The Family Creed.
Volume 1: Sins of the Father.
Chapter 2: Ishmael and the Superbeast.
The professor and the lady stare at me, "So? Any burnin' questions for me?" I look at them with a snide grin, "You gotta ask me, 'Vic, may I please rip into your mind and pick it apart like a brain doc and change it so you won't eat out someone's throat?' Hah! Fat chance!"
The woman, Emma, and Xavier both sigh, "What? You remember the last time you mindfucked someone?"
Charles looks back up at me, "No, Mr. Creed. It's… well, it's your behavior."
"You allowed Jean into your mind, why is that?" Emma asks, "Why be so guarded now?"
"Probably 'cause I was in an emotional whatever where she could easily slip in? It ain't that hard an' she's strong. I like strong ladies like her." I smile, "What ya'll do is surgical, what she does is kick down the door an'-"
We're in a white void now, "Oh hell no! You're not- Graah!" my memories flash through the void. No. No, not again! My rage bursts to life in a rain of fire, trying to burn her out of here.
"Get outta my head, lady!"
Charles appears, gently tryin' to pry out the memories.
"Ya don't… fuck with my head! Get out! Get out!" I struggle and glare at them, straining against the restraints they got around me.
"Now now, Mr. Creed. This is for your own good."
"Fuck… that noise!" I yell, "You wanna see it?!" my memories crash and roar through them both, their powers wavering as the void turns into roaring chaos, "You force your way in again an' I'll tear you both to ribbons, understand?!"
Charles and Emma both make the void go away an' I settle down. This is gonna be tough but they gotta learn that ripping open wounds isn't the way you're s'posed to convince me.
"So what now? You gonna rip me open or are ya gonna play nice?" I ask, my eyes wide and my teeth snapping at them like I was a wild animal.
Charles clears his throat, "Well then, let's start with your childhood."
"Not much t'tell. My Mama died when I was five an' I've been running away ever since."
"Not according to our records. The Macintire Family, they adopted you." Emma says, "And then, Victor Creed Senior killed them on your sixth birthday."
"Yeah. What about it? You tryin' to understand why a kid like me'd help your little X-Team?" I look into their eyes and their scents change to being the truth.
"If you're lookin' for a reason why, ask yourselves if the records ever went over what my 'Dad' did to the Macintires." I look down at my hands, "Or the miners that gave me their mine to sleep in for a night at least." closing my eyes I still remember the screams, the way he ripped into them.
"An' my Mama…"
A sigh escapes, an' I just relax, "If you wanna take a looksee, I won't stop ya."
I open my eyes, my palms bleeding from my claws cuttin' into them. They sop back up the blood an' close up. But I'm not in the office anymore, not in the high ceilinged place. It's not a void but my childhood home with the party decorations and streamers, and ripped-open presents of toys I never got acquainted with.
The smell of the cake fills my nose, every moment I stay here, the more I'm nervous I'll see him again. But showing up next to me is Charles, his blue eyes full of kindness.
"Let us take a look, shall we?" he says with a warm smile, "This was your adoptive father, Pastor Glenn Macintire, yes?"
"Yeah."
Pa Macintire looks at me over his half moon glasses, he's sittin' in his recliner, watching me with that smile on his face and the radio playin' some kinda gospel number. He's short but kind, taking me in outta the goodness of his heart, seein' me as a blessing. He's got sunwrinkled skin, graying red hair, wrapping around the back of his head. His body flashes with the fleshy bits spillin' out, things I didn't know the names of and blood, so much blood.
I'm so sorry, Pa. I didn't mean to lead the death you got right to you. Charles looks at the rest of the family. Ma's a pretty picture of a woman, long slivery hair, bright an' sharp dark eyes. Of course I ain't even sure of her features but those were close. She flashes in and out of that pretty head across the floor with blood blooming. Needless to say being freaked out was the least of my worries.
Because we're not even to that point where Charles needs to be. He searches even further back, the world pitching and shifting an' running backwards in a mad sprint. Not even a mad sprint, but an angry ugly charge of memory. Emma ain't here to help anymore. Mostly 'cause I don't appreciate how she tried to force things. But that's not the big deal right now. It's one of many issues I have with this. As we go backward, the cabin shifts to an apartment, fancy at least.
Well, as fancy as one could be for a lady like Mama. Mama never really had a name to me, she was pretty though with long black hair and eyes that'd shine like stars.
I'm in her arms, tiny and blonde, nail claws and fangs already in as she holds me. She's smiling down at me but it doesn't match her eyes at all. She's distant. Only caring for me because I'm a baby. Not her son. But she lays me in my crib and leaves the house. Leaves me alone to bob and cry, maybe even… Well, I barely remember. The memory breaks the minute my Mama leaves. My hand reaches out to her. I wanted to touch her, to know that she wasn't just some dream.
'Don't go away, mama! I'm here! I'm here, Mama…' I think, tears stringing my eyes and Charles whirs backward, snapping me right out of the bad memory.
Charles looks at my mama in shock, "Victor? Your mother is…"
"Yeah, she's what? Don't call my Mama ugly." I snarl but Charles puts his hand on my arm. I dry my tears with my free arm, still shirtless and in torn jeans, shoe and sockless as well.
"No, no, I know now why Logan has an interest in you." he makes the memory go away, "Come with me."
I follow him down the wide hallways to a kind of huge clothing closet, they get tons of kids passin' through from all over, so I guess that's why they got this. I trade my torn jeans for some new ones, a plain white shirt that smells like cotton, an' a bomber jacket with an X sewn onto the back, my feet covered by combat boots that can't be cut through by my toe claws. I dig into the pockets of my old jeans for some Canadian dollars.
"I know this ain't shit here, but take this." I thrust a hundred buck at Charles, "For the clothes."
He chuckles, "No need, Victor." Grumbling, I shove it back into the pocket of the jacket. He leads me out and towards the other wing of this place.
"We have classrooms here, and dormitories. All too often these young fellow mutants have no place to go. So we provide it here." he says, "Some of them stay as normal students, but some become part of our myriad of X-Teams."
"So basically child soldiers?" I glare down at him, "You give 'em a home and food, and board. How are you any different to th' military?"
Charles sighs, "Sometimes even I have to do things that'd make people's skin crawl."
"Still doesn't excuse you from using these kids like bargainin' chips for mutant peace," I sigh, "Listen, it ain't like I don't appreciate what you do and what yer tryin' to do, but I can't just stand here an' accept it if you're just gonna draft me into it."
"How about you stay as a student and decide of your own free will?" he asks, "Maybe you'll find it as a more noble calling than the dangerous game your father has for you?"
I hold out my hand, "What do I have to lose, anyway? I'm in."
He shakes it with a warm smile, letting my hand go as he turns and looks over his shoulder at me.
"Well then, follow me." He says, wheeling out of the infirmary room. I follow, walking after him towards the classrooms. The school is done up almost like one of those old British boarding schools, well, nah it's more of a Colonial building. He takes me to a much more quiet side of the school past a big X-emblazoned door. It's not a smooth hallway but still the wood paneled and old halls. But then it opens up to another wing almost dead silent if not for the muffled sounds of teaching.
"If you don't mind, Mr. Creed, Logan has recommended you to his class. Seeing as they were the ones who encountered you."
When he tells me that, all my thoughts turn to Jean. Or Summers, or Remy or Kurt or Piotr. In fact it's all a jumbled mess of thoughts shamblin' around in a trenchcoat.
"I don't got an objection to it."
Charles chuckles, "I see." he smiles and I swipe my hands around my head.
"Get outta there!" I yelp.
The classroom is big and windowed, sun shining in as Mr. Logan is writing on the chalkboard, "So, Ahab's obsession with the white whale, what does that do for the rest of the story?" Hands raise and Charles looks up at me.
"Excuse me, Logan. Do you have a moment?" he asks.
"Hold it, kids. Yeah, what's up?" he steps towards us and I look at my friends all sitting at their desks. Gulping, I look at the others, Kurt bouncing in his seat, Piotr and Remy acting cool. Rogue with her arms crossed thinking…
Yet there's still those eyes burning into my damn soul. Cyclops, Scott Summers, the boy who gives me that drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket vibes. A hardass. I'm half expecting him to yell about jelly donuts and trying to break Kurt.
But then there's Jean, waving at me and I wave back a little. There's a girl with dark hair that looks to be around Kurt's age, probably older. She leans forward towards Scott. She's honestly got the vibes of some kind of firecracker.
"He looks like Sabretooth!" she hisses.
"That's because he is."
"Wrong!" Kurt hisses back, "He's not Sabretooth! He's Victor, my friend!"
"Well, we feel as if Victor is to be your student. He has your… particular style of being." Charles looks at me with an almost side eye like, 'Don't blow this, hotshot.' He chuckles and Logan nods.
"Well, welcome aboard, Vic."
"Pleasure, Wolverine." his eyes widen in surprise.
"How'd you-"
"My dad screamed about'cha plenty of times when I got away from him, yellin' about how I was like ya, and… well, I guess he's right." Looking away, I rub the back of my neck, "Besides, I… I gotta thank ya for savin' me."
"Don't mention it. Y'see that empty desk next ta Jean? That's yours. Other 'n that there's one near Piotr. Take yer pick."
Noticing a desk in the very back corner, I point to it, "What about that one?"
Logan sighs, looking at it with a lot of pain. It's better if I take the one next to Piotr instead because Cyke's gonna burn a hole in the back of my head if I'm anywhere near Jean. But Piotr puts his hand on the chair.
"No."
"Why not, Rasputin?" Logan asks.
"Because Victor is closer to Jean, and if he does have a rage she can calm him down." he tries to hide a, 'I have your back on her, buddy!' wink.
"Remy. You put him up to this." Logan groans, "Seriously, what is with you and matchmaking?"
"Oh come on, Teach! Variety is the spice o' life, non?" he leans back in his seat, "Plus they have a connection, can't break 'em up for nothin'."
Scott rises, "You're out of line, LeBeau!" he barks.
"Oh come on, since when are any of us? Jubie here was shockin' ATMs, Kurt was chased outta his village, an' Vic here is the poster child for 'I went through hell!' So don't be squawking about lines. Just cause yer big brother-"
"Shut it, Remy, or I'll blast you through the wall!" His visor whines and Logan tries to stop him but Remy just backs off.
"Efin. Efin." he raises his hands, "Sheesh, sittin'."
In the confusion I just chose the seat next to Jean, figuring she could help me out with what we were doing. Plus we had that connection thing and I wanna know what all she saw. By the time Scott marches back to his seat I'm already looking at Jean's copy of the book.
"Alright, we were talkin' about the big white whale sonuvabitch, Moby Dick. What does it symbolize?" hands go up and he points at the girl, Jubilee.
"He represents… blah blah blah, vengeance, blah blah blah smart stuff."
My eyes squint at the words in Jean's book, "Jean?" I ask, "I can't read fancy shit, can ya help?"
She smiles and there's a moment where my brain clicks on like a speaker, 'Sure.' I guess our minds are connected now as she reads it to me in her mind. It's kinda… cute. Just reading along with her. Logan keeps the lesson goin' and I forget all about Scott's eyes burning holes into my soul.
Jean's thoughts speak softly with a gentle reading voice. Goin' through the overcomplicated bullshit that was Moby Dick with me, "Vic? Are you good?" Logan's voice pipes up.
"Yeah, yeah, I am. Jean's readin' it to me." I say with a smile. It's a calming thing really. Her voice is warm and like a small fire. Crackling embers, smellin' like home. At least what I think it'd be.
Everything kinda feels weird. I'm in a big house that's also a school being taught by some guy my Mama and Dad know. Connected to a psychic girl that's readin' Moby Dick to me. I dunno how to feel. It's weird, being here. Even with all the safety measures I noticed on the way. The high ceilings, the students all runnin' around like they got somewhere to be, never been to school in my life and most of my learnin' came from running around and trying not to die.
'Victor, you're rambling.'
'Sorry, Jeanie. Continue.'
Jean smiles and continues to read, even though the class is gonna end soon. When the bell goes off everyone gathers their stuff with Kurt yelling…
"Lunchtime!" he flips through the air and lands on his feet with a happy grin and not everyone matches his tune of overjoyed energy. Jean gets swept away by Rogue and that Jubilee gal.
I almost wanna stop them and ask her while she did that. Why she helped me an' all that.
Remy and Kurt, Piotr too all gather near me. Scott's off already going towards the mess hall. Logan watchin' me with knowing blue eyes, like he knows exactly what I ended up seein' with Charles.
"So, how was it bein' read to by our resident golden girl?" Remy asks, grinning, "Was it magnifique?"
"I guess? Her voice is nice."
"Ooh…" Kurt breathes, "That's good!"
Piotr nods and leads the way, "Follow us and keep close. We are not exactly the most popular class. Others hate us."
"Why'd they hate you guys though? You troublemakers?"
"In a sense, mon ami, we are." Remy answers, "Well, when Morph was around we were." he looks back at the desk, Logan nodding as we head on out into the wide hallways.
"Most o' this place is an extended version of the Xavier's Home for Gifted Youngsters, you prob'ly passed it on yer way in." Remy says, "That's where the First Class was taught."
Kurt nods, "Yes! Some of them are our teachers now, like Mr. Angel, Doctor McCoy, Miss Frost, while some of them… well…" he looks away, "Aren't so good."
He must've been with one of them or one of them was related to 'im. Piotr takes over.
"After lunch we shall take you to settle in the dorms," he says, "Other than that, welcome to the school."
"Yeah yeah, you guys got any deer?"
They look at me like I've said something wrong, "Trout?"
Still nothing as we grab our trays, "Oh come on, at least tell me you got some bear in here!"
"Bear?!" Kurt squeaks, accidentally bamfing to a table before bamfing back into line, "What do you eat?!"
"Well, I eat meat. My diet's real fucked up 'cause of my mutation." I smile and take out some of the dried deer jerky I ended up doublin' back for when we left Canada. Chewing on the deer meat, I smile and pop a tendon with my fangs.
"I'm a predator, it's what I do. Ask Mr. Logan." sucking on the cured meat I watch my friends all get their food. Of course there isn't really a thing for my diet so I swing outta the line, most of the other kids watching me closely.
Finding a place to sit, the others join me. This place is huge and enough for more than just the students. It's a lot like an army base in a way. I mean Logan's got a straight-up Jeep.
The other kids shove off as the girls and Scott join us. He glares at me again and I glare right back in his stupid face. Other than the meat I have nothing, so I tear and chew, my teeth snapping tendons and sucking marrow from bone.
I'm a beast. A savage monster. My body, my diet, all of it that of a predator. Built to rip and tear. Five foot eight inches of pure muscle. I sit, tearing at the pile of meat, eyes prob'ly slitted and I'm growling so that's good.
The other guys stare at me with an almost disgust on their faces. Wipin' my mouth, Kurt speaks.
"So you just eat like that?"
"Yeah." I grunt, "So what? I just passed by a guy who's a pink blob of nothin' but the nervous an' skeletal systems."
"That's true…" Remy sighs, "But it's still bleedin', man."
"Yeah, animals don't care about it." I growl cracking the bone and snapping the tendons, "I didn't care about it in the wild."
"But we aren't in the wild, Creed." Scott says, "You know how to use a fork, right? A knife? Spoon?"
"Yeah, what are ya, the Utensil Mountie? Get off my case." I growl, "I'm fine the way I am, you're kinda cramping my style."
Jean watches with an almost weird fascination. Almost like she's all too happy to watch me tear apart a haunch of bear meat Logan slammed on the table before I got here.
Rogue's makin' a face, Jubilee too. But I don't give a fuck. I'll eat whatever I wanna eat and however the fuck I wanna eat. The other students watch me in horror but I chomp down the last of the meat.
"Whaddya y'all starin' at?" a growl and a snarl snap them right back into place. Everyone goes back to eating.
"Seriously, Jean? You're watchin' this? He's eaten an entire bear haunch!"
"Yeah, it's interesting. How far does your mutation go, Victor?" she asks, deep ocean eyes meeting my cobalt blues, sending more of her thoughts into my mind.
She's still trying to calm me down, I guess I get real cocky when I'm scared. Which would make some kinda sense. I wipe my hands an' my claws with a napkin, makin' sure not to stab it clean through.
Blinking, my cheeks get hot, "We-well! Uhhh… I dunno. I got claws, a healin' factor, really good senses, an' I get… instincts."
"Oh." Jean says, "What kind?"
"The kind you don't need to know yet. Even though you saw some of it." Looking at the boys and gesturing to get me the FUCK out of here because wow, that got real uncomfortable.
'I'm sorry! I was just curious!' she sends across our weird link thing, 'You're not mad, are you?'
'No, no, it's just… weird that we're linked like this.' I send back, 'Just don't ask about the instincts, sometimes they get me in real awkward sitches.'
'I understand, Victor, it's alright.' she sends back with a smile, and everyone kind of looks at us like there's somethin' more going on. Especially Scott. He rises and all I can think about is the whole 'overprotective' boyfriend trope. Just the idea that he'd be all hot n' bothered by me of all people makes some kinda sense.
"Let's go show you where we're all staying."
Kurt, Remy, Scott, Piotr, and I all go towards a more homey lookin' place in the school, the Dorms. The girls go off to the left through a door and us guys are stuck outside, with Jean's thoughts going back into the fuzzy static. I guess she can't really reach out while she's in her dorm. Scott clears his throat.
"Okay, Creed, the girl's dorms are off limits to us."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. We're on the right?" I thumb towards the door and Kurt opens it, there's even more doors but everyone seems to get real quiet again when I get to the one at the end of the hall. Scott continues.
"We all have our own dorm rooms, the bathrooms are our own. Mr. Logan comes to give announcements at the end of the day, inspections are done by me so try not to be too messy." he paces up and down the hallway, glaring at Kurt, then at me.
"Okay, Full Metal Jacket, we get it. You think you're in the military." I growl, with Kurt giggling and Piotr snorting, Remy almost gawping at me.
Scott snaps to attention, marching up to me, his six three frame up to my chest, "You wanna run that by me again, Creed?"
"We're only at war when Mr. Logan and the Professor tell us t'be. That gives ya no excuse to treat the rest of us like goddamn soldiers." I snarl, leaning down and smelling the fear on him, "Yer scared I'll rip you up, right? That's why you're posturin' and preenin' like a damn peacock."
Scott glares back, "I am. You show up out of nowhere and have Mr. Logan eating right out of your hand, not only that but Jean too? What makes you so special, huh? What makes you the best thing since sliced bread?"
I don't cross my arms, don't growl, but somethin' about this makes me wanna dare him, "Look, Summers, you're basically fiending over what you've seen from my unfortunate Dad. Not what I can do."
Scott scoffs and walks away as the bigger man. I sigh and turn towards my door. Openin' it with the key Remy passed me. There's a single twin sized bed, a desk, a chair and a lamp. The overhead light's nice but I just sit on the bed.
Never had a solid home before. Always moving. That was my life. Always moving before I could get too attached. Diggin' out the only thing I had, always. A picture of my Mama. Long black hair and blue eyes, smiling for the picture an' all.
I jam it into the mirror, lookin' at myself an' down at the picture, "Mama… Who was Mr. Logan to you? Why'd Charles recognize ya?" I find a small box an' open it. A round badge sits there, an X in the middle, Yellow n' Black. Wolverine's colors other than the blue. Pinnin' it to my bomber jacket, there's a soft knock at my door. My claws spring outta my fingers an' I almost wanna tear my door outta it's hinges, Dad'd knock the same way. An' gut me that way. He couldn't have gotten through my friends already!
Calmin' my breath, I clear my throat, "Whoever's out there, right now's a bad time, buddy!" But there's no one there, not a single person. What the hell? Was I just hearing things? I go back to the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
I don't want to go back to runnin', ever.