#raze thread

"Ya busy, kid? I'm goin' huntin' and fishin."

He spent a great deal of time sleeping these days; Raze was bored. Sleep, eat, fuck. Then sleep again. Eat again. It was a bored, dull, cycle that he couldn’t really bother trying to get out of. There hadn’t been any new missions with the Hellions and he wasn’t authorized to go on other missions.

He pushed open the trap door enough to look out, and when he realized it was Logan he grew a shirt on his torso. Well, the standard open jacket. “I’m never busy, dad. And it’s driving me insane.” 

Well, Logan isn't any better than anyone else in that respect. Oh, he's been through enough that he should be able to handle just about anything that gets thrown at him, but for some reason, it's the petty stuff that happens after the major stuff that tips him over the edge.

And for him, "reset" means fishing.

Everyone knows this. When *that* jacket comes out and *that* hat appears on his head, every single person who knows him gives him his berth.

There are few who know where his cabin is. "Somewhere in Alberta, I think. Maybe near Peace River?" Is the best that they can say. But it's out there, and it's a sacred place. By outward appearances, that small shack with a wooden workbench in the back that's obviously been used for skinning animals and gutting fish, is shabby enough it ought to be condemned, or better yet, left to the elements to do what nature does best. But somehow Mother Nature has allowed it to persevere; even when its owner has been gone for, sometimes, years at a time.

Logan drives that white truck up the gravel path and parks on the side of the cabin. He tosses the keys up onto the dashboard, gets out, and goes around back to get his catch; a few walleye and a northern pike.

That ought to last him a day or so.

The hunt hadn’t been easy. Raze couldn’t give himself away, and the last thing he wanted was to be found out before he was ready. He would need the element of surprise to have victory. Needed Logan to trust him. And that, he was certain, was who he was after. Locating his mother had, somehow, been more simple. She had been keeping tabs on him. When he went looking she came to answer his questions.

Now the time was right. Logan was away from the rest of his team, isolated and alone. Raze had found his way there, tracking him best he was able. It was well after dark by the time he had found the cabin. Raze made sure to doubt check his identity. He looked normal enough, no blue skin or severe red hair. He looked like any other young man. Except this one had claws.

Raze had been lying for years. Since he was a young teen; replacing other teens who had loving families. He was a good liar. Could be the convincing lie he needed to be. The boy looking for his long lost father. Best lies were close to the truth. 

Knocking on the cabin door, Raze turned to look out at the forest line. This place felt right. Felt natural. He’d been a predator for many years. A feral mutant, that’s what his type were called. Wild. Uncivilized. Perhaps he was. Maybe he belonged out here in the forest. His musings were cut short by the opening of the door, and he began his complicated lie. Raze presented himself as a frightened, exhausted, boy pretending to be strong. It was an interesting balance, but something he used often.

That was, frankly, an entirely reasonable request. Raze gave Logan a sidelong look, still tense. Still ready for a fight. But the claws gradually retracted. He took a step closer, hesitating. 

Unpleasant. So very unpleasant. 

Raze snarled as the joint in the arm twisted on it’s axis, allowing his reach to reverse. “Alright. Lets see how you like this one.” The club slendered, a razor point growing from the tip. A venomous sting. And he struck, intended to stick a six inch long stinger into Shaw’s stomach.

It was rather difficult, realizing over the last few years that he had siblings. He’d been alone in the world one minute, then suddenly bam. Half dozen siblings running around. Shouldn’t have been a surprise considering both of his parents get around a lot.

He had and endless well of hate for his parents, even here on the island. But the siblings? Them? He didn’t have anything against them. He even felt a bit protective over them. He hadn’t spent as much time with Rogue as he had some of the others. Strange that he felt so protective, then. 

"If any tongues are damaged without consent, I will bite you in half, crush your corpse into two Howlett cubes and hang you from my rearview mirror like a pair of fuzzy blue dice."

“Don’t recall being asked to come here and get bitched at.“ Raze can feel the claws inside his arms, muscles flexing impulsively. There were a lot of reasons to come to the Bower. Sex, kinky bastards wanting all kinds of wild things. At least one person was a good listener. If he wasn’t allowed to be feral, and neither of his parents wanted anything to do with him, Daken the only sibling who’ll even accept he exists; he needs something. For now it’s Bower.