From ix.netcom.com!news.enteract.com!newsfeed.enteract.com!newsfeed.inetnebr.com!feed.newsreader.com!portc03.blue.aol.com!newstf02.news.aol.com!audrey02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Sat Dec 13 21:16:03 1997 Path: ix.netcom.com!news.enteract.com!newsfeed.enteract.com!newsfeed.inetnebr.com!feed.newsreader.com!portc03.blue.aol.com!newstf02.news.aol.com!audrey02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: shakes8897@aol.com (Shakes8897) Newsgroups: alt.comics.fan-fiction Subject: Demon: Sec. Com. 1/2 ( the intelligible version) Date: 11 Dec 1997 01:09:02 GMT Lines: 207 Message-ID: <19971211010901.UAA01571@ladder02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder02.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Xref: ix.netcom.com alt.comics.fan-fiction:12131 WARNING: Mild sexual and violent content. PG-13 Disclaimer: Marvel's substance, my style. Take a look. A tall man, layered in worn, yet expensive, leathers moves through the crowded German pub in a way that cant help but remind one of sharks and prawns. Sharks don’t even prey on prawns, they hunt fish. Not all of the constituents of the bar are harmless prawns, another kind of fish lurks here. In this world the predator and prey are as interchangeable as silverware in a thief’s guild. **** She narrows her eyes at the deadly man that glances casually around the joint. She feels protected by the masses of people around her. Anonymity is hers. For now. **** Victor Creed has come a long way since the spy games of the Second World War. Moved up some would say. Others might say moved on. Semantics. Victor has only ever dealt in the truth, and the truth is that he hasn’t gone anywhere, he simply surrounds himself with different people now. No less dangerous, just different. Which is why he feels out of place here, in a place he once made his center of business. That was before he started playing with the supertight set, an altogether more enjoyable occupation. That something from his past should still have a hold on him after twenty years is another thing that disturbs him. Two weeks ago he received a message, demanding a rendezvous at the Joint and Rib. Along with the message was a scent. One that he found familiar, tantalizingly so. He knew he should remember the scent, but it was missing from his memory. Was the memory lapse a result of the weapon X treatments? He couldn't tell. He was still working with Department K, but he had found time for this meeting. He could sense the urgency. It wasn’t logical but instinctual, and he had always been at home with the instinctual. The crowds parted around him. In twenty years the patronage had shifted radically. Victor Creed didn’t recognize any familiar scents in the crowd, though that didn’t mean there weren’t any. One of the best places to hide your scent was among other scents. Even if any of the patrons of his era had been there, he doubted they would recognize him after twenty years. He had taken steps to ditch Department K’s tag-boys before arriving here. Logan’s advice had helped him out some when it came to losing the government lackeys. “Listen bub. To them we’re animals, trained rats. if we don’t prove ‘em wrong, we got surprise on our side.” The shorter man’s knack for the espionage business was good, Creed would even go so far as to deem it instinctual. Made the runt dangerous, even if his skills came nowhere near the larger, more powerful Sabretooth’s. A woman. He knew his contact here would be female. That was nice for a change. Department K didn’t go in for wetworks very often, which made working for them a little boring sometimes. Victor Creed grinned, a broad expanse that didn’t hide his enlarged incisors. People in the crowd edged away from him, whether or not they saw the malice in his face. He was that kind of person. **** In the room was a woman. A woman that wore a red and white horizontally striped long sleeved shirt, and long tight blue jeans. A long brunette braid swung beneath a blue beret. She danced amiably but casually with an overly soused geezer, who spit when he talked and sucked on his mustache. Despite her companion she kept a constant vigilant stare on the man who stood head and shoulders above the rest of the patrons of the bar. Her eyes narrowed, as if in contemplation, or possibly, hatred. After two more turns with the old man, she slipped under his arm and locked her arms around the neck of a slightly younger, slightly more sober gentleman leaning against the bar. She tousled his hair playfully, and then plucked at the buttons of her yellow shirt She grinned at him mischievously and shook her now short, free brunette hair out from under a red handkerchief. But her gaze never left her prey for long. **** Victor Creed blew an exasperated sigh into his scruffy chin. He had the keenest senses of anyone he had ever met, barring maybe the runt. But even so he could not pick up the scent he that had brought him across the sea out of the mass of flesh that surrounded him. . In addition, he could not catch any of the patrons giving him a solid look for more than a few seconds. Of course he stood out, but no one seemed interested in him. Afraid yes, looking to catch his eye and motion him to a private corner for a rendezvous, no. He sighed again. “Why wasn’t I informed they had changed how this game was played?”, he wondered. Creed took up a position near the door, so that he could catch the scent of anyone coming in or out, and settled in to wait. **** Finally, Raven tired of playing with Victor’s ego. She knew all too well of his vaunted skills, and she had succeeded in deceiving them this for the past hour. Now that she had in effect one-upped him, they would be on more equal footing. It was important with this man to be an equal. Because everything else was either prey or chattel. Raven ducked behind a couple standing arm in arm at the bar. She re-emerged wearing a more becoming red hairstyle. Her favorite in fact. Her whole body had reformed to something much more impressive than anything she had displayed earlier. A white evening gown, completely out of place in this locale, but fitting every place on her body. A stunning diamond necklace, and a hint of makeup on a picture perfect complexion. Entirely different from the blonde seductress she had been when they had first met, but then she didn’t want to make it easy on the big Canadian galoot. Without seeming to, the crowd parted to allow her space as she approached the Canadian. By now he had taken a seat and ordered a drink to pass the time. He looked up as she approached. His eyebrows shifted subtly. She allowed herself a small smile. After all, this man had been a professional turncoat back in the War, any reaction at all was an impressive gain on her part. She seated herself across from him in the booth. People returned to their own pursuits, gawking only occasionally at the seemingly highborn lady who sat across from a man who very much appeared to be thinking less of his companion than of his Harley parked outside. She nodded at her former lover. He nodded back, completely impassive again. He lifted his mug and used its cover to sniff the air meaningfully. Raven smiled, for she had been looking for that response. For him to question her identity at this range meant he truly did not remember their last meeting. At the very least he did not connect her with the woman that had betrayed him, and then very nearly died on his claws. She laughed. A practiced dulcet laugh using only the neck and jaws. She held her wrist out to the blonde spy. “Go on sniff me, I dare you.” **** Victor leaned forward, placing his nose close to the soft skin on the underside of her wrist. He, very carefully, concealed his features as they writhed in confusion. She was a familiar scent, but somehow different. She knew of his abilities, one of them at least, but he had never met her before. She offered him her body, in a manner that bespoke of more than just intimacy. No casual acquaintance would smell of such confidence and ... lust? As a spy, and a man of good stature, Victor Creed, international terrorist, spy, and supervillain, had gotten used to women wanting him. It came with the job. Mystery and danger. But the scent he received from this woman was of lust rekindled. He couldn’t tell how he knew, he simply did. Gently he sniffed the pale skin he had been presented with. He set his mind with his course of action. He kissed the proffered wrist gently before returning his gaze once more to the beautiful woman before him. This time it was no longer impassive. In his eyes resided the beast within that he struggled with everyday. A beast that lusted, and was often lusted after. **** Raven repressed a nervous swallow when those steely blue eyes rested once more on hers. She was no longer sure about her next move, but she could not allow this predator to see her as weak. His desire for him was obvious too them both; as it had been twenty years ago. She could not back down now. It was kill or be killed. **** “She’s a child.” Victor mused. “Very new to the game. Or, I’m having more of an affect on her than I expected.” He repressed a chuckle. He was confident now of his superiority to this one. It was hard to imagine a time when mere humans had ever presented a challenge really. Still it was a nice change of pace, so when she motioned for him to follow her upstairs he didn’t balk. Upstairs were bedrooms. Places for business of all kinds. Most of them were old and worn, barely lodgings for those passing through. The young woman, whose name he had yet to learn, led him to the third door on the left. The last in the hallway. The only room with two exits. His room. Twenty years ago he had done business there, and he could still remember it. “Maybe the program isn’t taking away that many memories after all.” Unfortunately, he didn’t find anything out of the ordinary that the young woman would lead him to this room. After all it was the only one with two exits. It was that peculiarity that had led him to choose it during the war. The door yawned emptily at him, his companion having preceded him. Sabretooth ceased woolgathering and stepped through, eager to see what the evening held in store for him. **** SAM "I would rather dwell among those with correct actions than those with correct opinions. For I have found no higher occurance of hypocrisy in either, and the former is more pleasant." "I can name you more truly than you can name yourself." From ix.netcom.com!www.nntp.primenet.com!globalcenter1!news.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!su-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!152.163.199.19!portc03.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail Sat Dec 13 21:16:15 1997 Path: ix.netcom.com!www.nntp.primenet.com!globalcenter1!news.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!su-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!152.163.199.19!portc03.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: shakes8897@aol.com (Shakes8897) Newsgroups: alt.comics.fan-fiction Subject: Demon: Sec. Com. 2/2 (the intelligible version) Date: 11 Dec 1997 01:17:54 GMT Lines: 271 Message-ID: <19971211011700.UAA04309@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Xref: ix.netcom.com alt.comics.fan-fiction:12121 Warning: This is the part with the violence and stuff. Disclaimer: Marvel's substance, my style. Read on. Summation: Raven has enticed Victor Creed to a sceluded bedroom, for what, we can only presume, but its not entirely pleasant. More Stuff: I really like these things at the beginning. Am I sick? Don't answer that. Well if you really want to go ahead. ::Kisses:: **** Raven lit two small oil lamps on either side of the bed. She pointedly ignored the electric lamps that stood next to them. She busied herself with a wine bottle and a pair of glasses. She fought the urge to look over her shoulder toward the sounds of rustling clothing. She also struggled with her fear. Fear that rose in her stomach, threatening to empty itself on the carpet in the form of this morning’s breakfast. She knew this place of course. She was deliberately attempting to duplicate the scene of their last union. This time it would end differently however, she could only hope she was strong enough to go through with it. **** Victor finished removing his clothing, and slid around to her side of the room. He moved smoothly, but dangerously, even more so when nude. He brought his body close behind the woman he had met only minutes before. Her scent drifted toward him with the acrid fumes of burning lamp oil and sulfur. She was nervous. She was also opening a bottle of 1932 Chianti. A very good year, but one he never drank anymore. Too expensive for his tastes. He had moved on. Her shoulder were smooth under his touch. Hairless and taut, but fully muscled. No simple seductress was this. He ran his lips over her shoulder, skipped gently over the strap of her gown and eased up her neck, his breath warm on her pale skin. He felt her pause, could feel the tension build in her frame. She wanted him, he was sure of that. The source of his confusion lay in whether she was seducing him, or he seducing her. Bringing his lips down her neck he finished the crossing to the other shoulder. Snagging the second strap with his lower incisors, he dragged it off her shoulder, exposed more of her pale upper torso to him. With the scrape of his teeth on her shoulder, he felt her resistance cave a bit, she leaned back into his body, and brought her shoulders higher, begging him to continue. **** Inside Raven, a fourteen year-old girl screamed at the feel of the man-beast that breathed heavily so close to her. Memories of nights many years ago began to free themselves from mental shackles, bombarding her sanity with their pain and confusion. **** She uttered no complaint as he lowered her to the bed, carefully unzipping the right side of her expensive gown. Subconsciously, Victor began to growl, a low rumbling purr that his mutated vocal cords could maintain indefinitely. Not a pleasant sound, but a predatory, territorial sound. The satin material bunched as he pulled it from her unprotesting form. It snagged on the left side where the zipper remained only partially undone. With a slight increase in the fierceness of his growl, Sabretooth tore the rest of the expensive material off her prostrate form and let it puddle at his feet. **** Raven experienced Sabretooth’s attentions in two fashions. Part of her remained unattached, aware that she was exacting her revenge with every step he took. The other half of her gibbered in fear as the monstrous creature rose up before her and pierced her body once more. Changed her once again from girl to woman in a manner that should no longer have been painful. Raven manipulated the fabric around her feet, drawing it back into her body. It was difficult to duplicate expensive material, but she had perfected the art. It was however, as painful to lose the fabric from her essence as it would be to awaken missing a vital organ of your body. Sabretooth missed this vital occurrence, occupied as he was with her body. **** Sabretooth finished his ministrations. Having fulfilled himself with his seductress’s body. It was indeed a thing of beauty, but he could not appreciate it fully. She had lain there, eyes closed, almost unmoving as he had made love to her. As if she had not wanted him to, or as if his attentions were an insult to her. Victor Creed had had many women in his sixty-odd years of life, some had enjoyed his sexual favors while others had found him too hasty or violent. But none had simply failed to reacted. The beast within him gave an angry burble and seethed forward against the bonds of society with which Victor Creed restrained him. Gently, he ran his strong blunt fingers down the nude young woman's chest. Sensually he circled her breasts and nipples. Caressed parts of her that she rarely felt and on many another woman had stimulated them a great deal. Still no reaction. He clenched his fist in rage; how could this woman entice him to her bedroom? HIS BEDROOM! and then treat him as she would a rapist or worse? The beast happily broke its imprisoning chains and sprang out of his mouth in a howl of anger and a violent lashing out. Three-inch claws sprung from his fingertips, sharp as a lion’s, strong as steel. Her eyes snapped open, and for one second they were familiar. He recognized his lover through the eyes of the beast. Then he stood there helpless as he struck her with his claws. One killing strike from sternum to belly button. Five deep gashes, that would, slowly and painfully, put an end to her attempts to humiliate him. **** Raven shuddered as the pain went through her body. She felt the claws, like razors tear the skin from her chest and flay the muscle from the bone. They cuts were numb for an instant, before the screaming pain receptors threw their complaints at her mind. Raven had been hurt before, but never fatally. She knew her body’s ability to compensate for injury, but had never probed the capacity of her healing factor. Faced, for the first time, with pain to much to resist, she struggled in vain against the rising tide. So close to the stimulation of lovemaking, as worthless as it may have been, a small part of Raven’s mind reached out in a new direction. Searching for a way to deal with the pain. Without understanding how, Raven gave into the pain, knowing its source and embracing that too. It swept over her in one gigantic tidal wave that threatened to drown her the moment she stopped trying to ride it further. The surge of pain coasted up and out, sharp and intense, carrying her on a wave of intense pleasure that she felt in every muscle. Pleasure that was underscored by the knowledge that to stop enjoying this experience would be to fall before it and perhaps, die. Tightening her vocal chords against crying out, she released that tension into her muscles, binding them into tighter coils until they quivered with minuscule knots of pain all along her back and neck and stomach. As her shifting mutagenic form recovered from the wounds that otherwise would have cost her life, she felt herself falling into a pool of calm and reverie. Falling from a height so great, that gave her time to contemplate her new experience. “What is this I feel?” she wondered, as her whole world was redefined against the backdrop of that orgasmic release. **** Victor tore through the hold the beast had on his body. Imprisoned it once more behind his own guilt for its actions. He stared in disgust at the dying woman in front of him. His disgust was aimed primarily at himself, and at the mess he would need to clean up, the details he would need to know in order to prevent an inquiry. Already his mind paced the labyrinthine corridors of cover-ups and secrecy. Governments had covered for him before, they would again, because he was necessary. He could solve this with a single phone call. As he collected his thoughts along this venue, he watched the death throes of his recent mate. Her body arched in a pleasing manner, her lacerations were deep enough to kill, but not long enough to displace organs. That made tidying up easier. She didn’t make a sound, for which Creed was pleased. No one would investigate right away. He flexed his fingers, sliding his claws out once more. Carnage like this was his stock in trade. “Better kill her now or it will take a couple of minutes to die if I let her bleed.” As he reached out to take action on that thought however, she collapsed back onto the bed, writhing very much alive in the soaking stain of her blood. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. SMILED! “Thank you lover.” She said in a sultry tone of voice that only the truly satisfied can ever attain. Beneath the blood that still oozed from her chest, Victor could see the skin knitting itself together once more, very much like his own healing factor. He gathered himself. “Maybe I didn’t leave the supertight business behind on this one after all.”, he thought. He stepped backward, readying his stance, readying a killing strike that would never be healed. He waited to see the woman’s reaction. After all, she was cute. **** Raven stood. She felt inside herself, questing for the seed which the beast had left inside her. Finding it safely deposited she dropped her disguise, ready now to let the beast know who would be the cause of his betrayal. White skin turned icy, then blue, white clothing appeared again, this time slightly more revealing. Her hair grew shorter, for convenience, but retained its blood red hue. Finally, her eyes lost any imitation of pupil and iris, becoming an even glowing shade of yellow. Standing before the man that had raped her twenty long years ago she posed in her haughtiest of poses, as she had always dreamed of facing this man. “Now do you recognize me, double-dealer?”, her scorn was perfect, her timing impeccable. “Nope.” “What do you mean no?” I mean I don’t remember you or anything vaguely resembling you or your abilities. You want to kill me go ahead and try, but I doubt you can. If this is what you called me here for, then thanks for the sack toots, but I have to get back to work.” Sabretooth’s casually cheerful gloat came crashing down on Raven’s dreams. She screamed in shrill rage, “You DONT REMEMBER THIS ROOM? THIS WINE?” She hurled the bottle at him, which he ducked gleefully as he quickly donned his clothing, bringing all his agility to play. “YOU DONT REMEMBER THIS!!!???” She screamed changing her still bleeding form into one he would recognize. The blonde bombshell she had used to get close to him in this bedroom twenty years ago. “Not at all.” Sabretooth grinned, only partially doubting himself. Most likely she was not drawing this from thin air, so it was possible he simply didn’t remember it, whatever IT was. “AAARCGHHEAYRT.” She roared incoherently leaping at him, while shifting shape once more. Her finger stretched, making claws, her body developed the bulk of her larger opponent, even imitating his form in places. Sabretooth paused amid buckling a studded leather belt in order to grab his attacker by the neck. His superior agility and strength allowed him to hold her thus, and suffer only superficial scratches on his upper torso. “You are a CHILD.” Spittle from the force of his sudden irritation landed on her grimacing face. “Go back to your games, little girl. You can play with shapes all you want, but I am the only one of us that is dangerous.” He turned his back on her and gathered his clothing. “I am dangerous too, Kerenski. You will see that. Someday.” With that she darted for the door, leaving him to dress alone. Victor Creed enjoyed both glasses of Chianti, they both survived miraculously untouched in the ruckus, before leaving the room. He eyed the bloodstained sheets with distaste. Blood in that amounts usually tempted the beast within, but it was sated now. Perhaps introspective even. He wondered, only once, how the girl had known his alias from so many years ago. An alias he had used to betray both the German and Allied forces to each other. For profit and fun. He didn’t remember too much about that, and he certainly didn’t recall picking up a blonde counter-espionage agent and then disemboweling her just down the street. Of course not. He didn’t have those memories anymore. Right? SAM "I would rather dwell among those with correct actions than those with correct opinions. For I have found no higher occurance of hypocrisy in either, and the former is more pleasant." "I can name you more truly than you can name yourself."