Creed screamed with the agony that so usually accompanied Logan's claws, groaning and leaning against a wall until his spine began to knit itself back together. He snarled, spitting blood and teeth, running a raggedly clawed hand through his hair and straightening.
"Nice, runt," he growled, licking his lips and flexing his fingers. He pulled a strip of torn panel from the wall, a rough spear he'd carved earlier with his claws. "I thought you would've gotten slow, laying around this place. Guess I was wrong. Some of us just don't stop training..."
He stood still, for longer than he should have, before leaping once again into action. He took the coming claws in the chest, groaning and pushing down against them. The paneling spear came up, catching Logan in the abdomen, and pushed forward until it met resistance. Either the wall or a metallic bone, Creed didn't care.
"All that blood in my mouth, I can still taste your little bitch, Logan," he purred, laughing and twisting the pole. The damage was temporary. "That's what he is, isn't it? Do you think he knows what happens...how we play our little game, you and me? It's dangerous, hanging around you..."