first few minutes were tense, but Quetzal quickly filled the silence with stories of her childhood on a farm. A farm that was apparently filled with explosives.

She was using a piece of bread to mop up a sauce that was spicy enough to make his eyes water from across the table. "Anyway, that was when we found out that pigs can indeed suffer from PTSD."

"I guess that was the last time your dad was asked to do fireworks for the township."

"Actually it wasn't. The next time they just made sure to wet down the fields first if that July has been dry. Mrs. Mackinney's cornfield got the worst of it. She grew popcorn."

"What happens when a popcorn field catches fire?"

"What do you think happens? Would you believe that huge drifts of the stuff just sort of piled up in the street?"

"You're kidding."

"It's just like snow. We got out of school that day because we had to shovel the streets off." She giggled. "Pile it all up along the road so cars could get through."

"You are bullshitting me."

"It's fluffy, it's white. It piles up in drifts. I mean, have you ever seen thirty acres of popcorn pop at once?"

"No. I guess not." He supposed that much popcorn probably would pile up in drifts.

"We salted the road too."

"For popcorn?"

"Oh yeah, you have to salt popcorn. Then the wildlife will come and gobble it all up. Just like a giant salt lick." The grin fell off her face, suddenly serious. "Of course it all ended in tragedy. Stinky Peterson's mule saw all that popcorn and decided it was snow. Poor thing just laid down and froze to death. Took two days to defrost him enough to take him to the knackers'."

Her face was so mournful and serious that it took a second for the absurdity to catch up with him. When he grinned at the nonsense she broke out in giggles.

"I apologize, but I love spinning a tall tale." She finished mopping up the sauce on her plate. "And you are just the tiniest bit gullible."

"No I'm not."

She smirked - just a little. "Anyway, growing up on a farm was pretty boring all in all."

"Punctuated by the odd explosion."

"All the best stories have explosions in them. I mean I'm pretty sure if I went on about a string of ballet recitals and church choir you'd fall dead of boredom. Flipping heck, I'd probably die of boredom and they were my ballet recitals."

"A little farm town had a ballet studio?"

"Why does everyone assume that a small farm town means the only thing we had to do for fun was watching the corn grow?" She rolled her eyes comically. "Newsflash: we had a library too. And a school."

Her complete lack of apprehension was charming. The smart-assedness less so. Still, he was enjoying the meal. "Alright, so let's hear one of these war stories."

Victor slept soundly enough on the bare mattress. The room he'd rented was a shithole but easily defendable. The floor boards squeaked and the window was painted shut. It would be impossible for anyone to creep up on him.

So when a gentle clearing of the throat woke him up his hand shot for his weapon.

It was gone.

There was a gentle laughter. His weapon was hanging from the fingers of a lithe female form leaning on the sill of the open window. She lifted her foot off the squeaky floorboard.

"One of these days," he growled. "You're gonna get yourself shot."

Iggy grinned, her teeth brilliant in the moonlight. "Not by you." Her Russian accent was still thick even after three years in the states. Not really surprising considering she worked exclusively for the Five Families, the key players in the Russian mob. She was capable of dropping the accent altogether when she wanted to blend in, but when she was comfortable she sounded like she was just off the boat.

"How did you get the damn window open?" The breeze was welcome. Iggy might like the heat, but he was stifling.

"That was tricky," she admitted. "But you know I love a challenge."

"How come you never use a damn phone? And give that back."

She tossed him his gun. "I like to visit you in person. It keeps me sharp."

"What do you want Iggy?"

"I need your help."

"With what?" Iggy didn't ask for small favors. She only looked him up when she needed some serious help, like smuggling high profile people out of Russia, breaking into secret research facilities, or hunting government killers.

Iggy didn't disappoint. "Mr. Petrova's oldest daughter was kidnapped and he wants her back. Hydra took the girl."

"What would Hydra want with a Russian mafia princess?"

Iggy shrugged and sat on the corner of the mattress. "I do not ask why. I just go and do. And get paid well for both the doing and the not asking." Her simple view of the world was often charming, but this was not one of those times.

"Messing around with Hydra is not something I'd do for fun."

"No, you would do it because you would hate to see anything happen to your good friend Iggy," she smiled.

"I don't have good friends," he growled.

She shrugged. "Then you will do it because I am being paid an obscene amount of money and I will share it with you." Iggy got up and went back to the window. "Alternatively, I am sure that woman Raven will drag you into her latest nonsense." Her mouth quirked up in distaste. "Going and playing Raven's little anti-human games will make you no money and there's a good chance you will end up shot in the head yet again."

"I got those other slugs out of my skull by the way."

"I thought you decided to leave them in because pulling them out would cause an unacceptable amount of down time?" Iggy frowned deeply. Having incorrect information bothered her on a very deep level. Her whole purpose in life was to seek out information. It was a lot of fun to needle her about things she didn't know.

"I did, but I got caught in the last Wideawake Project sweep. And once they get you in those labs they run the usual battery of tests."

Iggy nodded. She was probably even more familiar with the usual battery of tests than he was, having grown up in a research lab. "Bloodwork, x-rays, the occasional dissection," she shrugged.

"MRIs. . ."

"Are you okay?" Quetzal interrupted her story; her golden eyes were full of worry.

Victor realized he was wincing and rubbing his head. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Sorry," Quetzal stabbed a vegetable.

"What kind of name is 'Iggy' for a Russian hitter anyway?"

"My mom was a genetic construct." Quetzal lifted a hand to her mouth to hide the food while she talked. "She was largely reptilian."

"Your mom was a Frankenstein?"

Quetzal set down her fork, and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the napkin. "Please, don't ever say that in my hearing again. It is incredibly offensive."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes.

For a second it looked like Quetzal was going to turn this into a big deal. She muttered quietly to herself, in clear enough diction that he could hear it if he chose to, "Wanna look ignorant it's your own flippin' business." She cleared her throat and picked up her silverware to resume eating, glancing to see if he was going to make a big deal out of what she'd said. But she picked up the loose ends of her tale seamlessly when he didn't take the bait. "To most everyone else, mom was Anna Ivanovich, and later Isabella dos Santos. But he and a few others called her Iggy." Now that the danger of an incident was passed, she smiled her brilliant smile. "A guy helps you defect from a secret military program in the Soviet Union, he gets to keep calling you a 'Damn Iguana' if he wants to."

There wasn't any arguing with that logic. "Anyway, continue."

She stabbed a few more vegetables. "I'll just skip ahead to the exciting parts."

"Iggy where are you?" Sabretooth asked. The earpiece remained silent. The blonde frail – Nikki – that they were trying to rescue was wailing and making disgusting snuffling sounds. For the twenty-seventh time in the past hour he seriously weighed the ramifications of just killing her.

And for the twenty-seventh time he decided it wouldn't be worth the bitching out from Iggy. Still, if he didn't hear from her very soon he'd be cutting his losses and cutting Nikki's throat. He was not happy about being stuck with her; he was not happy about being in East Germany; he was very not happy about being five floors down in a subterranean Hydra base; and finally he was extremely not happy that there were still people shooting at him.

"Dammit Iggy! You've got thirty seconds to respond before-"

There was a surge in the amount of gunfire and he dove for further cover. After a few seconds it stopped completely. There was a brusque click of bootheels walking towards his hiding place. He leapt up and seized the trooper by the throat.

An arched eyebrow was the extent if Iggy's reaction. She had switched clothes and was now dressed as a Hydra footsoldier. He wasn't entirely surprised. Iggy was trained – bred even – to be a spy. "Gonna get yourself shot one of these days Ig," he growled as he released her.

"Not by you," she smiled, brushing strands of brown hair from her face. "Follow me. We are clear to the next floor. Maybe two if we are lucky."

The blonde frail was still being generally loud and useless. Victor pulled Iggy close by the elbow. "I was thinking it might easier," he said quietly, not wanting to set off another wave of piercing wails. "If we found her only after it was tragically too late. Maybe just brought back her head."

Iggy shook her head. "That is not acceptable."

"I can survive getting shot Ig, you can't."

She pulled away and pulled the girl to her feet. "Walk and talk." Iggy pulled the girl along. "I have bad news Victor."

"This day can't possibly get worse."

"Arkady Rossovich is here as well. It is his doing that Nikki is here. He has a plan."

"If we get out of this alive Iggy, I'm killing you."

"Do not be silly," she chided. "You will not and we both know it."

He might. "Then maybe we should cut our losses," he indicated Nikki, who was to hysterical to notice. "It'd be a lot easier to get out of here and that's got to mess up whatever Omega Red's got in mind."

"I am frankly surprised that she is still alive." Iggy said loud enough for Nikki to hear. "I would have killed her already if I were him."

There was another bout of wailing and the girl tried to pull away from Iggy. Iggy kept her grip, bruises were already forming on the girl's arm. Iggy was there to deliver the girl in one piece back to her parents, she was not there to minimize psychological suffering.

"Dammit Iggy." The sound went straight into his brain.

"She must return in one piece or it will lead to civil war among the five families. That will weaken them to the point that will leave them easy picking for the Italians. It will be a blood bath. Then there will be a backgammon effect-"

"Domino effect."

"Domino effect. A mob war keeps the heroes busy protecting civilians then blah blah blah and Hydra drops a giant telepathic squid in the middle of New York that kills off half the population of the city. If he covers his tracks well enough it might even be enough to trigger the US to strike at the Kremlin."

". . . . . That makes no sense. What happens in the 'blah blah blah' part?"

Iggy rolled her eyes. "It is complicated. It does not matter. It is enough to say that Arkady has truly overstepped his bounds."

Iggy always had a weird relationship with Omega Red. He was one of the first attempts by the Soviets to weaponize mutants. Iggy was a twenty-seventh generation bio-construct, a prototype of the Demeter unit. Demeters were designed for infiltration and quiet wetwork, but there was still enough left from previous generations of Chimera to make her tough as hell. Omega Red was regularly used as a training dummy to test the various types of Chimera during their development. Consequently Iggy regarded Arkady Rossovich as a combination of little brother and personal chew toy. And she felt it was part of her purpose on earth to keep Arkady in his place.

Sabretooth groaned. "There's no chance of us just hightailing it out of here is there?"

She frowned in thought. "What do you think?" she asked earnestly. Iggy was not a planner. Chimeras were not encouraged to problem solve. It was easy to forget that most of the time because her instincts were so good. That was how they ended up so deep in the shit, Sabretooth following Iggy, who was following nothing more than instinct.

"We have to get out of here!" Nikki cried. "You have to get me out of here!"

"Shut up," Sabretooth snapped. Getting the girl home would delay whatever the plan was, maybe long enough to get back and destroy whatever the squid thing was. If only for the sake of enlightened self interest, Omega Red had to be stopped. And while he was nothing near a hero,

Iggy tapped him on the shoulder, her smile was soothing. "Victor. He knows you are here. And that you took the girl."

"So why are you smiling?" he growled.

"He doesn't know I am here."

That was enough to make him smile too. You couldn't ask for a better ace in the hole than Iggy. "Ok, let's keep this simple. We stash the girl someplace safe. I go deal with this . . . psychic octopus thing. You follow me and stay out of sight until we run across Arkady."

Her smile widened, showing the fangs that went all the way back in her mouth, a vivid reminder of how inhuman she was.

"Can we put him down for good this time Ig?"

"My little brother? Of course not. Family is important." Iggy turned and walked back down the way she came.

"You're only twenty Iggy!" he called after her.

"Keep the girl safe Victor!" Iggy shouted back. "Everything will still go to hell if we don't bring her home."

"Wait," Victor interrupted. "You said she was working for the Russian mob for three years at that point."

"She was." Quetzal sipped her water. "Most constructs are designed to mature quickly. Get them into the field as fast as possible. That's one of the biggest advantages of using them. Mom went on her first proper mission when she was seventeen and that was enough to convince her that she vastly preferred not being on a leash in America to being kept on a short one in the Soviet Union."

"Not an uncommon problem. Normally they'd threaten your family to keep you in line."

"But mom was a construct," Quetzal finished the conclusion he was drawing and nodded. "Yup. She didn't really have any family as such. Not much in the way of patriotism either."

"You'd think they would have planned that a little better."

"Oh they planned it very well. She had all sorts of somatic programming to bring her to heel if she got violent against the wrong target or needed to be brought in or if they wanted to induce a suicide." Quetzal laughed and it was only a little grim. "What they didn't plan on was her hiring a guy to kill everyone who knew the post-hypnotic commands."

Victor tried to ignore the sound of the klaxon. There were backdraws to hyper-aware senses. The flashing lights and sirens that accompanied a self-destruct sequence were particularly grating. He'd stuffed Nikki in a supply closet two minutes before the warning started.

Two minutes after the warning started Iggy ran by wearing a completely different uniform, her hair was red now. "The containment field for the squid is down. Do not go below level ten. Where is Nikki?"

"Broom closet down the hall. We can pick her up on our way out. In the meantime we can go down and try to find Arkady."

"Ah."

"What did you do now?" he growled.

"Well, it is just that the monster is moving up the levels. We might wish to avoid it."

"Can you go for five minutes without making the situation worse for us?"

Iggy nodded solemnly. "I will try."

"Jesus Christ Iggy, I'm not a damn hero. I break things and kill people."

She shrugged. "All we are doing here is breaking things and killing people."

"You're right."

"I was not disagreeing with you."

"I mean we have to stop thinking like heroes."

Iggy frowned, confused and growing irritated by it. "I am not thinking like anything except what I am."

"Look, the squid thing is moving up, everyone is coming this way to escape it. Like rats leaving a ship."

"Rats run up?" The frowned deepened and she was starting to think he was being dense on purpose.

"We'll just go find a good spot to wait for Arkady."

"There's more than one way out."

"Then you go close them off."

Iggy nodded and disappeared. He was confident that she would pop back up when he needed her. Sabretooth started down the hall to find a convenient place to lay in wait.

Iggy whistled a low tune to herself as she typed in the key code. It closed and locked down access to the last of the general escape tunnels. Arkady's personal escape route had been the first one she'd destroyed access to, before she'd even gone to find Victor. It had been a great deal of fun, piling up all the loose munitions she could find and rigging them to explode. The explosion rocked the lower levels of the base and undid the last of the containment for the mutated squid.

Now that the final escape tunnel was sealed off anyone trying to get out would have to go by Victor. Eventually that would include Arkady. Iggy had to hustle to get back to where she would be able to help Victor. She slithered back into the air vent.

Arkady Rossovich was nearly blind with rage. All these years of planning and preparation literally going up in smoke. As he moved up the levels to stay ahead of the monstrosity he'd created he wondered who was behind this. The Avengers would have made an actual appearance by now. It might be the X-men, but the explosion that nearly took off his head when he attempted to use his dedicated escape route was definitely not their style. It was definitely a personal attack.

It was painful, but not completely unsurprising when three bullets slammed into his back. Arkady cursed and grabbed at the nearest Hydra footsoldier, instantly draining their life energy to heal himself. In the meantime he saw a familiar silhouette in the shadows. "You!" he snarled, lashing out with one of the carbonadium tentacles that emerged from his wrists.

For his size, Victor Creed was surprisingly nimble. He dodged under the tentacle, losing his next shot.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Arkady demanded as he flipped the tentacle the other way. Victor avoided getting caught in its coils but the lash caught the gun, knocking it down the hall.

Victor shook the stinging out of his hand and didn't answer.

"What are you doing here?" Arkady demanded again. There was very little reason for Victor Creed to be here. The man sold his ability to the highest bidder. None of the agencies he usually worked for would be standing against Arkady now.

"I'm just here for the girl," Victor said.

"What the hell does the girl have to do with you?"

Victor didn't answer, he leapt at Arkady, claws extended and eager for blood. Arkady lashed out with the coils. The coils wrapped around Victor and there was a stinging as Arkady started sapping life energy from him.

Momentum carried Victor forward. His claws might damage the metal but they were so much more effective against soft flesh. He got a few good slashes in before the coils impeded his range of motion.

There was a coil around his neck, beginning to cut off his air. That would Victor pulled the coils away, taking a short breath before they tightened again. He reached for Arkady's face, thinking it would be an awfully convenient time for Iggy to show up. Logan once fought Arkady toe to toe for eighteen hours, and they didn't have that kind of time.

A shadow rose up. Looking over Arkady's shoulder, Victor could see a lithe form silhouetted against the emergency lighting. There was a low rumbling as she cleared her throat.

One of the coils released Victor as Arkady turned to attack the newcomer.

It was immensely satisfying hearing Arkady scream like a little girl when he saw Iggy. She'd shed her most of her clothing and nearly all of her human characteristics. She was now a lean and dangerous saurian, about the size of a great dane.

Even after seeing her transform on previous occasions, even knowing she was on his side, Victor felt a small knot of instinctual fear in his belly. Millions of years ago her ancestors hunted his and those were instincts that died hard.

But that was nothing compared to Arkady's reaction. After he'd proven impossible to control he'd been locked away for decades, used as nothing more than a final test for Chimera designs. Decades of being chewed on, mauled, and savaged.

And Iggy was the end result of those decades. Generations of genetic tampering and refining made her immune to his "death factor." And generations of genetic memory had it stamped into her hindbrain that Arkady was her natural prey.

And she was between Arkady and the exit.

Iggy roared and sprang forward. The force knocked Arkady to the ground and the coil still wrapped around Victor's throat tightened until something crunched.

Victor gagged on his blood and tried to pull free of the coil. Iggy worrying Arkady like a rat terrier was not making that easier. After a few seconds the coil loosened and he was able to pull free. A few seconds after that and Victor was able to breathe raggedly.

Iggy wasn't doing quite as well, Both of Arkady's coils were wrapped around her. One was around her chest and the other waqs wrapped around her neck. If the tightening coils around her neck were choking her it didn't stop her from snapping her jaws inches from Arkady's face. Her talons scratched at his armor.

After taking another moment to recover Victor leapt in to lend a hand. He dropped his weight on Iggy's back. She 'whuffed' in protest at the sudden weight, but it dropped her the last few inches and she sunk her teeth into Arkady's shoulder.

The three of them tussled. There was nothing elegant about it, just three killers battling for survival. Even with the addition of Iggy, Arkady wasn't exactly a pushover.

It was Victor who had the most presence of mind to be aware of what the automated countdown was saying. When it reached three minutes he pulled himself free. Another wrenching pull dragged Iggy mostly free of Arkady. Sensing the opportunity for escape Arkady scrabbled free and took off down the hallway, the opposite direction of the exit.

Iggy sprang after him, eager to give chase. Victor shouted the recall phrase and she stopped suddenly and turned back. The recall phrase only had a temporary effect but in the meantime she heeled nicely at his side.

Victor remembered to stop and grab the girl from the supply closet. She was beyond screaming now, just sort of staring straight ahead. He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Then he ran.

Iggy sat back and sipped her tea. "Well that is that. I transferred the money I promised to your account Victor."

It was a pleasant day outside. The right kind of day for lunch outside of a café. "Thanks."

"And I feel it necessary to point out that you did not get shot in the head. Also as I promised." Iggy did not feel it was necessary to thank him for using the recall command to keep her from charging deeper into a Hydra baqse about to self-destruct. But he didn't comment on the lack. Even if it made his life more convenient like it did in this case, he hated the idea of somatic programming.

"Did you get the passports?" he asked.

"I know a girl who does good work." She produced three passports from her purse. "Has she eaten anything?"

Nikki was still staring straight ahead. She hadn't really moved or even blinked since their escape from the base the previous day. "I'm not going to feed her. If she's hungry she can eat."

Iggy shook her head and held a piece of bread to the girl's lips. Mechanically Nikki chewed and swallowed it. "We still must return her safely. It would be no good if she were to waste away." Iggy buttered another piece of bread and ate it herself. "Do you suppose Arkady is dead? He ran further down into the base."

"I won't believe it until they find his body," Victor said. He continued to read the German newspaper as Iggy fed bits of buttered roll to Nikki. "You know Ig, we are bona fide heroes right now."

Iggy laughed. "That is absurd."

"How many lives do you think we saved yesterday?"

She shrugged. "We did not do it to save lives."

"Yeah I guess you're right."

". . . Do you think we will get a medal?"

Quetzal was finishing her meal. "That wasn't the last of it of course. It was another three years before she gave up her life of crime. And even after she went straight she never stopped pestering him."

"Your mom tell you a lot of these stories?"

Quetzal's face became mask-like as she poked at the last of her vegetables. "No. Dad did. She died when I was little. She was murdered."

"Sorry to hear that." He didn't exactly empathize, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

She shrugged. "Mom had plenty of enemies. Dad said it was tragic, but not entirely surprising. He thinks he should have kept her from going to the meeting that got her killed. Should have seen it coming." She looked up from her plate. "If it's all the same, I don't really want to talk about that."

"So what do you want to talk about then?"

Quetzal dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "Well, to be completely honest, I did have more on my mind than swapping a few war stories and meeting with a – well something close to one of my mom's old friends."

Several pieces fell into place at once. "Jesus, you're gonna tell me you're my kid aren't you?" he groaned.

She blinked at him rapidly and then erupted with laughter. It was unrestrained, mirthful, and attracting the attention of everyone in the dining room. After a few seconds she reined it in and searched her napkin for a spot that was clean. "Oh goodness," she giggled and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the napkins. "Ohhh, 'scuse me for just a minute here." She sniffed and returned the napkin to her lap. Her composure was returning. "Did you hurt yourself jumping to that conclusion? Because . . . . yeah, my father's name is Victor dos Santos. My mother was friends with Victor Creed. Nothing more than that."

"So you absolutely aren't my kid."

"I don't lie. Not ever. And I am absolutely not your kid." She smiled. "Sorry for laughing. No offense but . . . . it's quite a conclusion to leap to. I know I'm congenial but I didn't think you'd like me enough to claim me."

"That's not . . . . I didn't . . ."

She let him off the hook. "It's okay. I understand. Truth is so infinitely stranger than anything we could make up. I guess leaping to a conclusion like that doesn't seem so crazy in the face of me being a dimension traveler."

"You are a weird kid." Victor shook his head. He was finished with his meal.

"You have no idea." Quetzal was nearly done with hers. Which was impressive since she had ordered twice as much. She set her fork down, ready to get down to business. "I was at Genosha last week. Did you hear about what happened there?"

"Yeah." He had been thinking about going down there and intervening after Toad got wrapped up in that mess. It was a damn inconvenient time for Toad to get himself put out of commission. "Heard that the X-men pretty well wiped it off the map."

"I was there too. In the confusion, I killed a lot of people. Killed some when they were bringing me in too."

"How many is 'a lot?"

"I'm not sure. More than ten. There was a lot of confusion and . . . . at one point I lost control of myself." She looked away, her brow furrowing . "I grew up on a farm. I've killed chickens and butchered hogs. Dad took me out every hunting season. Death isn't unfamiliar. But I've never killed a person. I'm pretty sure it should be different than killing a chicken though."

"You need a therapist kid, not a killer for hire."

"I need another predator. Ultimately that's why my mom got along well with Sabretooth. They were both predators."

"And you think you are too?" he laughed.

She didn't. Quetzal's face was impassive. "I don't feel anything different about killing people than I did about killing chickens. That's not normal. If I go talk to a therapist about it, they'll think I'm broken."

"You are."

Her smile was tight and didn't touch her eyes. "Well, that was awfully blunt of you."

"Because I'm so well known for being a sympathetic listener," he snorted. "There's a word for people like you and me – sociopath."

"I'm not a sociopath. I know I'm not. I do feel empathy. I do feel a connection to friends and family. A strong one." She fiddled with her fork. "My dad used to say 'God made lambs, but God made wolves too. They've each got a purpose.' And he knew I was a wolf."

"Sounds like a smart guy."

She smiled a tiny, sad smile. "Yeah he was. Point is I like people. I really do. I try to be a good person. But . . . . I just don't feel . . . bad. At all."

"So what do you want from me? You think I feel bad about what I do? Everyone knows I'm a sadistic sociopathic bastard."

"There's not many wolves around. Even less that I'd trust. My mom thought you were someone she could count on and that's all I've got going for me right now. There's no way I can get good advice from a sheep. Talking to you is a complete crapshoot but . . . . it literally cannot screw me up any worse than my friends have." She rested her head in her hands, dragging her blunt claws through her hair. "It can't possibly," she said, mostly to herself.

"That's pretty sad."

"In so very many ways." Her head shot up, eyes wide and ears turning red. "I absolutely did not mean for that to sound as offensive as it did. I am so sorry. I did not mean to make you sound like some kind of last ditch effort."

"Don't apologize for the truth kid. I'd be real worried if I wasn't the last ditch effort for life advice. I've got a reputation to keep."

She smiled her small smile again.

"Do you feel bad about what you did?"

"Not a bit. It was them or me. And I chose to survive. I'd do it again."

"That's it then. You just . . . . do what you have to do to survive. Then you live with it."

"That's it?"

"That's all I've got for you. When it comes down to us or them, know which side you're on."

Quetzal sighed and slumped back in her chair.

"What were you expecting?" he growled.

His anger didn't seem to faze her. "Don't know. I was hoping for something a little deeper."

"Well there isn't anything deeper. Not in real life. When it comes to real life the solutions aren't pretty. You choose to live or you choose to die. Then you choose to live with yourself – or not."

She toyed with her fork for a moment. "Well, thank you. Even if it wasn't what I was hoping for. I know you don't owe me anything." She smiled. "This wasn't such a bad idea. I really enjoyed this."

"It was fun." He checked his watch. "But I am very late for meting someone."

"Sorry to have kept you."

"Don't be. It was worth it."

Quetzal's smile was wide but it didn't touch her eyes. "Well I think I'm gonna stick around here, get some dessert before I get back to the rest of my day. Thanks for the company."

"See you around kid."

"Bye." She craned her neck around. "Mr. Creed," she called after him. When he turned her smile was smaller, but much warmer. "Just so you know, I can see why my mom liked you. You're not a nice guy, but you're honest about it."

"Where the hell have you been?" Toad came dangerously close to demanding. "Freezing my arse off here."

Sabretooth was still in a fairly good mood. "Met a girl. She was much better company than you are. So you had to wait an extra," he checked his watch. "Two hours."

"Must've been some girl. You leave her alive?"

"What the hell did you want?"

"Want you to kill someone for me. Do it myself, but she's running with the X-men and I'm still not back to a hundred percent." Toad was still displaying a collection of rainbow colored lacerations and bruises. "I'll pay you of course."

"This girl got a name?"

"Wolverine called her Quetzal, but I don't know if that's her real name or just what she calls herself. You can't miss her though. Black hair over crimson and brassy eyes."

There could not be more than one individual matching that description and answering to that name. Sabretooth kept the rapidly building anger and confusion from showing on his face. What sort of shit was Logan trying to pull with this strange little frail? ". . . . . I think my schedule is clear enough to handle this."

Quetzal was finishing up rehearsal and shuttling the kids out of the Danger Room when her cell phone rang. She answered it and tucked it between her cheek and shoulder. "Jack's Roadkill Café. You kill it, we grill it."

"Hello Quetzal."

Sabretooth's voice made her stomach flip over. She was not expecting to hear from him ever again. The surprise very nearly made her drop the phone.

She forced a grin as she recovered the phone and turned away from the kids. "Why hello there hun. Where did you get my number?"

"I got it from your therapist's office. Hope LeSaint is such a charming alias. I hope you don't mind. But you didn't leave me any way to get in touch with you."

Oh he could sound quite charming when he wanted to. "I guess that's fine," she continued to smile as her mind raced, very aware of the kids crowding around her. "I'm afraid now really isn't a good time to talk. I've got my hands full."

"How about tomorrow then? I know a wonderful coffee shop."

"That sounds fantastic."

"How about two o'clock."

"Perfect."

He gave her the address. "I'm actually looking forward to seeing you again Quetzal."

"It'll be a hoot I'm sure. See you then," she chirped back. She flipped her phone closed and turned back to the kids.

"Ooooooooh," one of the girls teased. "Ms. Quetzal has a boooooooyfriend."

Quetzal's smile was wide as she playfully swatted the kids on to their next destination with her rolled up music sheets. "Oooooooh, Cheryl has a maaaaaaaath class. Get a move on you little hyenas."

Sabretooth turned to Toad. "I'm meeting her tomorrow. She'll be dead by three. Good enough for you?"

Toad smiled. "Worth every penny. Think she suspects anything?"

"Maybe. It doesn't matter as long as she shows up."

Quetzal set her phone down on the night stand and curled under the covers. She flipped it open again and looked at the number. It wasn't entirely surprising he'd found her therapist's office. She wasn't trying that hard to stay hidden and Sabretooth did make it his living to find people who didn't want to be found. And then kill them.

She closed the phone. Maybe he did just want to meet her for coffee. They'd hit it off really well at lunch yesterday. Maybe he just wanted some company, the same as she did. It was conceivable.

Yeah right. And it was conceivable that when she woke up in the morning Wolverine would be tap dancing in the kitchen. Physically possible, but extremely unlikely.

So Quetzal had sat quietly by the window and thought for a while, turning the situation over in her head. There were a half dozen reasons she could think of that Sabretooth would want to arrange another meeting with her. Most of them would probably end with him taking a swing at her, probably even trying to snuff her. There were also a half dozen options available to her to deal with the matter.

In the end though, it was really quite simple. She was going to go. It was incredibly stupid, but she hadn't let that stop her before. And she was going to go alone. There was no reason for the X-men to know about this.

She was excited. She couldn't quell the hope that told her it was all going to end well. She was excited enough that she packed her flight kit before getting ready to bed down for the night.

Her teeth flashed in the darkness as her skull split in a wide yawn. It was late. Past time for sleep. She fluffed the pillow one last time and settled in, largely untroubled.

A grin danced across her face. "Mr. Creed," she muttered to herself as she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. "I am crazy as a junebug in May. But I am not stupid."

Author's note: This took forever to write. The blame for the delay rests solely on Iggy's shoulders. She was not being very cooperative as a muse. Hopefully the sheer quantity of this chapter will make up for some of that delay. Next chapter is going up on November 1.