Again, another mutant in the house decided to exercise their powers on him, when all he used were words, albeit brash and excessively rude. The energy that pulsed through his skeleton made the feral grind his fangs together. He suffered no pain, but it didn’t soothe the bubbling anger in Creed either.
It only intensified.
The feral reached for the pan he placed on the table earlier, intent on swatting the side of Magneto’s head with it hard enough to crack the Teflon and the metal underside.
But before Victor curled his fingers around the handle, he noticed Jason, looking calm and well kept as always. The sight of the other man brought a grin to his lips, and stilled the blonde’s blind fury. Not entirely, but it at least got him willing to speak in a complete sentence again.
Once he realized the man was indeed real and not some figment of his imagination, Creed addressed him.
“Good timin’, Trickster. C’mere an’ tell this clown how stupid he is!” He turned back towards Magneto, and continued to yell, yet at half of the volume of its’ previous interval. “Scoutin’ fer’ a recon team, when I’m already givin’ ya’ all the recon ya’ need is a waste of time! If I’m goin’ all the way back out there, it ain’t ta’ draw a map or jot down info I already know. I’m goin’ fer’ blood!”
The brawler snarled as he recalled the exact moment when his squadron was ambushed. The leaders of the team showed their true colors, and either ran – only to be killed later – or panicked and got killed first.
“Fuck considerations; we agree my way is th’ best! Can we cut th’ bullshit, whip out some access codes, and get this son-of-a-bitch OFF?”