Victor pulled the U-Haul up to the security checkpoint at the address that was pre-programmed into the add on GPS. He had pulled on one of the grunts uniforms at an en route stop - if he could get into the base without drawing suspicion he would be more likely to get the guys in charge.
He flashed credentials from one of the bodies in the back. Obviously, the guy had been someone important if the way the guard’s eyes had widened were anything to go by. He had been hurriedly waved through without a closer look at, or in, the truck. Good, he wouldn't need to kill the guards, yet.
He followed the existing tire tracks to an underground parking garage, the door opening automatically and closing again behind him. Parking the truck between two larger troop carriers, where it was less likely to be seen, he exited the vehicle. Locking it behind him in the hope it would slow down the grisly discovery within, before he headed into the lions den.
He made his way toward the command centre, it was key card only access, thankfully he had grabbed a card from a guy who looked sort of like him. Hopefully the resemblance was close enough that if the entry was equipped with facial recognition it would get him in. The door opened a few seconds later, and he was surprised to find someone waiting for him when it did.
"He's been expecting you Sergeant, this way." The nerdy looking computer tech turned, and began to walk toward an office at the back of the room.
As soon as he stepped into the room, he felt his hackles go up, he knew that scent. The man in the chair, facing away from him, was none other than William Stryker. He had thought that fucker was dead already, looked like he was about to fix that.
The nerd left, closing the door behind him. Stryker spoke smugly, asking after the success of the mission as he spun his chair around.
"I'm going to call this one a success," Sabretooth replied, as his clawed hand closed around the neck of the man in front of him. It took a split second before recognition flashed across the face of the man in front of him, and he opened his mouth to speak.
"Sorry, you always seem to be able work your way out of death when people let you speak so I'm going to have to cut you right off," he growled, as he crushed the throat of the man in front of him, taking an immense amount of satisfaction in watching him struggle and twitch as his life slowly, suffocatingly, ebbed away.
Moving back to the door he snapped the lock home, before dumping the body out of the chair and kicking him unceremoniously into a corner. Taking a seat, he accessed the computer and ran through the base schematics, trying to figure out what they were actually doing at this place, and where his next target was most likely to be. He was mildly surprised to find there were already mutant captives at this base, and they must have only been planning to hold the Wolverine here temporarily; none of these cells were likely to hold him for long.
Running through the base security system he disconnected the alarms and external communications, before putting the whole base on silent lock down. He sealed the prisoner cells and close circuited their climate controls before setting off the fire control system for the rest of the base, so the oxygen was all being sucked out the ventilation system. Lower oxygen levels wouldn't affect him as badly, or as quickly, as it would affect the humans.
With that done he set to work.
The control room was the first to be purged, not a soul left alive among the carnage when he left. The black of the stealth uniform he was wearing hiding most of the blood he was saturated in, giving people less warning as he approached that he was one to be avoided. He left a trail of destruction in his wake as he headed for the experimentation labs, it wasn't until he hit the lab that he encountered the first soldiers with breathing gear. He took the first mask he came across for himself, smashing the rest as he went so no one else could come along after him and use them.
He came across a small problem as he cleaned the lab. Not all the prisoners were in their cells it turned out. There were two incubators, each holding a tiny infant, that had been sealed to run on closed circuit oxygen tanks, and a young woman who was barely conscious where she was strapped to a gurney. Her vital signs were low, it appeared she had had an oxygen mask at some point but the snivelling excuse for a mad scientist who had been torturing her, had taken it for himself. A well-placed slash, or ten, took care of the doctor, before he gently replaced the oxygen mask on the girl.
He paused as he left the room, confused, why the fuck had he cared about helping the girl. Before he could dwell too much on that thought, he shut the door and locked it behind him, ignoring the fact that he did that solely to protect the only three living people left in there.
He had purged the entire base by the time the first security system was over ridden. The emergency lights suddenly switched on as alarms began to sound, followed by the sudden rush of cool air as the air conditioning came back online, and began to pump oxygen back into the compound. He quickly unsealed the cell block, every cell was already open, he didn't bother telling the prisoners to leave. If the distinctive tickle of a telepath had been anything to go by, the X-Men were already on their way, they could deal with mopping up the prisoners.
He headed back to the surface, taking out the first two waves of reserve personnel as they entered, clad head to toe in black, with useless body armour, and flashlights on the ends of equally useless guns. It wasn't until he had taken out the two squads that he realised the foes had stopped. He made his way to the exit only to see a battle raging outside between what was left of the bases men, and the leather clad figures of the X-Men.
With a satisfied nod of approval, he determined his job here was done, let the geek squad pick up the prisoners. He found a locker room, and shed the blood-soaked clothes he was wearing. Glad to take the opportunity to jump through a shower long enough to hose off the worst of the gore, he then went through lockers looking for civvies in a near enough size.
He was pulling on boots when he heard the soft padding of bare feet on concrete. Walking out of the locker room he came face to face with the girl from the lab, she was up and walking around so he assumed she was healthy enough. She saw him and ducked around a corner quickly.
He chuckled. "You can come out kid, rescue squad is outside, just let them finish cleaning up the stragglers before you try and go out."
"You're not a soldier?" the girl commented, not sounding surprised, "You- you were in the lab, you killed the doctor."
"Yep, so don't piss me off or I might change my mind about letting you live, go back down with the other prisoners and wait for the evacuation," he grunted, as he turned back to the exit. The girl was hot on his heels. A moment later he spun on her with a growl, just in time to see her scurry into the locker room behind them. Thinking his tag along problem was solved he continued on his way.
He hit the exit and began to slink across the outside of the complex until he got to a clear area to make a break for the fence line. He slashed through the fence and jumped through the hole, freezing when he heard the fence ringing a second time a few moments later as someone else followed him through the hole.
"God damnit, get out of here kid, don't follow me, wait for them-" he indicated to the leather clad individuals with the shiny black plane- "You'll just get left behind and lost if you follow me.” He turned and dove into the forest, moving quickly, hoping the girl would get the hint and not follow him. Half an hour and three kilometres later he realised the girl was still trailing behind him, how she had managed to keep up he had no idea.
He stopped another hour later on the outskirts of a town. It was full daylight now, and he got his first good look at the girl when she caught up to stand only a few meters away from him. She was skinny and dirty, though he could tell she was pale skinned underneath the dirt, her hair was dark brown, though how much of that was greasy dirt he couldn't be sure, and her eyes were a deep dark blue. She was dressed in a dirty hospital gown, tied in front, and had a pair of oversized army-issue boots on her feet.
"Well, I can't take you in there can I," he commented, nodding to the diner they were standing not far from as he looked her over. "Wait here, I mean it, wait, I'll bring back some food in twenty minutes. Stay," he reiterated firmly, before he moved across the street. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder as he reached the other side and was pleased to see the girl had moved to just inside the shade of the forest, and she was indeed waiting.
He ordered a decent amount of food, to go, before making his way back to the girl. She was nowhere to be seen when he got back to where he had left her. For a moment he wondered if she had finally gotten the hint and stopped following him, when he heard a muffled scream from deeper into the forest. He set the food down on the hood of a newly parked car and leapt into the forest, expecting to find himself face to face with soldiers who had followed them from the base. Instead he saw the girl on the ground, pinned down by a guy who appeared to be high. Her gown was torn open, and a second man stood over her trying to get his pants off.
With a furious snarl he grabbed the two men, throwing them hard enough into a nearby tree to leave them a broken pile of bloody meat where they fell. The girl was crying and scrubbing at her skin where the men had been grabbing at her.
Watching her reaction, he suddenly felt sick. Is this how Rogue had felt, and reacted, to what he had done to her? Had his own brother felt the same sheer hatred for him, that he was feeling for these men now? If he had it paled his own feelings of dislike for his brother that had motivated his vile actions, a dislike that he couldn't even remember the cause of. As he knelt down next to girl to console her, he suddenly wished he could undo his prior actions, a feeling he recognized as remorse, perhaps even guilt. Neither feeling he could remember having felt in a long time.
He left her side for a moment to retrieve the hot food, and stealing a flannel shirt from inside the car he assumed belonged to the would-be rapists, before leading the girl away from the town. They ate in silence beside a small stream before continuing on their way, the girl now wrapped in the flannel to cover the gaping opening of the hospital gown. He didn't want to leave the girl again so soon but they needed to get out of the area faster than they were, which meant finding a car.
He promised to be back on ten minutes, leaving the girl in a concealed grove of trees. He considered stealing a car until he saw an older model pickup with a for sale sign on it. There was less chance of getting caught if the vehicle you were driving wasn't reported stolen he reasoned, sticking his head into the store the truck was parked out front of and asking after the owner. An old man with a recently amputated leg followed him out, popping the hood and turning over the engine so he could give it a quick once over. For the price it was a decent vehicle, apparently only being sold because it was hard to drive a stick shift with only one leg, but he still managed to talk the guy down another five hundred bucks in exchange for cash on the spot.
Eleven minutes later he pulled up to the spot he had left the girl, she was anxiously waiting, looking about her nervously, before he called her over to jump in the truck. Turning west they hurriedly headed out of town.
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