Disclaimer first : I don´t own any of the characters of X Men and I don´t publish this to get money out of it in any way – it´s just for fun and for all who liked the latest X Men movie as much as I did!

As the story was written originally in German, I hope that translation didn´t spoil it. The following chapters I´m working on are written originally in English, so there is hope :-) Reviews are very welcome !

Thanks to Korn and Katie Melua who delivered the right music to write about guys like Victor :-)

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„…you should really…." The voice on the other end of the line stopped. "Sethra, are you listening ?" She rolled her eyes. "I´ve got enough of *you should, you must, you have to* – you know ?" Her own voice sounded sharp and unreal in her ears. "You know, it was really childish to…" She had enough – why didn´t the bastard get that ? She grabbed the mobile and smashed it hard into the car´s panel. Plastic splitted. She threw the remains of the mobile in the back. "Connection broke", she commented to her own.

She sighed with relief as her brother´s blockhouse came in sight. It had been quite a long journey having to drive the whole distance herself and she was up to a shower and finding a bed. It was in that moment that she realised that something was wrong there. The wooden entrance door stood half open. The small veranda showed signs of somebody having had some meals there recently. "Shit", she whispered. Whoever had settled in there, he had certainly heard the car, not to mention the stereo, blasting some Korn record, exactly catching up to her mood. She immediately regretted having smashed the phone, but that was not helpful. She had no weapon with her, only some oc spray – not her favourite. She glanced around. If she remembered things right…

He had already heard the car when it left the main road and turned off to the house. Whoever had taken a wrong turn outside there was disturbing what could have been a nice baseball evening. As the car stopped in front, he got on his feet, growling.

The engine fell silent. The noise stopped, too. He waited. As nothing happened, he left by the window, checking the court in front of the house by glancing around the corner of the house. The car was empty. The wind blew from the wrong direction – no chance to get a scent. He glanced at the scruffy shed leaning against one side of the house.

Sethra thanked her brother for his military sense of order. There were some old small weapons in the gun rack, a shotgun, some sporting guns, munitions. She grabbed the shotgun – seemed to become a classic scene there!

She slowly opened the entrance door widely, using the barrel to push. To her surprise, it barely caused a sound. She noticed indignantly that the TV was turned on – everything else was quiet. The kitchen, where the door directly led to, was empty, but showed signs of recent use. Somebody had obviously finished off everything eatable to be found, leaving the empty cans mixed with loads of empty bottles and dirty dishes on the surface. She quickly checked the wooden staircase that led to the upper floor – nothing. She moved on to the door opposite to the entrance, leading to a short corridor. At its end lay the living room, somewhere on the left the bathroom, if she remembered everything correctly – she hadn´t been here for years.

The small bathroom was empty. She took a deep breath. Shouldn´t be too big of a problem to handle some half-drunken hobo. She pushed the door open, causing some noise. The intruder hat settled on the couch, one elbow lolling on the back rest, the other hand holding a bottle of whiskey. He seemed not even surprised about somebody entering by half breaking the door. That kind of impertinence astonished her. "Hey!" she shouted. Victor cocked his head. His nose had really not betrayed him. He grinned. Then slowly turned his head towards her. "What ?" he asked. Sethras eyes narrowed. "Get up!" she commanded. He sighed exaggeratedly. He took his time to store the half-finished whiskey bottle on the small table in front of him. Then he rose slowly. Sethra was promptly reminded of an advise one of her instructors had given her about the mistake of underestimating the opponent – something about a mistake you might only make once. Her opponent was at least a head taller then her. Massive frame, bulky shoulders, close cropped dark hair, beard, wearing some black jeans and shirt, heavy army boots. As he glimpsed the gun pointed at him, his grin broadened and he raised his hands tauntingly. Claws and fangs – Sethra silently complimented herself to his fine piece of misjudgement of hers. "You don´t like baseball, do you ?" he asked mockingly. "Get your stuff and get lost!" she barked. He noticed amused that she was good – her smell told something completely different about her level of fear than her appearance. She immediately took aim at him as he drew a step closer. "Stay where you are!" Bored, he dropped his hands. "What shall it be now ? Leaving or staying ?"

Sethra hated the guy for playing the clown – it was just a fact that men always underestimated women because of their smaller physical strength, but there was no difference between a man or a woman firing a gun – this was just stupid! "Don´t think I won´t shoot, asshole", she informed harshly. "Will you ?" he teased in a greasy tone. Sethra had a short guess about what she had done to attract idiots like this one in high numbers recently. As he made another step, some picture frame next to him exploded as she fired. "Don´t mess it up!" she hissed, reloading in a flowing movement. Appalled, she noticed his claws growing longer – and that he obviously felt and enjoyed her fear. He hadn´t even flinched. "Charming", he commented drily. For a moment, there was silence apart from the commentator, whining about some bad playing tactics. His muscles tightened barely noticeable. As he moved, another shot fell, ruining his own attack. Taken by surprise, he glanced at his leg – that little bitch had actually shot him. Sethra watched him looking down in horror. The shot had been perfect – it should have knocked him down at least. She started reloading automatically, but a creaky sound told here that something blocked the bullet. Their eyes met for a moment – then he came after her.

She fled across the corridor. He had had inappropriate angle to jump and crashed into the doorframe before he turned in the right direction. Another leap brought him close enough to grab her leg. He failed to get hold of her, but she fell, crashing to the floor heavily. She managed somehow to regain control of her body, struggling to get out of his reach. Deeply growling, he grabbed her leg again, claws slipping of her boot and ripping her jeans. As soon as she gained a half-upright position, she dashed the lower end of the shotgun right in his face. Bones broke with a hideous snap. "Bitch", he mumbled, tasting blood. She finally managed to get on her feet, but lost the gun. She was only half across the kitchen when his body banged into hers. She was thrown against the working surface next to her, the crash knocking the breath out of her. Unable to move, she realized horror-stricken that he moved as her shot had never hit him.

She gasped as he drew closer. He pressed her against the furniture behind her, blocking every movement with his body. Her gaze unwillingly followed the slight movement of his hand, a single claw touching her temple teasingly. She tried to draw aside, her bruised rips causing a stinging pain in her chest. Something suddenly draw his attention. He lifted her dog tags out of the neckline of her shirt, again using a single claw. He laughed viciously. "Like it the hard way, don´t you ?" he asked, menace ringing through every word. He shook his head slowly. Whoever had originally got on the idea, to allow women to join the army was one of the most ridiculous things he could think of. He dropped the tags and pinned her tighter against the working surface behind her. His nose had unmistakably broken when she had hit him with the gun, but aside from some blood covering his chin, there didn´t seem to be any damage. He didn´t even seem to be aware of any injury. "So what´s next ?" he asked quizzically, feeling his arousal rising with every instant. He should have known better. "Fuck you", she muttered. She noticed with relief that this time, he had flinched when she rammed the knife in his body – then his blow made her faint out.