SUMMARY: Two years have passed since Katze's rescue. Life had begun to even out, but then a man named Victor comes, claiming to be Logan's brother. Sequel to X-Men Sprouts: Cougar.
1: A Man Called Victor
It's been a long time since my capture and rescue. It's been over two years since I found my father. It's been about two years since Logan finally admitted that he actually enjoys my presence. And it's been two years since Gena and Gemma showed up in our lives, becomin' a permanent fixture.
But it's only been six months since Gemma found out about her family's demise. She was kidnapped, like me, but four years earlier than I. Her family died in the struggle for her. She had lived in a cage for 1, 460 days, her only hope bein' that her family would find her and take her away from that hellhole.
By the way, I'm Katze Silver. I live at and help teach P.E. at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, even though I'm 18 and almost two months. (It's June 29th.)My best friends are Caryssa Jameson and Gemma Timothy, though I'm pretty close to Kenya Jameson, Iviey Smieth, Ginnie White, and Ruthia Greene. My mother is Jayne Silver, and my father is Logan, also called Wolverine. Like him, I have another name. Mine is Cougar.
I'm a mutant. I look like a normal, albeit a tall and irritable, girl with messy, short dark brown hair and gold eyes, but I can heal from any wound expect a broken major bone in about three seconds. And death. Death takes longer; usually, I reawaken in five minutes or so.
I'll let you process that.
I also have knuckle-claws made of a hard, white, and slightly sparkly material, an original one seen only in my body by way of my bones. The doctor here at the school, Hank, calls it Aevuminorium. 'Aevuminor' is Latin for 'Ageless', and, if Logan is any indication, I'll never age or die. Well, permanently, anyway. And I'll look 18 forever. Aevuminorium is the second-hardest material on earth; Adamantium is the first. But even that has issues makin' a dent on me.
I'm just awesome like that.
"I'm hot," Caryssa whines.
"Oh, shush, whinosaurus," Iviey snaps, fannin' herself.
Normally they all make fun of me for wearin' tiny shorts and wifebeaters, but today, it's so hot that they're all imitatin' me with shorts and itty-bitty little spaghetti-strap shirts. Kenya's boyfriend, Bobby, came in, saw a roomful of barely-clothed chicks, made a funny gulpin' noise and left again. That was an hour ago; we had a good laugh over it. Now the seven of us (Caryssa, Gemma, Iviey, Ruthia, Kenya, Ginnie, and I) are bored again. Plus the heat is unbearable.
The doorbell rings.
"Door," we all call in unison.
"Don't all jump at once," Logan grumbles from the other room.
"Why would we do that?" asks Kenya lazily. "That would involve movement."
"Don't dig yourself a deeper grave there, chica," Ruthia warns, placin' her olive ankles across Gemma's sequoia-and-coffee bean lap, who shoves her feet off with a deadly Look.
"It's way too hot for that, girl. If you like those appendages attached to your legs, I wouldn't do that."
Ruthia snatches her ankles away as whoever's behind the door bangs on it, losin' all polite pretenses.
"Door," we call again.
"God, a girl goes to shower and suddenly everyone's lazy?" Gena snaps, runnin' down the giant staircase, strokin' her hair impatiently with a pristine white towel.
"We already were lazy," Ginnie explains, liftin' her black hair off her neck.
Gena rolls her eyes at us, and Logan walks into the room with a beer in hand, eyein' the scantily clad Gena. All she's wearin' is loose, tiny, and thin black cotton dress, and it clings to her damp skin in a way Logan clearly likes. Personally, I'm lookin' at her hair- I envy it horribly. It's real long, past her waist, a rich coppery auburn, and straight as a stick.
Logan has the hots for Gena.
He's constantly flirtin' with her and checkin' her out, and askin' her if she's busy later. She flirts back but generally blows him off. 'Course, she flirts with any man who stands still long enough to stare at her. So, of course, Logan pines ever more after her. He's completely smitten. And Gena totally knows it and abuses it.
Not that I can blame her. I would, too, if it were me.
I think they've had sex, too. At least, I think that was the strangled cat noises I heard in February. It would also explain why Gena stoutly ignored Logan for three weeks.
It was during those three weeks that Storm finally asked her to be a part of the X-Men. Gena became the elusive and fiery Fox of the well-known team.
Logan won't let me join. "I'd as soon gut ya myself," as he put it.
Psh. It's not like I can die for any length of time.
"Logan, please stop starin' at my ass," Gena says pleasantly. "I know, it's a very nice ass, but it doesn't like being stared at as much as the rest of me."
BANG. BANG. BANG.
"Is anyone gonna get the door?" Gena sighs.
"Yeah," Logan snaps happily. "You."
"Just for that, dimwit," Gena replies patiently, "you can get it."
Logan mutters under his breath, but with another BANG, he strides over to the door. Glarin' dramatically at us all, he sweeps it open.
The man behind it is stocky, with short black hair and sideburns, ones a lot like Logan's, actually, but shorter and more bristly. He's a bit shorter than Logan, but he certainly looks happier. He grins at my father, revealin' slight fangs.
"You're a hard man to find, Jimmy, my boy."
"What the hell are ya talkin' about?" Logan snarls, poppin' out his claws.
"Don't tell me you don't recall your own brother," laughs the man, clearly uncaring of the Adamantium knives comin' out of my father's knuckles.
"Who are you?" I ask, quite confused, rememberin' a conversation with a certain Colonel.
The man looks at me as I stride over to my father, and then at Logan, who's poised to fight, a look of comprehension and glee dawnin' on his tan face.
"Well, Jimmy, looks like you got busy!" the man roars. "Who's this?"
"We've been wonderin' that about you!" I growl. I know my eyes are practically sparking.
"Victor Creed. But didn't Daddy tell ya all about horrible Uncle Vicky?"
Screamin', Gemma launches off the couch and propels herself at him.
"Well," Victor smirks as Kenya, Ginnie, and Ruthia hold her back. "If it isn't Gemma Timothy, the plant mutant."