Nothing went the way he fantasized it would. Creed expected to be trading blows with the Allfather in a glorious battle that would turn the mutant into either an infamous murderer brought to justice, or a titan to all across the galaxy. Instead, here he was, lying low like an animal trapped in a zoo. Desperate to act, confused on which emotion to obey.
Listening to Odin mourn for the Thor he knew made his shoulders tense. He didn’t ask how he died, nor could he feign any sympathy for the lost son. But, as a father, hearing the same story of a parent losing a child shook Creed in ways he hated to acknowledge. However, no matter how he tried to hide it, the feral mirrored the king’s sorrow in both his voice and forlorn posture.
“Ya’ don’t get it….”, he whispered. “You…can’t…help…me…”
Eyes snapped shut as his fingers fanned across the floor, absently tracing the inch wide ditches his claws dug.
“It ain’t yer job ta’ save my little girl… It’s supposed ta’ be mine! An’ I’m…. I-I’m….”
Creed couldn’t handle saying the truth: to him, he was a failure. Failing as a father. Failing to protect his daughter. Failing to be near when she needed him, excluding the very first day they met. And though Creed couldn’t bring himself to ask for another’s aid yet again, he cleverly found a way to compromise his ego for his daughter’s return.
“I just need… ta’ find him! If he’s back on Earth, he’s as good as dead! An’ if she’s hurt in any way….”
The killer leered at Odin over his shoulder. Out of instinct, when Creed saw the wall of light was gone, he lengthened his claws. And despite the violence he vomited from his mouth, Creed’s body didn’t burn from the scorch of Odin’s Will.
For the first time, the feral didn’t speak to the King hoping to turn him into yet another victim of the Hunt.
“If ya’ think I was cruel to th’ sneaky bitch that stabbed me…you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”