13563/The Hunter Hunted

The Hunter Hunted
Date of Scene:	12 December 2022
Location:	The Hills of Appalachia
Synopsis:	Wynonna's target meets a less savory end - Victor's claws. At least she has a story to tell the folks back at the watercooler, though!
Cast of Characters:	Victor Creed, Wynonna Earp

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Victor Creed has posed:
Sniffing at the air, Victor Creed remains crouched low behind the brush, a frown on his face. He had been chasing down his quarry for a good thirty minutes, and thought he had been closing in fairly well. Just he and his target, the middle of nowhere. Easy pickings, and then he would collect his check and move onto the next.

Except now there was another scent in the air. One he didn't recognize. Female. Human. And unless he was mistaken - and he rarely was - a smell he had not encountered out in the wild in a long, long time. An old school Colt revolver. He was not sure exactly what that meant, but he knew that somehow, this hunt just got way, way more interesting.

A fangy grin appears on his face for a moment, and then he straightens up, bounding off in the general direction of his quarry. But wide enough to put him towards an intersect course with the newcomer. They were far enough away that he felt that perhaps he could dally a bit along the way...

Wynonna Earp has posed:
The scent of woman and Colt is joined by Marlboro shortly after, as the woman pauses in her trek through the snowy mountains to light one up with a match. She inhales the scent of the frshly strucjk match and grins to herself as she breathes in to bring her cigarette to life. She glances up and about, then, brushing hair from her face as she takes a long pull on the cigarette. The target was somewhere nearby. The lab had spent the last week tracking the cultist down, and this is where he should be hiding out. She? He? They? Zhey? Honestly, she didn't know the identity of the cultist. She knew to look for a neck scar from a failed assassination, and be on the look out for spooky magic shit.

Now, here's where things get a bit more interesting. Unlike a certain blonde, furred behemoth, Earp was here to bring the cultist in alive. They had information WAND needed to forestall the monthly apocalypse. She crunched her way through the snow, one hand on her cigarette, and the other resting lightly on the butt of her pistol, holstered low on her hip.

Victor Creed has posed:
Definitely unlike. No one sent Victor Creed out to get any target that they wanted back alive. At least, no one with any degree of common sense.

Cults, magic, apocalypse. None of that mattered to Victor. If it was part of his briefing, he had tuned it out. All he knows is that there is a bundle of cash on the other side of this walking dead man, and he aimed to collect. Minimal proof would be needed, of course. And Victor was not interested in sharing the pot with anyone else.

The scent of the Marlboro gives him a brief pause and a smile. Whoever this woman was, she had taste, at least. And he idly wonders how she might taste. That much, he would play by ear, he decides, as he lopes off in the direction of the cultist. He supposes he could undertake some effort to be stealthy, but that was not very sporting. He felt like he should give the girl something of a chance. It always felt better when they had a bit of terror in them by the time he got there.

So what if his course was taking him closer to her than to the cultist? He wasn't going anywhere useful anytime soon.

Wynonna Earp has posed:
She takes another drag from her cigarette as she moves through the snow. She is unaware that anyone is in these woods other then herself and her target. Soon, however, an old cabin comes into view with smoke pouring from the chimney. This has to be the place.

She walks out into the snowy clearing surrounding the cabin and tugs her Colt from her holster. She checks the chamber...which is empty as always...and lowers it to her side. She'd be within view of Victor as he moves closer through the woods.

Victor Creed has posed:
A cabin. How quaint. A perfect place to hole up if you were trying to hide. And keep warm in the snow. And unlikely to be a place the target is prepared to dash out of if there is a ruckus outside.

There is a brief moment when Victor considers letting the woman get to the target first, and taking them both at the same time. But he once had the misfortune of watching a teleporter disappear with his quarry, and so, never again.

There is a crunch from the snow just off to the side of where Wynonna is standing. Leaning against a tree, Victor regards her as he idly picks at his fanged teeth with a claw. "Hate to tell you that you trekked all the way out here for nothin', but..." He grins at her. "Unless you want the wrong kind of trouble, best be going back the way you came."

Wynonna Earp has posed:
She clicks the hammer back and raises the pistol towards Creed, turning to partially face him. She plucks her cigarette from her lips with her other hand. She peers briefly at the pistol, as if looking for something, and then shrugs. "Aaaaaaalright. Tall, blonde and scary. You work with the person in there? Some kinda bodyguard or something?"

Wynonna takes another drag and then flicks the cigarette into the snow, her attention split between the big feral and the cabin behind her.

Victor Creed has posed:
Not taking his eyes off of Wynonna, even to consider the pistol aimed at him, Victor laughs. "Not at all. I'm here for the same reason you're here, I'm guessing. Plenty of people want his ass. Not sure if you're being offered more than I am, but if it's more than double..." He wriggles his fingers. "Nothing wrong with saying you got him first if it puts more cash in my account." He laughs. "I'd just leave out the part where I was beat by a girl."

His eyes briefly shift away as she flicks the cigarette, taking another moment to glance over her. Sizing up her posture as she is faced with a threat slightly different than a cowering cultist.

Wynonna Earp has posed:
She does not look afraid. Her back is straight, and an eyebrow is arched. It's a cocky posture, honestly. "Heh. I can't offer you probably half what you get. I'm here to truss him up and take him back to Gotham. Alive. Truss. That's a word, right? Totally a word."

She squints at the big man a bit, sizing him up as well.

"Soooooo...paid killer?"

Victor Creed has posed:
"It's a word," confirms Victor. "Shitty word, but a word." He spits into the snow. "No such requirement for me to bring him back alive, sad to say, which means it'll be a hell of a lot easier if I kill him here." He shrugs. "Nothing to carry back if I do the deed here."

Something about the confidence she adopts even when faced with a clearly stone cold killer gives Victor some pause. Not that he is afraid - more admiration. "Yeah, 'mong other things. You?"

Wynonna Earp has posed:
"Ah. Well. Slept through most of my English classes...then dropped out, so...I'm happy I was right at all." She grins a bit.

"Nah, nothing so edgy. I work for SHIELD's redheaded stepchild of an organization. They didn't even spring for us to have a Keurig. We have a damn Mr. Coffee."

She doesn't lower the pistol. "Damn. Looks like we have a problem, then. He has info we need, and the techies need to pull it out of him. We only do necromancy every other month, so we met our quota already." She pauses. "I needed to find out if Elvis was really dead. Turns out he is. Also, he's kind of a jerk."

Victor Creed has posed:
"Ah. SHIELD." Victor shrugs, seemingly unbothered by the affiliation as Wynonna drops the group's name. "Well, shame they didn't send you out with a few more friends, because, uh..." He glances around for a moment. "I don't think you really have enough of an army here to stay in my way." He starts advancing towards her, and the cabin by extension, slowly.

"I admire your spunk, so I'm going to be generous and let you walk away now before I have to do something I'm going to regret." He pauses. "For a minute or so, at least."

Wynonna Earp has posed:
"Sheesh. You don't have to say SHIELD like it's a bad word. Well...I figure you say bad words easier."

She inches the barrel to the right and pulls the trigger. There's a flash of golden energy and the tree beside Creed explodes into splinters, before the top of the tree begins to plummet towards him. No Colt packs a punch like that.

Victor Creed has posed:
"More than say 'em, I make other people say 'em easier." Victor grins. "What kind of bad word do you want to--"

The discarge of the weapon brings his sentence to a close. And not just the sentence, but the entire polite conversation. He snarls and leaps forward, trying to close the distance between the two of them and slash at her hand with his claws. Whether the Colt will hurt him enough to be a serious threat or not, he does not want her taking another shot.

Wynonna Earp has posed:
She's already backpedaling by the time the tree is falling, and it crashes into the snow behind the man. She didn't expect those reflexes or that speed for someone so big. She hits the snow in a roll and comes up just out of reach of swipe. Just barely.

"Ah, shit! How are you so QUICK?"

Suddenlt the door to the cabin swings open, and a tall, skinny man with dishevelled black hair and sallow skin appears on the porch. Seeing the two he turns and begins to sprint across the snow towards the opposite tree line.

"CRAP! There he goes!"

Victor Creed has posed:
Few expect the speed of Victor, and those that see it rarely live to tell about it as a result. "I ate my Wheaties this morning," he snarls back, watching her with a grin as she repositions herself just out of his reach.

He glances briefly to see the man dash out of the cabin, and then looks back to Wynonna. "Good thing for me is, I travel a lot faster than he does, and he'll make plenty of tracks." He lets his fangs out into view once more. "I'll forgive you for the first shot. Last chance, though. Walk away, or I'm adding your Colt to my collection before I take him back to my client."

Wynonna Earp has posed:
"I'm more of a shot and a beer for breakfast kinda gal."

She glances aside at the cultist, and then back to Victor. She's good in a fight...for a normal person. Her gun is special, but otherwise she's just...a person. And not some amazingly trained one, at that. She gets by with bravado, dirty fighting and sardonic humor. None of those things will let her survive an encounter with this man, and she knows it.

"Fine." She lowers the gun, but is watching him warily. "He's yours. WAND can't blame me if you get to him first. Either way, the guy won't be causing any apocalypses. Apocap...apocali?"

Victor Creed has posed:
"Really? Funny, that's my kinda gal too." Victor grins back, although his body is still poised as if it is ready to strike.

Watching her do the calculations, though, Victor sniffs at the air a bit. He can tell, too - she is just a normal human. Normish, at least. She wouldn't pose much of a challenge at all.

"Yeah, you can report back that you found him ripped to shreds. If you want, I'll leave some entrails for you to take back." He glances towards where the man is rapidly retreating, and then looks back to Wynonna. "Although, I gotta be honest. You seem way more interesting than he is."

The cultist doesn't look back, making haste to leave the scene. Not like there is any place to go for miles, but...

Wynonna Earp has posed:
"Well, I'm flattered." She doesn't holster the pistol as they talk. "Aaaaaaand, that's a no on the entrails. Sweet of you, though," she jokes with a smirk. "And thanks...but I'm not really into hired killers. I don't have a lot of standards, but I have a few. Usually."

Victor Creed has posed:
Tsking softly at that, Victor shakes his head. "That's a shame. Because here I was thinkin' I'd be all nice, and maybe we could share a cozy breakfast, and I'd even let you take your guy in. It's the sentimental side of me." He starts to move towards her again. "Doesn't come out often, but here we are."

Wynonna Earp has posed:
She takes a step back, keeping pace as best she can to keep the distance between them, even if his steps are larger then her own. "Last guy I was with was a drunk and a gunslinger with a few kills under his belt. I learned my lesson. Well...I mean...kinda. ANYWAYS," she states loudly, as if scolding herself.

"Go get the guy. I have a long ass walk back to town."

Victor Creed has posed:
"I don't get drunk," retorts Victor. "And I don't need a gun." He straightens up, stopping his advance, as he glances off towards where the man retreated, before looking back to Wynonna. "You sure you learned the right lesson, though?" He rolls his head around on his neck, as if preparing for a fight. Or a hunt.

"Make ya a deal. You wait here, I'll get our guy, then I'll give you a lift back to town. My chopper isn't parked that far away." He grins. "Unless you're scared that I'm gonna do something vicious."

Wynonna Earp has posed:
"I don't trust myself enough for that, big guy, and I sure as hell don't trust -you- enough for that. My bike is on the road, anyways. Can't leave Black Beauty behind." Her pistol is holstered.

"Go get your quarry, blondie. I have a feeling assholes like us'll meet again."

Victor Creed has posed:
"Have it your way," replies Victor, with a grin. He sniffs at the air for a moment, and then nods. "That's the third good decision you've made so far. I wouldn't trust me either."

He bows his head, perhaps mockingly, and nods. "Oh. Yeah. We'll meet again." There is a certain confidence in his statement. Or is it a threat? And then he goes bounding off into the snow.

It is less than a minute before the sound of the cultist's scream cuts through the air for a brief moment before cutting out entirely.