Creed’s wild eyes darted to the window. His nose already picked up Gambit from afar. Now, he detected two other delicate scents centralized near the Cajun, and snarled once he identified who each belonged to.
..It’s th’ elf twink… An’…? As he suddenly realized Psylocke joined alongside the two men, Creed rose to his feet and crept towards the door, in spite of the broken bones, burns, and bleeding wounds his healing factor struggled to repair. The feral let his own paranoia goad him into thinking those three X-Men were after him, since he unintentionally left so many clues for them to find. So much for hidin’ out here; gotta move out.
After unlocking it, Victor opened the door and slipped back into the dimly lit hallway. His steps were silent, but the lingering remains of hardened mud on his boots, coupled with droplets of fresh blood that leaked from open wounds, left a trail for anyone with a trained eye to follow him with. Moments later, Victor reached the bottom of the stairs and took in a deep breath. He sifted through the various odors of the mansion in search of a specific few – and not those of his would-be pursuers.
Think I got it… Hydraulic fluid? Jet fuel? He kneeled closer to the floor, muffled his painful groan, and sniffed again. Bingo! That prize stealth fighter a’theirs! It’s…this way! With a renewed sense of urgency, Creed followed the pungent trail planning to steal the Blackbird and fly far away where no one could find him, or at least stay airborne until it ran out of fuel.
But his plan hit a wall – literally. The man eventually came face to face with one that served no other purpose but to mask a set of hidden elevator doors behind it, which lead to the secret, lower corridors of the mansion that only the X-Men had access to.
The blonde lifted his hairy arms and fully extended his sharp, lethal claws. No longer concerned with secrecy, Sabretooth snarled and swiped at the wall until he carved a hole large enough for a man of his size to pass through.