Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made by this work.
Standing in the elevator as it rose up the stories, Victor stood holding a bouquet of flowers. Beside him was a family, husband and wife complete with a curious girl who stared at him unabashed. Smiling down to her, he waved at the child with wiggled fingers. He loved children, full of so much potential and an uncertain future. Over the years he had enough encounters where fate brought him back to meet the orphans he'd made to see the men and women they became after crossing his path. Fate smiled today as the elevator came to a stop, the parents ushering out their little girl who waved back at him before they closed.
Whistling a little tune, he waited alone for the lift to stop once more at the floor of his bit of business. Stepping out into the hall even from the elevator he could smell the gun oil and the nervous sweat of the men he had been asked to pay a visit to. Coming to the suite, he set down the bouquet and took off his jacket figuring there was no point in ruining it. Folding it neatly and setting it down on the floor he picked up the bouquet and gave a knock.
"Shave and a hair cut..." Victor whispered, listening to the sound of weapons drawn and safeties clicked off.
Counting out the distinct scuff of the shoes inside he figured they were all there and accounted, sniffing as he caught their scent and noted one had the same taste in aftershave as himself. Holding the bouquet over the peephole, he waited whistling his tune for the usual reply. He could hear them whispering to another, one asking if it was the take out only for the closest at the door to relay the mystery flowers he saw blocking his view of the hallway.
"Delivery." Victor said as cheerily as his he could.
"You have wrong the address, we didn't order any flowers." The man inside called.
"Nope, says right here..." Victor said as he feigned reaching for a clipboard he didn't have.
"You have the wrong place, go away or I'm calling the cops." The man inside pressed more aggressively.
Listening as the man on point called for two others to take cover at either side of the hall, Victor forced the act a bit more. Faking a phone call to his 'boss' to double check, he inhaled deeply of the adrenaline rushing through their veins as their hearts hammered getting ready to handle the unexpected situation.
"Nope, says I got the right place, you boys gonna sign for this..." Victor said with a drawl.
The sound of the latch opening echoed in the hall, the door thrown open a crack with the steel linear slide keeping it closed tight against intrusion. Flashing his badge, the officer looked about ready to tell off some hapless delivery boy when he had to look up at instead at the imposing visage before him grinning back down. Hoofing the door with a kick that could have fell a horse, Victor heard the cry of pain and the crunch and crack of bones breaking. Stepping into the hallway, the men standing guard opened fire with all they had. Greeting their assault with fanged smile, he looked down at the bloody stains that dotted his person and took another invigorating hit of that delicious aroma of fear that washed off them.
Walking up casually as he ignored them while they reloaded their spent clips, he admired the decore and trailed two fingers down the wall leaving rents in the plaster as his claws easily ripped through the wall. In the bedroom he could hear the last man already calling for backup, but it would be too late by then. Pointing their pistols at him, the pair of officers left on guard trembled with fear knowing it was a futile gesture as they fired their fresh clips into him at nearly point blank range.
"Now since that's all over with..." Victor growled.
The first fell to his claws staring down dumbly at the bloody gash that had once been his chest, yet the other he had special plans for. Gripping him by the throat, Victor started whistling once more and walked him out to the balcony and hurled him out bodily with his scream carrying all the way down until flesh met pavement with panicked screams. Three down, one to go. Knocking at the door to the bedroom, bullets bit into his flesh after tearing through the cheap wood.
"Two bits..." Victor chuckled, opening it as if invited to look down on the man fumbling to reload.
Slashing his throat with a scolding finger, he watched as the light died in the man's eyes all while he clutched at the mortal wound. A new scent filled the suite, terror and piss from the bathroom compliments of whoever the four officers had been guarding. Walking up, Victor knocked on the door and heard the fearful yelp inside.
"Remember to flush." Victor chuckled, walking out without another word.
Already he could hear the sirens rushing through the concrete canyons but he'd be long gone by the time they got here. Picking up his jacket he flung it over his back and walked on down the hall to the service elevator. As far as messages went, he sure this one would speak volumes. It didn't matter if you were a dirty cop, if you crossed his employer you'd end up just as dead as any gutter trash. Hitting the button for the basement, he started humming thinking about the reunion he looked forward to.
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A shit, shave and a shower later Victor slumped down in the booth of the diner his guy had specified, ordering up a burger cooked rare giving the waitress a wink as she set down his mug of coffee. The thing he liked about this guy that had him last longer than most of the rest was that he knew not to ask questions, when to shut up, and how to keep it cool. Likely watching from a parked car, he came in and sat down like he was expected and ordered up a hot turkey sandwich with some greens on the side. Instead of coffee he took a cup of tea with the bag on the side and a lemon slice, dipping it until the brew was just to his liking. Whether Shiro was his real name he didn't care, just so long as he knew where to find him when he needed him.
"Sorry to keep you waiting." Shiro greeted, pushing across a manila folder.
Unravelling the bit of twine, Victor flipped through the pages inside surprised to see how thick they really were. Pulling out the stack, he was greeted with old news articles telling of a car accident of the affluent Lee's leaving behind a daughter. From there it went on to the usual paperwork from the system, bouncing the girl from group homes to foster care until the trail went cold only to reappear a few years later now in New York as a ward of none other than Charles Francis Xavier.
"From graduation she goes from being a student under the care of the school to a staff member teaching gymnastics and physical education." Shiro added, having followed the pages.
"I'll have ta remember that bit about gymnastics." Victor chuckled, already imagining the fun he could have.
Now it seemed to get into all the usual stuff he couldn't be bothered with, a whole new language that had him just wanting to gut someone. In his line of business a profile meant a whole world of difference from what the internet used it for, though he had to agree her picture cast her in a different light than the woman he had seen walk into the bar last night. Flipping through the pages, Shiro played connect the dots from her 'Friends' including their own profiles.
"She doesn't really use her account much, most of it being bounced back to her email which I couldn't get into. That network is surprisingly tight.. The pictures I did manage to get of her were tagged in her friends profiles. The correspondences she has the most with are to a Marie D'Ancanto, Kathrine Pryde and a Robert Drake. She also ahem, 'pokes' almost on a daily basis a Logan whose profile is similarly little used as her own." Shiro explained as Victor flipped through the pages.
The last profile was the one he had to chuckle at, his little brother brought into living colour with the 'tagged' photos of him linking to the others. He could tell just by looking that this Marie was the 'Roguey' he had heard about that Jimmy had shacked up with, surely having a bit o' that feistiness in her but looking to have that bit o' something needing to be protected that really got his baby brother hard.
"Whaddya know about him?" Victor asked wondering if Shiro was holding out.
"He's a ghost, he just appears on the grid shortly after Miss D'Ancanto at the school. Just Logan as if his first name is Mister." Shiro noted, sipping his tea.
Putting all the print outs back in the folder and shoving them back across, he pulled a wad of cash out and stripped enough of it for their meals and a tip to the waitress. For the first time since entering the diner Shiro looked to relax and enjoy his meal at his leaving. It was about time to get back to the bar to wait and see just who would show up.
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Sitting at the table with an eye to the door he racked up his bill one drink at a time, watching the patrons file in the later in the day it got. He almost hoped it would be his but of fun from the night before to come, he could stand to put off his reunion for one more night wondering just what sort of games they could get into with everything he had learned about her. Over the years he had met many a lady that could keep pace with him, but somewhere along the way things usually fell out with more than once involving firearms and some fancy martial arts.
Something about his little Lee tickled him in a way he hadn't been since before the Cold War had a name, back when the world lived in the fear of two clashing titans risking to call down the thunder on all of them. Between the fight the night before and all that rutting in bed along with his bit of work, the beast behind his eyes was resting after running loose leaving him sated. Having another sip of his drink, he tried to quell another thirst as the door open with just the man he had been waiting for.
Leaning back in his chair, he watched with the patience of a cat stalking its prey waiting to pounce. Jimmy looked around the bar with his own beast behind his eyes prowling looking for blood, a sniff all it took for it to pick him out of the crowd. It was like the Yukon all over again, but instead of the slow wet satisfying 'shlunk' of his bone claws tearing their way through his flesh it was a sudden and sharp 'snickt' as the adamantium laced claws sliced free.
Flipping the table and kicking out of his chair Victor stood ready for him with his own claws free and ready. The screams of the scurrying patrons were nothing more than ambiance, the weapons drawn by his ilk nothing more than a nuisance.
"It's your move Jimmy." Victor practically purred, a sharks smile spread across his lips.
The flicker of uncertainty across his brother's eyes had him roar in rage, lunging at him seeking an outlet for his anger. They clashed in a tangle of claws biting flesh, sinking through their meaty hides to leave a rent mess that healed quickly. Those left made their way for the bar calling for rounds and placing bets on the fight. It brought something out in Jimmy as he renewed the struggle to win sheathing his claws and striking with fists that hammered hard and broke bone.
"The names Logan!" 'Jimmy' roared, throwing a punch that shattered Victor's jaw..
Spitting teeth even as new ones grew, Victor smiled up with a mouthful of blood and wondered just who this man before him was, just who had walked away from Three Mile Island that day. The introduction was long overdue it seemed, entwining his fingers and slamming both fists into his baby brothers jaw flinging him through the air to shatter a vacant table. The claws were out again with a 'snickt' as he lunged at him. Roaring as the claws sunk into his chest, Victor dug under his rib cage and pieced a lung that had his brother falling to his knees gasping for breath and coughing blood as the wound healed.
Walking up to the bar, he ordered up a bottle of scotch and threw down enough to cover the damages. The one good bit of advice his dear dead Daddy ever gave him was not to shit where you sleep, figuring he'd taken a liking to this bar. Popping the cork for a pull, he walked back to loom over his brother.
"Well then Logan, just why the fuck are ya here?" Victor asked, having one last swig before offering the bottle.
He could tell he didn't know why, that he was just a dog driven mad at a scent. He hoped wherever Stryker was he was rotting in that circle of hell, it all of lead back to that one man. Placing the bottle down, he walked off to the door noticing all his earlier care over his jacket had been for naught as he poked a finger through it. Standing there he looked back on his brother who knelt frozen in awful indecision. The beast that remembered was out for his blood for all the wrong reasons, but the man this Logan was had his thirst slaked leaving him with more questions than ever before without a doubt.
"When yer ready for another round baby brother, I'm sure you'll be able ta find me." Victor remarked standing at the door, stepping past without a look back.
Heading back to his shitty little hotel in need of a shower and a change of clothes, with the night still young he'd have to find a different bit of entertainment tonight. Victor figured his brother could use a night to think on it all, wondering if that mire he called a memory would cough up anymore of the man he needed at his back again.
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Author's Note : Hope everyone enjoys this chapter, and thanks to whylime, Jeannie and bloody-manga for the reviews!