## Virginia Mountains - 3:47 PM
The Blue Ridge Mountains rolled past Maria's truck windows like a green carpet stretched across ancient stone bones, beautiful and deceptively peaceful in the afternoon sunlight. But Marcus felt like he was sitting on a powder keg with a lit fuse, watching the countdown timer tick toward zero while trying to figure out how to defuse a bomb he couldn't see.
**[SYSTEM UPDATE - THREAT ASSESSMENT]**
**[AIRBORNE CONTACT: 23 MINUTES TO INTERCEPT]**
**[GROUND CONTACT (SABRETOOTH): 67 MINUTES TO INTERCEPT]**
**[ADDITIONAL AIRBORNE SIGNATURE DETECTED: X-MEN BLACKBIRD]**
**[ETA: 31 MINUTES - TACTICAL ADVANTAGE UNCLEAR]**
**[ENVIRONMENTAL ANALYSIS: CURRENT LOCATION OPTIMAL FOR CONFRONTATION]**
**[MOUNTAIN TERRAIN: LIMITED ESCAPE ROUTES, MINIMAL CIVILIAN EXPOSURE]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: PREPARE FOR ENGAGEMENT RATHER THAN CONTINUED EVASION]**
Marcus closed his eyes and tried to think strategically. Running wasn't working—Sabretooth was a tracker who could follow scent trails across continents, and helicopters moved faster than eighteen-wheelers on mountain roads. But maybe running wasn't the answer anyway.
"System," he subvocalized, barely breathing the words, "I need detailed information about absorbing Sabretooth's abilities. Full breakdown."
**[VICTOR CREED - SABRETOOTH ABILITY ANALYSIS]**
**[PRIMARY ABILITY: ACCELERATED HEALING FACTOR]**
- **REGENERATION SPEED: MODERATE-TO-HIGH (INFERIOR TO WOLVERINE'S FACTOR)**
- **LONGEVITY: SIGNIFICANTLY EXTENDED LIFESPAN**
- **TOXIN RESISTANCE: NEAR-IMMUNITY TO POISONS, DISEASES, DRUGS**
- **FATIGUE RESISTANCE: ENHANCED STAMINA AND ENDURANCE**
**[SECONDARY ABILITIES:]**
- **ENHANCED SENSES: SUPERHUMAN SIGHT, HEARING, SMELL, TASTE, TOUCH**
- **ENHANCED PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES: STRENGTH, SPEED, AGILITY, REFLEXES**
- **RAZOR-SHARP CLAWS: KERATIN-BASED, SELF-SHARPENING**
- **ENHANCED CANINE TEETH: DESIGNED FOR COMBAT EFFECTIVENESS**
**[ABSORPTION REQUIREMENTS:]**
**[SKIN-TO-SKIN CONTACT: MINIMUM 3-5 SECONDS FOR SUCCESSFUL TRANSFER]**
**[WARNING: TARGET EXTREMELY DANGEROUS IN CLOSE COMBAT]**
**[STRATEGY RECOMMENDATION: CREATE CIRCUMSTANCES WHERE TARGET IS VULNERABLE OR DISTRACTED]**
Marcus studied the information while part of his mind tracked their truck's progress along Highway 220, winding through mountains that were becoming more remote with each mile. The healing factor alone would make him exponentially harder to kill, and the enhanced senses would be invaluable for survival in their current situation. But getting close enough to Sabretooth to make skin contact for five seconds was like asking to wrestle a chainsaw while it was running.
"Marie," he said softly, turning toward his sister who was curled up in the sleeping area behind Maria's driver seat. "We need to talk. Quietly."
Through their empathic connection, he felt her immediate spike of fear. She'd been picking up on his tension for the last hour, and the careful control he'd been maintaining was starting to crack under the pressure of approaching danger.
"What's wrong?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the truck's engine noise.
"Remember how I told you there were people lookin' for folks like us?" Marcus kept his voice low, making sure Maria couldn't overhear from the driver's seat. "Well, they found us. And they're not the kind who want to help."
Marie's face went pale. "How do you know?"
Marcus tapped his temple, the gesture meaningless to anyone watching but somehow feeling appropriate for explaining impossible knowledge. "Same way I knew you could touch me. Same way I knew about the helicopter and the creek and everything else. I just... know things sometimes."
It wasn't a great explanation, but it was better than trying to convince her that he had a cosmic video game system installed in his brain by an omnipotent being named Rob who wore flip-flops and had terrible taste in Hawaiian shirts.
"What kind of people?" Marie asked, though her expression suggested she already suspected the answer wouldn't be pleasant.
"Government types. Military. The kind who think folks like us are either weapons to be used or problems to be solved." Marcus glanced toward the front of the truck, making sure Maria was still focused on driving. "And they sent someone to bring us in. Someone real dangerous."
**[SYSTEM ALERT: GROUND CONTACT ACCELERATION DETECTED]**
**[SABRETOOTH ETA REVISED: 52 MINUTES]**
**[PROBABILITY: TARGET HAS ACQUIRED SCENT TRAIL]**
Marcus felt his borrowed heart rate spike. Fifty-two minutes was not a lot of time to prepare for a confrontation with one of the Marvel Universe's most dangerous predators, especially when his total combat experience consisted of one high school wrestling match that he'd lost badly.
"Marie, I need you to listen very carefully," he said, his voice taking on the kind of serious tone that made her sit up straighter despite her fear. "The person they sent is called Sabretooth. He's like us—enhanced—but he's been trained to hunt people like us. He's fast, he's strong, he heals from injuries that would kill normal people, and he's been doing this for a long time."
"Are we gonna die?" Marie's question was simple, direct, and delivered with the kind of calm that suggested she'd already accepted that possibility and was now focused on practical concerns.
"Not if I can help it," Marcus said. "But I'm gonna need you to trust me completely, even if what I ask you to do doesn't make sense. Can you do that?"
Marie nodded, her trust in her brother coming through their empathic connection like a warm wave. Despite everything that had happened, despite the impossible circumstances and the terrifying revelations, she still believed that Marcus could figure out a way to keep them safe.
It was both heartwarming and terrifying to be trusted that completely.
"Good." Marcus glanced toward Maria, making a decision that he hoped wouldn't get an innocent truck driver killed. "Maria, we need to pull over somewhere private. Rest area, truck stop, whatever you can find in the next few miles."
"Y'all feeling worse?" Maria asked, genuine concern in her voice as she checked the rearview mirror. "There's a scenic overlook about five miles up the road. Pretty isolated, good place to stretch your legs and get some fresh air."
"That sounds perfect," Marcus said, though his definition of 'perfect' probably didn't match Maria's. A remote location would minimize civilian casualties when Sabretooth arrived, and the mountain terrain might provide some tactical advantages for someone who was about to attempt the world's most dangerous case of pickpocketing.
**[SYSTEM RECOMMENDATION: STRATEGIC POSITIONING]**
**[SABRETOOTH WEAKNESS ANALYSIS:]**
**[PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE: OVERCONFIDENT, PRONE TO PLAYING WITH PREY]**
**[TACTICAL FLAW: TENDS TO UNDERESTIMATE OPPONENTS]**
**[OPTIMAL STRATEGY: FEIGN HELPLESSNESS, EXPLOIT OVERCONFIDENCE, STRIKE DURING MOMENT OF VULNERABILITY]**
**[WARNING: STRATEGY REQUIRES SIGNIFICANT PERSONAL RISK]**
**[ALTERNATIVE: WAIT FOR X-MEN ARRIVAL, HOPE FOR EXTERNAL RESCUE]**
**[ANALYSIS: EXTERNAL RESCUE MAY NOT ARRIVE IN TIME]**
Marcus weighed his options as the truck began to slow for the scenic overlook turnoff. Waiting for the X-Men to arrive was the safe choice, but it was also the choice that left their fate in other people's hands. And CJ Smith had never been comfortable depending on other people to solve his problems, even when those other people were professional superheroes.
The scenic overlook was exactly what Maria had promised—a small parking area carved into the mountainside, with a spectacular view of the Blue Ridge Mountains stretching toward the horizon like a green ocean frozen in time. It was also completely isolated, with no other vehicles in sight and no cellular signal according to the bars on Marcus's borrowed phone.
"Perfect spot," Marcus said as Maria pulled the truck into a parking space. "Marie, why don't you and I take a walk, get some air? Maria, you mind waiting with the truck?"
"Don't go too far," Maria warned, climbing down from the driver's seat and stretching muscles that had been cramped by hours of driving. "These mountain roads can be tricky if you don't know them, and it'll be getting dark in a few hours."
Marcus nodded, already scanning the area for tactical advantages. The overlook was surrounded by thick forest on three sides, with a steep drop-off on the fourth side that offered spectacular views and certain death for anyone who went over the edge. There were hiking trails leading into the woods, picnic tables scattered around the clearing, and plenty of places where someone could hide or take cover.
It was, in short, exactly the kind of place where a predator would corner its prey.
"Marie," Marcus said quietly as they walked toward the overlook railing, "in about forty minutes, maybe less, a man is gonna come out of those woods. He's gonna look dangerous, and he's gonna act like he wants to hurt us. But I need you to remember that he's not really a man—he's more like a wild animal that's learned to walk upright and talk."
"What are you planning to do?" Marie asked, though her tone suggested she already suspected the answer wasn't going to be 'run away and hide.'
"I'm gonna touch him," Marcus said simply. "And when I do, I'm gonna take something from him that'll help keep us safe."
Marie stared at him like he'd just announced his intention to French-kiss a grizzly bear. "Marcus, you can't touch dangerous people just to see what happens! That's not how powers work! You'll get yourself killed!"
"Maybe," Marcus admitted. "But if I don't try, we're definitely gonna get killed. And not quickly."
**[SYSTEM ALERT: AIRBORNE CONTACT - 7 MINUTES TO INTERCEPT]**
**[GROUND CONTACT - 38 MINUTES TO INTERCEPT]**
**[X-MEN BLACKBIRD - 14 MINUTES TO INTERCEPT]**
**[TACTICAL WINDOW IDENTIFIED: 7-MINUTE OPPORTUNITY]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: MAKE CONTACT WITH X-MEN AIRCRAFT, REQUEST IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE]**
Marcus looked up at the sky, squinting against the afternoon sun. Somewhere up there, a Blackbird was approaching with the X-Men aboard—Professor Xavier, Wolverine, and Storm, if his comic book knowledge was accurate. They were coming to rescue two endangered mutant teenagers, which was exactly the kind of mission they'd been running for decades.
But they were also coming to investigate an unknown mutant whose mind was completely closed to telepathic contact, which made him potentially as dangerous as the people he was running from.
"Marie," Marcus said, making another decision that would probably seem insane to anyone with normal risk assessment capabilities, "when that aircraft gets here—and there's gonna be an aircraft—I want you to go with them. Don't argue, don't wait for me, just go."
"I'm not leaving you!"
"Yes, you are." Marcus turned to face her, his expression carrying all the love and determination he could muster. "Because if something happens to me, you're gonna need people who understand what you're going through. And the people on that aircraft, they're the good guys. They help people like us."
Through their empathic connection, Marie felt the depth of his certainty about the approaching aircraft and its occupants. She also felt his absolute determination to face whatever was coming, with or without backup.
"How do you know all this?" she asked again, her voice carrying the weight of accumulated impossible knowledge and her brother's inexplicable transformation from normal teenager to tactical genius.
"Because," Marcus said, watching the sky for signs of approaching aircraft while his enhanced hearing picked up the distant sound of rotor blades, "I'm not exactly who you think I am."
It was the closest he'd come to telling her the truth about CJ Smith, the baseball bat incident, and his cosmic reincarnation courtesy of a bored omnipotent being with questionable fashion sense. But it was as close as he could get without sounding completely insane.
In the distance, the sound of helicopter rotors was getting louder.
And somewhere in the forest behind them, branches were beginning to crack under the weight of something large and predatory making its way toward the scenic overlook with the patient inevitability of a natural disaster.
The hunt was about to begin.
Marcus just hoped he was smart enough to turn the hunters into the hunted before it was too late.
---
## 30,000 Feet Above Virginia - X-Men Blackbird
"I'm picking up multiple contacts converging on the twins' location," Storm reported from the Blackbird's sensor station, her voice carrying the controlled tension of someone who'd participated in too many rescue missions that had turned into firefights. "Military helicopter approaching from the southeast, and there's something large moving through the forest toward the scenic overlook where they've stopped."
Logan's enhanced senses were already telling him everything he needed to know about the 'something large' moving through the Virginia mountains. The scent was faint but unmistakable, carried to him through the Blackbird's environmental systems—musk and violence and the particular brand of predatory satisfaction that meant Victor Creed was hunting again.
"Sabretooth," he growled, his adamantium claws extending with their characteristic *snikt* sound. "Should've known Stryker would send his pet psychopath after a couple of kids."
Charles adjusted the portable Cerebro interface he'd brought aboard the Blackbird, its limited range and power making it a poor substitute for the full system back at the school but still effective enough to monitor the situation developing below them. The girl's mind remained accessible—fear mixed with determination and absolute trust in her brother's ability to protect them. But the boy continued to be a blank space in the psychic landscape, invisible to telepathic contact in ways that defied Charles's understanding of how mutant abilities typically manifested.
"Logan, I need you to understand something about this extraction," Charles said, his mental voice carrying the weight of decades of experience with rescue operations that had gone catastrophically wrong. "The male twin is completely resistant to telepathic contact. I can't read his intentions, his emotional state, or his plans. For all we know, he could be as dangerous as Sabretooth."
"Kid's protecting his sister from government goons," Logan replied with the kind of moral certainty that came from his own experiences as a government experiment. "That's enough for me."
Storm checked their approach trajectory, calculating the optimal insertion point for a combat landing in mountainous terrain. "ETA three minutes. Logan, what's our tactical assessment of Sabretooth in this environment?"
Logan's expression darkened. He'd fought Victor Creed more times than he could count, in more environments than he cared to remember, and the big mutant had never been easy to put down. Enhanced healing factor, superhuman senses, razor-sharp claws, and decades of combat experience made him one of the most dangerous predators on the planet.
"Sabretooth's got advantages in forest terrain—better senses, natural camouflage, knows how to use trees and elevation for tactical positioning," Logan said, running through the tactical variables in his head. "But he's also overconfident, especially when he's hunting kids. Likes to play with his food before he kills it."
"And that's a weakness we can exploit?"
"If we're fast enough." Logan checked his gear, making sure his spare weapons were secure and his emergency medical supplies were easily accessible. "Charles, once we're on the ground, can you establish contact with the girl? Let her know we're friendlies?"
"Already trying," Charles said, extending his consciousness through the portable interface toward the twin girls' familiar psychic signature. The connection formed easily, and he felt her immediate shock at the mental contact.
*Don't be afraid,* he projected, his mental voice carrying all the warmth and reassurance he could muster. *My name is Professor Charles Xavier. I'm here to help you and your brother. We're landing at your location in two minutes.*
The response came back flooded with relief and gratitude, but also concern that surprised him. *Professor! Marcus said you were coming! But he's planning something dangerous—he wants to fight the man who's hunting us instead of running away!*
Charles felt a chill run down his spine. A sixteen-year-old boy with unknown abilities planning to engage Sabretooth in single combat was a recipe for tragedy, even if the boy's intentions were protective.
*Tell Marcus to wait for us,* Charles projected urgently. *He doesn't need to face this alone.*
But the response he got back carried the weight of absolute certainty: *He says he can't wait. He says if he doesn't do this now, we'll all die.*
Logan must have seen something in Charles's expression, because his own features shifted into the grim alertness that preceded violence. "What's the kid planning?"
"I don't know," Charles admitted, his inability to read the boy's mind feeling like a tactical disadvantage at the worst possible moment. "But according to his sister, he's planning to engage Sabretooth directly rather than wait for our assistance."
"That's suicide," Storm said flatly. "Sabretooth has decades of combat experience and enhanced abilities. A sixteen-year-old boy, no matter how brave, isn't going to survive that confrontation."
Logan was quiet for a moment, thinking about the tactical implications. Then he surprised both his teammates by saying, "Maybe. But the kid's got one advantage Victor doesn't expect."
"What's that?"
"Victor's used to hunting scared prey. If this boy's willing to fight instead of run, that changes the whole dynamic of the encounter."
Through the Blackbird's windows, the Virginia mountains rushed past below them, green and beautiful and about to become the site of a confrontation between predators that could end with multiple casualties if they weren't careful.
"Thirty seconds to landing," Storm announced, beginning the final approach to the scenic overlook where two teenagers waited for a rescue that might come too late to save them.
In the forest below, Sabretooth moved through the trees with the patient efficiency of someone who knew exactly where his prey was waiting and was in no hurry to end the hunt.
And somewhere between them, Marcus D'Ancanto was about to discover whether comic book knowledge and cosmic video game systems were enough to survive an encounter with one of the Marvel Universe's most dangerous killers.
The answer would determine whether this was a rescue mission or a recovery operation.
---
## Scenic Overlook - 4:23 PM
Marcus heard the helicopter before he saw it—the distinctive *whap-whap-whap* of military rotors cutting through mountain air with mechanical precision. It appeared over the treeline like a mechanical predator, black and angular and radiating the kind of aggressive functionality that suggested its occupants weren't coming to offer roadside assistance.
"Maria!" he called out, his voice carrying across the scenic overlook with barely controlled urgency. "Get behind the truck! Right now!"
Maria Santos looked up from where she'd been stretching beside her Peterbilt, her expression shifting from casual confusion to professional alarm as she spotted the unmarked helicopter settling into a landing pattern. Twenty years of long-haul trucking had given her excellent instincts for recognizing official trouble, and this definitely qualified.
"Kids, what the hell is going on?" she called back, but she was already moving toward her truck's cab, her survival instincts overriding her curiosity about why two college students had suddenly attracted military attention.
Marcus grabbed Marie's hand, feeling the familiar tingle of their empathic connection as they moved toward a cluster of picnic tables that would provide minimal cover from whatever was about to emerge from that helicopter. Through the connection, he felt her terror mixing with trust—she was scared of what was coming, but she believed her brother had a plan.
He just hoped she was right.
**[SYSTEM ALERT: HOSTILE CONTACT CONFIRMED]**
**[HELICOPTER OCCUPANT: VICTOR CREED - SABRETOOTH]**
**[THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME]**
**[ADDITIONAL CONTACTS: 2 MILITARY PERSONNEL - ENHANCED COMBAT TRAINING]**
**[X-MEN ETA: 90 SECONDS]**
**[TACTICAL WINDOW: SURVIVE UNTIL REINFORCEMENTS ARRIVE]**
The helicopter touched down in the parking area with rotor wash that sent dust and debris swirling across the scenic overlook like a miniature dust storm. As the rotors wound down, three figures emerged from the aircraft—two men in tactical gear who moved with military precision, and something that had once been a man but now looked more like evolution's nightmare scenario for what humanity might become if it stopped pretending to be civilized.
Victor Creed stood nearly seven feet tall, with a frame that suggested someone had taken a normal human being and stretched it in all directions while adding about a hundred pounds of muscle and bone. His hair was wild and unkempt, his face was dominated by canine teeth that belonged in a nature documentary about apex predators, and his hands ended in claws that looked like they could open tin cans or jugular veins with equal efficiency.
But it was his eyes that made Marcus's borrowed heart skip several beats—they held the kind of predatory intelligence that suggested Victor wasn creed enjoyed what he did for a living, and what he did for a living was hunt people.
"Well, well," Sabretooth said, his voice a rumbling growl that carried across the overlook like distant thunder, "looks like the little rabbits decided to stop running."
The two soldiers flanked him with professional spacing, their weapons ready but not quite aimed—they were backup, Marcus realized, intended to prevent escape rather than engage in direct combat. This was Sabretooth's show, and everyone present knew it.
"Marcus," Marie whispered, her voice barely audible, "please tell me you have a plan."
"Working on it," Marcus murmured back, his mind racing through tactical possibilities while the system provided real-time analysis of their situation.
**[SABRETOOTH BEHAVIORAL ANALYSIS: CONFIDENT, PLAYFUL, UNDERESTIMATING OPPOSITION]**
**[TACTICAL ASSESSMENT: WILL ATTEMPT TO INTIMIDATE BEFORE ENGAGING]**
**[OPTIMAL STRATEGY: USE INTIMIDATION PHASE TO POSITION FOR ABSORPTION ATTEMPT]**
**[WARNING: WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY WILL BE BRIEF]**
Sabretooth began walking toward them with the casual pace of someone who knew his prey had nowhere to run. Each step was placed with deliberate care, designed to build psychological pressure and demonstrate that he was in complete control of the situation.
"You kids have caused me a lot of trouble," he said conversationally, as if they were discussing the weather instead of his intention to hunt them for sport. "Government's real interested in what makes you tick. Especially you, girlie—they got some interesting theories about what you can do with those hands of yours."
Marie pressed closer to Marcus, and through their empathic connection he felt her terror spiking toward panic levels. But underneath the fear, he also sensed something else—a growing anger at being treated like a lab specimen by people who saw her as a thing rather than a person.
"We're just kids," Marcus said, letting his voice carry exactly the right amount of fear and desperation. "We haven't hurt anybody. We just want to be left alone."
Sabretooth's laugh was like the sound of breaking glass mixed with distant screaming. "Oh, kid, you hurt plenty of people already. That boy back in Mississippi? David Collins? Still in a coma, thanks to your sister's little problem. Government considers that assault with a deadly weapon."
"That was an accident!"
"Maybe it was," Sabretooth agreed, continuing his predatory advance. "But accidents have a way of happening again, don't they? And next time, maybe someone dies instead of just getting their brain scrambled."
He was close enough now that Marcus could smell him—musk and violence and something that reminded him of wet dog mixed with old blood. Every instinct in his borrowed body was screaming at him to run, to hide, to do anything except what he was planning to do.
But running wasn't going to work. Hiding wasn't going to work. And in about sixty seconds, the X-Men were going to arrive and turn this into the kind of superhero fight that tended to level city blocks and leave civilians as collateral damage.
Marcus made his decision.
"Marie," he said softly, "when I give the signal, I want you to run toward Maria's truck. Don't look back, don't try to help me, just run. Understand?"
"I'm not leaving—"
"Yes, you are." Marcus stood up slowly, his hands raised in apparent surrender as he stepped out from behind the picnic table. "Because what I'm about to do is probably gonna look real bad for a few seconds, and I need you somewhere safe when it happens."
Sabretooth paused about twenty feet away, his predatory instincts telling him something was wrong with this picture. Prey didn't usually step into the open unless they had a weapon or a plan, and he couldn't smell either on the boy.
"What's your name, kid?" Victor asked, his tone shifting to something approaching curiosity.
"Marcus D'Ancanto," Marcus replied honestly. "And I got a question for you, Mr. Creed."
The use of his real name got Sabretooth's attention. Most people either didn't know who he was or were too scared to say his name out loud.
"What's your question, Marcus?"
Marcus smiled, and for just a moment, his expression carried something that didn't belong on a sixteen-year-old face—the kind of cold calculation that came from someone who'd already accepted that they might die in the next few minutes and had decided to make it count.
"How fast do you heal from a broken neck?"
Sabretooth blinked, processing the unexpected question. In his decades of hunting experience, prey had never asked him about his healing abilities. It was such an odd thing to say that it took him a moment to parse the implications.
Which was exactly the moment Marcus had been waiting for.
"Now, Marie! RUN!"
Marcus launched himself forward, covering the twenty feet between them in a sprint that surprised even him with its speed and desperation. Sabretooth's enhanced reflexes kicked in a fraction of a second later, but that fraction was exactly what Marcus needed to get inside the big mutant's guard.
The collision was like hitting a wall made of muscle and bone, but Marcus managed to wrap his arms around Sabretooth's torso in what looked like a desperate tackle but was actually a carefully planned absorption attempt.
Skin contact. System activation. And suddenly, Marcus was connected to one of the most dangerous predators in the Marvel Universe.
**[CONTACT ESTABLISHED: VICTOR CREED]**
**[ABSORPTION OPTIONS AVAILABLE:]**
- **ACCELERATED HEALING FACTOR** *(Recommended - Critical survival advantage)*
- **ENHANCED SENSES** *(Tactical advantage, permanent enhancement)*
- **ENHANCED PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES** *(Strength/Speed package)*
- **RAZOR CLAWS** *(Biological weapons, permanent modification)*
**[TIME REMAINING: 3.7 SECONDS]**
**[SELECT ABILITY FOR ABSORPTION]**
Marcus didn't hesitate. *Healing factor. Now.*
**[ABSORPTION COMPLETE]**
**[ACCELERATED HEALING FACTOR: ACQUIRED]**
**[INTEGRATION LEVEL: 1%]**
**[WARNING: SYSTEM MASTERY REQUIRED FOR FULL EFFECTIVENESS]**
Sabretooth's confusion lasted exactly as long as it took him to realize that the scared teenager clinging to him was somehow absorbing his life force. Then his predatory instincts kicked in with a vengeance.
"What the hell—" Victor snarled, grabbing Marcus by the shoulders and throwing him across the overlook like a rag doll.
Marcus hit the ground hard, rolling through gravel and dirt before coming to a stop against one of the picnic tables. Pain flared through his borrowed body—ribs definitely cracked, probably a concussion, various cuts and bruises that felt like they covered about half his surface area.
But even as he struggled to his feet, he could feel the healing factor beginning to work. Slowly, inefficiently, but *working*—the pain was already starting to recede, and he could sense his body beginning the process of repairing the damage.
"Interesting," Sabretooth said, advancing again with renewed purpose. "So you're an absorption type too. That explains why the government wants you so badly."
Through the dust and pain, Marcus saw Marie crouched behind Maria's truck, her face pale with terror but following his instructions to stay hidden. Good. Whatever happened next, at least she'd be out of the immediate line of fire.
"Too bad for you," Victor continued, extending his claws with deliberate menace, "absorption types don't get to keep what they steal. Not after I'm done with them."
Marcus wiped blood from his mouth and tried to think tactically despite the concussion that was making his vision swim. The healing factor was working, but slowly—1% integration meant he had maybe a hundredth of Sabretooth's regenerative abilities, enough to survive injuries that would kill a normal person but not enough to walk away from the kind of damage Victor was capable of inflicting.
But he'd bought them time. And in the distance, he could hear the approaching sound of aircraft engines that didn't belong to any government agency.
The X-Men were almost here.
He just had to survive another thirty seconds.
*How hard could that be?*
Sabretooth's claws gleamed in the afternoon sunlight as he prepared to find out exactly how much damage a partially-functional healing factor could repair before the system gave up entirely.
The hunt was about to enter its final phase.
And Marcus D'Ancanto was about to discover whether comic book knowledge was enough to keep him alive when the monsters stopped playing games and started playing for keeps.
—
The first swipe of Sabretooth's claws would have taken Marcus's head clean off his shoulders if he hadn't thrown himself sideways at the last possible second. Instead, the razor-sharp talons carved three parallel grooves across his chest that immediately started bleeding like he'd been opened with surgical instruments.
Marcus hit the ground rolling, his newly acquired healing factor already working to close the wounds but nowhere near fast enough to keep pace with the damage Sabretooth was capable of inflicting. At 1% integration, the healing was more suggestion than actual regeneration—better than nothing, but not by much.
"Fast learner," Sabretooth growled approvingly as he stalked forward for another attack. "Most kids your age would already be dead. But you got some fight in you."
Through the empathic connection with Marie, Marcus could feel her terror and desperate desire to help him, but also her understanding that this was beyond anything she could handle. Maria Santos had apparently reached the same conclusion—Marcus caught a glimpse of the truck driver crouched beside her Peterbilt, talking urgently into her CB radio and probably calling for every kind of help she could think of.
**[SYSTEM ALERT: HEALING FACTOR ANALYSIS]**
**[CURRENT INTEGRATION: 1.3%]**
**[REGENERATION RATE: INSUFFICIENT FOR SUSTAINED COMBAT]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: EVASION UNTIL X-MEN ARRIVAL]**
**[X-MEN ETA: 18 SECONDS]**
Eighteen seconds. Marcus could probably survive eighteen more seconds if he was smart about it, kept moving, used the environment to his advantage. The scenic overlook had picnic tables, trash cans, the truck, plenty of obstacles that might slow Sabretooth down or provide momentary cover.
But Victor Creed had been hunting enhanced prey for longer than Marcus had been alive, and he wasn't going to be slowed down by furniture.
The next attack came from an unexpected angle—instead of charging straight at Marcus, Sabretooth vaulted over a picnic table and came down like a falling tree, claws extended and aimed at center mass. Marcus managed to get his arms up in time to deflect the killing stroke, but the secondary swipe opened his left forearm from wrist to elbow.
Pain flared white-hot through his nervous system, followed immediately by the strange tingling sensation of accelerated healing beginning to work on the damage. Not fast enough to close the wound, but enough to slow the bleeding and keep him functional.
"You're tougher than you look, kid," Victor said with what might have been respect if it wasn't coming from someone actively trying to murder him. "But you're still just playing with the grown-ups. Time to end this."
That's when the air above them filled with the sound of VTOL engines operating in whisper mode, and the X-Men Blackbird descended from the sky like a technological angel rendered in stealth composites and advanced engineering.
Sabretooth looked up at the aircraft with the expression of a predator whose hunt had just been interrupted by something bigger and more dangerous than himself. His enhanced senses were undoubtedly telling him exactly who was aboard that aircraft, and the implications weren't reassuring for someone working for the government agencies that the X-Men typically opposed.
"Well," Victor said with a grin that revealed entirely too many sharp teeth, "looks like this party just got interesting."
The Blackbird touched down in the parking area with mechanical precision, its landing thrusters kicking up dust and debris but somehow managing not to damage Maria's truck or the civilian infrastructure. As the engines wound down, three figures emerged from the aircraft with the kind of tactical coordination that suggested they'd done this exact operation many times before.
Professor Charles Xavier rolled down the Blackbird's ramp in his wheelchair, his expression carrying the focused intensity of someone who was simultaneously monitoring multiple telepathic contacts while coordinating a rescue operation. Behind him, Storm moved with the fluid grace of someone who commanded the very air around her, electricity already beginning to dance between her fingers as she prepared for combat.
And bringing up the rear was Wolverine.
Logan stepped off the Blackbird like he was walking into a bar fight that had been scheduled for his convenience. His adamantium claws were already extended, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, and his expression held the kind of cold fury that suggested someone was about to have a very bad day.
"Hello, Victor," Logan said conversationally, as if they were meeting for coffee instead of the latest round in a feud that had been going on for decades. "Still picking on kids, I see."
Sabretooth's grin widened. "Jimmy! So good to see you again. And you brought friends. How... civilized."
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