The Beast's Lair (Pippa)

[Victor Creed]

This was a sight to see for certain. And really would be a sight for the cops to see later. Victor had wanted a drink, needed a drink. Of course he knew the liklihood of becoming drunk was next to impossible, he still wanted to feel the sting of that booze rolling down his throat. His whole world, as small as it was had crumbled down ontop of him and he wanted to just drown himself in that liquor. Anger would certainly drive him towards his next goal but for now it was time to wallow in self pity. Granted Victor's version of wallowing left him in the current situation he was in now.

This meant he was sitting at the bar with a long line of empty beers and a now half full bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. There were a few empty bottles of whiskey as well but he still hadn't felt a thing. The other inhabitants of the bar unfortunately had.

The bar was practically dripping blood from the ceiling, literally in a few cases. Bar patrots laid dead upon the floor as well as the bartender, each one looking more brutally mauled than the first. Blood still stained his claws but he hadn't cared to clean them or his clothes from the blood that remained there as well. Currently the only thing that existed to the man was the shot glass in his hand and the whiskey bottle in the other.

[Phillipa Bogdandottir]

It wasn't often you entered a bar literally dripping blood. Oh, you couldn't imagine the number of times Phillipa had walked in a number of brawls. But a massacre? Well... Even for someone as old as her, there was a first for everything.

Phillipa lurked in the shadows, or outside the bar to be more specific. She'd managed to witness most of the events through one of the dark tinted windows. Here was was, just planning on watching the guy, and instead she witnesses several murders, and probably added over two hundred years to her life. Thank you, Victor Creed. When the massacre was over, she waited a few minutes, just watching the man down a few more shots. Finally, she entered the bar, which most people would say is the stupidest thing someone could do.

"I don't think drowning your sorrows is working, Mr. Creed. You might want to try something stronger." Honestly, there must be something wrong with this woman, maybe it was the fact that she acted years older then she looked (which only happened to be sixteen, which was pretty sad.), or maybe it was because she honestly didn't seem fazed at all by the bloody sight in front of her. "You should have left the bartender alive, since I'm pretty sure you don't know how to mix drinks." Phillipa kicked out the stool next to Victor Creed, plopping down into it.

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[Victor Creed]

Victor downed another shot....he had lost count really and didn't care while he poured another. A snarl came over his lips as he heard the voice. The reaction was from the voice alone than what she had said. He had killed people in the bar to shut them up. Did he have to do it again to keep this wench quiet?

The urge to grab one of those empty beer bottles and slam it into the girl's head was hard to resist when she plopped herself down right next to him. He downed another shot and poured again. "I don't need a bartender to pour shots of whiskey Darlin'." She wanted a drink? Yea right...like he was gonna share. "And yer a bit young to be drinkin." He took a sudden sniff of the air and a wicked dark smirk crossed his lips. "Or are you?" His attention turned from his liquor just long enough to turn those dark murderous eyes upon her. "Been awhile since I've seen a ghost...or smelled one. But I guess ghosts dun smell do they? Shoulda known you were a mutie. Ah well...not that that really matters now does it?" He chuckled and turned back to his whiskey and downed another shot before turning to simply drinking the last two shots straight from the bottle. Just as quickly as he drank the rest from that bottle he tossed it across the room to let it shatter against the wall. A new bottle was found quickly enough and he opened it rather nonchalantly.

[Phillipa Bogdandottir]

Phillipa didn't expect Victor Creed to remember her. It'd been seventy years, after all! Quite some time, for him at least. So, it was a little surprising when he called her a ghost. At least... a normal person would be surprise. Pippa just smirked. "Well aren't you a smart boy." She got up from her seat, and onto the bar, swinging her legs around to plop down on the other side. Soon she was rummaging through the wide collection of alcohol. "I don't remember you having so many gray hairs the last time we met, Victor. Seems these past few years have been much kinder to me then you."

Pippa stopped her rummaging to look at him. She'd looked sixteen the day he'd killed her that first time. And she still looked exactly the same. Neither did Victor to be honest, but at least he didn't look like a kid. "You're sense of smell has gotten better though. Last time you had no idea what I was. You still probably don't, but I don't blame you for that. What I do blame you for is making me miss the fifties. I take that a little personally." She'd pulled down a bottle of bourbon, staring at it for a long time before popping the lid off. "Do you know what a Poltergeist is, Victor?"

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[Victor Creed]

His brow arched at her grey hair comment. "Hmph, last time we met Darlin' didn't last long. Surprised you remember anything about me." Not that he cared. Hell she should have been glad that he hadn't raped her before he killed her. Now that would have been a psychologically damaging experience. He assumed she probably found out a good amount of things through whatever research she did about him after the fact. Good for her...

Victor rolled his eyes at her last comment about the fifties era. Really? She was upset about that? "The fifties weren't worth being all upset about." He remembered the fifties and there were better times. Better wars. And was she really acting like she had the upper hand in this situation? She seemed rather uppity for someone he's killed already. It didn't really surprise him all that much for someone to come back from the dead. Hell he's done it himself a time or two.

"A poltergeist? Ich spreche Deutsch. You expect me to be scared?" He looked over to her with leveled eyes. Whether she considered herself a poltergeist or not it made no difference to him in the slightest.

[Phillipa Bogdandottir]

Pippa laughed, actually laughed. "I remember everything about that day. It's hard to forget a death that violent." She seemed unusually calm about the whole thing, like dying hadn't bothered her in the least. Which it hadn't. You tended to let somethings go when you lived so long. You'd drive yourself crazy if you didn't. That wasn't saying Phillipa was sane.

She leaned against the bar, just out of his arms reach if he tried to touch her. The bottle of bourbon still in hand as she took a long drink straight from it. No shot glass necessary. "From what I heard, it was a relatively tame decade compared to it's predecessors. But that isn't the point. It's the only decade I've been alive for, but can't recall. You broke a very, very long record." She stared at him, for several moments. Some people would wonder how long she was referring to.

The two's gazes met. And Pippa could stop a smirk from touching her lips. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't like to scare people from time to time. But you're not one of them." She paused for only a moment, taking another drink. "I thought you might at least be surprised after all these years though. After all, it's not everyday someone you killed came back from the dead. Especially someone you killed seventy years ago." She set the bottle down on the bar, her gaze still intent on him. She had those eyes. The kind that held the weight of the world, but wasn't weighed down by it. Pippa had to be ancient "You could say I am haunting you though. How you take that is up to you."

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[Victor Creed]

Haunting him? She planned to haunt him? How silly..especially with the mood he was in right now. Though that wicked smirk remained on his lips while he watched how she moved. It was a deliberate barrier between her and him. She made sure they were far enough apart that he couldn't just grab her. Funny thing was did she really remember how fast he was? It wouldn't take long for him to move over that bar and rip her throat out.

Why wasn't he ripping her throat out? He had killed plenty of people today already one more wasn't going to matter much. He drank down another shot of whiskey before those amber eyes stared at her once again. "So what do you want Darlin'? I aint in the mood for guessing games. Tell me what brings you to this specific bar and this specific time." He was calling her game, obviously she had been hunting him down and it was time to lay the cards on the table.

He assumed that she wanted the usual revenge for killing her. What else was new? He would just wait and see what it would be. Haunting...only really gave a clue.

[Phillipa Bogdandottir]

Phillipa wasn't an idiot. She'd spent many years studying this man, probably because she had nothing else to do. Not to mention, she'd seen him in action once. Of course he could get over the bar in a heartbeat. Faster then most people could react. But Pippa had a trick up her sleeve. Which was the actually point to the whole 'Poltergeist' and 'haunting' comment. If he tried to attack her, he'd find out that out the hard way.

His question was meant only with a shrug at first. She picked her own bottle back up, gulping down a huge amount of the bourbon before even considering speaking. "You shouldn't ask questions you already know the answer to." She hooped up onto the bar, her legs crossed as she stared at him, lifting the bottle for another drink. She stopped a moment before though, lowering the bottle just a little. "But, if you must know, I'm not interested in revenge. Not yet, at least. I'm a very patient woman. I could wait another hundred years before even considering revenge." She paused, smirking once again. "You're still to young to have that kind of patience, I'd think. Especially considering your handiwork here." Pippa chuckled softly, taking a more reasonable sip of the bourbon.

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[Victor Creed]

Revenge. That word seemed to trigger something in him oddly enough. He had forgotten about her and her little intrusion upon his late murder spree and drinking party. He was too young to not seek revenge? Perhaps that was true. Just a bit over a century old and revenge was still satsifying. As would that blue doctor's blood upon his claws would be. He may have lost Phoenix but he wasn't going to allow those damned X-men to taint the mind of his daughter. He thought of saying something to her but instead he threw his half empty bottle of whiskey across the room...mostly to hear the satisfying crash from it before he got up and left the bar.

Perhaps he did take a little bit of a detour but it seemed to be enough to gather his mind and determination for what needed to be done. It wouldn't be easy after he would get his daughter back but it had to be done. His daughter had to know the real world not the world the X-men thought existed. There were no real silver linings, only take care of yourself before someone took care of you...permanently.