I scratch your back, you scratch mine.
WHO: Sabretooth and Wanda. And possibly anyone else in the apartment at the time.
WHERE: Wanda's apartment.
WHEN: Very late night, Tuesday July 13.
SUMMARY: Once Creed gets an idea in his head, it's very hard for him to get distracted onto something else. Unless psychics are involved. Or Weapons X. Or reality shifts. Or kids. Okay nevermind, but in this instance, the idea he's got in his head involves getting the help of a certain reluctant Scarlet Witch.
WARNINGS: Lots of swearing. That's about it. For once, no violence!
FORMAT: Whatever!
He wasn’t drunk anymore. Just dog-tired. And maybe a little bit crazy.
Course, you had to be crazy to ask for a favor from the Scarlett Witch. Even if that wasn’t what she was calling herself nowadays.
Creed found her easily enough. Just picked out her scent from the billions of others, and followed it through the urban mine fields of overpriced Chanel and dog shit on the sidewalk. There was a front desk asshole to deal with in the lobby, but he couldn’t be bothered with that. Instead he scaled a building nearby, and leapt in his signature cat-like way, to one of her neighbor’s balconies. It was only a matter of dropping a couple of stories before he was finally outside her sliding glass door.
There were lights on inside, and shadows moving. Unsure of how many people he’d be dealing with inside, he stayed where he was, watched, and waited.
WHERE: Wanda's apartment.
WHEN: Very late night, Tuesday July 13.
SUMMARY: Once Creed gets an idea in his head, it's very hard for him to get distracted onto something else. Unless psychics are involved. Or Weapons X. Or reality shifts. Or kids. Okay nevermind, but in this instance, the idea he's got in his head involves getting the help of a certain reluctant Scarlet Witch.
WARNINGS: Lots of swearing. That's about it. For once, no violence!
FORMAT: Whatever!
He wasn’t drunk anymore. Just dog-tired. And maybe a little bit crazy.
Course, you had to be crazy to ask for a favor from the Scarlett Witch. Even if that wasn’t what she was calling herself nowadays.
Creed found her easily enough. Just picked out her scent from the billions of others, and followed it through the urban mine fields of overpriced Chanel and dog shit on the sidewalk. There was a front desk asshole to deal with in the lobby, but he couldn’t be bothered with that. Instead he scaled a building nearby, and leapt in his signature cat-like way, to one of her neighbor’s balconies. It was only a matter of dropping a couple of stories before he was finally outside her sliding glass door.
There were lights on inside, and shadows moving. Unsure of how many people he’d be dealing with inside, he stayed where he was, watched, and waited.