Owner	Pose
Stepford Cuckoos	The elegant interior of the ladies lingerie store gleamed under soft, flattering lights, casting a warm glow over the plush carpets and racks of delicate, lacy garments. The air was filled with the faint scent of lavender and vanilla, creating an atmosphere of both sophistication and intimacy.----In the midst of this refined setting, the Stepford Cuckoos---Phoebe, Esme, Sophie, Irma, and Celeste---were engaged in a rather uncharacteristic display of light-hearted camaraderie. Each of the sisters, normally the epitome of poise and control, was holding up different pieces of lingerie with a mix of curiosity and critical appraisal.----Phoebe, holding a bold red set, smirked as she struck a pose, "Seriously, who wears this? I look like I'm about to fight crime." She gave an exaggerated superhero stance, eliciting a rare chuckle from Esme.----Esme, draped in a shimmering black negligee, rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her amusement. "Oh please, Phoebe, you'd scare off more than crime in that. Besides, black is more... commanding," she said, twirling with a flourish.----Sophie, examining a delicate white lace ensemble, looked thoughtful. "I think this one's quite elegant, actually. It has a sort of... bridal charm," she mused, turning to get her sisters' opinions.----Irma, with a playful glint in her eye, held up a bright pink babydoll. "Well, if we're going for charm, how about this? It's almost... romantic," she said, fluttering her eyelashes exaggeratedly, making the others laugh.----Celeste, the most composed of the group, was adjusting the straps of a classy blue set in front of a mirror. "Let's be serious for a moment. We're here to find something that suits each of us, not just for laughs," she said, though her slight smile betrayed her enjoyment of the moment.----The sisters continued their playful banter, each trying on different pieces and modeling for the others, their usual cold and calculating demeanors softened by the rare moment of sisterly fun. The store's ambiance, combined with their own unique styles, made for a scene both comical and endearing.
Victor Creed	The things Vic did for a woman. In this case Birdy was back in town to triple-check Sinister's work and she deserved something nice for all the shit he'd put her through. So he'd got the address of this classy place from an acquaintance and, with a sigh, walked into the store. First impressions - it stank. Cloying lavender and vanilla assaulted his senses like an icepick to the face. Second impression - store's clientele seemed to be full of twentysomething girls giggling and trying shit on. And while he overall was a big fan of nibile young things in not-much, through the cloying lavender and vanilla they all smelled damned near identical. Quintuplets or clones, maybe? Maybe if he ignored them they'd go away. Fat chance. Six and a half feet of blond ponytailed muscle tended to draw looks no matter where he went.
Stepford Cuckoos	The Stepford Cuckoos' attention remained fixed on the imposing figure of Victor Creed as he entered the store. Their playful demeanor shifted as they sensed the chaotic and feral nature of his mind, a stark contrast to the typical clientele.----For a moment, they simply stared, processing the influx of raw, untamed thoughts that accompanied him. Esme was the first to break the silence, her eyes lighting up with recognition and a strange mix of fascination.----"That's Victor Creed," she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement. "Also known as Sabretooth. He's in the X-Mansion's files as a highly dangerous individual. Logan's talked about him---there are so many stories."----Phoebe raised an eyebrow, glancing between Esme and the towering figure. "The same Logan who always tells us to stay out of trouble? He's mentioned Creed a few times."----Sophie looked skeptical, "Dangerous is putting it mildly. He's done a lot of terrible things, Esme."----Irma, still holding the bright pink babydoll, seemed intrigued despite herself. "Logan's stories always made him sound... relentless. Almost unstoppable."----Celeste, always the voice of reason, glanced at Esme. "And you're fascinated by him? Esme, he's a psychopath."----Esme's eyes sparkled with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. "I know he's dangerous, but there's something about him... It's like listening to a true crime podcast. You know it's horrifying, but you can't stop."----The sisters exchanged glances, their usual unity momentarily disrupted by Esme's unusual enthusiasm.----"So, what do we do?" Sophie asked, her eyes flicking back to Creed.----Esme smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I think we should interact with him. This could be... interesting."----The sisters collectively hesitated, weighing the potential risks and rewards, before slowly nodding in agreement.
Victor Creed	Great. They septuplets had made him. Apparently they were probably some of Xavier's brats, turned out on someone else's credit card to go amuse themselves. Welp, he was never minded to shop much at all. His shopping was tactical. Know what you were there to get. Get in. Get it. Pay for it. Get out. Nice, quick, clean. Simple. Birdy was a delightfully trashy Texan girl, full of piss and vinegar, so he headed over towards the blood-red little scraps of not-much. He had a unique means of sizing things as well, which usually served him pretty well. To-Get List: Bra. Appropriately sized, cut just so. Stockings. Garters. Maybe a couple of truly trashy pair of undies to finish things off.
Stepford Cuckoos	The Stepford Cuckoos exchanged knowing nods, a silent agreement passing between them. With a predatory grace, they fanned out and descended on Victor Creed like a pack of wolves, surrounding him in an eerily coordinated manner.----Esme stepped forward, her eyes glinting with a mix of admiration and curiosity. "Victor Creed, also known as Sabretooth," she greeted him, her voice smooth and confident. "I've read about you extensively. Your ability to follow your primal nature so effortlessly is truly fascinating."----She continued, her tone becoming more analytical, "You see, psychopaths have become a hobby of mine. The way you operate with such raw instinct, unencumbered by societal norms or moral constraints, is a remarkable study in human behavior. Your mind must be a labyrinth of survival instincts and primal urges."----Phoebe, unable to contain her excitement, chimed in, "We have so many questions!"----With that, the floodgates opened. Each sister began to bombard Victor with questions, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony.----"How do you decide who to target?" Irma asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.----"What's the most dangerous situation you've survived?" Sophie inquired, leaning in closer.----"How do you sleep at night?" Celeste's voice was calm, almost clinical, perhaps the least fan-girl response ever.----"What's the worst injury you have ever had? Or caused?" Phoebe's question was tinged with Esme's admiration.----As the questions continued to pour in, the Cuckoos' excitement and fascination were palpable, their usual cold demeanor momentarily replaced by a collective, intense curiosity.
Victor Creed	Victor creed just looked at the five of them. Then he sighed. "If I answer your questions, will you shut the fuck up and let me get what I came here to get? Or is this gonna have to get bloody before you get the message?" he asked in a near-growl. He didn't get headaches thanks to his healing factor so this grinding pain behind his eyeballs had to be psychosomatic. Had to be. So first he looked over to Esme. "Don't believe everything you read. I'm probably worse." he said. "And when you're as old as I am, society changes so often you just stop giving a fuck." Next, to Irms. "Whoever's paying me or whoever's pissing me off." he said with a not-at-all friendly grin that definitely showed why he's called Sabretooth. Sophie next. "Black death, in what's now Arizona, 1880s. That or being literally eviscerated by the runt. Nothing like having your own guts slithering through your hands to coil on the ground" he said. And boy, that was a fun memory to get unlocked. To Celeste, he kept his fangy grin. "Stop by sometime and find out." he taunted her. And then finally, to Phoebe, he just said "Wouldn't want to sully tender ears by telling you." he said with a mocking grin.
Stepford Cuckoos	As Victor's veiled threat hung in the air, the Stepford Cuckoos exchanged a brief, silent look. One by one, starting with Phoebe and moving like a wave, their bodies transformed into their diamond forms, shimmering and reflecting the store's soft lighting.----Esme, now in her diamond form, stepped forward again. "We understand your reluctance, but this won't be all of the questions," she stated calmly, her voice resonating with a crystalline clarity. "And as you can see, we're in a rather... defensive state right now. It's unlikely you'd be able to hurt us."----She offered a slight smile, almost a challenge. "However, if it makes things easier, we can ask you one at a time. What do you say?"
Victor Creed	Victor looked her over. "Is that a challenge, girly?" he asked. "All I want you to do is to fucking shut your yap before I do it for you." he said. His fingertips ached with the desire to pop claw and see if he could cut diamond but he was fighting it with everything he had. Because he'd realized something - he recognized this power. These were Emma's clone-brats. And if they were diamond then they weren't telepathic. Which put them firmly in his corner. He then spent a pleasant moment wondering if diamond could break diamond. Probably. Might take some work, but that was hardly a hardship for him. Their diamond form was defensive - it's not like they had anything but their own strength and maybe fingernails to use as weapons. "Be a shame to have to get Emma to pay for all the damages because you're collectively too stupid to walk away." he commented.
Stepford Cuckoos	The Stepford Cuckoos looked at each other for a brief moment, their diamond forms glinting under the store lights. Then, with a collective understanding, Celeste stepped forward, her expression dry and cynical.----"Not meant to be perceived as a threat but, individually we are possibly physically stronger than you are. We would like to avoid it, but with some introspection, we should inform you that we are a collective, and we work as one with each being an individual one. It would take only one of us to get hold of one of your limbs and at that point we could possibly all get a hold of a limb, leaving one of us to take the head instead, and all pull back at once for a rather gorey outcome."----She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing, "To avoid that kind of confrontation, we'll offer to pay for whatever you select, and walk out with you if you'll put up with us a bit longer."----The sisters stood firm, their eyes fixed on Victor, their descriptive and brutal method of potential dispatching hanging in the air. They hoped it was enough to impress him into hearing them out, but they were prepared for his unpredictable nature. Their curiosity was insistent, and despite their defensive stance, they were not trying to start a fight. They simply wanted answers.
Victor Creed	"Uh-huh." he said skeptically. "Tell you what. Let me get what I came here to get, then we can leave, go sit down somewhere, have a drink, and I'll answer one question each to the best of my ability." he said. "Say no and I'll still get what I came here to get and if you lift a finger or a thought towards me I will _fuck_ _you_ _up_. You understanding me here, or do I gotta use smaller words?"
Stepford Cuckoos	The Stepford Cuckoos stood their ground, seemingly unphased and unbothered by Victor's dangerous nature. A glimmer of respect could be seen in their eyes, not just the light reflecting off their diamond forms. As a show of understanding, they began to speak in unison, their voices harmonizing with an eerie precision.----"We are glad we could come to an agreement," they said together, their tones calm and collected.----In perfect sync, the girls lowered their diamond defenses, their forms shifting back to their normal appearances. "We will wait," they continued, their collective gaze steady and respectful, showing that they were prepared to honor their part of the deal.
Victor Creed	Victor sighed. At least nobody was probably gonna die, unless it was him out of sheer boredom. He went from rack to rack, picking up several pieces by the expedient method of using his hands, scrunched just so, to measure. For the rest, he knew how big around she was at thigh and hip and let that guide his decision-making. He paid cash for his things, took the bag, then looked at the five identical eager faces. "Fuck, I should have just beat the shit out of all of you. Come on, let's go get a drink. I owe you an answer." he said with another sigh.
Stepford Cuckoos	The Stepford Cuckoos did exactly as they said they would, standing quietly and observing Victor's every move as he selected and purchased his items. Occasionally, they exchanged glances, communicating silently with each other. Once Victor had his bag in hand and sighed his exasperation, they fell into step behind him, moving as a single unit.----As they followed him out, they spoke in perfect unison, their voices blending together seamlessly. "If we may interject," they began, "you should have simply gone with the cheapest option. It is likely not going to survive any attempts you might make to remove it anyway, once whatever trashy girl you have chosen puts it on. We doubt she will care what she puts on either. It's clearly not an exchange of romance. Just an observation."----Their tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of judgment, as they walked alongside him, ready to continue the conversation over the promised drink.
Victor Creed	Victor gritted his teeth. "When I want your advice, I'll beat it out of you." he said, and then led the girls to a pub in the same shopping center as the lingerie shop. He walked in, and then was going to make a beeline for the bar, then remembered that he had a trail of hiveminded psychotically curious ducklings trailing after him. Table it was, then. He grabbed a seat and then let the Cuckoos arrange themselves as they saw fit. Hopefully a server would get their soon as he was going to need a lot of alcohol to put up with their bullshit.
Stepford Cuckoos	The Stepford Cuckoos followed Victor into the pub, their expressions unchanging despite his gritted response. Once inside, they watched as he selected a table, understanding his need for a more private setting.----Without a word, they arranged themselves around the table, their movements synchronized and fluid. They waited patiently, their collective curiosity still palpable as they watched Victor settle in. They remained silent for the moment, allowing him the space to adjust and hoping a server would arrive soon to facilitate their conversation.----Once they were seated and a moment of silence had passed, the Cuckoos broke the quiet with their next question, speaking in perfect unison.----"The biggest question is, we suppose, how you got the way you are, and as we understand it, you enjoy it. What made that a reality for you?"----Their collective gaze remained fixed on Victor, their curiosity unwavering as they awaited his response.
Victor Creed	"Jesus Fuck." he muttered under his breath. "Look, girlys, I went through most of the same process as the ru ... as Logan." he said. "Most of my past's a mystery to me. Just had a real asshole go in and strip a lot of the blocks out, so the memories are still a little raw. But I'll put it the best way I can. Grew up in the 19th century in what's now Canada. Rural homesteading life. Me, a brother, and a sister, plus our parents. He was a devout man. Couldn't handle a mutant kid. Said he had to beat the Devil out of me. Pulled my fangs, pulled my claws, chained me in the basement like an animal. Guess that's why I turned out a lot like one." he said simply, leaving out a lot of the more gory details. They calls me Creed, indeed.
Stepford Cuckoos	The Cuckoos listened intently to Victor's recollection, absorbing every detail. They exchanged their usual telepathic buzzing looks with each other, processing the information.----One by one, they began to speak, each naming a concept: "Torture," said Phoebe.---- "Trauma," added Sophie.---- "Abuse," chimed Irma. ----"Strife," continued Esme. ----"Dehumanization," finished Celeste.----In perfect unison, they concluded, "These are all the perfect recipes for making psychopathic tendencies. But clearly, your mutant abilities are geared towards being an animal, so perhaps the predisposition is a huge factor in it? We're not trying to fix you, just understand."----Their voices were calm and analytical, their expressions a mix of curiosity and thoughtful consideration.
Victor Creed	Victor snorted in disbelief. "Ain't nothing to fix, girlies. Bein' the way I am is what's let me survive for over a century. Be the baddest motherfucker in the valley and even God leaves you alone." he said with a snort of laughter. Finally a server showed up and he ordered whiskey, bring the bottle and a glass. He left the Cuckoos to get whatever they wanted - a test, of sorts. He had a mental bet with himself they'd order something stereotypically girly - a sweet drink that would go down like nothing.
Stepford Cuckoos	The Cuckoos listened to Victor's response, their expressions remaining calm and analytical. When the server approached, they each ordered a Negroni, a cocktail made with gin, vermouth rosso, and Campari, known for its strong, bitter flavor. Not the sweet drink Victor might have expected.----As their drinks were delivered, the Cuckoos continued their questioning in unison. "Then what?" they asked, their collective gaze fixed on him with unwavering curiosity.----They elaborated in perfect harmony, "What do you plan to do once you've achieved that ultimate level? Live a life of hedonism? Do you think you could live in peace, away from everyone else? Or do you prefer to just walk around and keep killing?"----Their voices blended seamlessly, the question posed with genuine interest and a desire to delve deeper into Victor's psyche and motivations. Each sister took a sip of her Negroni, their eyes never leaving him, their curiosity palpable.