Fatigue and frenzy stopped the feral from noticing Kurt until it was too late. Before he could even so much as grunt in reaction to the agile creature’s weight on his back, he was teleported away from the hangar doors.
“What th’--?“, he asked himself in a perplexed tone. But the audible and trademark *BAMF* of the Nightcrawler’s mutation interrupted him.
“Little son of a’ bitc---“ Another teleport cut him off.
Creed snarled once he became cognizant of the Elf’s trickery. “Get offa’ me, you fucki---“; just as he reached behind him to carve the elf off on his back with his claws, he found himself teleported. Again.
The blonde brute snarled when Kurt released his hold and gracefully leapt away. He then realized how great the gap was between himself and the steel doors to the hangar. The only obstacle between him and his escape wagon was the elf. Considering him to be nothing more than a minor inconvenience, Creed slouched forward and gathered strength to dash wildly at a moment’s notice.
He spoke in deep, ragged breaths. A plentiful glaze of sweat, along with streaks of drying blood glistened off his bare upper body. “Wanna talk? Yeah… Let’s talk. Over a pot a’ tea an’ biscuits, too? You X-Fuckers wouldn’t listen to me!”
Sabretooth slowly advanced forward. “Didn’t come all this way t’play cat n’ mouse with ya’. Or with any of ya'. But I swear…”, he warned as he quickened his steps. “…I will rip ya’ in half...Right down th’ middle...if you don’t move...OUTTA’ MY WAY!”
With a dry, savage roar, the brawler charged forward. He kept his claws at his sides, ready to shred through the remains of the steel door and any flesh that obstructed his momentum to freedom.