9006/The Birthday Blues: Make a Wish

The Birthday Blues: Make a Wish
Date of Scene:	30 August 2019
Location:	Lowtown, Madripoor
Synopsis:	Sabretooth lures Domino into a deadly game of cat and mouse. For Wolverine's birthday.
Cast of Characters:	Sabretooth, Domino

Sabretooth has posed:
Madripoor. Nobody goes to Madripoor without knowing what to expect out of the city. What should you expect? Why, the Travel Board would say that you should anticipate 'exotic views, rambunctious night life scene, amazing beaches and first class cuisine'... but what people that survive the town say?

Expect the worst.

Rainy, muggy and dark. Neon glares off the gritty, gleaming surfaces of Madripoor's Lowtow. Cramped streets leave haggard, wary and hungry bumping shoulder to shoulder on their way to percieved safety. The smell of street food vendors hard at work mingles with the sweet, cloying stink of rot beneath it all. Madripoor is a city devoid of conscious but not a soul. The soul of Lowtown, it would seem, is half dead but beligerantly clawing onward. Which brings Domino across the world. To try and save a fragment of that soul and to do it for money.

Through one person, then another and another still, Victor Creed set a contract out. Rescue a young mutant girl from captivity as a slave and curiousity. A life as little more than a play thing and victim awaiting a girl born different. Victor knew the bait was sweet smelling. He was on contract with Domino five years prior when she flipped the script. Put a phosphorous round in his gut and left him for dead to free six young women mutants from a shipping container in Hong Kong. She saved those womens lives and cost Victor seventy five thousand dollars in the process. It wasn't the money that hurt. Or the gut shot(even though that hurt plenty)... it was the betrayal of conscience that upset him. Then. Now? Well, this is something ele entirely.

Doesn't mean Sabretooth can't enjoy the little things.

Deep in the heart of Lowtown, the contact is to be met. An older man named Fuma. His niece must be returned. Meet in the old garage one block west of the old foundry. A green circle will be painted on the window... and it is. Though only a single candle or small flame burns iside. Steel door, half rusted and long since bent beyond the ability to close, stands open a few inches...

Domino has posed:
    Domino has never been one to complain about the places her work takes her. Usually. She's really seen it all so Maridpoor as cramped and insufferable as it is, is just another check on her box along the way. Not her first choice but there is work and its got the ring of a good ending to it should she succeed. She strides through the pathways and byways, weaving her way towards the district and location given to her as she holds up a plastic poncho over her head as it lays down her back to keep the water rolling along its surface. Keeping her relatively dry.

    The green circle is noted and she glances back and around at her surroundings. She pauses a moment more, studying dark corners and little recesses for future notation before she drops the plastic poncho, letting it hit the ground behind her so that she can free up her hands. Pistols are pulled free of their hip side holsters as she leads with one pointed in through that opening and then steps with the corresponding leg in.

    Its like some cabaret show how she moves through it, carefully glancing back and forth like she's leaving the audience in anticipation. But better ready than dead. The mercenary slinks through then and brings her other leg in out of that rain and into the humid interior.

     Little to no light limits her eyesight and so she waits near the opening a moment to adjust from the street lights outside. Only then doe she draw both guns up and slowly pan back and forth looking for her contact. Fuma.

    The soft scrape of her boots the only sound of her presence, her breathing slow and measured. With no initial sighting she slowly lowers one pistol at her side.

Sabretooth has posed:
The rain beats down with fat, lazy drops. Pummeling the filth loose in the streets. Some of said filth not so swayed by the summer shower and instead more curious of Domino. Three young men, tattoos marking them as members of the same gang. The empty, angry stares proving them veterans of these streets. They watch her from the relative dryness beneath an old, half rotted canvas awning that used to be owned by a cleaner. Down the other direction, she sees an older woman with dangerous body language directing children toward the crowded streets. Her little magpies. They are forgotten easily here in Lowtown.

Her drawn guns avert gazes immediately. Survival isn't about being the biggest and baddest. It's about smart choices. Instinct. Like the feeling Domino gets when she walks into the old, condemned building. Dust, blown refuse and debris cover the floors. Ahead she sees a single set of foot prints, perhaps Fuma. Leading around the corner to the flickering, guttering light. It smells like wet dog. Wet dog, old drywall decay and... iron? Something coppery. Thick in the air.

Her eyes adjust, bringing the grim scene to life in horrid clarity. It's not graffiti on the walls as she rounds that corner. Paint isn't catching the dancing light of a single candle held in bone white hands much like her own...

It's blood.

Splashed on the walls. Splattered like a mist against the grey ceiling tiles. Darkening cobwebs. Fuma, nailed to the wall with a piece of rebar. Horrified shock carved eternally on his face. That's when she hears him. That voice is unmistakeable. Deep. Impossibly low with the backbite of a permanent growl bringing menace to even his sweetest of pillow talk.

"Neeeeeenaaaaaaaa." A chuckle, amused and hauntingly casual. "I've missed you, Nena. Did you miss me?"

Unseen, the dangerous murderer known as Sabretooth taunts her from the shadows.

Domino has posed:
    Sniff. Sniff....Neena's senses come to life as she susses out her environs. The smell could be anything including strays that likely feed off the accumulative refuse of Lowtown. Each step she takes is slow, steady and anchoring her before she moves on. Scuff and crunch of the floor sounds, more because of the various detritus that has accumulated in what is likely an abandoned building save for those of unsavory quality. The copper scent though, it becomes stronger the further into the building she gets and closer to the light - that smell she is familiar with. Tension draws up through her spine and brings both guns up at ready even before she sees the choice of decor that spatters and colors the wall.

    It sends adrenaline plunging through her veins and she keeps her distance. She gets the idea of what happened no need for an up close and personal of the victim. The voice however, that stops her with one last crunch scrape of her boot and she pivots, trying to follow the voice.

    "I knew you would hold a grudge. Sometimes other things outweighs money...hard to believe I know." She says back as her bright electric blue eyes narrow and her dark painted lips thin out. "Come out pussy cat, stop being a pussy." Eye flit up towards the air ducts however, slowly backing up a step even as her head turns to give a quick glance around. One pistol lifts, angled at the ducts and she shoots at one point, then another. This is not a friendly reunion where they get to share stories and exclaim over how they have changed - this is a showdown and that steady feeling of dread is already working overtime with Domino's powers. Just got to line them up.

Sabretooth has posed:
He can smell it. Even through the stink of Lowtown. Even above the aroma of fresh death. He can smell -him- on her. It brings a fanged and savage smile to the dry, cracked lips of Sabretooth. The sweetness of her sweat does little to hide the memorized stink of the Wolverine. Light sways, the flame almost dying out with the movements of stale air. It holds strong. Not that the sights are something one would want to see in the first place.

"Is that fear, Dom? Excitement? You don't have to tell him how I get your blood pumping, sweetheart." His taunts echo through the ducts. Haunting and distant. "Oh, I always hold a grudge, Dom. Just not against you. You know, not -everything- is about you." Shots fired! Victor laughs as the rounds bounce and ricochet around the duct work. "That was a close one. I felt it go right by. Lucky shots are your specialty, right? Remember what mine is, frail?"

She's looking at the vents. Which is exactly where he wanted her to look. Everyone looks at Victor Creed and sees unchecked aggression. Fury. Power. They never expect the cunning. The decades and decades of experience. This is why Sabretooth is feared. The floor beneath Domino heaves upward. Wood bowing, splintering then exploding in wooden shrapnel as Sabretooth bursts out of the basement and through the flooring. Wicked claws shaving the air milimeters from that soft belly as he roars. That candle doesn't stand a chance.

Darkness races in fast.

Domino has posed:
    "Then if it is not about me, what's got you all riled and ready?" Fear? There may just be a little. She would be absolutely moronic not to have some fear. Fear creates a healthy wariness that all creatures need - prey or predator. "Lucky shots, exactly why you are hiding right at this moment. Afraid I am going to put another round in you? I might make it permanent this time." Her voice is even, if a little cocky as she takes a step back and another but its not enough. She's not expecting the floor and Dominos's eyes widen as her pulse races and seconds stretch out.

    Adrenaline kicks in hard like a freight train and she reaches her foot out. Luck is with her and instead of meeting claws she meets his thigh and pushes off of it backwards into a flip that clears her of the now ruined floor, shrapnel and just narrowly those claws that he is so known for as little bits of wood ping off of her here and there - doing no lasting damage. She lands and skids a few precious inches while her guns aim as she squeezes off shot after shot, the mercenary following his motions with a trained deftness even as she begins to run counter to him.

    He's an animal. A close quarters beast and she does not intend to let him close enough to get another chance at making her into pale ribbons. There is no time to hesitate as her blood sings in her ears and that old battle focus settles into place. Keep moving, keep firing. Don't let him close the distance. Basic battle strategy when facing one big blood thirsty cat.

Sabretooth has posed:
So close! Sabretooth snarls in outright disdain as she uses his own rising force and frame as a springboard. Sending the pale merc launching safely away from him. Just out of his reach. They always assume safety with distance. Rotted insulation, wood splinters and years of dust cloud the air. His savage swipe creating whirls and swirls in its wake, churning the filthy air like muddy waters.

"You don't have the chops to take me out, Neena. I'm above your pay grade." The renowned killer taunts her. What little light that dares make it through the spaces between boards in shattered window frames catches the eyes of Sabretooth. A haunting, balefire green glimmer locks onto her just as bullets hit his considerable mass. "Hot lead kisses. I knew you cared." Snarling, he somehow ducks the last shot. He's faster than she remembers. She creates distance and Victor will have none of it. With one hand, he grabs the remnants of the counter and flings it at her center mass. Whether she catches it in the lungs or not, the wall behind her explodes outward like a car bomb went off.

"I can smell him on you." His voice calls from the dark of the building that's now starting to come down. "Logan." A chunk of flooring frisbee'd outward smashes through the closed tourist shop across the street. "Get it now, Neeeeeenaaaaaa?" He laughs. The brute laughs. It's all a game to him.

Domino has posed:
    Close only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades. Lucky for Domino those are not his forte or weapons of choice. Dust causes her to cough though as her bullets tear through him, all but one and she can hear their sickening sound as each one strikes the flesh of Sabertooth's massive form. Sucking in a breath through her teeth she catches the sound of movement attached to those glowing eyes that have focused on her. This is the part where you run, where space might not be enough and Victor proves that.

    Domino's blood is running hot below that pale surface as the terrible brute strength powers the flight of the counter. She angles down, allowing gravity to be her friend as she tucks and twists, throwing her knee down to try to catch herself. In those precious moments where the inbound projectile of considerable mass is headed her way she squeezes off a few more shots in her fall. Her knee breaks through the floor, dropping her just enough as a the very tip of the jagged counter trails a thin slice along her cheek. Narrowly it misses taking off her head and smashes through the back wall taking out a few supports that make the building creak.

    Luck saved her by breaking the floor but now her knee is stuck and her thigh caught. She grunts and pulls back, tucking in as she tries to get to her back only to feel her muscle strain and finally roll free. She winces some, knowing she's pulled something and rolls once more to use the momentum up onto her feet as she heads for the gaping hole in the side of the building and towards the rain that makes the outside of the building look almost cleansing, like some veil that might keep him at bay - she knows this not to be true as she blindly trusts in her luck and angles her gun over her shoulder, letting go of a few rounds. She's lost some speed due to the strain.

Sabretooth has posed:
The dust creates a hazy scent shield but not nearly enough to keep him off her. He could close his eyes and follow her through these streets. Victor Creed knows Madripoor like he knows the last sound a man makes before he goes to meet his maker. Those glimmering green dots start to advance though not a sound comes from his footfalls. The predator lets out a grunt as more rounds hit him. The previous shots pushed from his flesh to clatter on the flooring. He heals so damn fast. Too fast. "What? Got nothin' for your old buddy Victor now? Cat got your-hrk!" A round hits him square in the throat. A massive hand clasps the wound in surprise but his steps don't stall. A messy, choking sound follows... gagging...

Voice all the more damaged and ragged, he mocks her still. Why didn't he move in for the kill?! As Domino pulls herself up and free, turning to take flight toward the relative freedom of Lowtown streets... that bloody bullet hits her in the back. He actually dug it out of his own necm and threw it at her! "Hot kisses for Victor. I knew you cared."

As she hits the wet pavement running, the cover fire peppers Sabretooth as he gives chase. Heavy fist smashing away whatever barrier remains between him and the street. "Don't take this so personal, Dom!" Victor calls after her. A scream sounds, sharp and cut short when Victor dispatches a bystander simply for not being fast enough to escape him. He doesn't skip a step. "This is all for Logan. I'll even leave you kinda recognizeable! What are pals for, huh?!"

Domino has posed:
    His dialogue is grating at best and Domino is using the terrain to her advantage. The bullet hits her, stings a bit but falls to the floor harmlessly behind her. It does not stop her. Nothing stops her onward trajectory as she slides around the corner she takes just as she hears the building screech in complaint overtop the sound of the rain and the thundering of her heart. Neena even catches the scream as she cuts down a dark narrow alley, which could very well spell doom for or funnel him as she lets a half used clip hit the street. She shoves open the pouch on her hip and slams down the pistol, sliding the new clip in with its special rounds. The flap falls forward again but remains open.

    Old construction. The kind that got abandoned when everything went pear-shaped. She notes the scaffolding and glances across from it to the brick buildings. She moves then, rushing forward to take the first few rungs with just her boots but then she hooks her arm around and grasps the side of the ladder with the inside of her elbow. Up, up, up she goes, climbing hire to get a vantage.

    She gets to the top level of the rickety scaffolding and aims down, her gaze focused on the way she had come, the watery thing blood from the cut on her cheek a stark contrast to her near white skin. She waits, readies and squeezes off those special rounds. "Come on you feral cat..someone has to put you down." She's not yelling, keeping those muttered thoughts for herself.

Sabretooth has posed:
Victor watched with satisfaction and twisted glee as she sprints in the general direction of AWAY. Rounding the corner, his voice followa after. Clearly having healed, his still growling tone sounds clear. Amused. He's enjoying himself. Then again, when doesn't Victor Creed love a good chase? "This is your fault, Neena." He chides her, letting the distance grow. -Letting- her take the percieved advantage. He doesn't know about those special rounds. He will. Silent stalking in the rain, he reaches out to drag his talons along old brick, leaving gouges deep and ominous. A predator marking his territory. "It could have been someone else. But no. You had to snuggle up with the runt."

Rounding the corner himself, he blows the mortar and red brick dust off those terrible claws. Following her scent. The rain isn't enough. He can almost -feel- it. Her jackrabbit pulse. The bitter tang of adrenaline and fear. Sweat and gunpowder. Date night for a psychopathic animal in a mans skin. Blood soaks the front of his white tank top, clinging now dark fabric to the muscular wall that is Sabretooth. No shoes, his bare feet cold on the wet asphalt. "I'm going to kill you, Domino. I'm going to kill you and use that pretty little corpe as a party favor at Logans birthday party." He's calling her out. Ducking under scaffolding, he rolls those glittering eyes upward toward her and smiles a wicked, fanged sneer. A bloody hand raised, talon aimed at her heart. "I'm the hook, little worm."

Domino has posed:
    Patience. Slow the rate of your heart. Focus. Domino does that with no lively quips back at the massive force of raw strength and power gifted the mind of a killer that is now striding after her. The anticipation is a ticking time bomb that steadily increases her heart rate that she actively fights against. Neena says nothing, she knows he knows where she is. They both are hunters with very different skill sets. Primal urges versus cold calculating luck driven moments. She exhales as those gleaming eyes look up at her with a set of glimmering waiting teeth.

    She aims down. One shot. It will give her a head start, possibly enough even with her slightly gimped leg. "You talk far too much," she says loud enough for him to hear and squeezes the trigger of that special round right at his eye.

    CRACK goes the gun.

    It's going to be a crazy rush after this and beating him to the punch she charges other side fo the scaffolding and slams herself into the bar. The whole setup gives easily, teetering forward and starting its rapid descent towards Victor and the ground.

    Her boot pushes off the railing she slammed into as she gets an angle and she launches herself towards the other building. Its not a clean landing as she sails through the air and ultimately hits the edge of the roof with her chest. It knocks the wind out of her, guns clattering to the rooftop as she starts to slide, leaving her hands free to grapple as she wheezes and finally, painfully fills her lungs with air. That is going to leave a mark.

    Her boots scrape, scrabble and try to gain her purchase on the slick brick as the crash of the scaffolding and screeching of metal can be heard behind her - dulled only a little by the rain.

    Finally her arms tense, her muscles feeling the strain finally pull her over and she rolls out onto the roof top on her back. She grimaces and lays there a moment, catching her breath in searing lungfuls before slowly rolling over and reaching for the first gun, getting her hand around it and then pushing herself up to unsteady feet to begin walking towards the other.

Sabretooth has posed:
His eyes narrow in suspicion as her pulse slows. The woman forcing a calm in the middle of this storm? Not good. If he can heart the blood in her veins, her soft spoken words are recieved in full. "Don't you even think ab-" Bravado cut short with the squeeze of a trigger. Barely managing to turn his head in time with the report of carefully aimed gunfire, Victor catches a hot one across the left eye. The pain is immense. One hand clapped over his eye, the beast roars in outrage. A snarling outpouring of rage and rekindled fury.

This has devolved from a playful romp through Lowtown into a bloody nightmare and Sabretooth is determined to make it one to remember. Lifting his head to the noise of creaking, rusted steel. "Oh, I hate this luck crap." Victor manages to declare as the scaffolding collapses on him. Steel bars pierce flesh. Ragged wooden planks batter and pound at him. Pin cushioned by four steel poles, shards of lumber and hardware...

Quiet settles in. The sound of her boots scrabbling againsy brick, the patter of rain. It's deafening in contrast. Dust billows upward in the form of a mushroom cloud. Not even the snarl of a feral assassin to be heard. She gets respite for a lingering minute or two as Victors body reknits itself together. Bones crack and reset. Consciousness flickers behind those bloodshot eyes.

The noise of rubble shifting reaches Domino on the rooftop. She slowed him down but he she knows he won't give her a second chance.

The low, thunder-like rumble of a growl sounds deep down in the dark. He's caught her scent and judging by the tone of that beastly noise, he's quite finished with snappy quips. She's made him angry.

Domino has posed:
    That sound is what does it, what gets her moving and inspires the flight response from Domino. That is not animal. THAT is the sound between primal rage and honed intent. Her last gun scooped up she hurries across the building rooftop and thankfully - LUCKILY even there is a fire escape. Her boots hit the top landing and she winces, sucking in a breath as the muscles of her left thigh strain beneath her, compensating for the sudden impact. The metal is slick and she easily whips around the corner, riding the slick surface with her boots. She places her feet to either side of the stairs and slides down, pulling herself around in a quick fashion to repeat. She heads down a good four stories and by the bottom she hits the ground after the ladder hisses down with her on it.

    Lights ahead. People. There might be a chance he could lose her smell amongst the food and other bodies pressed in around each other.

    Possibly. Or she could be endangering a great deal of people. Domino has few choices at this point and with her left leg tense and taut she hurries forward, throwing her weight into her forward movement to keep up her pace - which is not really that impressive. Her ribs, they ache and the feel of one moving and creating a sharp pain right up and down her right side is likely a sign she's cracked one or two upon throwing herself at the building.

    The sound of life, loud and true hits her ears, drowning out the rain and any sound of Victor behind her - so far. Neena lets out a breath just as she steps into the radiant circle of neon lights, not caring if the air smells rancid.

Sabretooth has posed:
All he sees goes black... soon replaced by a brilliant shade of red. An all consuming fury takes hold and Victor puts everything he has behind it. Shoving that futy down hiz veins, kickstarting an already incredible healing factor. Muscle, skin and bone growing around the near deadly spikes and bars that impale him from different directions. Left leg protesting under the strain, an angled shard of steel pinning his calf to the rubble. Something hard in his lung. The taste of dirt and rust in his mouth. He can't turn his head... Then it hits. Like an afterburner, Victor Creed is propelled onward by sheer rage. The rubble cast aside, Sabretooth returns to the chase. Hastily tugging the metal from his body as he goes.

It's instinct. The drive to hunt and kill. To feel flesh tear under his nails. Hot blood on his face. It seduces him into a feral reflex. Purity of mind and purpose. He doesn't think. Doesn't have to. Nature takes its course. Boots on steel railings, squeeking wet in the rain. Her blood, faint and diluted by the dirty, smog tainted rain.

She expects him from below. To maybe round a corner? Barreling through the alleyways? What she likely doesn't anticipate is the rapidfire crunch and crack of brick above her. Wild eyed, half his face torn away and muscle growing over ruddy bone. Claws punching into the wall as he rapidly gives chase down the side of ghe damned building itself.

Run, Neena. Run. Sabretooth takes air and lunges. Giving truth to his namesake, the mutant killing machine pounces. When he hits, it feels like being in a car accident. Without the car around you to soften the blow. Broken ribs are the least of her concerns as Sabretooth sends the woman spiraling into traffic. Tires squeal on wet pavement. Glass smashes. Someone screams as a small truck goes flipping into the crowded sidewalks.

Domino has posed:
    That. Is. The. Most. Terrifying. Thing. EVER. As bricks hit the ground yards behind her, Domino feels the world slow down, it drags like her leg drags as the muscle pulls tight and complains due to being strained. She winces, gritting her teeth as her arms pump and help propel her forward. Her boots slide on the wet ground but find purchase, traction, forward propulsion but just not enough. What does propel her forward, AWAY from the horrific sight of a half faced raging Sabertooth is the creature himself.

    The world twists, turns and bright lights flash around her not just from the impact but as she sails through the air. Neena cries out, pain searing through her body as her smaller, far more human form is crashed against by the freight train that is Victor Creed. It all ends in motions around her and a sickening crunch as she lands on her shoulder the wrong way and skids across the ground before rolling sideways. She stops in a ruined mess, gasping for breath as her arm won't work and she can't seem to fully fill her lungs - ribs.

    The ringing in her ears drowns out the honking of cars and the screams of civilians as the mercenary wearily pushes up to one knee, one foot beneath her. It takes a few breaths and still the world is spinning as she gets to her feet and sways, nearly collapsing again as her one arm lays unmoving in its socket, her other lifting slowly as she aims down the gun at him, firing off rounds until it's empty and the barrel is smoking. Last ditch effort as she stares death right in the face. "Lucks run out.." she says and wavers, side stepping. Blood pours from a head wound, hidden beneath her dark hair and the brilliant contrast gleams in the nightlife lighting like some B rated snuff film.

    "I bet that hurt," she says to him, watching his body still healing from the mess she put it through. Domino's heart is racing in a culmination of pain, fear, and coursing adrenaline that helps most of the pain fade at the moment - something she will likely wish for later. If there is a later.

    During this time the gun's clip had been ejected with a SHINK and she pulls back the flap of her pouch, slamming the gun down. Special rounds. They slide home and Domino gives him a stare off, shooting straight from her hip. She's going to make him hurt like hell before he gets to her. The first one released with the word 'hurt'.

Sabretooth has posed:
He feels impact. Satisfaction. The feeling of flesh and bone bouncing off his shoulder brings a twisted, unhealthy glee just beneath the churning surface of all that Rage. His body burns. Agony with every movement as the shards and spikes, pieces and fragments grind against his bones. He may have pulled the larger pieces free but the man still looks like a gargantuan pin cushion. One eye starting to regrow, dangles from the empty socket. He's missing large pieces of bodily real estate but the healing factor is working double time. Fueled by hate.

Screams all around him, he barely notices the three wheeled taxi barreling down on him. Swatted aside like a toy, blood spatters and arcs through the air. The gas tank ruptures, light flares daylight bright as he stares down at Domino, sprawled on the street twenty yards away. Bloody spittle hangs from his lips, fingers twitching as talons force themselves somehow longer still. He's leaving a crimson wake in the street puddles as people scatter for safety. There are no heroes here in Lowtown. Hydra seen to that long ago.

Words are difficult. Her only return of phrase from Sabretooth.... a deafening roar that would put an African Lion into fits of shame. He lunges with claws extended, fangs barred. Light fades as his mass eclipses the street light above.

Bullets let loose from Dom's handgun all find home in center mass. Chewing a gaping hole in his pectoral and deeper still. Shattering ribs. Pulping lung. Sabretooth lands the blow with near deadly precision. Jaw clenched tight enough to make molars crack, Victor snarls through grinding teeth tinted red. "It did."

Domino has posed:
    Innocents are dying and if Domino runs more die and she dies. If she stands her ground, well then its been a good run and she can say that she gave others a chance instead of dragging this inevitable end out. The space between them is eaten up far too quickly, where time had slowed this is in rapid succession with bits of it missing like some strobes effect. This is likely due to the concussion she got upon hitting the pavement hard, the evidence of it still dripping along her pale skin and down around her jaw. Some already curls it's way down her neck and chest.

    Eyes lift that moment he steps in and the shock blocks the pain at first. Still her dark lips part and she gasps, tensing up as his claws dig their dagger ends into her right ribs and lift her from the ground at first. The cry leaving her lips as blood starts to flow from her wounds is cut off by the solid grip of his right hand over her throat.

    Domino's chin is angled up towards his face and her feet kick a bit, twitching as she gurgles and struggles to breathe. Normally pale skin begins to grow ruddy and red, her eyes catching a pink edge to it as her windpipe is effectively squeezed shut by one meaty paw. His nails rake at her skin, cutting at the delicate covering and adding to the visceral scene rather effectively. Another kick, another and she lifts one good hand. as her gun clatters to the ground to try to break that grip on instinct.

    Her eyesight is fading in and out, his slathering maw with its frothing red bubbles and dripping saliva is seen. The heat of his breath smelled as it pours over her skin. That is the last thing she's going to see. Air does not come, not one bit of it and the sounds she makes her utterly dreadful as Victor's left hand starts to become slick with her blood, dripping readily to the ground from the curve of his palm.

Sabretooth has posed:
It's a lose/lose situation when Victor Creed gets his hands on you. Even in survival, nobody walks away unscathed. Not even a healing factor can hide the mental trauma inflicted by his sheer savagery. El Tigre leaves broken people in his wake and tonight is no different. Her blue eyes contrast so sharply against that chalk white skin. The shock of fresh blood, so bright red. The vivid play of color startles him out of that frothing frenzy. It's not fear or revulsion that shakes him out of that killers high. No. It's pride. His smiling face flickers in and out of her vision. Not a pretty sight but at least his face has regrown. Left eye sucked back up into his skull and looking back at her with the gleam of excitement.

There are no sirens. Not yet. No, in Madripoor, they wait their turn. As Victor lifts Domino up from the pavement by the ribs, claws curling under to score bone. She cries out and his right hand slowly encircles that slender, red webbed throat to squeeze. Her boot thuds against dense muscle. Laces catching on the twisted steel barbs poking out of his side. Eh, that liver will grow back just fine. His fanged smile, those bloodshot eyes and a face misted in red, smeared with dirt. War paint.

"Shhhh-sh-sh-shhhhhh." He whispers almost sweetly into her face as consciousness fades out. Lifting his chin, Victor savors their last moments together for the evening as he watches the light fade out of her eyes. "Sleep now, sweetheart. Sleep. You have a party to attend." His laughter rises up through the narrow streets of Lowtown. Windows shuttering at the terrible sound. The rain letting up, silence taking over for the violent anarchy that has come to a close.

Domino does not die tonight. Stabilized and sedated, Victor Creed takes his trophy back to New York. Back to Westchester. Back to remind Logan what they truly are.

Animals.

9006/The Birthday Blues: Make a Wish

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