A Warning

June 01, 2015:

Victor Creed reveals himself to Jean Grey, and delivers a message.

Flushing Meadows Park


NPCs: A cop, random citizens



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Flushing Meadows Park was the place to be as the sun rolled down. Most of the denizens were either on a date or rushing home as most would, to cook dinner for their loved ones or to tuck the wee ones into bed. Jean herself saw it as a quiet place to think, that was.. until the phone began to ring which was soon picked up and held to her ear. "Jean Grey?"

Ah, it was Betsy. Ever since her return from god knows where, in a body that came from god knows who, they have been thick as thieves once again. Truth is? It felt good to reconnect; the girls were back together again, all they needed was Ororo and they would pain the town black, purple, and red. But the conversation was light-hearted enough for Jean to stifle a giggle, one gloved hand drawing up to cover ruby red lips, then a shake of her head which causes blood red locks to dance along the small of her back. Which reminds her.

"I think I want to cut my hair." Is said over the phone, a slight shrug given even though it wasn't seen. "Well, I have a couple of magazines I retrieved from the grocery store.. Dye? No. Good lord Scott would blow a gasket.."


The redhead can be overheard easily enough by passersby but, especially, she can be overheard by the creature that's been stalking her. Victor Creed. Sabretooth. Ever since the little incident in Africa, he's been following and investigating the X-men, getting to know these so-called heroes, learning their routines, perhaps occasionally plotting the best ways to use their innards to redecorate a modestly-priced upper eastside apartment.

Feng shuei is important, after all.

Watching from the shadows, though, can get old, even from an apex predator. And so, today, he approaches the bench where Jean sat, taking a seat next to her. He's clad simply - jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket. His dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, sunglasses hiding his feline eyes from inquiring minds. No hiding those teeth, though, the massive, razored canines filling out his lips as he turns and sniffs the air, taking in her scent.

"Well, well, well…if it isn't the ginger savior herself…long time, no kill, Miss Grey."


"No no no. I don't want to go too short. Just something a little past my shoulders. As of now, it's growing damn near past my tush." Jean laughs a little, rocking a bit upon the bench, only quieting herself once someone joins her, her voice a low murmur. "..What? That's rude.."

It wasn't until she pays attention, her eyes starting right towards the knees of the man, his voice.. it rings a feralness as well as a familiarity. Africa.. she hadn't forgotten..

The call was promptly hung up with just a push of the button, green eyes slowly set upon the figure as she immediately slams those TK walls upright, phone grasped and held tightly as she draws herself to a stand, taking a few steps backwards as she points a finger.. "You… you're supposed to be dead.." Warren stuck him full of razor sharp feathers.. right? Or was she dreaming..


Victor Creed smirks, a rather terrifying sight given the state of his teeth, cocking his head slightly, 'Yeah, you an' yer fine-feathered friend sure did do a bang-up job o' that. I was hurtin' fer a while after that, laid up for almost a day. I'm a mutant, darlin', jus' like you. Only I been kickin' around this ol' world a lot longer an' I hate a lot meaner people'n you try'n make me dead. I don't die. Y'know all that survival o' the fittest Darwinist blather ya hear from Magneto an' some o' the other loudmouths?"

"Well, I'm the fittest."

"Now," he says, "question is, am I mad enough to reach out an' rip your head off right here in the middle of a park, where all the little kiddies an' their dried-up rich bitch mommies can be traumatized fer life? Eh…not today. Today, I just wanna say hello. I just wanna haunt you a li'l bit," he grins, leaning forward a little bit.



There it was; that feeling of fear. It built up within the pit of her stomach and rose up like bile within her throat. It was a disgusting taste, one that allows a bit of humility and humbleness to set into the bones. Her teeth grit as she watches his own, her eyes narrowing, fingers clutching at her phone tighter than ever to steel the shaking within her muscles.

What. The. Fuck.

Her eyes widen as she draws in a breath, one slow step taken backwards, her gaze alight upon those still hanging within the park, even still… the ones teetering off weren't moving fast enough to her liking.


That lone word sent her into reaction, rather misguided or not, that hand lifts as a force of TK aims to blast the bench and the man upon it to pieces, and Jeannie not stopping to watch the fruits of her mild fright. She turned and ran.

He, of course, has no defense. He isn't a creature of defense, but of offense, unrelenting, violent offense. And so, she hits him and he flies, cannonballing through the park and hitting a tree hard a quarter mile away, rattling limbs loose as the bones in his back crack, as rips snap and spray blood along the inside of his body, as his skull fractures on the impact. He falls to the ground, slumped, broken, a loose sack of meat and bone.

That begins to growl, slowly, inexorably, a low hum that builds in ferocity and pitch, that deepens and increases until there's an actual roar, like a lion straight out of a nightmare, a snarling, raucous sound that sends a shiver down every back in the part, touching that primitive, prey-instinct that still lurks in the lizard brain of every human being.

Sabretooth raises his head, blood running from his mouth and bares his fangs, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhh…Little Red wants to play with the Big Bad…this is gonna be fun…"


Random onlookers watch the first thrust with shock and awe, soon set to screaming as the man wakes up with a beastial roar. They were clearing the park, running in every which direction to get away from the fear and impending mayhem, and Jean close upon a couples heels. They didn't look back in fear, the man grasping his womans arm and tugging her along the beaten path. Jean mentally nudged him along, warning him that danger was close, and he'd only be safe if he had gotten them home..

She hears the growl, running a little bit faster, her hand drawing up to her temple to press and expand her will, allowing the area in which she ran into, the thick of wood that is, to cloak herself from all sight, her body lifting up within the air to hover there.. waiting, making sure the innocents left the park with no interferrence from Creed.


He runs, shedding his jacket and his shirt, leaving him in only his pants, even his boots left behind to let him run free. He moves swiftly, grasping at tree limbs ot propel him along. A police officer on horseback has his life spared because his horse reacts faster than he does, his attempt to draw his gun delayed as the horse throws him and dashes off into the park.

Creed, meanwhile, flares his nostrils, expands his awareness in his own ways. Having been just next to her, he's extraordinarily intimate in his knowledge - he could identify the brand of soap she used, the perfume she wore, her laundry detergent. He could smell the sweat of the man she loved and the pheremones of the men who loved her whether she noticed or not. He could smell the strange, alien scent of Betsy on her, the woman's transformed form having a unique scent all her own.

All of which mark her out to him, a beacon, a homing device, his nose drinking them in as his ears find her heartbeat. Thumpthumpthumpthump. Quick like a rabbit, just the way he likes 'em.


Jean doesn't bother keeping her pulse steady, her eyes were upon the crowd to make sure everyone left safely.. save for the officer who was thrown from the horse. He was obviously hurt, the fall wasn't a light one and he wasn't cushioned by the grass. She swears to herself, her body angling to fly down towards him; the visage of her coming into view as she drops down next to him, her hands reaching out to grip and grab him as he begins to panic.

"H..he was fast! He was so fast!" He nearly shrieks, his gun held as he aims it in every which direction, her own hands reaching out to grasp his wrist but she doesn't draw the gun away from his grasp. "Ease.. ease…" She tries to sooth him, looking right into his eyes, attempting to draw his blue to her green. "Now listen to me.. you have to get out of here.. it's not safe…"


Victor Creed leaps out of the trees above, landing right next to Jean and the cop and casually slamming a claw down. He hits the cop right in the chest, sending a spatter of gore up onto Jean as he plows right through the man's ribcage, snapping his sternum, until his claws sink right into the cop's still-beating heart.

"I really am fast. And she's right, fella. It ain't safe. Ain't nowhere safe when Sabretooth's about," he snarls.

And then he yanks the heart right out of the cop's chest, soaking himself in blood and looking Jean right in the eye as he does it, all of it happening so fast the redhead barely has a chance to register it, "See, I told ya I wasn't here to hurt ya, but you had to provoke me. Now someone's payin' for it. Every time you lay your flickerin' thoughts on me, you can hurt me - but every time you hurt me, you gotta know that I'm gonna keep a tally o' it in bodies. You might've already seen some - I left some pretty trophies fer yer friend Worthington at his offices…"


The landing was close enough for her to jump, but within those few seconds of that reaction, the police officer was dead and gone, nothing left for her to do. She leaps back and away from the body and Creed alike, lifting herself into the air as she draws her hand slowly into the air to lift the matter of the blood and gore from her person to fling it towards the ground.

She was angry, but if his words rung true, which she felt they did, anytime she laid a hand upon him.. someone would die. Her teeth grit as she remains within the air, her eyes a-glow as she looks down towards him, she knew that he was hunting them, hunting them from the tryst in africa..

"Who do you work for?!"


Victor Creed lifts his clawed hand up to his mouth and, casually, licks a bit of the blood from his claws. Colonel Sanders, eat your heart out.

"Might surprise ya, darlin', but, in my business, ain't a lotta names get tossed around. Only ones I care about is the names of the presidents on the bills that wind up in my pocket. Don't really matter none anyways. What matters is, you stop pokin' yer nose in where it don't belong. You stay here in America and play superhero and get all the little mutie boys and girls to love each other and spread hugs an' kisses an' sing happy songs an' shit. Don't nobody give a crap one way or t'other."

"But, if you get it in yer head to keep meddlin' in affairs what ain't yours, then this copper? He's just the tip o' a big ol' iceberg made o' meat. An' I'll build it high enough that you can't see the sun, if I gotta. You ken me, red?"


Her jaw tenses as her fingers curl into a fist. She almost, almost wanted to put him to the test. But she felt minds within the area, minds that would be sought out and tore asunder still lingering within the area. Creed was fast, and they would have no chance. She.. possibly wouldn't have a chance. There was a clear troubling thought within her gaze, how her eyes squinted and narrowed upon him, watching with disgust as he licked the blood from his fingers.. her eyes diverted, head turned away as she draws in a breath.

What could she say? What would anyone say to that? Especially if she knows deep down that.. she wouldn't stop helping those in need. Here.. or from very far away.

"Leave this place.. Creed.." She mutters lowly, she couldn't issue a threat nor tear hide from here to where ever. She could be lethal.. but not that lethal..


She can probably feel his thoughts, even if reading them is virtually impossible. Chaotic, sharp, like a psychic tangle of barbed wire, but alive, snarling, vicious. He runs his tongue over his fangs and smacks his lips.

"Yeah, you hear me. Spread the word t'yer little band o' goodies. Jus' remember. I'll be seein' you…an' you won't be seein' me."

He turns and starts to casually stroll away, not caring that he's covered in blood and gore, reaching back and re-adjusting his ponytail as he starts to whistle. "Always Look On the Bright Side (Of Life)". What, he had Spamalot tickets.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License