Daken had gotten the call while he was in Rome, finishing up another assignment. "I trust you've seen the news?" the voice on the other end of the line asked in Japanese. Daken stayed silent. Who hadn't? An earthquake of that size and magnitude, with the scope of the tragedy involved. Every news station in the world had been eating it up like
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Subtly, he began sniffing the air, trying to pinpoint the location of his unknown watcher. His claws hadn't come out yet, but his pheromones were already being used, leaving him with no scent, and hopefully beginning to disorient whoever was out there. Daken had spent a lot of time getting here and he wasn't about to break cover at the first sign of trouble. He did take out the firearm he had stolen along with the dead man's uniform. He was still able to defend himself.
"Who's out there?" Daken called, staying in plain view. Hopefully, whoever it was would be satisfied with the poor, jumpy, trigger happy soldier routine and break cover.
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"What's the matter, kid? You ain't never seen a feral before?" he sneered, close enough now to bare his fangs in a snarl. If the guy was genuine, maybe he'd freak a little at the sight of them; and if he wasn't, well, maybe Victor would have some fun testing the man's cover. He couldn't help but flex his claws, too, an unconscious gesture of excitement at the prospect of a fight. If Daken was the deadly, efficient younger hunter, than Victor was the older, bigger male, keen to exert his dominance over the kid, preferably in a violent and bloody way. "You wanna come closer an' get a better look?"
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"Maybe," Daken replied evenly. What he really should have been doing was keeping up with that scared soldier routine, maybe freaking out and taking a step or two back when he saw those fangs and claws. But his pride had other ideas and instead he stood his ground. He did manage to keep himself from growling back at the other feral and unleashing his claws. The thought of a fight was tempting, but he had a mission to do. Daken couldn't let himself get sidetracked. "No thanks. I can see them just fine from right here." One hand kept the gun steadily pointed at Victor's chest.
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Realising that the younger man wasn't as scared as he had initially appeared to be - he could smell it, sometimes, the fear on the greener recruits - he narrowed his eyes a little, and he laughed.
"Oh yeah?" he smirked, not as scared as he should have been by the sight of a firearm pointed squarely at his heart. What was the worst that could happen? The kid would fire, he'd get shot in the chest and be out for a couple of days - sure, that would suck, but maybe the boy would get into trouble for having an itchy trigger finger, especially if there wasn't any evidence of Victor leaving so much as a scratch on him. Perhaps he'd try and goad the other man into pulling that trigger. "You sure 'bout that? I ain't quite the same as your momma's lil' kitty-cat."
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"Darn. I guess a really big ball of yarn to entertain you with is out then?" One eyebrow went up as Daken switched to looking bored, gun lowering. His relaxing posture showed he clearly didn't consider Victor a big enough threat to even think about anymore. "If you'll excuse me, I have much more important things to be doing than standing around and watching you stroke your ego, as much as you seem to be enjoy having an audience."
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"You really wanna turn your back on me, boy?"
If it sounded like a thinly-veiled threat, then that was exactly what it was. The snarl rising in his voice would have left Daken in no doubt of that. There was something about this younger man that Victor really didn't like, even though he couldn't put his clawed finger on it; the kid's arrogance, his cockiness, the way he didn't even seem to flinch at the sight of a clearly angered feral.
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"Better watch that temper of yours, or you're going to get into trouble."
In contrast to Victor, Daken was still outwardly level-headed. It was the constant need for power that drove his actions, and currently he felt like the one in control of the situation. A few choice words were all that were needed to rile Victor up. "After all, from what I've seen, you're on a tight leash. You're only allowed to bite when they say so."
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"I'll bite whoever the fuck I want, when I want, you little shit."
But Daken was right. All the new restrictions chafed on the old feral's nerves more than he'd care to admit. At least Stryker had allowed him some freedom, but Stone and Sykes - those goddamn sons of bitches - all their rules and regulations really did make Victor feel like he was pacing in a cage that was becoming ever-smaller.
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He looked up at Victor with contempt. The younger feral knew he was better, not because of his skills or the hand dealt to him by evolution, but because he was the one in control. He had worked long and hard to keep the animal inside from ruling over him. He was just arrogant enough to think he had mastery over it. "Oh really? You could have fooled me, 'cause all I've seen you do is talk, old man."
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His first instinct was to hurl himself at the kid, because for all he knew the boy was a human, and tear and rend and slash and claw, teach him a bloody, messy lesson - but he managed to stop himself. Barely. In the past, a stint in the brig hadn't been too crippling; a few days alone, but he'd always managed to stroll out with no permanent damage. Now, though, with Emma back on the scene, he was far more reluctant to land himself in solitary. He already knew just what damage she could do to his mind, and he didn't doubt that she'd gloat at his misery if he found himself locked up again.
It was at that moment that Victor realised the unusual scent about the younger man - or, rather, the lack of it. Most of the human soldiers had at least some kind of lingering fragrance about them, usually a combination of whatever toiletries they used combined with their own sweat, but this one didn't have that chemical, artificial stench that came from shower gels, soaps and aftershaves. Maybe he just hadn't bathed that morning, or perhaps he only used water. Still, it was unusual enough for Victor to be able to pick up on it, and he figured that gave him at least a small advantage.
"I got your scent, you piece of shit," he snarled, his contempt evident in his face. "You piss me off one more time, an' I'm gonna make sure I come for you."
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As much fun as it was pushing every button he could find to use on Victor, Daken knew it was time to quit playing around with the older mutant. If he finished his mission quickly, maybe he'd find the older feral later and teach him a lesson about why he had just made the stupidest move of his life in threatening Daken.
"You've got nothing," he sneered. Daken wasn't bothered in the least. He was eager. How long had it been since he'd had any sort of challenge in a fight? "I'll look forward to that." Making sure his back wasn't facing the feral at anytime, Daken began to walk off. It wasn't a retreat, not at all. His posture was far too confident for that. He was just setting the stage for round two of this little encounter.
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