Victor Creed (victor_creed) wrote in _unite_, @ 2008-03-29 21:11:00 |
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Current mood: | amused |
The Hunt Begins
Characters: Deah, Victor "Sabretooth" Creed.
NPCs: None
Location: Sinister's Lab
Timeline: Present, evening.
Description: Deah sends Victor out for a package.
Rating: PG-13 for some bad language.
Deah rarely slept. And when she did it was with one eye open. Or rather her minds eye, she kept track telepathically of all that would be present in her near viscinity. Should Dr. Essex make his presence known and she was sleeping.....it would not do well at all. So when she made contact with Creed, she'd be ready for him, with his compensation and without beer.
She was in the lab, like usual, looking through a large telescope at some samples she had collected from her captive. The pink girl...the one she had paid Gambit handsomely to kidnap.
Creed stepped out of the elevator and made a beeline to the big lab sink. As he moved he shed his shredded, bloody, and soaked in various and sundry fluids shirt, dropping it to the floor and sticking his face under the sink to rinse it off. Throwing his head back - and spraying water everywhere, he roared and then proceeded to scrub his hands clean of blood, alcohol, and other substances. The blood ran pinkish-red and frothy from his hands but, as always, there wasn't a mark on his body anywhere.
Her eye twitched slightly feeling Sabretooths unique mental signature approaching. Then when he stepped out of the warehouse service elevator, her eyes slid over to glance at the larger man. He was making a mess in her lab. Not her lab, Dr. Essex' lab. Which she would pay for if it wasn't just as tidy and pristine as he had left it.
She....did not like him. His brain was damaged goods, which ment she couldn't exert all of her will over his mind. She could only break it further, it would, however, eventually heal. Deah let him finish whatever it was he was doing...presumably cleaning - little did he know there would never be enough bleach in the world.
Suitably showered, Creed followed his noise to go find the skinny skull-bitch Deah. He had little love for telepaths that he didn't already have his claws into and this one was worst than most. He didn't know why he had such an urge to do creative violence to telepaths, but he did and in truth he wasn't interested in fighting it real hard. That one he saved for just day-to-day living. She did, he noticed, completely fail to have any beer waiting for him. Good thing he'd made a pit stop on the way over. He growled to the skinny little bint by way of a welcome and stretched out his frame in one of the chairs in the lab. The chair was too small for him but the chair was framed in metal. Too much of a pain in the ass to cut through.
She didn't glance up when he took his place next to her. But her hand was poised on the file folder filled with information for him and slid it over on the counter. "Read." Then, "If you can," she amended. "Or I can upload the information into your brain." Painfully. Her hand plunged into the pocket of her thread-thin lab coat pulling out a minute pair of tweezers using them to adjust something on the slide she was studying.
There was a dossier on the subject they were ment aquire. Subject, not person. Deah's emotions were broken, or rather the bit of her brain that caused her to feel emotions was damaged. There was a brain lesion that impaired her ability to make the connections. Oni Sutherland was the stopping block to all of that. She had tried to spare him from Sinister's will. However it was catching up to her and now she had been instructed to call in...special help. Emphasis on 'special.' Aka Sabretooth.
Creed skimmed the dossier on this Oni guy. Total skirt, this guy. Hardly even worth the time. "Piece of cake." he said dismissively. "You want him alive or in pieces?" he asked with a very fangy smile.
At that she looked up and over at him. She and Oni had had a.....very complicated relationship. They had been classmates at a time and maybe something more. She didn't know. He was someone that made her want to feel emotions. Something she couldn't explain or quantify in that brain of hers.
Deah actually seemed rattled by Creed's question. She looked back down and said smally, "Alive." She wanted to say not to hurt him. Much. But she had no control over it. She was already trying to detach herself from it. The neurotransmitters in her head struggling to reroute and fire more smoothely.
Creed resolved that when he returned this Oni kid - who the fuck named their kid Oni, anyway? - he'd be broken a little, but definitely still alive. There was a lot you could do to the human body before it gave up the ghost entirely. Creed intended to find out where this kid's limits were. And maybe surpass them. Just a little. It'd be good for him. "Fine. Cost goes up, then, if I gotta drag this kid back from fagland." he pointed out.
Her stomach clenched at the thoughts she was gleaning from him. She did not like it. But again, it wasn't her place. Deah inhaled a bit of a breath and released it slowly. "Dr. Essex handles the negotiation," she reminded him. If Sabretooth wanted more money, he'd have to take it up with the other man. "Standard proceedure dictates half now, half later," she reminded him flattly. "If the subject is alive and in decent condition, then perhaps a pay raise can be considered."
"Doctor Essex can suck my left nut." he said. "I'm just in it for the money, sweetie." he pointed out with another toothy grin. "Half now sounds fine with me. When do you want him by?" he asked, already starting to work out transportation schedules, equipment he'd need, etc etc etc. Should be a pretty simple smash-and-grab.
Her eyes narrowed. Deah had only known pain at the hands of Dr. Essex, she was his experiment. She had falled to the ways of Stockholme syndrome and couldn't break free of the bonds that kept her there. Mainly she had no will of her own to exert. They had falled into a master/servant waltz. "You should not speak about him like that," she said simply.
"How soon can this be done?" Deah had already been threatened by Sinister's right hand woman, Malice. But, poor planning on Deah's pat did not mean emergency for Sabretooth. She did not inform him of such.
"Give me a week." he said. "And I'll have the kid back on your doorstep."
"Yes," she confirmed. It was going to be a long, painful week.
"Fine." he said with amusement. "Don't suppose you know what fun it, let alone how to go have any?" he asked. "Because I'm gonna go find a bar and make some kid wish he'd never been born." he said with a grin. "Maybe get Birdy to makin' everyone think they're strippers or something. That's usually good for a laugh."
"No." She answered his question. "I do not," Deah said with robotic detachment. Fun was not logical and she was a creature ruled by logic. She did not vocalize her opinion because speaking was inefficient she'd prefer to use her telepathy.
"A week," she stated again, then just gestured to a small metal brief case tucked over on a shelf. He'd fine his payment there.
He pried himself out of his chair and took the case. He wasn't so rude and to open it and count it - Essex was meticulous that way. "Business doin' pleasure with ya, girly." he said with a laugh and walked out of the lab, headed back for the elevator that led up to the surface.