Legacy of the Sabretooth

After improving his relationship with Old Clyde, Victor's living conditions finally saw significant improvement—at least he was now allowed to eat at the table.

Previously, he had been confined to the basement, eating from a broken bowl. Now, his bed had proper bedding, and he even had a small desk and a lamp for studying. Though he still couldn't attend school, the upgraded environment was a relief. He was also permitted daily outdoor time, no longer chained like a caged beast.

However, new worries emerged. Victor hadn't fully mastered his feral instincts. After meditation, if he lost control and raged, the new furnishings would be destroyed. Yet, reverting to his old, barren setup was unthinkable. "Easier to adapt to comfort than return to hardship," he thought. He refused to let these gains go to waste. After brief hesitation, he confronted Old Clyde:

"Reinstate the chains—add more, make them sturdy. I need to lock myself up when I lose control. But give me the keys so I can free myself when sane."

Old Clyde agreed, furnishing four thick chains and tossing Victor the keys. He'd observed that Victor, in a frenzied state, became a mindless beast incapable of using keys. He'd forgotten Victor's first awakening—a blend of rationality and madness. Fortunately, that version of Victor was gone.

Old Clyde worries were mostly resolved, though grief for his deceased son lingered. His caution manifested in replacing the basement's wooden doors with reinforced steel ones, padlocked tightly. Victor raised no objections—he, too, feared his post-meditation rampages. Extra safeguards were welcome. He even helped Old Clydesdale reinforce the doors, determined not to harm the couple.

Though uneasy, Old Clyde didn't protest. Mrs. Clyde was simply grateful her two most important people coexisted peacefully.

Thus, Victor's "escape" morphed from a life sentence to parole—his domain expanded from the basement to the manor grounds.

"Change is good. Freedom will come eventually!" Victor muttered, returning to the basement. He chained himself and began his daily meditation.

In battling his primal instincts, Victor had made progress. Instead of brute force, he wore down the beast's strength in his mental arena through evasion and endurance. The longer he resisted, the weaker the beast grew, shortening his post-meditation frenzy. He could now sometimes retain rationality afterward.

But eradicating the beast entirely remained elusive. Without nightly meditation, its influence crept back, resetting his progress. This forced Victor to embrace restraint—both physical chains and mental discipline. Fleeing would mean homelessness, hunger, and exposure to a feral lifestyle that might doom him entirely.

He chose to stay, trading fleeting freedom for stability. "Temporary confinement paves the way for true liberation," he told himself. Neither chains nor inner beasts could bind him forever.

Victor resumed his routine: studying by day, meditating by night, and assisting the Clyde with chores. Yet, he remained barred from leaving home. Though confident in his control, Old Clyde remained wary, and Mrs. Clyde sided with caution. Victor acquiesced—19th-century Florida offered little amusement anyway.

"Why roam dust roads when I can learn?" he mused. A bigger concern nagged him: Why hadn't he grown in nearly two years?

Though his strength, intellect, and memory sharpened, his body remained frozen at 13—even regressing slightly. Mirror glimpses revealed this, though the Clyde noticed little. Parents always see their child as a child.

Panicking he might shrink to infancy, Victor recalled Daken, Wolverine's son. Born in 1946, Daken retained a youthful appearance centuries later due to his healing factor. Victor realized his own hyperactive healing slowed aging, explaining his boyish looks. Unlike Deadpool—who gained powers via X-gene experiments—Victor's healing was innate.

"So what if I look young? I'll grow… eventually," he grumbled, secretly grateful. His healing factor granted near-immortality, regenerating limbs, neutralizing toxins, and mimicking Sabretooth's abilities:

Superhuman durability: Skin, bones, and muscles tougher than steel; retractable claws and metallic teeth.

Enhanced senses: Night vision, acute hearing/smell, tracking prowess, and preternatural reflexes.

Limitless stamina: Fatigue-proof, explaining Sabretooth and Wolverine's legendary… social lives.

Agility: Beyond peak human athleticism.

Healing control: Unlike Wolverine, Victor could manipulate his cells—Daken-like, preserving tattoos or avoiding memory loss.

Confused by Wolverine's amnesia (a side effect of poor healing control), Victor studied relentlessly, even tackling university courses. Mrs. Clyde marveled; Old Clyde shrugged: "Let him read. At least he's not biting people or smashing furniture."

But this fragile peace wouldn't last…