Creed’s brows furrowed; the man was skeptical of the other mutant’s words. But after listening to him speak, the feral rolled his eyes.
“If ya’ didn’t think it was fair, why did’ja slap this ‘round my neck then? Is that what they teach ya’ in this camp? ‘Get mad, but keep quiet and don’t do shit about it?’ Well, congratulations! You get an A+ and a sticker with a smiley face!”
Victor huffed and shook his head. “Y’know why your buddies get hot in th’ face when they see me? It’s cause we got all sorts of history together. Some of ‘em look at me, an’ they can’t help but get mad at themselves. I’m that part of their lives they can’t run away from, no matter how hard they try…” He then looked away from the shorter male, aimlessly letting his eyes leap from one area of the brig to another as he began to recall pieces of his past.
“Take Creole’ for example…” he said, referring to Gambit. “I remember when he first asked me ta’ tag along with the Marauders; said it was a job that I couldn’t refuse. Offered me cash an’ ass – right on the spot – ta’ sweeten th’ deal. Hmph, said I’d work for free – like an idiot; at the time I just wanted ta’ rip up any human I could find.”
Creed then grinned, as he realized what he said. “…Ooh, he never told ya’ that, did he?”