Quod Eris Sum

'Cause I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it

Fri, 18 Sep 2015 20:27:59 GMT

Have an idea for a thing? Throw a starter here. Want to do a meme but don't want to do it on a public comm? Throw something here.

Let's do it. Bring it on.

WARNINGS are standard Vic ones.

comments

Seventh kill

Fri, 26 Jun 2015 20:47:12 GMT

[SPAM]

[About as soon as the door opened, Vic was out of the cell and down the hall, out into general pop again. He flung the door open as hard as he could once he got to the door to level seven, surged out into the halls and made a beeline for the deck. He was free, and so he still felt weak, still felt like a sitting duck, but at least he wasn't stuck inside four walls. At least he had the illusion of sky and open air, or at least stars and open space. He didn't bother crowing about it over the network, didn't really feel up to it, honestly, after being stuck in a box for a week with himself. It wasn't guilt, exactly, that ate at him, or not so as he could articulate, but the week didn't sit easily with him either.

For the next several hours he can be found prowling the halls, stretching his legs with much less overt aggression and more pent-up energy. He spent a week being angry, he's spent on it for today.]

[PRIVATE to Chris]

How much longer I gotta do this?

[PRIVATE to Iris]

I scare you off yet?

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sixth kill -- I don't know just where I end and where my shadow begins

Mon, 15 Jun 2015 14:03:24 GMT

[SPAM -- for Cassel]

[This whole thing sat uneasily with Creed. It always did; being caged wasn't something he ever took to well, no matter how he seemed to handle it on the surface, and even if the place didn't look anything like a cage, it didn't stop the feeling. Cages didn't need bars to restrict. The Enclosure didn't work, he was locked in a metal tube with the only measure of freedom the stars that shone overhead on deck. He spent a fair amount of time there, sure, soaked in as much of the fake space as he could, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't open space and trees and grass, didn't offer any fresh air, and being locked in an enclosed space with a couple dozen people got old quick. Paris gave him the illusion of freedom, but getting dragged back after only made the feeling of confinement worse.

Maybe taking it out on the kid wasn't the right thing to do. Wasn't like he'd personally dragged him here, but Creed didn't have too many options here. The one guy who might have been able to fix it was apparently MIA, and Creed was starting to get stir crazy. Wasn't the kid's fault but he was restless, and angry, and frustrated, and, well. That only ever tended to end one way.

He'd been stalking the other one off and on since he'd made the connection. Wardens here always had weak spots, blind spots. Things you could exploit with the right leverage, and with things being the way they were right now Creed couldn't help the urge to lash out. Act out. Try to take some kind of stand, about what he would and wouldn't take. Where they stood. Chris had said he could get his healing factor back if he didn't kill him for a couple months, but the direct approach got old quick anyway. No, he had something else in mind to make the point. He could give him as many rules as he wanted but Vic would find his way around them.

Cassel. Cassel was the key, the leverage. The pressure point. So he stalked him, carefully, unobtrusively, and then, once he saw his opening, he made his move.

He followed him to the library, a place he could make up an excuse or three to explain his presence anyway. Kept his distance for a while, to keep suspicions down, and he counted on the fact he'd been behaving well enough so far to carry him most of the way. No killing on the ship, just words he didn't act on, threats he didn't carry out. Easy to believe some of the hype was maybe overinflated. He made his way through the stacks, keeping an eye on where the kid went until he finally ended up in a more out of the way spot. Somewhere with a measure of privacy, or at least privacy he trusted would extend long enough for his purposes. He leaned against the stacks, made it creak enough to get the kid's attention, and smirked at him. Friendly enough to start, sure, but that's how it always did. Usually did, anyway.]

Whatcha readin'?

[SPAMish -- for Chris]

( CW: gore, decapitation, general Creed-related nastiness )

[PUBLIC -- video; later]

[After everything, after the set-up, after the wardens do their posturing and crying, after they come to collect him, throw him in a cell and pat themselves on the back over a job well done, Creed sits. Counts it as a win, as he sits in the dark, because it is, as far as he's concerned. He got to them. Scared Cassel, scared Chris. Made the ones so determined to prove he was worth the effort look like idiots. Fools. Part of him knows it was more foolish on his part, because it ruins plenty of other things, because there's nothing really to be gained in tearing apart his only chances at actually getting out of this damn place. But everything pulled too tight, cage and warden and nowhere to go, so lashing out had seemed the best idea.

He's surprised it took him this long, honestly. A testament to Iris, and that's never going to happen again. Part of him regrets that most, her pigheaded determination to be his friend. Jean's insistence he was looking at things from the wrong angle, and both don't sit easily, too unfamiliar against the background of history, but he's pretty sure they're both fucked now anyway so maybe it's for the best. Has to be for the best.

But when he appears on the network, there's none of this to be seen, all of it stuffed down into the familiar place it goes, and if it doesn't fit quite as well as usual, well. He'll deal with that later. For now there's only a wide, toothy grin and cold, inhuman eyes.]

Somebody fix this damn place or once I get out little Chris and his little friend won't be the only casualties.

Or, leave me in here indefinitely, but then I know a couple of ya've been advocatin' for that from the start. Shoulda listened to 'em, they're right.

[SPAM -- Zero; open]

[For the next several days, Victor can be found in his cell in Zero. All by himself, he paces to keep busy, or lurks in the dark for hours on end, waiting for the few visitors he knows he's obligated to get. He doesn't like Zero, he can feel the way it saps what he does have (but there isn't, not right now, he's just another damn frail, blind and deaf and weak and he hates it), but it's not the first time he's been locked in an actual cage. Not the first time he's been inhibited.

A couple days into it he starts throwing himself at the bars in frustration, trying to break them, bend them, something. Tries to reach through them to try to pick the lock, eventually ends up just shaking the damn thing in frustration. He has to be able to get out somehow. Hell, the bars aren't even electrified. Should be a piece of cake, in theory. If things were the way they were supposed to be.]

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fifth kill -- so you were born in an electrical storm

Fri, 22 May 2015 13:22:44 GMT

[SPAM]

[About as soon as he gets off the ship, Vic spends most of his time trying to escape his self-appointed babysitter. He's not things to do, trouble to cause, mayhem to sew. Now he's got space to roam and bodies that don't MATTER, the restless patch relieved finally, he can't help the urge to take advantage. To get involved, get his hands dirty.

He starts out with a personal escort, because iris insists, because he can't get out if he doesn't allow it, and for the first few hours he goes along nice enough. Lets her drag him to the museum, to cafes, to wherever her irritating little hearts desire.

But it's not enough. Grates because it's boring and he's not refined Nd he can still feel the leash around his neck.

So sooner or later he escapes. Takes off on her, disappears into the crowd because he needs a rush, needs to feed what he is, he can feel the Beast itching under his skin, needing to get out. He needs screams and blood under his claws and on his tongue and fear thick in his nose. He was the Butcher before so he seeks it out again, hunts his prey in the alleys, women and children and men coming out of the watering holes at last call. Terrorizes women and children during the day and starts brawls with those who won't serve him. He doesn't care, so long as he's free, for as long as it lasts anyway.]

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fourth kill -- don't make believe its not the real me

Sun, 17 May 2015 15:05:00 GMT

[PUBLIC]

So down the rabbit hole we go, huh. Wonder how long it's gonna be 'til this whole thing breaks apart.

[Vic laughs, loud and grating, all sharp teeth and fierce, malicious joy. Like he cares. The place comes apart at the seams he'll be free of it one way or another, hell, might even be better off for it.]

[SPAM]

[Vic is on the prowl. He's feeling better, perfectly capable and more or less content, considering. He's well past the death toll, and with that comes energy and boredom and renewed arrogance. A week of misery and everybody moves on. Imagine that.

He visits the mess hall first, piles his plate high and works his way through it with vigor, then prowls the halls, stalking whoever catches his fancy. He needs open spaces, room to move, to breathe, but short of that he'll make do. He's not asking Iris for help in this, he'll make his own fun or he won't have any, end of story.]

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third kill -- with my feet in the air and my head on the ground

Sat, 02 May 2015 02:37:04 GMT

[SPAM -- for Iris]

[When he comes to, it's like getting hit by a freight train.

Everything hurts, everything's sore, he's got a splitting headache and he's not sure there's a single inch of him that doesn't feel like death, it's just a matter of degree. He peels his eyes open to peer at his surroundings, because it doesn't smell right, stinks of Her and whatever the hell else is in the space and when he finally gets them open he understands why.

He's got to be in her room because it's sure as hell not his own. Not that he likes his own room all that much, but it's at least his, he's got souvenirs and things, this is....completely unfamiliar. ...besides a niggling, nagging feeling it isn't really, maybe, but he stuffs that down, a warning rumbling in his chest before he does his level best to lunge for the door, to get the hell out.

He ends up on the floor, and valiantly attempts a frog jump towards the door in his effort to get out, but even the slight movement threatens to upend the room, and he's weak as a kitten besides. He gags, swallows, and collects himself onto all fours, backs himself up against the bed and just continues to growl, like a stray cat caged unexpectedly.]

What the hell did you do to me.

[VOICE -- public. Later]

You can't keep a good man down.

...or a very bad one either, I guess.

Nice try though.

[YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.]

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second kill -- singin' "I'm never gonna quit, ain't nothin' wrong with it"

Thu, 16 Apr 2015 00:53:49 GMT

[PUBLIC -- video]

[Victor looks much happier today than he did the last time he got on the network, all toothy grin and malicious glee. What can he say, this kind of thing is just his speed, much better than the past few days anyway. He's stained in blood -- again -- from hair to shirt to hands, only this time it's much fresher than his first appearance.]

Well it's about time we got some fun around here, I've been waitin'. Nothin' against you frails, but you ain't even a challenge. These poor bastards? Now they're somethin' to talk about.

Last one to ten's gotta make me a coat.

[SPAM]

[For the duration of the event, Vic can be found roaming the Barge. Which ordinarily might not have been such of a problem, if the Admiral hadn't seen fit to try to even the odds a little with all the strangeness going on.

Vic, being Vic, doesn't care quite so much about friendly versus enemy, and generally has decided to interpret this new freedom as Open Season. Sure, he'll attack the monsters as they show, but he won't turn down attacking his fellow passengers either.

To that end, he can be found anywhere on the Barge for the whole time, lurking in corners and shadows, waiting to attack and stalk whoever catches his attention for the moment. Hell, he's gotta amuse himself somehow?

He can also be found attacking the strange monsters that show up with the same level of vicious enthusiasm he applies to everything else. Maybe your muse needs help! Maybe they just happen to be in the right/wrong place at the right time. Who knows. Maybe he'll even help them instead of jumping in too late.]

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First Kill -- gotta keep 'em separated

Thu, 09 Apr 2015 02:51:32 GMT

[PUBLIC -- video]

[Initially, there's silence on the seventh floor. But almost the moment the cabin's occupied, that all stops.

For the next several minutes, stretching out towards twenty at least, it sounds as if there's a wild animal trapped in the room. Clawing, scratching, thuds and crashes, an inhuman growling and the occasional howl from time to time. Eventually it slows, then stops entirely, the room gone still and silent again.

Things orient. Resolve. Fragments sorted back into the whole, awareness clawed out from under the fog if necessary, but it helps that he's alone, for now. Nobody to fight, nobody to try to ignore, only silence and four concrete walls he knows well.

Sure, he finds the door. Opens it, even, to an ordinary hallway on the outside and it doesn't smell familiar out there, but the past few days are a hazy enough mess and the blood's thick enough in his throat he doesn't necessarily trust it isn't. Eventually he finds the communicator, and really there are only a few explanations he can put together for this place.

There's a chuckle in the dark, when he turns it on. A shadow, huge and hulking. He's got his mind back, after tearing the room apart, but he needs to get control over the situation, whatever the hell it is. The X-Men, he's not an idiot, they're the only ones who would have the stones for it at this point, too quick to protect one of their own from the shit he was too stubborn to just admit to. But that doesn't answer any of it. Doesn't give him any better an idea what to do with it.]

You seriously think this shit's gonna get to me? We already played this game. You remember how well it ended last time, don't you?

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020 lies will come back to haunt you

Sun, 30 Mar 2014 17:43:28 GMT

Anyone ever tell ya how fuckin' hilarious you all are? Whinin' an' squallin' like it makes a difference. Like you ain't all just as lost and scared shitless as everybody else. Think you're somethin' special, but you all bleed the same. All look the same under your skin. So this new obstacle comes up, makes you show everybody else what you are, and you just keep bitching and moaning about it like you think they can't see anyway. Fuck, it's better than television.

Alright. 'Cause I'm such a generous guy, bring me what you got, and we'll play question for a question. But just remember, sometimes people don't tell you shit for a reason. You got the balls to play?

[A/N: Victor is Affected and damn well aware of it.

....in anticipation of this fact, and Victor being Victor, blanket Content Warnings for violent/gory/disturbing imagery at the very least, but a high likelihood of worse to be added as it crops up.]

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019 I don't make the rules, I just get screwed by 'em

Sat, 22 Feb 2014 13:20:05 GMT

[VIDEO]

[The Victor that regards the Network today is much more clear-eyed than the public at large has probably seen him...ever, outside of a breach or two, anyway. The predatory look is still there, still lurking under the surface, but it's kept in check, for once. Successfully, at that. Those who have met a certain other Feral might recognize something in it, a Feral who has finally figured out how to master the Beast, but as far as anyone else is concerned?

Meet Victor Creed, a snapshot of a few years down the road. Post-Graduation.]

A'right, I ain't gonna muddy the network any more than it's already been, but anybody needs a hand until the Admiral gets his head out of his ass and us to clearer skies, just holler. Name's Victor, I'm one of the Wardens. Not the brightest mind around here maybe, but I know a thing or two about really bad days and I'll do what I can.

[LOCKED to Iris and Rogue, and all necessary parties]

[A note: this one's locked to basically anybody post-Graduation Vic might have struck up an alliance with; if you want it, jump in.]

Everybody sound off. We know what this is yet?

[PRIVATE to Rogue]

...you alright?

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018 red rover red rover

Fri, 10 Jan 2014 13:26:55 GMT

[AUDIO]

[The voice is familiar enough to the Barge at large, probably recognizable to some passing through as well; he attacked the audio button as soon as he figured out what was going on because FUCK YOU ALL he has his pride. It's more of a growl than anything else, because it's not hard to figure out what the game is here and this is the LAST place he wants to run into any familiar faces from his own 'verse. Worst timing too.]

Chances are, you got a familiar face from back home I don't wanna see it so take yourself on back. Gloat all ya want, just leave me outta it.

[Raven's already been here but she wasn't right, and everybody else living he doesn't give a crap about, so he's pretty much written this whole thing off as a wash. It's not quite as fun to hassle your enemies if you're stuck yourelf, after all.]

[SPAM for everyone who's actually on the ship]

[Victor can be found trotting his tiny little legs around the ship, looking for trouble to get into. Tiny spaces to squeeze into, things to steal, knees to try to take out as he scampers by...]

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017 You can't teach an old dog new tricks

Wed, 18 Dec 2013 03:25:29 GMT

[SPAM(ish) for Iris (and anyone else passing by her cabin)]

[Somebody's already clawed up the sweater he got from the Admiral. It's stupid and not funny and then there was YARN everywhere which just seems like it's mocking him.

That, on top of the book he got assigned this week (well. Last week), has left Victor in a particularly crappy mood.

He can't leave her any of the usual presents he would, because he can't get into the damn CES on his own and he's not quite desperate enough or petty enough at the moment to go after one of the Barge pets. He holes himself up in his cabin for a couple days with a pair of books, keeps a low profile while he works his way through them and only leaves long enough to report for his shifts and hunts as Iris allows them and to grab food as needed. He's the pillar of good behavior, in other words.

The last day, however, Iris gets a present.

There's not even a knock, just the sound of ripping pages, a soft thump of something hitting the floor, a zipper, and then finally a stream of liquid.

Fuck your book, Iris, seriously. He finishes up and tucks everything back away, then stalks off down the hall. Enjoy.

If she gets to the door before he's completely gone, she'll probably see the outline of a different book stuck in a back pocket of his jeans. Her book wasn't the only thing he read.]

[PRIVATE to Rogue]

( In which Vic takes on a reading assignment of his own and shares with a certain southern belle. CW for smutty romance novels and Creed being an uncouth, sexist, and generally offensive human being. )

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015 now be a good dog; sit, stay

Tue, 22 Oct 2013 18:25:36 GMT

[Backdated to last Tuesday/Wednesday because I am slow.]

[PUBLIC -- video]

[There's mostly just growling at first. On the plus side, on the other side of the flood he doesn't itch anymore. On the downside...he was a fucking actual dog for three days. "Less than pleased" is an understatement.]

Anybody says shit they're gonna find themselves missin' some pretty important parts.

[PRIVATE -- Nygma]

You got somethin' of mine.

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014 And your little dog too

Sun, 13 Oct 2013 20:01:20 GMT

[Backdated to FRIDAY/SATURDAY]

[Brief public VIDEO, mostly SPAM]

[There is a dog staring at you all today, Barge. A very very irritated dog who is currently growling at the camera.

This is what happens when Victor finds a mysterious wardrobe and inexplicably feels compelled to investigate it. You would think he learned his lesson about poking his nose in fabric that doesn't belong to him, but evidently he did not.

Chances are he's learned now, not that it HELPS him any. In the meantime, there is a cranky puppy managing to look adorable and incredibly pissed off on the network this afternoon. A cranky puppy which can also be found wandering around the Barge for the next few days. Getting into all kinds of puppy-shaped trouble.]

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013 so deep in my heart that you're really a part of me

Tue, 08 Oct 2013 12:56:22 GMT

[PUBLIC -- voice(ish)]

[There's mostly the sounds of cloth rubbing, at least at first. Like somebody rolling around on a bed or a carpet. After a few long seconds irritated growls punctuate the noise, then the cloth sounds stop and scratching replaces them. Something tears and the sound intensifies, growls interspersed with grunts and frustrated huffs of breath. It goes on for a few seemingly endless minutes, then actual words interrupt.]

Whoever's responsible, yer fuckin' dead.

[There's grumbling and more scratching, possibly something about fleas.]

Ain't gonna make it t'my shift today boss, not 'less ya want a bigger mess'n usual down there.

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012 bought her trinkets that sailors can't afford

Sat, 21 Sep 2013 16:59:22 GMT

[SPAM -- open]

[Victor and his daemon Blink start the day as any other; Vic being a dockworker, they spend a great deal of the day down by the river, where the ships come in to unload supplies and people. They put in long hours, interspersed with trips to the local pub for food and drink.

While Victor may not be the most sociable, while on the clock anyway, Blink has no such reluctance, opting instead to take the job of a one-woman welcoming party for anyone in the vicinity.

Outside of work, they can be found at the pub, at home, or down by the marketplace the Gyptians have set up, looking for a gift to bring home for his wife. Because that's just the kind of guy he is.]

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011 You'll shut me down with a push of your button?

Fri, 06 Sep 2013 16:55:18 GMT

[PUBLIC -- video]

So I'm startin' to wonder how you frails get anybody graduated at all. A guy goes around an' kills a handful of people, screws with a few more, so ya give him a job where he's in charge of the food?

Seems to me like you folks don't have much better idea what yer doin' here than the guy drivin' the boat does.

[SPAM]

[For the duration of the breach, Victor can be found prowling the ship in all his usual haunts; stalking back and forth in front of the CES like a cat that's been locked out of the house, in the kitchen at his new job, up on deck enjoying what wide empty space he can access himself, or prowling the halls in search of some means to entertain himself.]

[A/N: Victor's Affected, acting as both a receiver and a transmitter; those who come into contact with him could receive a variety of lovely memories.

CW in advance for blood guts and gore, hunting, torture, death, twisted and unhealthy relationships, and probably more I'm missing.]

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010 I live with my greedy need, I live with no mercy, I live with my frenzied feeding

Tue, 27 Aug 2013 13:31:36 GMT

[PUBLIC -- audio; open SPAM too]

[Creed's comm stayed quiet for most of the first day they got back and everything went back to normal. It's a bitch to try to say something when you're not sure you can keep whatever's in your stomach there, even when you're pretty sure there can't be much more in it. A few snipes over the network here and there, spreading the misery around, and then he thinks it's settled enough to protest.

He takes it out on his room first. A semblance of control he knows he has, kindness and trust fucked to hell but he won't blame himself for that. She shouldn't have given it to him in the first place. Shouldn't have expected it would grant her any kind of immunity; she had this coming, or so he will tell anyone who listens, because he had never claimed to be anything else but an animal. The monster in the closet, under the bed, the nightmare that stalks your dreams and prowls the forest and tears you apart just because it can. He pushes and pulls and tears through whatever's in his way until finally he's left in the middle of splintered wood and shredded fabric and feathers, breathing harder than he should need to because it took way more energy out of him than it should have, and he's pretty sure he's going to upchuck again at the very least.

He does. Can't even get to the john in time, although at least he gets to tile, and it's another reason to hate her because she should have just thrown him in zero and left him to rot like everyone else would have, but of course he had to end up with the creative warden. He brings up everything left, until it turns to yellow bile and then green and then he's just dry heaving, stomach clenching because it's what it does, because it's forgotten how to relax.

He hasn't been sick for over a century, not even with a cold, much less a GI thing or whatever the fuck she's infected him with. It's a rude awakening now.

Once he thinks it's settled down, at least long enough for some kind of respite, he hazards the network. Doesn't bother with video, because he knows he probably looks like shit and that won't help anything. It doesn't stop him from sounding exactly as miserable as he feels, like he's been hit by a train at full speed, but at least they can't see what shape he's in.]

Congratulations, Wardens. And the inmates who made it possible. You got me. Proud of yourselves? 'Cause I know I am.

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009 Nothing seems to break me no matter how far I fall

Sun, 25 Aug 2013 20:13:51 GMT

[FILTERED to Rogue's friendlies, locked from Claire and Raven for definite -- Day Four]

[It's probably the most significant that the post comes from Rogue's communicator. Since sometime day one there's been nothing but radio silence from her end. Impossible to contact, no response to the attempts to get ahold of her. But now, four days in, it flares to life.

The image it presents is dim and gloomy. Somewhere inside, sheltered. There's a thin ray of light cast over the scene, enough to pick out the star of this particular show.

It's Rogue. Snarling, angry, a hateful glint in her eyes as she struggles against something; she's been tied up, put on a short leash that keeps her from moving too far, not enough slack to even sit down. She's bleeding in more than a few places, thin slashes and deeper punctures that have at least clotted over, bruised in others, exhaustion and defiance warring for control over her composure. Breaths come quick and shallow but stay strong for now.]

Go ahead. Make it count.

[The voice is low, dangerously amused, originating somewhere behind the camera. Easily identified as Victor.

It seems to infuriate Rogue more, inciting more struggling and a curled lip as she shouts at him.]

GO TA HELL, CREED.

Ya say that like it ain't already where I'm headin', sweetheart.

[He continues on, not bothering to flip it back around. Letting them see her will do plenty, he doesn't need to watch.]

Look around the caves if ya want her back, ladies and gents. I'll be waitin'.

[And he kills the feed.]

[CW for reference to general squick and horrors beyond this point. It's about as bad as you'd expect.]

[SPAM for Zane, post-Rogue rescue -- Day Five]

( Cut for gore and bodyhorror )

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008 I've been damned so many times I've lost count

Thu, 22 Aug 2013 17:29:26 GMT

[FILTERED from Claire -- Audio only]

Well well well. What do we have here.

[Somebody woke up on the right side of the bed this morning; not difficult when you find yourself at full range after a couple months of having everything scaled way back. He's in a good mood, downright cheerful, practically, but given his moods that's not necessarily a good thing.

Somebody's got to pay for keeping him on lockdown so long. He doesn't really care who, although he's got an idea or two for good places to start.]

Looks like the zoo finally sprung loose. Glory, glory, hallelujah. 'Bout damn time.

How're ya feelin' today, Keepers? Think ya can keep up?

[PRIVATE to Iris -- video]

[The Creed that appears on the feed in front of her today is more dangerous in demeanor than he has been of late, more calculating than his first appearance on the Barge. He's gotten his chance, finally. He doesn't need to play nice to get her guard down. He grins unpleasantly, vicious and cruel.]

You got anything to do with this, Iris?

[PRIVATE to Claire -- video]

[And then he's back to mostly harmless. All easy confidence and relaxed posture. A tiger seemingly resting for the moment.]

Well I can say this trip wasn't quite so smooth as the last one.

[SPAM for various]

[Throughout port Victor can be found various places, getting into various amounts of trouble. This is for both pre-planned spammed events and folks just looking to run into him alike.]

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007 If you want it you're gonna bleed but it's the price you pay

Sun, 18 Aug 2013 11:16:09 GMT

[SPAM for Iris]

[After the fight with Megamind, Vic's pretty much wiped. The damn Admiral checked him so much he can't fight like he usually does, or at least it takes more out of him than it should, so in the aftermath, even though he technically won, he's too exhausted to do much more than stumble towards the exit, a smug grin on his face, keeping upright through force of will alone.]

[LATER]

[LOCKED to Jean -- Video

Meant to ask ya. You really believe that? When ya said ya didn't think I was evil, just different?

Ain't nice to lie t'kids.

'Specially when they ain't kids later.

[LOCKED to Claire -- Video]

[Vic's sprawled out on his brand new cushy bed in his brand new space, looking like the cat that got the canary but making no effort to hide the fact that he's hurting. He's owed this much, he's earned it.]

You up for playin' nurse or are we pretendin' that wasn't a thing?

[Present Day]

[SPAM -- Rogue's room/8th floor hallway]

[Once he's had a couple days to get back to normal, to let the bone-deep weariness of throwing it all in a fight work itself out, he makes a visit to a certain X-Man when he knows she's not around. It's not difficult to get into her room, not when it's just a door, not even that secure of one. Once inside he makes the rounds, not that he needs to familiarize. He knows it well enough from the time he already spent there, after all, and after he's made the initial circuit he gets down to business.

She thinks she's got one over on him. Thinks she's got some kind of power over him because she's got no limits and has a shiny badge. Because she wanted to play mother, like she was in any position to weigh in. Like he needed her to.

He'll show her who the better one is.

He drops onto her bed and rolls in the sheets, wraps them around himself and rubs himself all over every inch of them, like a housecat claiming its territory. He's not surprised they don't smell like him anymore when he first attacks them; she wouldn't allow them to. That's alright. He'll fix that. He'll show her who's in charge. She wanted to interfere with him then, she gets to deal with the aftermath. She wants to get in his space, he'll get right back in hers. Make sure she can't get away from him.

Territory claimed, he gets up and leaves, not bothering to straighten up. That's half the fun. Leaving it obvious that her sanctum isn't so off-limits.]

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006 It don't matter how we make it 'cause it always ends the same

Tue, 13 Aug 2013 20:35:17 GMT

[SPAM for Rogue]

[The flood passes, and with it the change in age; he falls asleep in her cabin as a scared and angry kid and the morning finds him his usual cheerful self, sprawled out over whatever surface he'd used as a bed last. Fortunately, much as with the initial change his clothes seem to have changed with him, or in this case changed size, at least, so fortunately he's still fully dressed.

If still asleep.]

[SPAM for Iris]

[He's already waiting at the CES when she gets there, although he's probably late; blame the size change and the stress of his younger counterpart. He'll be casually leaning against the wall when she arrives, arms crossed, but it's just posturing; he's not especially happy at the whole thing, and working it off in the woods seems like a pretty good idea right now.

Working it out on the other passengers seems like a better idea, but there's time enough for that later.]

[LOCKED to Megamind]

You get two days before I start dropping bodies. Your move, pencil neck.

[SPAM -- open]

[He's not talking about it. He's just going to pretend he wasn't a stupid whelp and the last few days didn't happen. And anybody who wants to say otherwise can get their tongues handed to them.

Yup. Nothing can possibly go wrong with this plan.

Consequently, after dealing with the chaos in Rogue's cabin, his now-usual morning hunt with Iris, and an attempt to get a few balls in the air, he's off and prowling the ship some more to try to work off some more steam.]

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005 don't touch me I'm a real live wire

Fri, 09 Aug 2013 13:26:47 GMT

[(Accidentally) PUBLIC, SPAM]

[He wakes up, and his immediate reaction is anger. Deep, helpless, all-encompassing anger because he got out. He knows he did, he remembers. Blood in his nose and his mouth and under his claws, more than he would have thought two people could hold, he was free, when he closed his eyes it was to trees around him and grass under him. Not four walls of cold metal; there's a cot nearby but that's not where he woke, and the entire room reads....well. He doesn't need to think about what it reads. It's hell.

But there's a door; he scampers across the room towards it, stepping on the communicator without noticing in his haste, and an image clicks on for the waiting network. Metal ceiling, a shadowy figure at the edges, then the sounds of scraping and somebody yanking on a doorhandle and growling to himself. But it's the difference between Simba as a kid and Simba all grown up; it's small, angry for sure but not as inherently intimidating as it will become.

Wait. He doesn't know what's out there. He doesn't care, he's sure he can take whoever's on the other side, but it doesn't even smell like home; some examination of the door reveals a flap in it, and he pokes an arm through to peer out into the hallway.

It's the inside of a building. Nicer than home, but he can't tell if that's a good thing or not. Smells like people, at least, even if there's something wrong underneath, and there's another door on the other side of the hall but it's a normal door.

He pulls his arm back inside and returns to the handle; some pulling and twisting and he gets the hang of it, door swinging outwards.

He peeks his head out, sniffing around. Better out there than inside, wherever he is, so he skulks down the hall on high alert, intent on finding a way out however he has to, right arm pulled up close to his body protectively despite the fact that it doesn't seem to be injured. It wasn't that long ago that it was.

Anyone who encounters Victor in the hallways will run into a 14 year old boy in too-small clothes covered in blood from head to toe and fully equipped with the set of claws and sharp teeth he's known for. Anyone who's unaffected and ran into him on his first day might recognize the desperation and fear he's giving off at the moment.

All replies will come from justplaying]

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004 gotta keep 'em separated

Wed, 31 Jul 2013 21:19:32 GMT

[PUBLIC video]

Well kiddos, gotta say your fearless leader knows how t'show a man a good time. If all field trips are gonna be like that one I think we'll get along just fine.

[Why yes, he IS out on the loose. Iris he doesn't trust you but you let him off the lead so you're not too bad so far.

Currently he's lounged in one of the common areas; he's made a point not to spend too much time in his own cabin so far, just long enough to catch some sleep and that's it.]

Sorry about the scuffle, Red, but I trust you understand my position.

Anybody interested in the kitchens, I brought ya a present; don't say I never did anything for ya. Caught me in a good mood, I guess.

[...that or he killed a giant buck in the CES and didn't eat the whole thing. Either way.]

[PRIVATE to Megamind]

So looks like teach okayed the playdate. Ready when you are, Einstein.

[SPAM for the Kitchen]

[As promised, early in the day after his hunt with Iris he strolls into the kitchen with a fully gutted adult male deer that probably weighs about half as much as he does slung over his shoulder. He drops it on the ground once he's well onto tile and starts working on dressing it the rest of the way. He figures somebody's got to drop by sooner or later, and it's not as if he didn't warn them he was coming.]

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003 Can see it in his eyes that he's got a nasty plan

Fri, 26 Jul 2013 16:21:39 GMT

[PUBLIC]

[The cell slid open sometime Friday, and it was music to his ears, pulling him out of sleep. He'd served his time, and as promised, it seemed they couldn't keep him any longer than the week even if they tried. Useful information to have.

He sauntered out and prowled his way back to his cabin, finding it...exactly the same as he had when he first arrived, although at least this time around he had more sense of self to appreciate it instead of just panicking blindly. His efforts to escape it were still apparent, but it was soothing in its way. Not the prison it had been the last time he'd been locked inside it. A prison easily escaped. He could work with it.

Investigating the space yielded a change of clothes at least, so he took the opportunity to change, as well as make use of the public showers, before addressing the masses again.

The backdrop behind him is cold metal and concrete awash in drab grey, an impersonal room created solely for function and containment, but the man addressing them doesn't seem especially bothered by it. He's fully dressed now, t-shirt and blue jeans and not a speck of blood in sight. Almost human, if it weren't for the predatory smile.]

Nice of you to oblige, Admiral, I was startin' to get a little stir crazy at the end there.

Think there's a couple folks to call out now I've finished out my sentence. You feel like comin' to look for me, think I'll be out takin' my exercise in that city out there.

[OPEN SPAM]

[For the duration Vic can be found out and about; it's safe to assume he's probably frequenting Disneyland to creep people out, spending a lot of time in the seedier parts of town, and making a mess once the sun goes down.]

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