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On an Autmn morning, you lounged at your local café, just mere blocks from your flat. The wind nipped at the tips of your ears, rustling stray hairs free. You remained warm, though, with your wool coat and cup of peppermint tea in your palms. The harsh difference of the chilling wind and familiar warmth was a part of this routine you cherished. Slowly raising the cup to your lips, a sip warmed you from the inside out.The workers knew you, knew your name, your story. Practically blind from birth, you couldn’t recall a time when you didn’t have a thick dark vignette frame your vision. Your eyes were often compared to translucent glass marbles, commonly in distaste. Every now and then you were even accused of being a mutant. You always replied with a scoff, wondering if simple biology had been thrown out the window ever since the Mutant Panic in the 70’s.Though, it piqued your interest in university. You began to dig to see if mutants were similar, or even no different, than those disabled. Unfortunately, the hoops to jump through to acquire a degree with accommodations surmounted and you had to drop out. Your classmate and friend, however, still often visited to read to you scientific papers, and assisted you in writing a thesis in their free time. For now, you resorted to being an author, as you needed to express your ideas with the world.Which is why you people watched. Each morning you had your cup of tea and watched the quick blurs and bursts of color, sometimes squinting to really focus on a detail. You listened to their words, their stories. It was all ample ammo for your works. You had fallen so lost in concentration, you failed to notice the man sit down at your table. You took a few more sips, savoring the flavors melting over your tongue. There was a flick of a distinct blue, such an unnatural color, that caught your eye.“Ah, excuse me.” His German was natural, native, and yet there were inklings of an American influence. “I hope you don’t mind me sitting here.”You turned your body to face him, setting your cup down on the coaster. “No, not at all.” You softly smiled. “It’s not often I have company.”While odd in nature to encroach a stranger’s space, it didn’t bother you. You figured all the other seats were taken; it was a busy morning after all. If he was not to disturb your peace, then you would pay it no mind.You scanned him up and down. From what you could tell, he was wearing a coat with a hood, and something a deep rich blue beneath. Lots of blue. He must really enjoy the color. Gears began to turn in your head, perhaps he could be a fountain of inspiration.“Your eyes,” He began softly, appearing to nibble on a pastry, “I don’t think I’ve seen a color like that before.” His voice was bursting with excitement and curiosity.You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek. Here we go... You were prepared to recite the speech you’ve given your entire life but decide to keep it short and sweet. “It’s glaucoma, my eyes shouldn’t look like this.”“Ah, I see.” Another bite. “I apologize, I have never heard of such a condition before.”You glance down, tracing the lip of your teacup with your fingertip. “Are you American? I hear it in your voice, but your German is perfect.” You decide to change the subject.He chuckles, “Have I really been gone that long?” He softly mumbles to himself. “No, no I am not. I’m native to here, Munich, but I have been living in the states for some time. New York.”“New York?” You raise a brow. “That must be so exciting.” A smile pulls at your lips. “I’ve always wanted to see the city, is it as nice as they say?”Another chuckle, heartier and from his chest this time. “It is far too glamorized. Very dirty, stinky.” He waves a hand. “But the people there… They are truly one of a kind.”You take another sip, nearly emptying your cup. “I’m sure you’re a wildcard yourself.” You offer him your name, finishing your tea. “What brings you back to Munich?”He begins to raise his hand, perhaps offering a handshake, before quickly pulling away. He clears his throat, “Kurt Wagner, and homesickness, really. It has been years since I’ve been home.”You offer him a sweet smile. “Welcome home, Kurt.”You hear his heart beat a little harder, faster. “Ah, thank you!” His cheeriness returns, and you surmise this is this natural state of being. Now this man really has your attention. You curse yourself for not bringing your notebook. You just simply must engage him in more conversation. “I don’t mean to pry, but I’d love to hear about your time in America, where you plan to go and do while you’re here, back home. I hope it’s not too invasive.”His tone tells on himself, making it clear he’s excited for someone to be interested in him. “Ah, well, in America I have found family.”There’s a quick arch of blue that blurs behind his head. You blink. Did you just hallucinate?“They truly are a gift from God.” He shakes his head. “You asked about my time in America, no? Not my family. Ahem.” He clears his throat and straightens himself in his seat. “I was rescued, in truth, I did not have the best life here in Munich. I used to be in the circus.” A smile slips across his lips as he reminisces. “They called me ‘The Great Nightcrawler.’” He spreads his hands out and open in front of him for added effect. “I was a trapeze artist, a great one.”You hang onto every word, but bust out a giggle, “I assumed as much, with ‘Great’ being included in ‘The Great Nightcrawler’ and all.”Kurt stumbles over himself, “Ah, yes- I suppose you are right.” He laughs in turn. “But I flew through the air with ease, to deafening applause.”“Did you enjoy it? It sounds like you were beloved.” You muse.“Aye, I did.” A beat passes, and his tone suddenly shifts somber. “Doing a performance, anyway. Any other time… It was not so great, the living conditions.”Your lips form a tight frown. You won’t push himself to share what could be hurtful. The man links his hands together in front of him on the table. “A cage,” He begins. “I was kept in a cage, like an animal. Fed scraps, if anything. Force-fed beer after shows.” A broken, awkward laugh escapes his chest, “I would suddenly be a drunkard, not even knowing where in God’s Earth I was, then thrown into that harsh cold steel.”You knit your eyebrows together, chewing the inside of your cheek more. A nervous, unhealthy habit you developed when the gears began to turn in your head. “How?” You squeak out. “How is that possible? How could they do that, isn’t it illegal?”There’s a great, long pause. The shuffle of the pedestrians that wade by fill your ears. “I am a man of God, friend. I entrust in Him my life, my future. If He wished for me to… Endure that trial, then who am I to question Him.”His answer left a sour taste in your mouth. He was dodging the issue at hand, you both knew that. You take a sharp inhale through your teeth, fidgeting with the hem of your one sleeve. It wasn’t uncommon to find someone faithful, and you had no gripes against Kurt for being so devout, but you just couldn't accept it being used as an excuse for flat-out abuse.You open your mouth to press him without much thought, but luckily something else ensnares your attention. About twenty feet down the sidewalk, across the street, you hear the chatter of two policemen.“There he is.” The one on the left gruffs.“I see ‘im.” The other spits, “Bloody mutant.”A mutant? Your heart leaps. Despite your infatuation with them, hungry to know more, you nearly never got to interact with one. You whip your head around, hoping that maybe despite your impaired vision, you could spot them in the crowd. Alas, the only strange figure is… The very man seated across from you.Your heart now pounds in your ears, adrenaline searing through your veins. “Kurt,” You lower your voice, reaching out to grab his hand. “Please, just, trust me.”“What?” He laughs, “Is there a joke coming? What is with the sudden seriousness, friend?” But as he sees your expression, his body tenses.“Just walk with me. Do not look behind us.”You rise from your seat, pushing it in beneath the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Still gripping his hand firmly, you begin to drag him down the street, blending in with the foot traffic.“He’s starting to get away!” Your ears burn, hearing the police notice your failure to slip away.It is only now your heart drops as you realize you have no idea what you are doing. Your guess about Kurt being the mutant is confirmed by the police’s reaction, but you didn’t think this far ahead. Where were you even going? What was the end goal? Walk to the end of the earth, hoping the police never catch up?“Friend-“ Kurt begins, “What is the matter? What is going on?” His words slam into each other a tad, his breath hitching and increasing. He whips his head around, trying to see whatever had spooked you.“The police,” You begin in a hiss, “They seem to be after you. I heard it.”“Heard it?” He’s stunned. “Heard it where?”You quickly yank him into a tight alleyway, a mere inch separates your chests as you face him. “Shh, watch. Across the street, they’re coming towards us. I’m sure they saw us dip in here.” You’re out of breath as your heart pounds against your ribcage. “I heard them talk about a mutant.”It’s only now, being so up close and personal, do you truly see Kurt. It’s not that he likes the color blue, he is blue. His eyes are a dazzling gold. Two tiny points threaten to peek out from his lips, little fangs. Your eyes drift down, seeing a tail that ends in a pointed spade. You surmise that must have been the blur of blue from before.“Y-You’re the mutant.” Your voice trembles, the adrenaline putting strain on your body. The realization of the pleasant fellow you spent your morning with being so… Different. You kick yourself for thinking that way, but it’s only result of the propaganda lining the streets. Your eyes are burning holes into him. You hear the blood rush to his face and ears, heart pounding.You clutch your cane tighter, leaning into it. It’s not the best for you, as not only do you have Glaucoma, you happen to be blessed with the co-morbidity of Sickle Cell Anemia. Your joints are weaker than a healthy individual, and intense exercise, like running from the cops, is ill-advised. Your head swims as the tachycardia hits you like a tidal wave.“Ah-“ Kurt raises his hands, hoping it eases your panic. “Aye, I am, but I am a friend. I won’t hurt you-“Something whizzes by, grazing the bridge of your nose. Screams ring out in the street, pedestrians scrambling in every which way.“Halt!” One of the officers bark, pointing some form of gun at the two of you. “You are being detained, mutant!”The other steadily approaches, reaching for something hooked to his belt. Kurt’s eyes glance from the officers to you, and he closes the gap, wrapping his arms around you. “Take a breath, this may be disorienting.”“Kurt, what-!“ You don’t get to finish, gasping as you feel yourself being hurled at a racing speed. It takes you by such surprise, you lose grip of your cane.A plume of smoke clouds your vision as the smell of brimstone burns your nostrils. You cough, wobbling on your feet. You were dizzy before, but this was tilt-a-whirl level of topsy-turvy. You try to use your cane to steady yourself, but find that your weight is being supported by nothing at all.You begin to head face first to what’s beneath you, but you’re caught by Kurt, his arm wrapping around your torso. “Careful there, friend.” He softly says, lifting you up. He refuses to release you until he’s certain you won’t go tumbling.You blink. You were just in the alleyway, but now you’re peering down the city of Munich. The cops are just below you, and you see one officer ready his gun, aiming right for Kurt.“Kurt!” You lunge toward him, the shingles of the roof unkind to being stepped on. It begins to slip away, sending you back down with gravity.Another shot rings out. Kurt snatches you again, by your scruff, but he didn’t foresee the hit landing on you.A curdling scream is ripped from your lungs, you feel the pierce of a needle in your side. In an instant, it feels cold, like liquid nitrogen being pumped in your veins. You look down, seeing a vial attached to the needle. Without much thought, you reach to grab it. Whatever it is, you want it out.“No, don’t do that-“ Kurt firmly grasps your wrist. “I’m sorry, friend, but not until I know what they just dosed you with.”
“Dosed?” Your body not only feels frigid, as if you were tossed into a snow storm naked, it’s quickly increasing in mass. Your legs are growing limp.“Aye.” His jaw locks, his gaze scanning down at the chaos below the two of you. “We must go.” He tosses you over his shoulder and whispers, “I am sorry.”Another brief burst of frightening motion, another plume of smoke. It feels like being pitched like a baseball at record speeds. Your tea threatens to come back up from your stomach. You groan, rolling your head to the side. It’s strange seeing such familiar buildings from a birds-eye view, but you recognize you’ve moved a few blocks away in an instant.You suffer a few more rounds of the sickening movement, before it finally ends. You’re in a cold, quiet bell tower. You’ve lost all sense of direction. You could be halfway across the globe for all you knew.Kurt rests you against the wall, watching as your body slumps. “I am sorry, friend.” You try to move your head up, to hold his gaze, but you can’t. Your arms lay solid on the harsh stone.Kurt crouches down, moving your coat away to inspect the projectile lodged in your side. “I am so sorry if this hurts. Please let me know.” His voice is so soft, as if he was speaking to a new born. It comforts you. He gently cups the tube in his hand, reading the inscription on the side. “Tch, American.” He spits.He sighs, forcing a little smile for you. “Good news and bad news, friend.” He gently frees the needle out from you, ripping a pained gasp out of you. “It is just a tranquilizer, you will not die. It also happened to hit your liver, so it will flush out of your system quicker than usual. Bad news, you will be… Like this, for quite some time.”You can’t even respond. You’re putting all your willpower into focusing on him, keeping your eyes open.“But fret not, I will keep you safe!” He grins, slipping the tranquilizer into his pocket. “They do not call me the Great Nightcrawler for nothing.” He chuckles, but the worry lines on his face are crisp, even with your vision.He glances over his shoulder. The chilly air only burns as wind whips across your features. You begin to shiver. When he looks back to you, he scrambles to slip off his coat, draping it on top of you. Underneath, he wears a tight black, red, and white uniform.Silly, you think, your rational slipping, his circus outfit, here?“Ah, I am so sorry.” He gently wipes a tear that you hadn’t registered. “You are safe, shh. Rest.” He pats your head.You gain your senses for a moment, frustration boiling in you. You don’t, can’t, let yourself go. Not here, not now. You blink, again and again, fighting those heavy eyelids.In astonishment, you watch as Kurt opens your satchel, rummaging around. He pulls out your wallet. Is he… Robbing you? How could he? You grumble in protest, but it falls on deaf ears. He places your wallet back in your bag, laying it gently in your lap.“Rest easy, friend. I will return, I promise you.”Smoke swirls in front of you, that now familiar burning smell hits you. The last thing you can recall is noticing a rosary, of all things, resting in your palm. The face of The Messiah watches you as you helplessly black out.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You awoke on your beaten down couch in your flat. Your head pounds and swims at the same time. You try to scrape your mind for any fragments of what happened before. This is the worst hangover ever.You prop yourself up on your elbows, and a thick wool trench coat slumps down into your lap. The scent of scorched embers assaults your nose, making your neurons fire off. The fuzzy memory of a blue man, quite literally, leaving you on a rooftop comes to mind. His hands rummaging your wallet. How chilly it felt…You shiver as you throw your legs over the edge of the cushions, setting the coat down beside you. You begin to slowly get to your feet but notice something in its pocket. You pull it out, running the cool, smooth beads through your fingers. It’s a rosary, and a beautiful one at that. Made of what seems to be genuine mineral rocks and rose beads. The sculpted crucifixion of Christ has gold painting the edges, but it’s clearly worn down through touch.You chew the inside of your cheek. Things are growing curiouser and curiouser. You place it back down on the coat and shamble off into your kitchen. You bend down, gathering your kettle from the cabinet, but freeze. You hear the soft, airy breathing of someone else. It’s faint, but there.You grit your teeth, close your eyes as you take a deep breath and rise. You go on with your little task, filling the kettle with water. The breathing is still there, so at least you’re not hallucinating it. The kitchen is dark, and you blink as you read the clock as 2 a.m. What the hell happened to you? You would, normally, flick on the lights to make it much easier to see, but that could tip off whoever is here. Luckily, you could navigate your flat with your eyes closed.Once the kettle was full, you whip around. In one fluid movement, you throw nearly the entirety of its contents out in front of you.Out comes a yelp, and you look to see two yellow lights, beaming at you. “Friend!” He huffs, hair drenched. “What was that for?” He jumps off the top of your fridge, approaching you with his palms visible to ease you.“Kurt?” You cock your head to the side and place the kettle down. “What are you doing here? Why on top of my fridge?” That alarmed you most, instead of, perhaps, the fact he seemingly broke into your home.Water dribbles and drips down your fridge, creating a puddle on the linoleum. “I was taking care of you, friend.” He sighs, grabbing a small dish towel to try and get the loose water out of his hair and off his clothes. “It is not a wash day.” He grumbles to himself. He shakes out his limbs, like a dog, before offering a toothy smile. “I was worried, friend.”“Worried?” You wince, the headache ebbing in intensity. You hold your temple. “What for?” Your patience at your own inability to remember is diminishing. “I just… I remember having tea and then…”“And then?” He repeats, his tail flicking to your table, wrapping around an apple and bringing it forth to his mouth. He takes a bite. “You don’t remember the rooftops? The police?” He asks, chunks of apple in his maw.You shake your head, laughing even. He must be insane. “No, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But then, you stare. You burrow your eyes into him, like before, inching closer to truly get his details. You get a sense of Déjà vu, realizing this man is blue and does have a tail. What?!He rips another bite from the apple’s flesh. “Oh dear, well then I must enlighten you.” He reaches into a pocket, pulling out what looks like a long slender tube that comes to a needle-point. There’s English inscribed on the side. “Do you remember this?”You narrow your eyes, your gut telling you it’s familiar. “A… A little.”“It’s a mutant tranquilizer, friend.” He begins, lackadaisically tossing it in the air, like a toy. “It only works on mutants. It feels freezing cold, like… Drenched in water.” His eyes dart to the empty kettle before letting out a hearty chuckle. Your cheeks flush pink. “You were hit, in the liver. I had to leave you at a bell tower, for which I am greatly sorry, but it was necessary.”His summary is jogging your memory. The events of a few hours prior begin to bleed into your mind. “R-Right.” Adrenaline starts to pump through you again. The panic of the chase, the shot, everything comes crashing into you at once.“I had to do some digging. I found your address by your ID, but I am no fool. They don’t call me The Great Nightcrawler for nothing.” He offers you a wink and a smile. It eases you a smidge. “I scouted out the area, ensuring you would be safe, and then brought you here. You’ve slept off the drug.”“Is it completely out of my system?” You lean back, resting your palms on the edge of the kitchen counter.“Absolutely, my friend, I assure you.” He grins wider. “You don’t need to fret, there is no side effects. And even if there is, I have a barrel of antidotes.”You tumble his words in your head, trying to make sense of it all. “Wait… You said it was mutant tranquilizer. Does it work on humans?”He shakes his head, “No, it does not. Something in its makeup has it target those with the activated X gene.”“But… Then that means…” You shake your head, your world, your perception, shattering and crumbling before your very eyes. “I’m not a mutant.” You’re adamant, but an anxious laugh slips out. “I’m just blind, that’s it. That’s it!”Kurt steps closer, gently taking your hands in his. The warmth is comforting, the touch is alien. Your cheeks burn a little hotter, your breathing hastening. His two fingers are an odd sensation, expecting the normal five, but you hold on nonetheless. “Friend, dear, do you remember sitting at the table with me? You were able to hear the police blocks down from us, and through the chatter of the crowds. That is not… ‘Normal.’”You nervously rub circles into his one knuckle, chewing your cheek to the point you taste iron. “But, I-“ You scramble to build some defense, some excuse. “I don’t-“ You have to admit it. “I didn’t know it was… Inhuman.” You lower your head, glancing away. You stare at the grout of your kitchen tiles, focusing on the pathways and intersections to calm yourself. “I never… I never noticed it being strange to others. I always chalked it up to the idea of missing one sense heightens the others.”“Friend, you were able to notice me. You, who lacks sight, noticed me. Even the best of the best struggle to find me in the dark.” His smile is sweet, sweeter than any cup of tea you’ve had. “You are just like me.”His words dance in your head, your heart flutters. Like him? You are a mutant? As a child you played with the idea, as many did. Due to the delay in expressing the X gene, commonly in puberty or under great duress, children of all ages played with the idea of becoming the next superhero. Even you. But now that it was staring you dead in the face, you wish you could take it all back.You swallow, opening your mouth to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. Kurt offers a squeeze. “It’s alright, it’s okay to be scared.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “I was too, you know.”That has you snort. “You? Scared?”He nods. “Yes, I was. I was scared when the X-Men came to my door, seeking me out. I thank God they came for me.”Wait. Hold on. The X-Men? “The X-Men? Kurt, you don’t mean to say-““Aye.” He puffs out his chest, grinning. “I am not only The Great Nightcrawler but I am an X-Man!” His nose crinkles, smile lines framing his eyes. “In truth, I was here to find a mutant, but it seems another stole my attention.” His tail gently places the half-eaten apple on the table, the spade-shaped tip gently pushing under your chin, having you meet his gaze.You absolutely burn up, forgetting to breathe for a moment. “What now?” You barely whisper, your words wobbling. You completely give away that you are out of your element.“Now…” He clicks his tongue, tail whipping behind him. If he wasn’t so… Demon-esque, you’d swear he’d be part cat. “Now I ensure your safety and see if Charles would like to meet you.” He glances back to your living room before resuming his sights on you.“Charles?” You inquire. “Who is that?”“The man who saved me.” A fang peeks out from his lips in his smile. “A smart, kind, honest man. But for now, you should rest. You are still recovering.”Kurt doesn’t allow you much protest, bringing you back to the living room. His tail flicks, the lights come alive in your living room. He gently squeezes your shoulders before seating you on the couch.“Can I at least sleep in my bed?” Your back ached from the unforgiving firm couch.“Ah, I would prefer if I could keep an eye on you.” Now you notice he has a few things scattered on the coffee table. Papers, another vial nearly identical to the tranquilizer, polaroids. You lean to peer past him, but he shifts to block your view.“I thought you said the drug was out of my system?”“Aye, but you never know, friend.”You squint at him before sighing. That’s a strange response, but this day has been anything but normal.“Could I have a blanket, at least?” You meekly ask, you didn’t want to seem rude with rejecting his coat.“Ah, of course!” His tail flicks more. He looks around the room, befuddled. “Ah, excuse me, but I do not know where they are.”Your eyes dart to your bedroom door. “My room?”He flushes purple. “Ah! R-Right.” He hesitates to grab the doorknob. “I am not one to intrude on another’s space.”You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes, he broke into your flat after all.Kurt retrieves the quilt on your bed and even a teddy bear before he gently tucks you in. He gets you everything you could need, being as polite as a saint. He does teleport the few feet, back and forth, which you find amusing. Why not take the few steps?“Now, you are all set to rest.” He grins, taking his position on a chair across from the couch. He crouches down, resting his weight on the balls of his feet. He turns the lights off, drenching you both in darkness.“What about you? Aren’t you tired?” You look him up and down, only seeing his silhouette with the minimal moonlight and your impaired vision. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”“No, no.” You can even hear his smile. “I quite like sitting like this. Besides, I need to be prepared.”“Prepared?” You muse. “Prepared for wha-“God really has a sense of humor. You were far too focused on the fuzzy man to notice the rumbling of armored trucks, the slams of metal doors outside your apartment building. As if this was scripted, the windows to your flat shatter. In an instant, Kurt is on top of you, reeking of Brimstone. He shields you from the shards with his back.“For this!” He shouts over the booming noise of boots and shouts of commands. Grapple hooks sink into the lip of your windowsills, a whirring noise following. Men armed to the teeth begin pouring into the tiny apartment.Kurt whips around, and you see shards of glass lodged in his back, primarily near his shoulder blades. Deep indigo weeps from the wounds and begins to stain his clothes. He glances from the armed men to you, chewing his lower lip. “Ah, shit.” He mutters.Kurt is seemingly outnumbered, surrounded even. He pulls out two long swords, thin and nimble. You find it insane you never noticed them before, but it has been dark, and your mind was… elsewhere.He’s fluid, like a dance, as he cuts down the men. He teleports around the room, using the walls and ceiling as leverage, much to his advantage. Blood seeps into your carpet. With a large chunk of men rendered dead on the floor, and Kurt properly out of breath, he heads for you next.He hooks an arm around you. You realize now, you were too stunned to do anything. You haven’t even uttered a word. You begin to, but Kurt beats you to it. “Hold on!”Oh god. Here we go…Nausea hits you in your gut as you’re hurled through space. Rooftop to rooftop you go, thrown over Kurt’s shoulder. You keep your focus on the glass. It must hurt, you wonder, but know better than to touch or even try to pull out the debris. Yet, Kurt seems unaffected.You both soar, soaking in the moonlight as the quiet city rests below. Kurt is huffing and puffing, his shoulders heaving, when you arrive at your destination. A church, a very old one at that. You recognize where you are, a rather historic district in Germany. These streets were once the ghettos of the Jews. What once was a temple, now stood a run-down Catholic church.Kurt takes a few steps toward the front door, knocking with his knuckles. It echoes, with no response. Only when he’s answered by silence does he begin to open the door. His tail is practically dragging on the floor as he’s still struggling to catch his breath. Yet, he still has that trademark toothy grin as he turns to you.“Welcome to my home.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
As you both enter the desolate building, you curl in on yourself. There are cobwebs everywhere, and the dust has you sneeze.“Gesundheit,” The elfish man chimes in. “You need not be afraid, friend.” His smile has turned weak, but never left his face. He lifts sheets off some furniture, mostly pews, which kicks up more dust. It irritates your nose, having you sneeze more.As you reach the podium, the stir has a flock of pigeons pick up and fight to get to the support beams first. You let out a little shriek, caught off guard by the feathery guests. Kurt only chuckles.“Home, huh?” You say, arms crossed. “I think you need a duster…or two.” Not only were your nerves nagging at you as you watched Kurt drip blood on the stone floor, this place completely wigged you out.Kurt laughs, but it’s cut short with a choking cough. You think you see blood on the corner of his mouth, but he wipes it away before you could truly know. “Ah, I know. But as I told you, it has been some time since I’ve been home.”Kurt kneels before the cross and whispers a prayer. He clutches the rosary from before tightly, pressing his hands to his forehead. You stand there awkwardly, seeing the bleeding man pray to his savior nailed on a cross. Once finished, he lights a candle, before rising.“Come, I will take you away from this dusty room, Sneezy.” His eyes have grown slightly mischievous as he offers you a hand.You tell yourself you’re only humoring as you chuckle in response, “Oh, don’t insult the spiders’ handiwork, they’re skilled workers.” You gently take his hand.His grin is back, bringing life and light to his features. His eyes illuminate the dim environment as he guides you through a few hallways. He brings you to a comfortable bedroom, illuminated with large candles that have cooled wax drips pooling at their base. There’s one large bed, and it looks recently slept in. The blankets are kicked to the side, pillow ajar. A bench on the other side of the room is covered in supplies.Kurt sheepishly chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “So... This is where I have been staying.” He heads right to the bench, pulling out a robust first aid kit from a hefty duffle bag and plopping down his crimson stained swords. It’s full of creams and vials you can’t recognize by sight alone. So he really did have a barrel of antidotes.You sit down on the bed, and sink. It’s delightfully soft, and the blanket is rather warm too. You watch curiously as Kurt pulls out a suture kit, first grabbing the forceps. He reaches around his back, attempting to reach the pieces of glass. He struggles, immensely. The tips of his ears darken, a pretty indigo, as the time painfully ticks on.“Do… Do you need help?” You offer, feeling so out of place in this room.A beat passes. “A-Aye. That would be… Appreciated.” He huffs, lowering his arms in defeat.You crawl beside him, kneeling on the ground. His face is that bright purple too, you notice. He gently places the forceps in your hands before turning his back to you. “Please let me know if I hurt you.” You mutter, before beginning. You target the biggest pieces first, knowing they would be easiest to grab. You try to go slow, but with enough force to get each piece out.Kurt sharply inhales, his claw-nails scratching the cement floor as you pull out each piece. They tink in the metal pan beside you, leaving bits of purple blood behind. The smaller pieces are far more difficult, but you manage just fine. Your heart aches for Kurt, though, as it’s clear this isn’t the most pleasant experience.“There.” You softly say, setting the forceps down. “Nothing seems to deep to need stitches.“Thank God.” He sighs, relaxing his tense muscles. “Thank you, friend, truly.”He begins to get up, but you grab his wrist. “No, sit, let me help. You’ve helped me plenty.” His eyes only stare, mouth slightly agape, but he refuses to protest. He resumes sitting, but stretches out his legs.You gently blot away the blood and clean the wounds, much to his dismay. “Can you take your shirt off for me?” It’s too late when you realize how intimate that could be, turning a furious red. The blush trickles all the way up to the tips of your ears.“Ja,” Kurt stumbles over himself, “Of course.” He carefully undoes his suit enough to wiggle his arms free, his back then following suit.His bare back is now in front of you. You mindlessly delicately trace a finger tip down his defined muscles. His raw strength must be incredible.Ha, you think to yourself, Incredible Nightcrawler indeed.You continue to be gentle, barely touching him as you clean his wounds, pulling more hisses from his lips as the alcohol burns away any possible infection. You get the small scrapes and knicks too, and then notice all the scarring. Most, if not all, seem old. Very old. Again, without thinking, you touch him.“What happened here?” You whisper.He’s silent, and your heart jumps into your throat. You fear you crossed a line without intending to and are moments away from scrambling before he reaches behind and places a hand over yours. “Whips.” He begins. “Whips, from the circus.”You swallow hard. Ah, right. He had mentioned the horrific conditions. “They… They did this to you?”“Aye.” His eyes cast down. “If I failed tricks, if I did not bring in enough money, if they felt like it.” His voice trails off. “What good is a pet if it does not entertain nor make money?”“Pet?” You scoff. “Kurt you are not some pet. You- You’re-“ That tongue of yours is going to get you in hot water one day, “You are the most awe-inspiring man I have ever met. A legend, if I dare say so.”He chuckles, turning to face you. You both now sit on the cold floor, your hot breath on the other. He looks so winded, tired, like he hasn’t slept in ages. “I am happy you think so. I know most do not.”You blame the adrenaline, the chance there’s still drugs in your system, anything and everything as you reach up to cup his cheek. “You saved my life, Kurt Wagner, and I must thank you for it. You showed me kindness, and even took the blow for me.”You hear his heart pound against his ribcage, his face hot. “Ah, I guess I did-“ He nervously chuckles, leaning away from your touch. “But that is the job of an X-Man, no?” He pulls his face out of your palm.Your heart sinks, and you can’t place why. “I suppose…”You look away, letting your eyes scan the room. The candlelight makes it feel warmer, the walls reflecting the flickering yellow flame. Beside the bed you notice a poster with an awfully familiar figure hand painted on it. The Nightcrawler. A part of you wishes to have seen him soar in the air, but knowing the cost you’re happy he’s now an X-Man.Kurt rises, rolling his shoulders back. They crack as he does this, and then he stretches his arms up, his tail shooting straight out as well. “Stretching is good for you, friend.” He says with a small smile. “I do it every morning, noon, and night.” He snaps himself in half next, touching his toes. He loosens his neck last, and then rummages around in the bag.“I’m glad you’re dedicated.” You slightly chuckle. “I don’t think I could ever be a trapeze artist.”
“No,” Kurt laughs, “No you could not. Too much… Needing your eyes.” He admits as he continues to dig.“What was it like?” You pique his interest, the sharp tip of one of his ears flicks. “Doing such feats?”“Like being an angel.” He admits, sighing dreamily. He pulls a thin tank top out, tossing it over his head. “I flew.” He mumbles softly. “I brought joy and smiles to those who saw me and did the unthinkable. I believe that to be tasks of angels.” He snakes out of the remainder of his suit, and you breathe a sigh of relief seeing he had shorts on underneath.He returns to digging in the bag, and you chew on his words. He pulls out a few more items, turning to you. “I believe I owe you an apology.”“Huh?” You’re stumped. “For what?”He hands you a beautiful, handcrafted cane, something you only ever dreamt of owning. It was exactly your style, the grip being comfortable for long use, and adjustable to the correct height. “For making you lose your cane.” Both his sharp fangs peek out in this smile. He really is proud of himself, and his wagging tail is giving it away.You return the grin, running your hand down the smooth craftsmanship. “It’s… It’s beautiful.” Your smile widens, “Thank you.”“It was no problem, really. Besides, do not thank me yet,” His nose crinkles, just like before, “I have more gifts.”He pulls out a change of clothes for you, your white cane, and a few snacks from your cupboard.“I may have… Snooped. Only a little!” He swiftly raises his hands in defense. “I had a feeling we would have to lie low, and so who am I to make someone uncomfortable when it was me who dragged them into this?”You’re far too focused on the warm fuzzy feeling in your tummy to even assume the worst of Kurt. He had your trust wholeheartedly. “It’s alright.” You chuckle. “Thank you.”A yawn worms its way out of Kurt, “Ah, apologies. Too much excitement for one day.” “You can sleep, you know.” You motion to the bed. “You should, you have done a lot today.”He shakes his head. “No, no. I can’t take the bed from you. I will sleep elsewhere.”“Where, precisely?”“…From the beams?” His embarrassment is endearing and palpable.You snort. “You are not hanging upside down like a bat.” You get to your feet, propping your canes against the nearest wall. “Go on, get into bed Kurt.”He stammers, turning even more purple. “B-But, where will you sleep?”You are pushing him gently toward the bed, “I don’t know, I’ll figure it out.”You manage to get him on his back, reaching for the blanket when he snatches you up. You squeak as his arms and legs wrap around you. “If we are to argue, then we will both bear the burden!” He jokes, laughing.Your entire body burns, blood rushing to your face. You hear it happening to him, too. He adjusts the two of you, and luckily the bed is large enough for you both to lay comfortably on your side. He takes the wall, so he can see the door, and makes himself as small as possible, corkscrewing his tail around one leg. He pulls the soft blanket over top and blows out the few candles.The snuffed light has you limited in where you can focus your gaze. Unfortunately for you, all you have is the soft glow of his eyes.“Goodnight, Schatz.” Kurt says through a yawn. His damp curls fall in his face, and his eyes slowly flutter shut.Your heart does a few flips at the Schatz. He couldn’t possibly mean it, could he? Your insides are warm, you’re melting into the sheets. His breathing slows and remains soft. He so quickly fell asleep; he must have been exhausted.You try your best to sleep, closing your eyes, but it’s too loud. You hear the faint trickle of a creek, the occasional flutter from the pigeons, the skitters of the rodents. It’s all too much. You had grown accustomed to the ambience of your flat, the water dripping, soft talking, the cars driving by; but this was all new.You couldn’t even toss and turn, stuck in your one position. You huff.“Struggling to sleep?” You could have jumped seven feet. Kurt had one eye open, analyzing you, that devilish grin on his face.“How did you know?” You whisper back.“I have my ways.” He chuckles. “Also, I can feel how tense you are.”A few moments pass, the only sound is both of your breathing.You open and then close your mouth, swallowing. “I… Yes. It’s too loud.”“I can imagine.” He sounds so sleepy, like he could drift away in an instant. “It must be so difficult to be so in tune with sound.”You give a small nod. “You could say that.” You sigh, closing your eyes. “I can hear a creek, the mice, the pigeons…”Kurt doesn’t offer a reply, instead gently running a hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ear.You must bite your tongue to prevent any squeaks. “A-Anyway-“ You putter out. “Since I can’t sleep… Do you mind if we talk?”“No, go on. Speak freely, you are safe in the house of God.”You begin with a burning question. “How do you do it?” You adjust yourself slightly, trying to make yourself comfortable. “Walk around in the open?”“Ah well… There are plenty of sympathizers. Many who keep to themselves and mind their business. Most are too cowardly to enact on their hatred and biases.” He pulls his hand back to himself. “I have long ago learned to ‘mind my own business.’” He laughs. “A friend of mine would disagree, he would say ‘give them a piece of your mind, bub.’” He effortlessly says those words in an Americanized accent, you can’t help but giggle.“I hope to never cross that friend of yours.”“Ah, well, he is soft at heart.” Kurt rolls onto his back, his shoulder brushing up against you. “It takes much for him to bare his claws.”“Mmm…” You gently chew the nail on your thumb. “Have you… Always been blue? I hope that doesn’t sound insensitive.”Kurt lightly chuckles, “Ah, you are alright friend. But, yes, I was born like this. Blue and fuzzy.” He gently wraps an arm around you and pulls you close, having you rest your head on his chest. “There, you can listen to my breathing and heart instead of the scampering of our fellow squatters.”You feel like air has gotten thicker, you can’t seem to breathe right. You aren’t certain if he’s being flirtatious or genuine. You hear the thump thump of his ventricles opening and closing, the rushing of blood through his veins. Softer is the air filling his lungs.He is fuzzy, like a teddy bear. You mindlessly paw at it. “Mmm… Soft.” You mutter, sleep finally clutching you in its grasp. If Kurt heard you, he pays it no mind. “Do you like being a mutant?” You yawn.“Of course.” He begins, softly smiling. “I could not be who I am without it. I am a mutant, and without that I would cease to be.” He ruffles your hair, easing you further into sleep. “I find joy in my identity, and I regret taking so long to do so. I only hope you experience the same someday, friend.”Your eyes flutter closed, the warmth radiating from him was intoxicating. You tried to ask more, this was your chance after all, but slumber was the ultimate victor. You both drifted off, in the old church, huddled together.It was the best sleep you had in a very, very long time. The only sour note was that when you woke up, the bed was empty.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Kurt Wagner is in for it when you get your hands on him. This little disappearing act is growing stale; he needs to refresh his routine. You scramble out of the bed, at least making it — unlike a fuzzball we know — and changing into the spare clothes he brought.The revelation you are a mutant had you think a little differently. You found yourself really focusing on what you could hear. Any whispers that could be useful to you. There was plenty of deafening ambience, just like last night. You ball your fists. Just… Just focus. Focus on one thing.You picture Kurt, his smile, his radiant eyes. Your cheeks burn. Yet… There it is. Ever so faintly, the familiar sound of his breathing, the tip of his tail cutting through the air.So, you’ve managed to hear him, but that doesn’t narrow down where he is. You aren’t aware of the limitations to your abilities just yet, your radius could be 50 feet or 50 miles for all you knew.You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You figure you might as well use context clues to decipher his motives. After some fumbling around in the dim room, you find the box of matches. A strike later, and the match roars to life. You make your way around, lighting the few candles, until the match burns to a nub singing your fingertips.You yelp in surprise, dropping the remains on the floor. It’s nothing, not even a true burn, the shock is what rocked you the most. Once you recollect yourself, the first thing to draw your attention is the open manilla envelope on the bench.You snoop, flipping through the pages. Everything is written in English. You kick yourself for not paying better attention in class, as so many words are too complex and foreign. Beginner English you pick up on, and the few cognates. In defeat, you flip back to the front, seeing a photo of a woman. Blue, angled cheeks, sleek vivid red hair. Surprisingly, her eyes match Kurt’s in color, but in addition they have slit-shaped pupils. Just how common are blue mutants?You slip the photo in your pocket. Not much of a plan, you realize, but you can at least make it so Kurt can’t deny the existence of the folder. You leave it on the bench, trading it for your white cane, and make the voyage out of the spare room.You swear you get lost in the claustrophobic corridors at least twice, and it doesn’t help when you realize you’re in the basement. You avoid anywhere that grows too dark for your comfort. You aren’t sure how long it takes you, just that the sun is up when you finally make it to the sanctuary.“Wow…” It’s completely different from last night, like you stepped through a portal. The sheets are gone, dust eliminated, warm candles illuminate the gorgeous stained glass and adorned ceiling.It looks inviting, like its excitedly awaiting the next congregation. Kurt is hung by his tail, upside down, wiping down a beam with a rag. He softly hums a hymn to himself as he does so. It’s a cute sight, his nappy hair suspended midair. He’s still wearing his tank, now trying to slip off his toned body due to gravity, and his light-colored shorts.He releases the grip with his tail, flipping himself upright, and lands flawlessly on his feet in just a few seconds. Hands on his hips, he admires his handiwork.You tip toe across the aisle to stand behind him. “Good morning, Kurt.”“Ah!” He jumps, launching the dirty rag across the room, his tail sticking straight up like a cat. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, Schatz?”You snicker, unable to help yourself. “Sorry, sorry. It was too easy.” You get on your tip toes to ruffle his hair, only now you realize how tall he is.He gruffs, but you see the grin threatening to peak through. “Apology accepted, but I won’t be so nice next time.”“How so?” You cock your head to the side.“Like this!” He lunges towards you; his hands making their way under your arms and tickling you. You shriek out before crumbling into a ball of laughter. Once he’s wrecked enough havoc, he sets you free as you gasp for air. “That’ll show you.”Your chest noticeably rises and falls. “R-Right. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t spook you again.”“Damn right,” he says with a laugh, helping you back up to your feet. “did you sleep well?”“Uh, yeah. I did.” You nervously run circles into the back of your neck, too ashamed to admit it was the best sleep of your life. “So what are you up to?”“Oh, well someone very sneezy said I should dust,” Mischief flickers in his eyes, “And I should honor God , what better way than to clean His home?”“I suppose you have a point.”“Aye, friend, I do!” He hops on top of a pew, crouching like before, in your flat.“But what now?” You look around the room, unsure what he could do next. You rub your fingers together with the photo between them in your pocket. You aren’t quite sure how or when to bring up the file.“Head to the market, probably.” His tail happily sways behind him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”Right on cue, your stomach loudly proclaims its emptiness. Kurt only laughs, hopping back down to his feet. You now note how active he is, he can’t seem to sit still. He pats your back before spinning around, throwing on his coat and hat. “I’ll be off, don’t answer the door.”“What? You’re going alone?” You’re stunned, but he continues on, heading to the front door.“Ja, you’ve already been hurt Schatz. I can’t… I cannot allow it again. I will not.”You don’t know what to say to that. His tone sharply switching grim, serious. It was strange to see him this way.“Well, I’ll be seeing you. Ciao!” Kurt opened the door, his trademark grin back, and right as he took a step out the door lightning crackled down, striking a few blocks away. Thunder tumbles over your heads, rain pouring from above.“Shit.” He swears under his breath. “There goes that.” He sighs, putting his coat back on the hanger. “The church will flood and I can’t let it be ruined more than it already is. I’m its only protector now…”Kurt briskly saunters past you, and you can already see what he means. So much water slowly drips from the ceiling, but a few spots have proper holes causing the downpour no difficulty.You fiddle with your hands, not sure what to do to help. Kurt has already dipped into some corridor. He is hard to track, hard to spot. It isn’t hard to see why he was so surprised you caught him in your apartment yesterday.Slowly, you walk back down the aisle of the sanctuary, running a hand along each pew. Some are pristine, but most are cracked. Some have their upholstery torn up, most likely from mold and water damage. There remains a handful of bibles in the shelves, none of them in great condition. The pages are puffed up, discolored, and wavy. A few flames have died out from the rainwater, shifting the ambience cooler. A hole in the roof creates a spotlight on Christ’s face. His peaceful expression, eyes casted downward to onlookers below. Holes in his wrists and ankles, oozing marble blood.It sends a shiver down your spine.The bible at the altar is open, and with the thick layer of dust it’s evident it hasn’t been touched in quite some time. Why was this the one thing Kurt didn’t touch? You wonder.It’s open to the book of Mathew, and some of the phrases are familiar. Lines you’ve heard incessantly in your life, such as: “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” You never understood the seeming hypocrisy, what it really meant.Your eyes are drawn to a specific line thickly underlined:
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
There’s a thin scratch in the dust layer, like a nail digging through. You reach out to touch, to read more, maybe this will give you a glimpse into Kurt. This entire adventure had you forget why you even interacted with the man in the first place: your book.You hear a crash and a commotion, like tons of metal falling to the ground. “Kurt!” you shout, rushing to his direction, but his blue-self pops out from a hallway.“Ja?” He says, chipper as ever.Kurt comes back with pots, bowls, and buckets. He strategically sets them up, before seating himself at the altar. He lights two candles before mumbling to himself, clasping his hands in prayer.You carefully seat yourself beside him, enjoying the beauty. The candles are warm, comforting. They remind you of last night. You never cared for church, hated it in fact, but were happy it gave Kurt peace.“Amen.” He finishes, raising his head and glancing to you.“Why do you believe?” You spit out.His glimmering eyes examine you, “Why don’t you? There is no proof to swing you one way or another.” He leans back, propping himself up with both of his hands.“Well, it’s just… You’ve been through an awful lot. Not many would be thanking God for that.”Kurt throws his head back in a laugh, his hand mere inches from yours. “I suppose not, but that is what makes me different. God destined me for these trials, these… Tribulations. I will prove myself as much as He needs me to.” His other hand moves up to feverishly clutch the rosary adorning his neck.You click your tongue, not one to be religious. “I just don’t think it’s fair.”“Aye, well, nothing is fair, friend.” He gently pats your head. “We would be puppets if not for the first sin, if our mother and father Adam and Eve hadn’t listened to the serpent. It was the cost of our autonomy.”You hold your tongue, not comfortable in fighting his beliefs. At least he isn’t forcing it upon you. “Your rosary is beautiful.” You point to it. “Where did you get it?”“That…” He peers down his chest. “The nunnery that raised me claims they found me with it, so I’d assume my mother.”“You don’t know her? You grew up in a nunnery?”He winces, slightly. You’ve accidentally opened an old wound. “In a sense, no. She… She abandoned me, for even I was too monstrous for her. So God led me to the sisters. I am ever grateful.”You don’t think as you make your move, gently placing your hand on top of his. “Well, this mother of yours, she doesn’t deserve to know the kind of man you’ve become. You’re better than she will ever be.”He chuckles, cheeks flushing. “You flatter me, Schatz.” He turns to look at you, his smile melting you into a puddle. “I’m so happy you think so.”Thunder rolls above again, lightning cracking and snapping outside, yet you two are focused on no one else. The tension is thick, and you hear his heart fluttering.“I’m so happy I met you, friend.” His brilliant glow is blinding.You nervously swallow. “M-Me too.” You glance away, your face so hot it feels like it’s melting.“And…” He gives your hand a squeeze. “I am no saint, friend. I am very much a dirty sinner.” He drops his voice to a whisper, leaning in close to you.His mouth is slightly parted, breath hot. You can see the tips of his fangs threatening to poke out. His grip is a little tighter. You forget to breathe.“Will you sin, with me?”Your heart does cartwheels before lodging in your throat. Unable to speak, you just nod.His eyes slowly close, his head slightly askew. He’s leaning closer to you, his breath warms and tickles the tips of your ears.Blood is rushing through you, digging your nails into your palms just to stay grounded. This feels so soon, way too soon, but you can’t help it and comply.You allow yourself to melt, leaning in, pressing your lips together. Fireworks burst between you, his lips so soft and gentle. Your skin is electrified. He’s so warm, and he smells sweet like a doughy pastry.A hand of his slides up your back, cradling your neck. He pulls you into his lap, enveloping you in intoxicating warmth and desire. You raise a shaky hand to run through his hair. This all feels like a dream, a magnificent dream.He bites down on your lower lip, hard. Its as if ice cold water is thrown on you. You inhale sharply in distress, the taste of blood filling your mouth. You try to yelp as you open your eyes but find yourself staring at someone else. Their features melt and realign, but the golden sclera remain. It’s the woman from before, the mutant Kurt was after.She wipes your blood from her lips with her thumb, licking it away. You open your mouth to scream something, anything. “Ah ah ah~,” She tuts, jamming a large metal device in your gut.Electricity burns your skin, your muscles convulse and fight against your senses. You fall backward, to the harsh unforgiving floor. She rises to her feet, heels of her boots clicking on the stone.She speaks in English, just barely out of your view. All you can see is her blurry blue silhouette. The footsteps circle themselves, before she comes back straight to you. She stretches up in height, her skin forming metal plates, and in a blink she’s a broad man made of metal.She heaves you over her shoulder, and out the front doors of the church. The icy rain beats down on your back, soaking you completely while you still fight the convulsions. You’re hurled into an armed vehicle with English lettering on the side.Inside, you’re completely surrounded. Soldiers, just like the ones from your flat. They pay you no mind, one of them slapping jagged, strange looking handcuffs on your wrists.The truck squeals before it begins to move, and you’re jostled by every bump and turn. Rain drops down from your hair, and you watch the puddles grow at your feet. The despair in your heart is soul crushing. Again and again, you’re left like this: helpless. When will it end?You close your eyes, the lack of visuals comforting. Something you were accustomed to, something you knew you couldn’t rely on. Maybe Kurt was someone you never knew, stringing you along. Maybe he was this horrible woman all along. You couldn’t be certain, and you didn’t know if you ever could be.For now, it didn’t appear to be in the cards for you to know anytime soon. Instead, like a lamb being led to the slaughter, you quietly await your future in the dim back of the truck; blood from your split lip dribbling and mixing with your tears.