Unlike the other Marauders, Victor was still his original self. That distinction gave him a great deal of pride and also, it was understood that he was to have some autonomy. When Sinister didn't specifically need him to kill someone, he could do as he damn well pleased. And what pleased him more than anything was to spend time up north, hunting and killing.

Animals, mostly, but also people. Most of them were poor prey. A bear was strong, deer were swift. Most humans were useless.

But this? This looked promising. He could smell the mutant on these ones. And one of those girls had a very, very familiar scent. Birdy. He'd liked Birdy, kept her alive. But she died on him just like they all did.

They were pretty, too, for little brats. Their deaths would make a nice message. Though he'd keep the one alive. For old time's sake, if nothing else.

Victor remained silent, his scent well covered with a concoction of his own making. He'd decided he'd take one of the girls, leave them as a trap for the others. But which one?

Maybe the little girl with the wings, but she never seemed to be alone.

The next one to wander off, anywhere.

He'd get that one.