Post by Creed on Jun 25, 2007 9:02:00 GMT -4
Victor Creed whistled as he strode through the "Genetic Research Centre" carrying a metal bowl filled to the brim with plump strawberries.
Creed wasn't a bad whistler.
He kept his eyes trained ahead of him and had the distinct air about him of someone who just didn't give a damn what was going on in the rooms...cells might be a better word, he thought...around him. Most were empty, but a few held candidates waiting to be retrained. The heels of his cowboy boots clacked against the tile as he strutted through the complex as though it wasn't even there.
Creed was a pretty decent actor.
But Victor Creed was doing a little research of his own. His heightened sense of smell searched the area all around him. His advanced sense of hearing caught the echoes from his heels and began to form a kind of map within his mind. He already knew where McCoy was - messing around with security systems near the helipad. But McCoy wasn't the one on Creed's mind. It was her.
Something caught his interest and he slowed to a stop, sniffing as his eyes scanned the floor around him. Then he raised his gaze upward toward the ceiling and the airducts that lined the walls. He sniffed at the air once again. Creed's eyes narrowed, and he scowled.
The thing Creed was best at was tracking.
Then, without any more hesitation he turned a corner and resumed his whistling, heel-clacking journey.
Creed wasn't a bad whistler.
He kept his eyes trained ahead of him and had the distinct air about him of someone who just didn't give a damn what was going on in the rooms...cells might be a better word, he thought...around him. Most were empty, but a few held candidates waiting to be retrained. The heels of his cowboy boots clacked against the tile as he strutted through the complex as though it wasn't even there.
Creed was a pretty decent actor.
But Victor Creed was doing a little research of his own. His heightened sense of smell searched the area all around him. His advanced sense of hearing caught the echoes from his heels and began to form a kind of map within his mind. He already knew where McCoy was - messing around with security systems near the helipad. But McCoy wasn't the one on Creed's mind. It was her.
Something caught his interest and he slowed to a stop, sniffing as his eyes scanned the floor around him. Then he raised his gaze upward toward the ceiling and the airducts that lined the walls. He sniffed at the air once again. Creed's eyes narrowed, and he scowled.
The thing Creed was best at was tracking.
Then, without any more hesitation he turned a corner and resumed his whistling, heel-clacking journey.
