Sabretooth stared with some disgust at the syringe the junkie was offering out to him but took it all the same. He never touched the stuff, on principal and as a matter of practicality. With his healing factor it was usually a pointless endeavor. The one time he’d tried drugs was at the advice of some useless prat back in the Christly 70s. What a useless decade. He’d taken the acid and all it had done was make his nose itch a bit. His body flushed out the rest before it could even work and meanwhile there’s the faggot of a producer twitching like a scalded shithouse rat and he decided then and there he probably didn’t want anything to do with ‘em even if they did work. Kicked the little turd’s head in and left in a huff. But he was feeling a bit of an urge for a work over, the more carnal kind, and a bit tired of grabbing the dock hookers for a quick fix. The last one had smelled, to his keen senses, of rotten meat, and concerned him so greatly that he refused to even let her come close, never mind close enough to service his needs. So he knew what he needed to get in order to hook the big fish. Tonight he was mutant hunting. And for that only the finest drugs would do, this particularly mutant having far less reservations about usage.

Ever since he’d caught up with the little twitchy Jap Sunfire in a dive somewhere in the tangled mess of Tokyo while hunting down a weak thread of hope about Wolverine, ever since he’d found tales of Wolverine’s son instead and the sheer destructive force this Akihiro carried with him, he’d had Daken on his mind. The thought of taking that little bastard pleased him mightily. The thought of a long drawn out night of insane debauchery and bloodshed lent hunger to his famished soul. And the thought of how enraged it would make Daken’s daddy, that just tickled him pink. He had a job to do. Had to hunt a big stupid beast. But maybe Daken would want to help with that too. God knows the trail had been cold as hell as of late. And he hated Tokyo. So much... Smell here. Rotted fish and rotted flesh. And no damn Wolverine.

So he took the syringe and snapped the junkie’s neck. Cheaper in the long run. Short run too. Left him to drop in the alley like a pile of twigs and crumpled coats and wandered off to go prowl the bars for the distinctive look and smell of the bastard animal Daken. Maybe in that savage he’d finally find a partner. The kind he hadn’t had since… Well, a long time ago.