The day of the Pulse, Victor woke up fighting mad. Something felt off in the air and it made him shudder in apprehension. He hated that feeling, so he went hunting for someone to kill.
Instead, he found a trembling boy, the cub exhausted and emaciated and delectable enough to eat. Victor just stared at him, curled up at the base of a tree, hazel eyes wide.
"And who might you be?" he asked, crouching down. He didn't want to kill the kid, to his own shock. Kinda wanted to adopt him, take him home, feed him good and proper. He hadn't felt this way since he followed Jimmy into the woods that night of awakenings.
The cub just bared his teeth, eyes narrowing. Maybe if he were bigger it'd be intimidating, but Victor just bared his teeth right back, adding a hint of a growl to the words when he demanded, "What's your name?"
"Ben," the kid muttered. "Sir."
"Well, Ben-Sir," Victor said, standing back up and stepping over his side. "You're comin' with me, cub. Clearly, you're as useless at takin' care of yourself as Jimmy."
The boy fought like a wildcat, like Victor when he'd been young. But he was wounded and tired and clearly starving, so it was barely a struggle. When he was full-grown, though, and at full strength? Victor could imagine the battle and his mouth watered.
Benny-boy didn't smell like a mutant, Victor noticed, when he had him in his arms. He smelled like the cougars Victor sometimes hunted against, seeing who could bring down the prey first. Mixed in with the cat, though, was normal human, blood and sweat. It was an interesting combination, one he'd study further later.
Once he'd accepted that he couldn't get free, the cub settled right on down. "Be good now, cub," Victor purred. "I'll take care of you, don't fret."
"Yes, sir," he said softly. Victor smirked. Yes, this boy would be fun. One day, he might even be as good of a hunting partner as Jimmy.