Owner	Pose
Victor Creed	It has been several months since Batwoman had dropped a flaming building around Sabertooth. Literally. But what Batwoman did not realize is that it takes a lot more than that to take that particular kitty down. All it does is make him mad. And so Victor waited, avoiding Gotham to stretch out the period of time. He may be hot blooded, but he was a believer in the maxim about revenge being best served cold, and he had a lot of patience. Plus, after the lengths Batwoman went through to plan the perfect gauntlet of challenges to take him out, he needed a similarly complex plan. After he felt he had waited long enough for Batwoman to forget about their prior encounters and put him into the distant memory, he decided it was time to execute his complicated plan. The first part was easy; he could sniff out anyone, even in a city that reeked as badly as Gotham, and tracking Batwoman was not hard at all. Once that was done, it was as simple as staking out her place, waiting until her cleaning woman left for her next visit, and borrowing the access card to her penthouse. Well, Sabertooth intended to borrow, but since the cleaning woman no longer had need for it, he was not under any pressure to return it. And now in a bit of a role reversal, it is the Sabertooth that lies in wait for the Bat to return to her belfry. He had some surprises in store for her. Although unlike Batwoman, his were far simpler. His claws and his fangs.
Kate Kane	It /has/ been several months since Kate Kane unleashed a calculated, arguably excessive series of deathtraps on Victor Creed, culminating in her watching a warehouse on the Gotham docks go up in flames. And while it did give her a sense of security that she wouldn't be ambushed by a crazed, sadistic homicidal mutant anymore, that was about it. For Gotham's fire department it was the day a warehouse burst into flames like it was designed to. For Kate, it was a Tuesday. Was it a Tuesday? It was sure some day. Definitely ended in Y. Which is to say that while it eliminated a threat in a very decisive and permanent fashion, like all vengeance there was no sudden lifting of weight, no bright sunrise the next morning on a whole new outlook on life. Criminals kept committing crimes, Kate kept doing her part to punish them, and eventually the latest group of human traffickers or drug dealers was enough of a concern that her seemingly dead opponent. Kate /had/ indeed forgotten all about the lethal animal that had hunted her through the streets of New York and been a very literal pain in... well, not just her side. But with no sudden insight on herself, no recontextualizing of her life, Kate's once more found herself awash in a sea of crime and human filth, and a lack of genuine social life. And she's coped in the way Kate so often does with high class charity functions to attend. Write a check to demonstrate her philanthropy, and hit the open bar like a demon. On the top of her game, Kate would probably run some kind of counter surveillance operation now and then to make sure that, say, a seemingly returned from the dead enemy hasn't been tracking her down. But Kate is not on the top of her game tonight. She's actually a decent way into the proverbial bottle. The door to her penthouse clicks, magnetic locks releasing as Kate swipes her own keycard, before she slinks, really more a controlled stumble through the door, a pearl choker around her neck contrasting the black dress with plunging neck and back lines and a high slit up her right side to above her hip, sharp heels apparently something she can walk in even when she's thoroughly drunk. After all, she's got /practice/. If Kate's lucky, she'll beat herself up about just how far she's let her security slip. Well, metaphorically beat herself up.
Victor Creed	It is almost disappointing to Victor as he watches Kate stumble in, literally, as he is the monster hiding from beneath her bed. There is something almost poetic to him about that, how basic and simple it is. An elite predator playing children's games. But he wanted her to see just how basic it really was. His first glimpse of the woman beneath the bat suit is interesting, to say the least. Some of it is as he expected. Certainly, he knew that red wig was fake. He debates with himself about whether or not to wait it out. Would it even be fun to come after her in this state? Maybe he should just slip back out and come back another time when she was sober. Certainly, she was sober other times, right?
Kate Kane	Kate kicks her penthouse door shut, slipping out of her heels, small clutch bag tossed haphazardly onto the small table next to the entryway. She appears to be in the midst of a well-practiced coming home ritual, cell phone recovered from that bag, a few swipes and the stereo fills the penthouse with some ambient music as Kate runs a hand through her short hair, ruffling and messing it up with a frustrated little noise low in her throat. She makes her way towards the kitchen, a few more stumbles... that seem almost exaggerated as she makes her way into the kitchen. Because while Kate's drunk, and frustrated, and it's late... she's still Batwoman. And there's no silly little hand drawn cat note from her cleaning lady. Presumably the penthouse also isn't left in its usual post-cleaning state. Kate is definitely checking her text messages, and not checking the security system logs to discover 'her housekeeper' swiped in earlier in the day and hasn't swiped out as she rummages in the kitchen. She knew she should have listened to that vicious part of her and kept an arsenal hidden throughout the apartment to a point that even other Bats would consider paranoid. Still, a butcher knife /is/ a butcher knife and she does have a nice knife block on the counter with a variety of them. Which is good, because they're not /combat/ knives so she's sure they'll break, and having multiples is going to be useful for whatever this is. She calls out, voice calm, just barely slurred, "Okay, whoever it is, you can come out! You're clearly not a catburglar, because... I mean, Catwoman wouldn't use a /key/, and the only other cat burglar I know has her own. So if this is some sort of ransom thing, kidnapping the rich heiress and all, I mean... really? Just stealing the jewelry would've been a better course of action. You could've pawned it by now."
Victor Creed	"It is /far/ more personal than that." The voice comes out from beneath the bed before a taloned hand swings out, claws gripping the floor to slowly pull Sabertooth out. Who most likely does qualify as a monster under the bed. "You were wearing a different outfit the last time we danced, pretty, but you smell the same." Victor sniffs at the air. "A bit less drunk, though. Very disappointing." He grins toothily at her, baring his fangs. Watching to see just what Kate Kane is going to do.
Kate Kane	Their previous interactions have involved minimal talking. And also at least a couple of concussions for Kate. But that voice brings an immediate, primal reaction from the heroine and heiress. If it had been any other monster crawling out from under her bed. Joker? Killer Croc? Scarecrow? There'd be some witty banter about how she'd have to get the flooring redone to get rid of their blood. Victor Creed gets an inarticulate snarl of rage and pure, consuming hatred. He also gets a flurry of incoming high priced forged kitchen knives before Kate's vaulting the kitchen island to rush the rising mutant with a cleaver in her right hand and an 8" chef's knife in the left. Because Kate buried all her trauma from their previous encounters when she left him in that burning warehouse, right?
Victor Creed	The rage amuses him. It was what he craved. "Now we got something," he mutters as she comes dashing at him, knives flying. He is just as quick as she remembers, or perhaps doesn't remember, and bobs and weaves out of the way of the knives, swatting one of them away in disgust before he prepares to meet her attack. As she rushes /he/ moves forward to try to anticipate her swing, slipping to the side /not/ with the cleaver and throwing out one of his claws. She is probably going to be able to slice at him with her knife, but his talons are looking to rake the side of her ribs. And he's got more than one. Not to mention he heals /a lot/ faster than she does. He likes this plan.
Kate Kane	Kate's right back where she was during that alleyway fight in New York, she's beyond thought or reason, there's no measured, calculated method to her attack. She is nothing but rage unleashed. Kate's drunk, furious, and willing to risk more than she really should to strike at Sabretooth for daring to be so vile as to A) Not die in a warehouse fire like he was supposed to and B) Invade her personal space. Her dress has no hope of withstanding the claws, even if it /had/ been formed of knife resistant fabric, there's not enough bulk to it for that to help. But she does her best to minimize the rake of claws along her ribs while she does her best to simply bury the knives she's carrying in his neck. She left him in one piece last time. She won't make that mistake this time. But she also knows that the longer the fight goes, the more the odds stack against her. She recalls falling unconscious on a rooftop in the wreckage of a chimney. A marathon is not her friend. So she goes for a sprint, vicious and unyielding assault as her best gamble. Kate's not the best gambler.
Victor Creed	The knife hits home, embedding itself in Victor's arm however as he throws it up to defend his knock, and then he pulls it away, effectively disarming her. He can deal with that flesh and muscle wound just fine. He knocks the cleaver from her other hand. THAT would take longer to heal from. He beckons her with his free hand, licking his lips as she charges at him, waiting for her to get close. He absorbs blow after blow, letting her tire herself out, letting that fury ignite itself until she can burn through whatever adrenaline she has. At least for a time. He does not want /all/ of the fight out of her. He swings the broad side of his arm at her, the side with the knife, dislodging it from his flesh before he follows with a punch aimed at her shoulder of all places. Except this punch, if hit straight on, may be enough to dislocate it, and give her something else to worry about.