Author's Note: Late again I know. What can I say? Life happens. Plus, this chapter lasted about 4,000 more words than I expected it to.

Quetzal didn't look up from the magazine she was reading. Every time the door opened a blast of wind blew the scent and taste of the person in the doorway towards her. When Creed came in he'd see her with her back to the door and that would make him feel more confident and in control. And the more in control he felt the less likely he was to do something unpredictable. He was going to be unhappy enough that she showed up before him, but she didn't want to give him any more time to stew over whatever perceived slight she may have committed. She wasn't sure what had prompted his wanting to meet again and until she knew she wasn't going to take any chances.

"You're here early," Victor said as he sat down. She had her back to the door, it would have been easy to finish her off. Two things stopped him from just shooting her in the back of the head. One, he wanted answers and corpses weren't very good at answering questions. Two, he would like to be able to come back to this place all other things being equal. They did have great coffee.

She looked up from her magazine. "So are you."

"I didn't have anything better to do today. You can't have been here that long though. There's still food on the table."

Quetzal smiled and pushed the half-eaten muffin off to the side so he would have room to sit. "Funny guy."

"Just because I'm not known for a sense of humor it doesn't mean I don't have one."

Quetzal nodded and closed her magazine. "I thought it'd be nice to have some down time and catch up on my reading."

Victor would have thought that the X-men screening process would weed out anyone who's idea of 'reading' was catching up on the latest celebrity gossip. He wasn't above leafing through a rag when waiting in line, but he didn't think anyone actually purchased those things. "What are you drinking?"

Quetzal looked pleased. "Vanilla latte."

"I'll be right back."

When he returned with two coffees Quetzal thanked him before taking hers. "I can see why you like this place. This really is some amazingly good coffee." She sipped her drink and closed her eyes. "The espresso's a blend of Kenyan and Brazilian. And the baristas are good, that's got to be pretty close to a twenty-five second pull. The organic milk is definitely full-fat and I know the vanilla is real." Then her eyes opened and the smile slipped into a look that was downright murderous. "Then someone went and crapped it up with a good sized dose of rohypnol. You son of a -." Her eyes were narrow and she growled, "Did you think I wouldn't be able to taste it?"

Victor tried not to let his astonishment show. "Most people can't. That's why I use it." He leaned close, grabbing her shoulder in a tight grip and growling back at her. "Did you think I wouldn't find out who your friends were?"

If the grip was hurting her it didn't show. She met his glare with one of her own. "Well it wouldn't have increased my odds of surviving. Besides, why mess up a perfectly good conversation with any unpleasantness like this?" She tried to jerk her shoulder away but he held it fast. "Were you planning on killing me too?" Her voice was low, she wasn't attracting any attention. That was good.

He chuckled a little at her use of the past tense. Killing her was still definitely on the table. "I'm going to ask you some questions first."

"Here's a novel idea," she hissed. "Try saying 'please.' Catch more flies with honey and all that."

"What the hell are the X-men doing sending a little frail like you after me?"

There was a reckless glint in her golden eyes and her mouth twisted into something between a grin and a leer and a snarl. "I told you . . . . . say 'please."

He nearly snapped her neck right there. But corpses couldn't answer questions. "Let's take this outside," he said. "However this works out I'd like to be able to come back here." He'd get her back to his hideout where he had everything he needed prepared to ask her some questions the hard way.

Quetzal nodded and got up, slinging her purse over her shoulder. The cheeky girl actually picked up his coffee to take with her. But her face was placid as she walked to the door with him. He kept hold on her shoulder. They looked almost like friends as they left.

Victor guided her into an alley. He'd soften her up a little there before getting her to the car. He gave her a rough shove and she stumbled into the wall. Before she recovered he grabbed her bag away from her and tossed it away. She gave him a dirty look and asked, "Is this really how we're gonna do this?"

"Yeah, it is." He chuckled cruelly as he loomed over her. With surprising speed he snatched her close, pulling so her back against his chest. She was on the tall side for a frail, but he still towered over her, his bulk dwarfed her skinny frame. One of his clawed hands wrapped around just under her jaw, wrenching her head back and towards him. He laid the points of the claws of his free hand against the soft skin at the hollow of her neck. With his cruelest smile he laughed again. "Scream for me," he growled.

Quetzal glared at him out of the corner of her eyes. She shook off the coffee that spilled on her hand during the rough handling. Carefully she set her coffee on a trashcan.

Victor started to press the point of the claw under her ear in. Sometimes to get them to drop the tough act you had to draw a little blood.

But Quetzal screamed before he drew blood. And when she screamed the world flipped over on itself. The sound reflected off the narrow alley walls, increasing the volume.

The sound was unbelievably loud. Victor shouted with the immediate and intense pain in his head. Before the echoes ended Quetzal grabbed one of his wrists and the shoulder of the same arm. With little effort she popped him over her hip and slammed him flat on his back on the ground.

The world spun in several opposing directions simultaneously. Victor tried to get up but couldn't determine which way 'up' was. Every motion spun the world in a new way. The vertigo was suddenly accompanied by an equally crippling nausea.

Quetzal stumbled against the wall of the alley, not nearly as affected as him, but not exactly unscathed by her own ability. She took a few seconds to regain equilibrium before starting out of the alley. "You stay there," she said, her voice only a little hoarse. "You'd best be quiet for a few moments." She disappeared and walked around the corner, back towards the street. He could hear her voice in the background. It was friendly and charming. ". . . . Oh no officer, I'm sorry. I went to go do something with my coffee cup and – well you know how big rats are in this city. Those things would scare the bejeebers outta any person I'd think. This is so embarrassing . . . . everything is fine thank you. . . . Just a really big rat. . . . Yeah, it was loud. That's my thing. . . . I prefer the term genetically atypical . . . You have a great day too." She returned. "Well the cop's gone. Lucky you."

While he was lying on the ground Victor tried to assemble the new information quickly. Clearly the girl wasn't scared and she had just dismissed her best opportunity to escape or get help.

Quetzal was back at the trashcans. She rinsed her mouth with the coffee as she retrieved her slim brown bag.

"You bitch," Victor snarled, trying to roll to his feet. The motion set the world spinning again and he fell over. "What did you do to me?"

"Only what you asked." Quetzal dropped to her knee next to him and with a pull on his upper arm, rolled him onto his stomach. "It was loud enough to shatter your eardrum. That's what caused the vertigo. It'll last a few minutes. In the meantime . . ." She pulled a half used roll of duct tape from the bag and wrenched his arms together. As she moved she was very conscious of his claws. The nausea that surged when he was turned made him very unenthusiastic about vigorously struggling. "Daddy always said, a girl's got to protect herself." Several wraps of tape above his elbows, well out of the reach of his claws, pinned his arms behind his back. She wrapped a few more loops below his elbows, careful to keep it out of claw's reach, to further restrict his movement. Her movements were efficient, planned.

"You better run," he snarled. "When I get up I'm going to kill you."

"Oh hush," Quetzal snapped. She was patting him down, removing his weapons and putting them in her bag. His cell phone and watch went into the coffee cup. "You're upset because of the vertigo." She found his car keys and pocketed them. "This is going to suck, sorry." Quetzal grabbed his arm and with a little effort pulled him to his knees where he could lean against the alley wall. "But if you get sick you don't want to be laying in it."

It was better than lying with his face on the ground but the motion set the world spinning in yet another direction. He nearly did throw up. "You're a dead girl."

She made sure he was steady before she let him go. "If you close your eyes you won't feel as sick." Quetzal reached into the trashcan again and produced a baton, the kind usually carried by riot police. She stood silently with her head slightly cocked and her eyes half shut, listening and waiting.

Like hell he was going to close his eyes. This was all kinds of screwed up. He shouldn't be the one on his knees wondering what the hell was happening. It should be the frail.

There wasn't a whiff of fear about her. Her heartbeat was elevated, but it wasn't racing. Her breathing was deep and steady. More like she'd run a sprint than escaped death. She was angry. But for the moment she was hiding the anger under consideration, trying to screw with his head.

With everything else being wrong and confusing, Sabretooth was sure about one thing; Toad was a dead man. He said the girl could fake her death, but there was no mention of a scream. What else did that little shit forget to mention?

Quetzal stood silently, still listening to the world around her. Her breathing was slowing, she was calming down after the initial rush.

"I am going to kill you," he promised her. As soon as he could stand again. And as soon as he could get his arms free. Shit, she'd thought this through. He pulled at the bindings but there was no give. The movement made the world tip again.

She said nothing and watched him with narrow, critical eyes.

"You should run you little bitch. While you still can."

Quetzal moved over to him. She was calm again. She leaned close and took a gulp of air through her nose and mouth, making a disgusting snuffling sound. "Who came with you?" she asked. "How many people did you bring?" She moved to look into his eyes.

He tried to stare her down. "I don't need help to deal with a little frail like you."

She wasn't interested in a staring contest. "Current circumstances would lead an outside observer to believe otherwise. Did you bring anyone else with you?"

"You got lucky. That only happens once."

Quetzal smirked briefly. "You did something stupid. That can happen an infinite number of times." She moved in again, taking another sniff. "You really didn't bring an backup did y-"

He lunged forward and bit at her. She recoiled faster and shoved him back. Instead of sinking his teeth in her throat he bit into her wrist. She hissed in pain and slammed the baton into the side of the head, breaking his grip. "You son of a –" she growled under her breath and clutched her wrist. "This is exactly what I was talking about. Stupid." With unbelievable speed she lashed out and grabbed him by the throat, choking off air and blood. Her fingers were slick with blood but she kept her grip.

When he tried to pull away she pushed him against the wall. The girl was strong. He tried to break the bindings with sheer strength. They stayed firm and the corner of her mouth turned up just a little. "You'll dislocate your shoulder before the tape pulls apart. It's usually the right shoulder that gives out isn't it." Her voice was inhumanly calm.

And he realized he was in deep shit. It was beyond having gotten himself in an embarrassing fix. This farm girl was closer to succeeding than dozens of professionally trained badasses. And she was right about his shoulder. She knew that much about him and if she kept her grip much longer hypoxia would make him black out. And if she kept her grip much past that . . . .

His thoughts refused to go there. Blacking out was just as unacceptable. He could not let himself become that vulnerable.

Quetzal's mind was quiet. The Creature was watching without interference, letting the human decide on the best course of action. Quetzal had run drills like this with her father. His fears included his girls being kidnapped and he taught them from a young age how to turn the tables on anyone who might try it.

She kept her grip around Sabretooth's throat, careful to pinch off the major veins that carried blood to the brain as well as the windpipe. And Quetzal carefully considered her options.

If she kept her grip much longer he would pass out. She could leave him for whatever heroes would inevitably drop by.

Or she could just keep tightening her fingers. Healing factor or no, physically blocking the oxygen-laden blood would cause brain death in a short while.

This was not the Sabretooth she'd heard stories about. This man was too careless, too quick to consider physical force as a valid option in the face of something he knew nothing about.

And besides that he was a villain and a sadist. He hurt people. His existence made the earth a little worse. Her father would say that Sabretooth was like one of those lions that got used to eating people. Her father would say he should be put down because now, Quetzal had made an enemy for life. Sabretooth would try to kill her again, and maybe next time he wouldn't be so sloppy.

It would be easy, a few minutes longer. It's something a hero would do, should do.

Quetzal looked into his eyes. She wasn't a hero. Wasn't ever going to be a hero. Her fingers loosened and her hand dropped to her side. "Are you prepared to listen to me?" she kept her voice even. "And take me very seriously?"

Sabretooth gasped for breath as soon as she let go of his throat. Oxygen surged back through his system and color flooded back into his vision.

"Are you prepared to listen to me?" Quetzal asked him in a low and calm voice. "And take me very seriously?" Her eyes were emotionless, nothing behind them but nerves and brain matter, like any other animal. "If the next thing out of your mouth is a death threat then I'm going to leave you here to find your own way home."

"I'm listening," he kept his voice as calm as hers. He certainly wasn't feeling calm. He was going to kill her as soon as he got the chance. But showing any sign of weakness to an animal like that would just encourage them to attack.

Quetzal nodded. "I'm guessing you're parked very nearby since you wouldn't have wanted to carry a kicking and screaming frail very far." She pulled his keys out of her pocket. "Let's go for a drive before any bored heroes decide to investigate my scream." She clicked one of the buttons on the key fob and there was a nearby car horn.

She collapsed the baton and stuck it in the pocket of her coat before helping him to his feet. The world was still a little unsteady underneath him, but Sabretooth no longer felt the urge to be violently ill. Quetzal helped him into the passenger seat and went to the driver's seat.

Three blocks later she glanced at him. "So what did you want to ask me?" Her tone was almost genial, just a trace of hoarseness to betray her anger.

"After all that you're going to pretend we're playing nice?" he growled. "It doesn't work like that kid."

"My daddy always told me that if you're going to hold a grudge against everyone who tries to kill you then you'll never make any friends."

"Well if we're friends now," Victor said in a voice between a growl and a purr. "Then you can cut me loose."

She snorted in derision. "I'm not stupid."

The GPS in the dashboard made a soft noise to get her attention and reminded her to turn left in a quarter mile.

Quetzal glared at the GPS unit then glared at him from the corner of her eye. "You didn't." She shook her head. "You did not program the spot where you were going to question me into your GPS."

He had. It wasn't one of his usual haunts. Victor remained silent.

Quetzal laughed grimly. "Okay, I was pissed before – but the degree to which you half-assed this is . . . . it's insulting! I'm not even mad anymore." She pulled over and put the car in park. With the car stopped she reached into her bag and pulled out a knife. "Hold still."

With a quick motion she sliced up the tape holding his arms together, separating the vast majority of it. He'd be able to pull free with a little effort.

Quetzal stuffed the knife back in her bag and opened the door. "Goodbye Mr. Creed. If you ever entertain any further ideas about harming me then you'd better come loaded for bear. I ain't gonna forgive you for it more than this once."

And she was gone, slamming the car door and muttering under her breath as she stalked down the sidewalk.

One good pull and Victor pulled his arms free of the tape. His thoughts were still racing, trying to make sense of the afternoon, of the strange frail with deadly eyes. He moved over to the driver's side and took a few minutes picking the tape off the arms of his coat, planning his next action.

He quickly ruled out racing after her and ending her life in the middle of the street. It provided a modicum of satisfaction to imagine her bleeding out in a gutter. But he would be no closer to any answers. And there was no guarantee of success.

Victor finally decided the best course of action was to go home and lick his wounds. The only physical damage was some rapidly fading soreness in his shoulders, but the bruising to his pride would take longer to recover from. He'd try again later. After he had a few words with Toad. And he would take her advice, come back loaded for bear.

His mood was dark and his attention was focused inward. He was taken completely off guard by a scrambling at the back passenger door and a body flinging itself into the back seat.

It was Quetzal, she was swearing quite creatively in both Russian and Mandarin. She ducked low, below the window.

When he looked back her eyes were wide, rimmed with alarm. "Stay very cool," she said. "For both our sakes."

Victor couldn't quite grasp what had just happened. Because this couldn't be happening.

"On your six," Quetzal said. "And approaching."

The silhouette was recognizable from a block away. And it was the very last person Victor wanted to encounter that day - Wolverine.

Quetzal was slumped in the back seat. "Crap! Crap! Crap!" she swore and peaked over the edge of the window. "How the flipping heck did he find me?"

Sabretooth stared at her. He realized he was gaping like a dead fish and shut his mouth. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. He knew he sounded like an idiot but his mind was refusing to wrap itself around the situation. Because now she smelled like fear. Now her heart was fluttering like a small bird and her breathing was shallow.

She was ignoring him and slipping out of her jacket. "That son of a disease-ridden goat!" she hissed. "Must've put a tracker on my coat."

"Get out of my car – now!" he snapped at her.

"Heck no! He looks pissed!" Quetzal was staring intently at the seams of her coat. "If there's a transmitter there's a power source. If there's a power source there's heat," she muttered to herself. "Aha! There's the little sucker." She pulled free a small metallic object and crushed it between her claws.

His brain finally caught up with the situation. The crazy girl had made a clean getaway from his clutches then threw herself into the back seat of his car so that she wouldn't be spotted by Wolverine – ostensibly one of her teammates. Wolverine was apparently reduced to tracking her through electronic means.

She was distracted. It would be easy to reach back and slash through the soft flesh of her throat.

Three things stopped him. One was the thought of her squirming away and unleashing a scream inside the car. The other was the impossibility of remaining inconspicuous with a blood covered corpse in the back seat. Finally he'd be damned if he didn't get some answers about what the hell was going on after the day he'd just had.

"Look, do a girl a favor and get me out of here," Quetzal hissed.

"Why? Isn't he on your side?"

"He doesn't know I went to see you. I'm covered in your scent and I do not care to explain to him how that happened." Quetzal leaned forward. "Get me out of here." Her phone rang and she jumped. "Please?"

"You know this is all kinds of messed up right? You are aware of that?"

"Do you want answers or not?" she snapped. "Because option two is me getting out of the car and screaming my head off and then he comes over here and you know that whatever happens it's not going to be pretty." The phone stopped ringing.

"Might not be pretty, but I can survive it. Probably you can't." Frankly he wasn't in any kind of mood for a confrontation, much less dealing with Wolverine and whatever kind of wild card Quetzal would end up being. But she didn't need to know that.

The phone started ringing again. Quetzal closed her eyes. "I'm begging you. Just get me out of here. If he finds me with your scent on me he's gonna try to kill me. I need . . . . I need to think this through. I did not plan for this particular contingency." Her eyes opened. "If you get me out of here I will answer whatever questions you want to ask me, as thoroughly as you want."

"If he doesn't know I'm here then why is he looking for you?"

"He thinks I'm up to no good."

Before Wolverine thought to take a closer look at the car with the tinted windows, Victor started the car and pulled away into the flow of traffic. He was regaining control of the situation and that was good.

Quetzal sighed. "Thank you." Her phone rang again.

"Put it on speaker," Victor growled.

"Then you stay quiet," she snapped back. But she did answer her phone so he could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Dammit Quetzal, where the hell are you?" Wolverine demanded.

"So nice to hear from you too," Quetzal's drawl was full of syrupy sweetness. "Disappointed I found your tracking device?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm sure my drama students told you I was on a date today. I see no need to seek your permission to spend time with a guy. Why were you following me?" The syrup in her voice changed into acid.

"Just trying to keep tabs on you," he said. "Just worried about you. Why don't I meet you and this guy for lunch? He have a name?"

"He most certainly does but it's none of your business!" She was playing the indignant teen role to the hilt. "And I'm sure you're aware there are certain things a young lady might get up to where she has no need nor desire for a chaperone."

"I want you to come home Quetzal. There needs to be a serious conversation about –"

"About nothing," she snapped. "I am fine. And I am being very rude to my friend. I will come home when I'm good and ready and not a moment before." She snapped the phone shut and pulled the battery from the back. She opened the window and threw the pieces into traffic. "There."

"So is that a thing for you – wrecking phones when you get mad?" Victor asked.

She snorted. "Cell phones and watches have batteries that can power transponders. I can't see a difference in the heat if they've been bugged. Safer to assume they are."

So she had heat vision, Victor made a note of that. One more thing Toad hadn't told him. "You said you'd answer my questions. Why should I believe you'll tell me the truth?"

"I never lie." Quetzal said. "Never."

"Then what about what you just told Wolverine?"

Quetzal snorted. "Where did I lie?" She leaned on the passenger seat. "I imply plenty, but I don't lie."

"Because you're a good little girl," he sneered.

She laughed. "Well that's part of it, ninth commandment and all that. But the other thing is guys like you and Logan can smell a lie at twenty paces – literally. Best policy is to tell just enough of the truth to misdirect. But I'll answer any question you ask as thoroughly as you want me to. Said I would and I keep my promises."

"Of course I have to take your word for that too," his voice was dry.

Quetzal leaned forward so her head was next to his. He could hear the blood pumping through her veins. Her breath was even and he could see her eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. After a few seconds – long enough for him to get a baseline for her – she spoke again. "I never lie."

She was telling the truth or else she was the best liar he'd ever met in his long life. "Sit down and buckle up," he growled. He didn't want to get pulled over for having an unrestrained passenger.

Quetzal complied. "Thank you," she said in a soft, sincere voice. "It would have been bad."

"How bad?" She and Wolverine were supposed to be on the same side after all.

"He's outright accused me of being a traitor. I'm not sure if he'd try to kill me, but I know I can't explain why I'm covered in your scent. He won't believe the truth, not when it comes to you, and probably not when it comes to me."

"And what is the truth?"

"I made a very stupid decision based on sentimentality." She groaned and slumped in her seat. "Putting it off isn't going to help but it'll give me time to figure out an angle."

"But you don't lie."

"Nope, I just tell a lot of half-truths."

"He scares you doesn't he?"

Quetzal was silent for a while. "Yes."

"And I don't?"

She was silent for longer. "No," she finally said. "You don't."

"Why not? I'm a scary guy."

"It's . . . . complicated. Take us somewhere where we can talk eye to eye. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Victor took Quetzal to a park. The cold weather meant it was, for all intents and purposes, abandoned. It wasn't a half bad spot for hiding bodies either. When he parked Quetzal got out and took a deep breath of the cold air. But she didn't try to run, she just leaned against the car and waited for him.

"Do you have a first aid kit?" Quetzal asked, examining the wound on her wrist.

"Generally I'm taking people apart, not patching them up."

"Yeah, but I imagine you occasionally want to stop them from bleeding out ahead of schedule."

In other circumstances he might feel a growing fondness for her ruthlessness – her ability to go from panic to critical dispassionate thinking. And she was right. He had a first aid kit under the passenger seat.

"Thank you," Quetzal took the kit from him and moved to the back of the car where she could rest it on the trunk. "It feels like it's mostly cosmetic damage." She wiggled her fingers. "No tendon damage. That's good."

"So now what?"

"Well first, can you give me a hand with this?" Quetzal held out her wrist and the first aid kit.

"Why should I?"

"Because I can't manage it with one hand. Look, you got the easy job – I still have to figure out how I'm going to explain this when I get home." She scowled at the wound. Quetzal leaned against the trunk while he bandaged her wrist. "I'm a genetic construct myself," she said. She volunteered the information with a hiss as he dabbed disinfectant on the wound.

He looked up at her. "You're a Frank-" Her murderous look stopped him before he finished the word. "Sorry, forgot that we're playing nice now."

"Anyway, I'm a genetic construct. A Chimera."

"Like your mother."

She shrugged. "It's a little more complicated than I've led you to believe. The woman I call my mother was the one who rescued me, not a direct contributor to my genetic code. I was lab bred but raised feral. My 'mother' was a Demeter unit. But I'm a different model. I'm a Pegasus."

"That's a silly name for a combat model."

Quetzal smiled. "You twigged that? I'm impressed."

"It wasn't that hard to guess." He smoothed the gauze over her wrist. "And if the Cerberus was a dog-like model. And the Demeter was covert, then you'd be, what, flight capable?"

"I knew you were a smart guy." Her smile widened.

"I'm gonna kill Toad."

"It gets worse." She flexed her fingers experimentally. "I was designed by a Russo-Chinese effort to combat a particular Western force of mutant commandos. The final gambit in the genetic arms race before the end of the Cold War."

He laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"Team X?" He wasn't certain when he guessed it but it felt right.

Quetzal's smile was a little frozen. "I knew you were a smart guy."

He laughed it off. "Well you wouldn't be the first mutant I've run into that was supposed to be able to kill me."

"How many of them got you on your knees?"

"We're playing nice remember?" he growled.

"Just pointing out. I'm a league above. Thirty years of genetic technology this world hasn't seen yet."

"So why didn't you kill me then?"

"I'm not a flipping robot. I'm not preprogrammed like that. Just because I can do it doesn't mean I have to." Quetzal scowled. "This is why levites don't reveal themselves that frequently, not even to other atyps."

"That's not what I meant," he snapped back. "You're a hero, I'm a villain. You're not supposed to let me go."

"I apologize. I assumed," and she did sound apologetic. "Most people don't react too well to constructs." She brushed a piece of hair out of her face and smiled. "But I'm not a hero."

"Running with the X-men? You could've fooled me."

"I just sort of fell in with them. When I was growing up my dad used to tell us 'If you get in trouble, find the X-men. They'll help.' I was in trouble. I thought they could help." She looked down at her claws and frowned. "I think he was wrong though. They didn't help. They just brought out the side in me that . . . that I've tried to control. I thought they were a school."

Victor finished the bandage. "A school," he snorted. "They drag little kids like you into dangerous situations and then have the nerve to act surprised when something bad happens."

Quetzal opened her mouth to protest being characterized as a little kid but thought better of it. "I thought at first, maybe I could be a drama teacher. School plays and stuff you know?" She flexed her fingers. "You're really good at this."

He shrugged. "Just something I've picked up. So what's the story between you and Wolverine?"

"He hates me. And I don't trust him. Not one little bit." She sighed. "Remember I told you my mother was murdered? Six stab wounds to the torso. Wolverine killed her. In my world - well he was one of the people that we were hiding from."

"No shit." As a rule Wolverine didn't kill frails.

"He nearly wiped out Chimeras as a species. We were in-egg, but still," she frowned deeply. "I'm the only Pegasus model in existence. My sisters and I are the only Chimeras – they're Demeter units like mom was – they are her direct offspring. The rest are dead, most of them killed by him. I think part of it is he's reacting to me being so afraid of him."

"And the other part?"

"He's afraid of me. The Wolverine in this world doesn't know I'm a construct, but he knows I'm good at killing things. He's afraid of what I'll do to the others."

Victor chuckled. "If there's one thing that runt can't stand it's being held up to a mirror."

Quetzal blinked, confused.

"Look, you don't spend decades in a blood feud with someone without learning a little bit about the way their mind works. Logan's always been afraid of the part of himself that's good at killing, of what he might do to others." Victor shrugged. "So when he sees what he hates in himself being manifested by you – and Christ, you're so damn calm and accepting about it – you do scare him I bet, but not just because he's worried about the others. You accept everything he rejects."

"Don't blaspheme," Quetzal said distantly, turning this new thought over in her head.

She was easygoing about her inherent psychopathic side but she balked at blasphemy? "You're a weird kid."

She grinned. "You have no idea. Anything else you want to ask while we're playing nice?"

"How come you assumed I'd have backup?"

"It's what my dad would have done," Quetzal said. She hurried with an explanation. "He was special forces y'see. And growing up he taught us tactics and stuff like that. One of the things he drummed into our heads was to never go alone against an opponent you don't know much about."

"Then why did you come alone?"

Her smile was friendly but sly. "I know much more about you than you do about me. I'm uniquely bred for dealing with you after all." She shrugged. "Wolverine as well of course." After a moment Quetzal shook her head. "It was stupid of me to initiate contact with you in the first place."

"Probably it was lucky. Toad still would have wanted me to kill you and I would've gone with Plan A instead of trying to get some answers out of you."

"What was Plan A?"

He moved her to the side and opened the trunk. There was a case inside that he opened for her to show her the sniper rifle. At this point he knew her reaction wouldn't be normal (she wouldn't draw away like it was some kind of poisonous snake) but he was still a little surprised by what she did do.

Quetzal took the rifle out of the case and checked the chamber and the safety. "Nice. Shot to the head definitely would have done the job." She set it to the side and glanced at the ammo. "Steel jacketed rounds? Yeah, definitely would've worked. Would have even gone through my armor plating if you were aiming for a lung shot. Very nice."

"I wasn't expecting you to come alone either."

"Well I'm not about to tell them who I've been seeing in my spare time." Quetzal set the rifle back. "Use the parking garage across from the shop as a perch? Wait for me and whoever I'm with to come out the front door and take your shot?"

"Pretty much. Wait, you have armor plating?"

"It's internal. Just an extra layer of bone. Can stop a knife or slow down most small caliber rounds to non-lethal speeds. That's the idea at least; I never tested it." Quetzal put the rifle away and closed the case. "Well, things seem to have worked out well for us then. I'm not dead, you're not dead. Just some nonfatal bruising to the pride on both our parts. A very lucky thing considering what could have been. What else do you want to know?"

"How are you supposed to be able to kill me?"

Quetzal ran her grey tongue over her teeth. "Most early attempts tried to overwhelm or neutralize your healing factor. I have a unique venom – a hemotoxin – that is actually made more effective by your healing factor. It causes red blood cells to clot together, they no longer carry oxygen. Your body would react by creating more red blood cells that the toxin would coagulate. In a few minutes, if you were lucky, you'd stroke out. If you weren't – it would be a very painful way to go. According to the paperwork they found for me, it would be over in about twenty minutes."

"You know how many times I could kill you in twenty minutes?"

Quetzal shrugged. "Chimeras are disposable. It wouldn't matter to my handlers if one died while trying to take out a target. There'd be another dozen units like me all lined up and ready to go. But it's all academic now, I'm the only Pegasus model left."

Talking to her was dizzying. He assumed she was being as open as she was capable of being. But during the course of the conversation she whipsawed between a cold-hearted mercenary, a normal teen, and something else entirely different – something nearly mechanical – when she talked about her features as a Chimera.

"What do your friends have to say about you being a Chimera?"

"The X-men you mean?" she shook her head. "For the most part they don't know. I told Beast and Jean picked it up from him, but none of the others know. I'm not eager to tell them. Levites don't get a very warm welcome, especially not from other atyps." She smiled a little. "Back home I think everyone knew. It was a very tight knit community. They were very protective of my family."

"A family of creatures like you needs protecting from a bunch of farmers?"

"The best kind of protection is never being found in the first place." Quetzal pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up but showed no other signs of being cold despite the chilling wind. "Anything else you want to know?"

Victor thought about it. She'd had every reason and chance to cause him harm earlier. Then she had followed that up with putting herself at his mercy after he'd tried to hurt her. She was weird and unpredictable but seemed sincere in her desire not to hurt him. "You've got a lot more secrets don't you?"

"Yes."

"Keep them."

She blinked in surprise. "Beg pardon?"

"You heard me."

"I just wasn't expecting that." She gave him a sideways look. "If Wolverine were to find out about this it would cause a lot of trouble."

Victor laughed. "There's a creature designed to kill him sleeping three bedrooms down from him and he doesn't know it. It's too funny. Absolutely hysterical. And if you go batshit and kill him, so much the better for me."

Quetzal was trying for a black look but the corner of her mouth curled up into a half grin. "You have a really twisted sense of humor."

"No shit."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Now, what do we do about the mutual thorn in our side?"

"I told you Wolverine wasn't going to find out from me."

"I meant Toad," Her smile showed one of her darling fangs. "We both have a bone to pick with him."

The girl wouldn't be with the X-men long, Victor was sure of that. She was right; whatever else she was, she wasn't a hero. "Oh yes, what shall we do about him?"

Quetzal looked at her reflection in a storefront window and prodded her cheekbone. She was going to have a pretty good shiner in a few hours. "Well it adds a degree of believability. They ask where I got the bite on my wrist from and I can tell them I got in another fight with a drug dealer. Hopefully they won't look too closely at the tooth marks."

Victor had enjoyed watching her take down the dealer. Her violence was efficient. Her injured arm hampered her and the punk managed to connect a lucky swing. But he wouldn't be able to walk again. She'd taken the cash and used it to bankroll a shopping spree to replace her clothes. She'd taken the man's watch too and given it to Victor to make up for the one she'd destroyed.

The girl definitely wasn't X-men material.

"Thanks again for taking me back into the city," Quetzal said. "You don't have to accompany me on my errands though." She gathered up her bags and sniffed at the air. "Oooh! Hotdogs!" She bolted across the street to a hotdog stand and spent the last of the cash. "Want one?" she asked.

"I can think of few things more unappealing." He shrugged his jacket higher against the wind. "So what are we going to do about Toad?"

"I can't kill him in cold blood," she said. "I just can't."

"He's a mammal, he's warm blooded. His blood won't be cold. Not until it's been out of his body for several minutes at least."

She giggled. "It's his nature to be a little weasel." She said. "Lambs, wolves, and weasels; the good Lord made them all for a reason. Can't expect him to deny his nature anymore than you could ask us to eat grass."

"Still . . ."

"And it's that nature that makes him so useful to people like us." She finished her hotdog in one last large bite. "Toad is a tool in more ways than one. This looks like a good spot." She went inside a building and came out two minutes later in her new clothes. "You stay downwind of me. And keep your eye out for a parking garage."

"Why?"

"They're good places to take off from."

This was the real reason he was walking with her as she did her shopping. He wanted to see her transform and fly. "Well your temper may have cooled but, I'm still going to have a word with him. Many words. I expect on his end it will go a lot like 'please no Victor, I didn't really try to get you killed. I'll keep my mouth shut.' And then there may be some bleeding. That looks like a garage up there."

"Well obviously I can't stop you from doing whatever you feel you need to do. You'll put a few good words for me?"

"Yeah, not a problem. He won't be talking to Wolverine. He might not be talking to anyone when I get done with him – I haven't decided on that yet. So why's he have his heart set on killing you?"

"It's not unjustified. I crossed him pretty bad at Genosha." She told the story with a matter-of-fact modesty, and it was much more believable than Toad's version. By the time she finished they were on the roof.

"I don't know why you're conflicted," Victor said as she sat on the ledge. Jesus, it was colder up here than it was on the ground. "It sounds like you're really good at killing people."

She picked at the knots on her skate shoes. "I don't want to kill people. I never wanted to be a soldier."

"Then what the hell are you doing with the X-men?"

She tied the laces of her shoes together. "I thought they were a school."

Victor laughed. "Do you know how old that Drake boy was when he started heroing with them? Sixteen. Jubilee might've been younger. It's a training academy for raising idealistic little soldiers. Practically a cult."

She took off her new jacket and tied it around her waist. "My dad felt the same way. Didn't want us girls getting mixed up in heroing. But he knew they'd help if we got in a fix. I was in a fix." Her arms were covered in downy crimson fluff, that's why she hadn't been cold. Even in just her tank top she wasn't shivering. "I don't like what I am when I am around them."

"So what would you be doing then if you weren't heroing."

"Dancing. On the stage. Mme. Yelena said I had a gift for movement."

"Bullshit," Victor said good humouredly. "Stage dancers do not eat the way you do."

"I'm a flyer. I need the calories." She did a pas de deux in her stocking feet, slipping briefly on an ice patch. "See? I dance."

"We're in the middle of New York City – why the hell aren't you auditioning or something? If you don't like hanging out with them then stop."

"I can't abandon friends who need me." She sat back down and pulled her socks off, stuffing them in the toes of the shoes.

Victor snorted. "You have an awfully high opinion of yourself." He watched as her feet stretched out into long saurian forms. Her toes turned into grasping claws with wicked talons.

She stood on those toes and was only slightly shorter than him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"They don't need you. There's nothing tying you there."

Quetzal slung the shoes around her neck and started unraveling the bandage on her wrist. The bleeding had stopped and there didn't seem to be any structural damage. She ought to be able to fly on it. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," he shrugged. "Not really. But it wouldn't be a disadvantage to me if you left them."

More feathers, larger ones, emerged from her skin as her arms grew longer. They were turning into large wings with bold coloring. "It's not that simple." She stepped onto the ledge.

He shrugged. "Whatever you say. Stay out of my way kid."

She snorted back at him and grinned, her fangs were longer now. "You stay out of mine pops." Quetzal leaned backwards until she fell. An instant later she was soaring back up into the sky.

Victor watched the red wings diminish against the clouds until the speck disappeared. A weird kid, but not entirely unlikeable. He hoped she left the X-men. It would be a shame to have to kill her.

He started back down to the ground. He needed to get a new phone. Then he needed to find Toad.

Author's note part two: We're closing in on the end of Verse 1 here. Y'all still with me?