Cracking his neck, Victor rose to his feet and looked to the sky, a smile growing on his face as he thought back to the battle that had just taken place. It had been truly amazing, short and swift, his target, decisive and experienced, not hesitating to strike when an opening presented itself.
The boy, Scott Summers; he had been truly impressive.
"Sabretooth," Blockbuster called, Prism's still unconscious body thrown over his shoulder as he and Tombstone came towards them. "Sinister's calling." He then presented to him the phone, Victor taking it and raising it to his ear.
{"I heard you lost."} Sinister said down the other end. {"How did you manage that?}
Victor scoffed. "You said he was skilled, you made no mention that he would be that good." He would admit, he had gone into that fight expecting a talented, but a wet-behind-the-ears kid who wouldn't be prepared to fight an experienced fighter like him, let alone superpowered individuals that should be worst matchups in Tombstone, Prism and even Blockbuster to a lesser extent.
By all accounts, it should have been overkill and that's exactly what Victor had thought also.
Now he knew differently.
{"How so?"} Sinister asked.
"For one, that kid is skilled, like you said. But any fool in the world can develop skills like that. What you failed to mention is how experienced he is. He's a combat veteran and not just experienced in any old combat." Victory explained. "The type of combat experience like mine."
The experience that only came from constant life and death battles against impossible odds, the type where a single mistake, a single moment of inattention could cost someone their life. It was a type of combat experience that few in this world would be able to get, not even army veterans and current personnel when risking their lives in battle came close. This was a type of combat experience that while on paper seemed similar, was to a much higher degree.
The fact that a kid of that age had such experience and a great deal of it, told Victor that this kid had seen things and done things that most wouldn't even dream of doing. 'Perhaps that's why he's hesitant to kill?' He had seen it before, many times in fact. 'A boy who has killed and wishes to not stain his hands further.'
Victor would be sorely disappointed if that was the case.
Right now, he wanted to fight that kid, but not when he was holding himself back.
No, he wanted to see that kid when he was fighting at his best, prepared physically and mentally to kill. A fight in which both were fighting for the same goal, the death of the other, no holds barred, no interruptions from others. Just the two of them, aiming to tear each other apart with everything they had, not an ounce of hesitation in their movements or strikes, not a single blow held back.
That was the fight he was looking forward to.
{"...Fascinating."} Sinsiter murmured, his voice filled with that same fascination and wonderment at the news he was hearing. {"But also curious."}
"Yeah, I'm curious as well," Victor replied. "Didn't you say you watched this kid closely from the moment he left? Shouldn't you know what he's been up to all this time?"
{"Oh I have."} Sinister said. {"And he has done little that would justify the level of experience you're implying. Yet he had no power that would explain that experience, I studied his genes extensively."}
Victor chuckled. "You don't need to tell me that, I saw the kid's eyes. There might be a power out there that can give someone the experience of a thousand fights. But the eyes don't lie, that kids have seen and done things that haunt him. Those types of eyes can't be gained from some power, it comes from actually living through it."
{"Truly then, it is fascinating."} Victor agreed with that sentiment. {"I have a new subject joining you soon. When he arrives, find Scott and bring him to me. Alive."} Sinister stressed the last bit, not that Victor would deny it, perhaps some time under Sinister's thumb would bring that killer instinct deeply hidden back onto the surface. At which point, Victor wouldn't be able to hold himself back, whether Sinister got in his way or not, he'd fight to kill the kid with everything he had.
-X-
Moving through the relatively average-sized town of Dunfee, Scott and Amelia got a feel for the people of this town. They were normal, average townsfolk, normal Americans with a love for football and especially their towns star player, Hank McCoy. All seemed to have been struck by a football fever and it was hard to imagine that this world hated and feared Mutants by the way they seemed to adore him.
Yet, beneath the surface of levity and joy, there seemed to be the same hatred and fear. It was overshadowed and seemingly lost, but still there, showing itself in torn photos and graffiti down alleyways.
A sentiment was rising here, one that was beginning to turn against their town's star player. No longer seeing him as a young teen who had stopped robbers and led their local team to amazing victories against some of the state's best teams. Instead, seeing him as just a Mutant, something to be hated and feared, not loved and cheered.
"It should be just up ahead," Amelia said, looking at her phone where Charles had given her the location of a nearby B&B where an old friend was apparently waiting for him. Their journey had been delayed quite a bit by the ambush of their pursuers, they arrived a few hours later than initially expected, giving them only two days rather than the three initially expected.
However, Scott wasn't too bothered by it.
That first day was meant to be just about familiarising himself with the town of Dunfee and possibly finding the location of the Conquistador before things could unfold in this town as they were meant to.
However, that would not be the case as tomorrow was the day the Dunfee High School team would be playing against a local, rival team. It was a big game and there was a lot of excitement around the town, which meant there would be a big celebration should they win. A celebration that would hide the actions of the villain, Conquistador when he kidnapped Hank's parents and nearly forced him into servitude.
Scott was not worried about this though.
Compared to the likes of the foes he had faced so far, Conquistador would be easy to take care of. The biggest concern would be getting Hank's parents to safety, but Scott had Amelia to help with that.
As they approached the B&B, it was to find it appeared more like a small hotel, quickly the two entered inside to find that there was a small bar and cafeteria area where meals were currently being served. While Scott looked around, the two moving towards the reception, he quickly noticed someone sitting at the bar, a small, burly man with wild hair, gulping down a large stein of beer.
He recognised the figure instantly.
But he stood there, knowing full well that the man could sense his gaze upon him by the way he minutely tensed up, all the while Amelia talked to receptionists, introducing him as her son. He technically was since the adoption of him and Alex by her and Charles, it still felt wrong though.
"There's a man by the name of Logan, he came here earlier," Amelia said. "He's a friend of the family, is he here?"
There was a pause.
"Oh, yes." The receptionist eventually answered. "He booked a room a few hours earlier. Would you like me to contact him and let him know you're here?"
"Please," Amelia said, smiling gratefully.
As the two began moving away, Scott went straight towards the bar, Amelia following behind them and as they approached the short, burly man, he turned. "Have we met before, kid?" He asked gruffly, stein placing down on the bar and staring intently at Scott who did not drop his gaze.
He was an intimidating man for sure.
But Scott was not intimidated.
"You simply made me wary," Scott said truthfully. "You're different to everyone else in here, that's all."
"And who are you?" Amelia questioned firmly.
"Logan." He responded. "So, you're the two Charles sent me to get. Making you Amelia, and you, the pain in the ass, Scott. Good, you're here, now let's go."
"Go?" Scott wondered, raising a brow. "Go where?"
"Back to Charles. Get this whole shit show over with before you can decide to make an even bigger scene than you already have." Logan shot back.
"I was given three days, I still have two."
"And look what you've done in a day, already got into a fight."
"Which I won."
"No, you didn't."
"My objective was to get them off the train, they were and therefore, I won." Scott then smirked, Logan frowning. "Though I suppose for you, a fight can only be won by beating the other into submission. A simpleton then."
Here, Logan's frown twisted into a scowl, Amelia looking at Scott in confusion, this was not how he usually acted. "We're going back kid, now."
"No, we're not."
"Don't make me force you."
"You can try but you'll find that harder than you might think."
Logan chuckled dangerously, a glint in his eyes promising pain. "I doubt that very much. You have no idea of what I'm capable of if I'm pushed too far and kid, you're pushing me."
"By the looks of you, you're very good at fighting. Perhaps possessing a power that only makes you even more dangerous with skills few could possess or match." Scott said. "But little going on upstairs. A guy who only lives in the moment and not thinking about what comes after. You're boorishly predictable."
Logan ignored the jab about his state of being. "And you're prepared for what comes after?"
"I'm well aware of what my actions have caused and am prepared for the consequences." Amelia placed a hand upon Scott's shoulder at that moment, squeezing it tightly. "Now, I still have two days left to do what I came here to do and you can either leave or stay. It does not matter to me."
As Scott turned on his heel and left, Amelia then sighed deeply. "I'm sorry about him, he's not usually like that. It's been a stressful last few days for us both. But Charles did say we have two days and I know better than to try and force Scott to do something he doesn't want to."
Logan scoffed. "So, you're letting a kid walk all over you." He responded gruffly, Amelia frowning as Logan turned his back on her to continue drinking.