Sabretooth stalked angrily through the metal hallways of the base to the underground garage, grinding his sharp teeth and flexing his claws angrily. That Gambit got the reward was typical he thought visciously.. He approached an un-remarkable black sedan with tinted windows and threw open the door violently, snarling to himself and running his tongue along his sharp teeth, relishing the taste of his own blood. He'd taste hers before long he promised himself darkly, getting into the car, retrieving the keys from under the dash.
His lip curled as he started the engine. He detested these cars; his huge frame was ludicrously cramped in the seat of the car, but it was the last thing anyone would expect the followers of the great Magneto to drive. Although he'd never admit he was forced to agree it was worth while; no-one had ever given him a second glance.
He gunned the car up a ramp and the wide metal doors at the top slid open smoothly. The car slid into a wide bay and the doors closed behind it and Sabretooth winced at the hissing of high-powered jets as disinfectant was sprayed evenly over and under the car. He waited until the air had cleared and a second set of doors had opened, then accelerated out into the night. He'd also go through a car wash before he picked up his bike; much as he'd love an excuse to confront Wolverine the weak-hearted little shit had a habit of sticking his over-sensitive nose in, and tonight he needed to stay quiet. He gave a raw chuckle at the irony; the great Wolverine, Weapon X, bested by the vanity of these baseline scum. There was some justice in the world.
He paused at the thought of what Wolverine would do if he could see his little Rogue now, the smell of her still in his nostrils. He narrowed his yellow eyes and a smirk began to creep across his face. If he wasn't given what he wanted he then he would take it. It was more fun like that anyway.
In the meantime he'd follow orders like the good soldier he was. He laughed again at Magneto's arrogance; 'go about your task' he'd said, as though he was in charge, as if he were in control. The car engine roared as Sabertooth crushed the pedal to the floor, his eyes alight with malice. Playing him had almost been too easy, and if Creed were any judge, Eric was soon going to find out what control really meant.