Not so funny MEOW, is it?

[fangsmile.livejournal.com]

WHO: Wolverine and Sabretooth (OTP)
WHERE: Downtown, probably on someone's roof.
WHEN: Tuesday, March 23, 2010, right after Creed's intro comm video
WARNINGS: VIOLENCE. So much violence.
SUMMARY: Kitty's in the City! And he's called up an old friend to meet him.
FORMAT: Para


The time passed quickly while he waited for Wolverine. The communicator that creepy fem-puter had lent him made sure of that. So many people, all so eager just to talk to little old him. Made a man feel downright cozy. Maybe he'd stick around in this City after all, and see what other... friends he could make.

When the scent had become strong enough, Creed closed the little gadget and put it away, falling back into a nearby alley to wait for his old friend to come into view. And when he did, Creed threw an entire busspot bench directly at his head like a javelin. There may have been some chunks of concrete still attached to the bottom of the bench.

It wasn't Creed's fault the fucking thing had been bolted to the ground.

Comments

[sixgoodreasons.livejournal.com]

Logan could still remember the feel of Creed's blood on his hands. His gloves had been soaked by the end, hot and wet and stinking, making it difficult to grip the handle of the blade. Nothing he hadn't dealt with before, and afterward he'd stood watch over the crumpled body, watching it bleed out into the snow and the dead leaves.

The motorbike wove easily through the downtown traffic. Logan gunned the engine, ignoring the shouts and horns blatting in his wake. He had the bastard's scent. He'd had it for the last twenty-five years.

A block away, he slowed the bike but didn't stop it. He had a good idea Creed would play his hand first.

Logan saw the bench coming, his superhuman senses allowing him to read and calculate speed, trajectory and possibility of impact in the blink of an eye. He threw himself up off the bike, the bench passing through the space he had been occupying a split second before. It hit his side; he let himself roll, sliding down the seat to land on the road as the bench and the bike crashed into a truck parked behind him, flipping it over into the window of a department store.

He didn't stop to survey the damage. As soon as his feet hit the floor he had tucked and rolled, launching himself towards Creed, his claws scything through the air.

sry for late!

[fangsmile.livejournal.com]

It was a nice dodge. Nice enough that it looked like Wolverine might have even hurt a couple of bystanders who could have been in that store window. Some hero.

They were both fast. The spectators barely knew what they were looking at, but they knew enough to run. They knew they didn’t matter in this fight. Sabretooth didn’t care if a million frail humans had to die before he got just one good hit in with the Runt, just as long as he got in that hit. And another…

When Wolverine launched his claws at Creed’s chest, he dodged. Sure, he could have taken it, but it was early on in this fight. He might as well pace himself. As far as he was concerned, they had another twenty-five years of this ahead of them. Logan’s lunge let him instead to Creed’s right side, so Creed grabbed him by that stupid haircut and yanked him backwards with enough force to lift him off his feet, then tossed him into a nearby parked car.

“Please tell me it gets better than that.”

[sixgoodreasons.livejournal.com]

Logan all but felt the tips of his claws skim the air where Creed's kidneys should have been before a heavy paw yanked the ground out from under him and tossed him like yesterday's lunch into the back of an SUV with enough force to shatter the windows and dent the chassis. He lay there for a second, catching his breath, cursing himself for letting himself get soft, get slow, get too used to a world without Victor Creed in it.

"I'm just warmin' up," he snarled, his voice thick through the blood in his throat. Didn't move.

Let the cat come.

[fangsmile.livejournal.com]

Well now he was just laying there. That was no fun.

"I don't think you're warmin' up, Logan," he tsked, striding up casually to lean over his enemy, and placing a foot up to step on Wolverine's splayed hand, "I think you've been gatherin' rust on them bones."

[sixgoodreasons.livejournal.com]

"Not rust," Logan snarled, popping his claws the same instant he curled his fingers into a fist and punched the knuckles into the underside of Creed's boot.

[fangsmile.livejournal.com]

Mother fucking fuck that hurt! The howl of pain that escaped Sabretooth's reluctant jugular was involuntary. The three claws that slashed their way across Wolverine's face immediately after, were not.

He had just made one of the oldest mistakes out there, and he new it.

Never underestimate the little guys.

[sixgoodreasons.livejournal.com]

Creed's claws opened up three long gouges across Logan's cheek, missing his right eye by a whisper. Blood welled and began to patter onto the hood of the car even as Logan kicked out at Creed's knee and twisted the hand under Creed's foot 180 degrees counter-clockwise.

"Better yet, meatball?" Logan snarled, leaning up so his injured face hung only a few inches from Creed's own.

[fangsmile.livejournal.com]

He would have thought of a clever retort if he'd had the Glow to calm him down. But right then, Wolverine was pushing all his buttons. Pain, humiliation, rage... he was barely a person anymore. And who needed a foot when he had two perfectly good fists tipped with ten perfectly good claws?

Sabretooth brought his forehead down to crash into Logan's smarmy little nose, then started punching him, rapid succession and in all of the most tempting targets. The eye, the throat, the gut, the ribcage...

He wasn't fighting smart anymore. He didn't care how open he left himself as long as he could hit that Runt as hard and as often as possible.

[sixgoodreasons.livejournal.com]

Pain roared up through Wolverine's guts, feeding the fire that had started in the back of his skull. Blood pounded and sang beneath his skin; splattered his face and his chest; ran down his throat so all he could taste was metal and red, red, red.

Sabretooth was fighting hard and he was fighting stupid, all fists and fury. Wolverine was close to matching him, but he wasn't quite there yet. He could still see Creed's crumpled headless body in his mind's eye. Could still smell the snow.

I am what you will be.

"Not yet, bub," Wolverine snarled through bloody teeth, retracting his claws from Sabretooth's foot and punching them, both hands, into the man's unprotected ribs. In the same moment he scooted down the hood of the car and hauled his arms upwards, meaning to throw Sabretooth up and over, off of his claws and into the oncoming traffic.

[fangsmile.livejournal.com]

Wolverine said something. It didn't really matter what. Even English was becoming a little meaningless in the throws of the fight. It was so good, too. Before he knew what was going on, Creed was off his feet, and flying through the air. He landed neatly on his knuckles and the balls of his feet, and had just enough time to stand up with no small amount of ferocious poise, when BAM. Some fuckwit hit him with a god damn powder-blue Prius, of all things.

The tin can car took more damage than Sabretooth did, and when the driver opened his door to ask the man he'd hit if he was okay, Creed merely grabbed the driver's door and tore it off its hinges, chucking it directly at Wolverine like an Olympian discus.

[sixgoodreasons.livejournal.com]

Wolverine heard the the screech, the crash, the choked cough of the Prius' broken horn. His boots hit the sidewalk and he glanced up in time to see the driver's side door five feet away and closing.

Any normal man would have been injured, even killed. Bones pulped; tissue and organs ripped like wet newspaper. But Wolverine was not -- was nowhere near; had not been for decades -- a normal man.

He dropped before he knew he was moving, falling to a low crouch in the broken glass and shards of metal which littered the road. The door whickered through the air above his head and hit the corner of the building behind him with enough force to send brick dust billowing out in a red cloud.

Wolverine stood, bits of brick pattering to the ground behind him, teeth bared in a bloody snarl. No words this time: he launched himself forward with a roar, claws raised and slicing down, down.

[fangsmile.livejournal.com]

He missed? He didn't miss.

Wolverine came flying at him like a furry little meteor, and caught both of Sabretooth's shoulders. He gritted his teeth against the sharp pains and just kept trying to tear away at the body in front of him, ripping at Logan's chest, his throat, his face.

Creed was going to get hurt, and there was nothing he could do about that. Logan could heal faster than he could, and there was nothing he could do about that, either. The important thing, was to try to hurt him faster and harder than his healing factor could allow. That was the only way to beat Wolverine: hurt him ten times more than he can hurt you, and fast. Or you're dead.

And nobody killed Victor Creed.

...though already his vision was blurring at the sides. He knew he'd lost a lot of blood. He just had to give his own healing factor a chance to kick in and do its stuff. Just had to hang on... make Logan lose more... stay conscious long enough to watch the Runt drop.