GENERAL WARNING FOR STORY: ADULTS ONLY. Violence, blood and gore, coarse language, adult themes, coercion, and sexual content in later chapters. If you don't like it then don't read!

Seriously. This story doesn't shy away from the savagery of Victor's character and there are some very dark and twisted (and some very steamy!) moments. If any of that puts you off then don't read! Having said that, I do try to tread the thin line to a good ending, but like I said, Victor is brutal and it's a hard road to get there.

DISCLAIMERS:
– X-Men belongs to whoever legally owns it which sadly isn't me. I'm only playing with the characters for my own enjoyment and make no money out of this whatsoever.
– Sofie, Anders, and all other original characters that appear, are mine. All of my original characters are fictitious and any resemblence to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
– I'm sure I don't need to say this, but anyway. I do NOT condone any evil done in this utterly untrue, made-up story! Wrong is wrong, FACT.

A/N: I've no idea how the character was depicted in the original comics and no offence to Tyler Mane (I'd blame the over-zealous eyebrow stylist) but this is Victor Creed as played by Liev Schreiber. Tall, dark, vicious, menacing, totally yum. I rest my case.

AU. This is set sometime after Jimmy leaves Stryker's team, and Victor has also left 'cos he wants to be his own man and has had enough of following Stryker's orders.

As warned at the top, Victor isn't going to reform into a cheeky chappie. There are lots of awesome stories out there where he does but I fancied writing him in his au naturel, brutal self. I wonder how much interest there is in stories like this? Lemme know!

Enough yapping. Let's get going.

~ Nyx ~

CHAPTER 1

Victor picked up the scent within half an hour of her stepping foot on the mountain. His mountain, as he liked to think of it. A human frail, markedly distinct from the few locals that he condescended to let live since they had inhabited the region for so many generations as to have become practically entrenched into the very landscape, and winter hadn't entirely released its grip at this altitude so it was too early for dumbass city folk playing native.

There was a particular wildness to the scent that reached him on the breeze, a subtle tang but with a sweet aftertaste that reminded him of wild berries found in thorny thickets scattered all across the mountain. Even if he hadn't already been hell-bent on sharpening his claws on any trespassers it was enough to pique his curiosity.

He easily tracked her down to a small natural clearing edging onto a stream. She was hunched close to the running water, her long auburn hair dragged hastily into a messy pony tail, thick leggings moulding around shapely legs from well-worn ankle boots all the way up to under her waterproof jacket.

She was checking the items scattered about her that presumably came from the bag in the first place. He studied her from high up in a spruce tree as she checked the batteries in two flashlights, counted eight apples, shook a bag of what looked like dried fruit and nuts, refolded some bundles of clothes and checked and resealed a small box of matches in a waterproof bag.

They all ended up inside or tied to the holdall as did the rolled-up mat and sleeping bag, and all the while she kept glancing around, pausing, listening. He glimpsed her startlingly blue eyes when her gaze swung in his direction but he remained unmoving amongst the thick leaves and knew she couldn't sight him. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, her lips pursed with tension, her small face taut as if she knew she was being hunted. His bloodlust started kicking its familiar beat.

She unravelled and felt along a length of sturdy rope before winding it back up again, then slung the coil over her head and across her chest. Finally she plucked up the water bottle resting by her feet. She drank the last of it before refilling it from the stream and shoving it into a side pocket of the holdall. She heaved the long straps over her shoulders, one on each side to distribute the weight, and pulled a compass from her pocket. She waited for the needle to still, checked against the sun and began heading east.

The frail seemed prepared for a trek right across the massive mountain and first indications were that she wasn't stupid. He wondered how far she'd get, how long she'd intrigue him enough to stay him from spilling her blood. The anticipation of a stimulating hunt made Victor decide to draw this out.

Game on, frail.

She made surprisingly good progress for a human. She took the time to look out across the rocky cliffs and ravines, mentally plotting routes before picking her way through. She kept a steady pace, always pushing onwards without over-exerting herself, maintaining a routine of pausing briefly every quarter hour to look around and listen as well as resting for three minutes every hour.

At one point a small flock of birds fled to the sky with alarm calls and she instantly dropped low to the ground. He'd glimpsed the fox some minutes ago so wasn't perturbed in the least as to the culprit but the sudden alarm put her on high alert.

She scampered off the animal trail she had been following and climbed up towards the sparse spread of trees. She quietly dropped the holdall behind a boulder, effectively concealing it from the trail, and continued up the incline on her hands and feet until she ducked down behind a rocky outcrop.

He watched in amusement as she stilled her breathing and strained her ears, wondering what had her so startled. It couldn't have been him, he knew the locals didn't dare mention him to any outsiders.

She stayed there for almost ten minutes listening to the usual sounds of birdsong and rustling of leaves before she suddenly huffed, rolled her eyes, shook her head, and scampered and slid back down to her holdall amidst a scattering of earth and then back onto the trail. She passed directly under the tree he was perched in and he heard her muttering to herself as she passed.

"... jumping at bloody nothing. Get a grip, woman..."

It was an hour afterwards that Victor picked up another foreign scent. Human male, expensive cologne, brand new leather walking boots. He scrunched his nose in disgust. Sparing a last glance at the frail's pony tail bobbing over the next incline, he veered his course to come up from behind on the new and already less welcome intruder in his domain.

It was a stinking rich city boy. The brand new walking boots were as squeaky clean as they'd smelt and the unfaded jeans and crisp new chequered shirt did nothing to prevent the man from sticking out like a flashing neon sign in the rough wilds. He clattered along noisily following a navi-map.

No, it was a tracking screen, Victor realised, and he also knew what the lost little rich boy was tracking as the man unerringly headed in the direction of the frail.

A growl began rumbling deep in Victor's chest. It was his fucking frail, his fucking hunt, and this son of a bitch was starting to interfere.

By the time the frail saw City Boy it was already too late. A clattering of stones during one of her quarter hour pauses caught her attention – he was sprinting at her across the valley she had just traversed not fifty metres away. She legged it without a moment's hesitation, dropping the holdall as she went. There was a brief burst of speed charged by a surge of adrenalin, but then her toe caught on a protruding rock and she went flying.

Even at his distance as he bounded over on all fours Victor's keen ears picked up her sharp gasp as she landed heavily on the rocky ground. She scrambled to her feet, her right leg almost giving way before she began to stumble away as fast as she could, one hand pressed to her thigh. The man was on her in moments.

"Going somewhere, sweetheart?" The taunt carried over to Victor across the valley as he bounded ever closer.

"Let me go!" she screamed.

He grabbed her by her hair and snatched up the coiled rope. "Aww, you even gave me the rope to tie you up with. Cute."

She was fighting up a right storm and the man had to pin her down with his whole body as he tied up one wrist then the other. As he was getting up, however, she kneed straight up and caught him solidly between the legs.

He folded in on himself.

"Bitch!" he coughed hoarsely.

But he wasn't down. As she was scrabbling to her feet he backhanded her across the face. Her head snapped back and she was sent tumbling to the ground again. Victor's blood was boiling. Ain't nobody allowed to damage his prey but himself.

City Boy kicked her in the ribs and the frail cried out. Still looking rather green, he hauled her up by the rope and arms.

"Move it!" He began shoving and dragging her along back the way he'd come. "I don't appreciate you dragging me into your domestic tiff, Sofie," he grumbled.

"It's not a tiff, Freddy. I left him."

"Yeah, yeah, and he told you when hell freezes over. You should've listened to him, sweetheart, he's not very happy with you right now. And he won't even pay me for chasing down your sorry ass so I'm not happy with you either. Can you believe he blames me for this fucking stunt of yours?"

"Well Blaine's right for once. It's your own stupid fault. I'm only a girl but you're too much of a mama's boy to even be able to keep an eye on lil' ol' me, ain't ya?"

She gave him no time to react to her mocking taunt. She threw her head back and smashed him on the nose.

He gave a muffled howl and touched his nose. The hand came away glistening red. Livid, he jerked hard on the rope and yanked her backwards to the ground. His free hand reached behind him and pulled a Colt .22 revolver free of his waistband. He cocked it, pointed it at her knee –

The rumbling growl of a mountain cat stopped the man in his tracks. He looked up –

Oh no, not a cat. Just one very large, very pissed-looking giant of a man. But as lips curled back to reveal long sharp fangs Freddy honestly couldn't see much difference.

He kept the gun pointed at the frail. "Easy, pal, there's no need for trouble. We'll be right out of your way."

Victor smirked and took a step closer. He'd been fifteen feet away. Now fourteen.

Freddy, as the frail had called him, twitched nervously and snapped the gun up at him. "No need to be heroic, man, we're family, I'm just taking her home."

Did he think Victor was trying to save the frail? He would've laughed if the wind hadn't changed direction just then, carrying with it two distinct scents of blood. The human's broken nose was obvious. But he hadn't noticed the gash in the frail's thigh, the blood seeping wider across her dark leggings.

A rumbling started up deep in his chest. Asshole had even shed first blood.

Victor took another step. Thirteen.

White knuckles clenched the gun, the other hand tightly fisting the rope. The air was sharp with the human's dank sweat. As prey he would have been boring as hell. Too easy to break.

Even the frail was keeping it together better. She wasn't staring at either of them but in the space in between, using her peripheral vision to keep track of both. Smart frail. Victor could practically see the calculation in her eyes, judging his own slow steps with the man's distraction and trying to time her escape.

Another step. Twelve.

Freddy's eyes darted back to him. The frail rolled away –

But the man was jumpy. He caught the movement, stamped down hard on her back and elicited a soft gasp of pain.

The rumbling became a full-on growl. Another step. Eleven.

Victor jabbed a claw in her direction. "That belongs to me."

Freddy blinked at him, at the frail, then back again as if that simple statement was too much for his anxious brain to handle. He clutched both rope and gun tighter, straightened his arm for a better aim. The gun wasn't steady.

"No way, buddy, I haven't come all the way across this shithole for nothing." The tough words were completely belied by the tremor in his voice, the panic in his eyes on the verge of spilling over.

"Oh nooo," Victor agreed with mocking sympathy. "Not for nothing." A wide grin displayed fangs. "You came to die."

Eyes widened, Freddy's hand shook more violently.

Dipshit was about to snap. Victor smirked.

Another deliberate step. Ten.

With a totally unnecessary, exaggerated flick of his wrists designed only to overwhelm the last of the pathetic shit's nerve, Victor extended his claws.

Ba – Ba – Bang –

Three gunshots. Their echoes bounced back and forth down the valley. Victor let himself be thrown backwards as the bullets tore through his chest. It hurt, of course it goddamn hurt, but he'd seen the frail staring directly at him for the first time and his curiosity began itching again. He lay still, waiting, listening to the shocked stillness.

"... Freddy!" came her shocked whisper at length.

Panting, by the man. A breath held then released as the frail got to her feet.

"You killed him..."

"Shut up!" The outburst seemed to open the flood gates and all the rest of Freddy's panic was hot on its heels. "Shut the fuck up! It's all your fucking fault! If you hadn't ran off none of this would've happened!"

"You actually killed the guy..." Her voice was a dark combination of horror, shock and accusation. "You killed a man."

The man huffed. "He's no man, no human at all. He's a freaking mutant!"

Victor's blood boiled over. He tensed, ready to leap up –

"Mutants are human, you moron!" The anger in the frail's voice derailed some of Victor's own rage, made him pause for just a moment. "It's called evolution!"

Freddy glared, swung the butt of the gun at her head –

The gun was knocked out of his hand and went flying straight at the frail. She jolted, instinctively catching it in her bound hands.

But before Freddy could give chase he was screaming bloody murder, his eyes rolling into the back of his head showing all white. His hand had been crushed in the grip of a massive paw, bones crunching into a condensed ball that no hand should ever have looked like.

The frail looked like she had seen a ghost. She kinda had, Victor mused, seeing as he was a supposed dead man standing. Her wild, terrified appearance complete with a trickle of blood zigzagging down from the split in her lip stirred heat directly south of his naval and he realised he was already bored with the piece of shit he'd just begun torturing. It was the only thing that saved the pitiful human from an agonizingly drawn-out death.

"Enough."

He raised his free hand. Extended a claw. Sliced under the chin from ear to ear.

The body dropped with hardly a gurgle.

He licked the blood off his claw.

Blue eyes as round as dinner plates were staring at him. They gradually drifted down to the three holes in his shirt, their ragged edges heavy with his own blood. He'd been shot enough times to know that one bullet had passed close to his heart and the other two had pierced lungs. Her stunned gaze then fluttered to the body at his feet, to the glistening red pool spreading from the gaping hole under the chin –

Her face morphed into an entirely new level of horror. Her jaw shook. The gun shook. Hell, her whole body was shaking like a leaf.

"You gonna shoot me too, frail?" he purred.

Her answer was a long time coming. As he waited he contemplated what to do with her. City Boy had already thrown Victor's intended hunt off-kilter but he'd be goddamned if he let the dead son of a bitch derail his enjoyment completely. He hadn't planned on raping or killing the frail for a few days yet and there was no way in hell he was going to any earlier than he'd wanted. He'd give the frail's leg a few days to recover then the hunt was back on.

Finally she shook her head, a tiny movement he would have missed if he hadn't spent centuries stalking prey.

His eyes narrowed in warning. "I can't hear you, frail."

She looked like a rabbit that knew that its throat was about to be chewed out. How apt.

"No."

Quiet. And slightly wobbly. But good enough. "No, you ain't stupid, are you? You know it'll only piss me off."

She still hadn't relinquished the gun but he could tell that it was due to her muscles locking up rather than that she was actually contemplating using it. He closed the distance between them, keeping his steps slow, wondering if she would bolt. Or shoot. The air was certainly electric enough with her overwrought tension. But she seemed all but frozen in inaction, except for her eyes which tracked his hand reaching for hers and prying the revolver out of them. He didn't have to be psychic to know that she was thinking back to how he had so easily crushed Freddy's hand earlier. He kept his grip deliberately gentle. He'd save the violence for later.

He tossed the Colt over his shoulder.

Keeping his claws retracted he gripped her chin and turned her head from side to side. He wouldn't call her overly pretty but he found something attractive in those bright cerulean blue eyes and small rosy lips framed by the waves of auburn hair. He was also intrigued by the dark bags under her eyes that she had attempted to conceal with make-up as well as the somewhat drawn cheeks, wondering at their cause. He'd known enough unhappy victims to know that she might not have slept or eaten properly in weeks.

He flicked out a claw, the same that had so easily cut Freddy's life short. It was a good sign that she flinched but made no further movement. It was a rare frail who could overcome her deeply ingrained instinct to fight or flee. They always made more worthy prey.

She held absolutely still. And just as well. It saved her from losing some fingers when he slashed down through the ropes binding her wrists. If there was any tying up to be done Victor would be seeing to it himself.

"Stay put," he said mildly before going to retrieve the holdall she had dropped back along the trail. He kept his back turned as he sauntered along in no great hurry, wondering if she would obey. He heard no movement and sure enough she was still standing there glued to the spot as he turned to head back with the bulky bag slung over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

Not that she was numb with shock, he noticed. She was watching him intently, her eyes alight. There was some hard thinking going on in that head of hers. Victor was practically salivating at the thought of overwhelming her till she was at wit's end.

He carried right on up to her until her face was practically in his chest, stopping just as she was about to step back. He scraped a claw down her cheek, leaving a red welt lined with tiny droplets of blood in its wake. She grit her jaw but didn't try to pull away.

"Try anything stupid, I'll gut you. You hear me?"

She nodded. "Yes," she added shakily of her own accord a moment later.

Frail learned quick. This was gonna be fun. "Start walking."

A/N: You're still reading? Wow, ta muchly! Be great if you could drop a review and let me know what you think *fluttering eyes*
Shall I carry on? Interested in evil, twisted Victor, or do people only want happy Victor? A rather mild start but I'm planning on matters going downhill.
~ Nyx ~