All characters are the sole property of Marvel Comics, etc,
etc.
This is a short story that is a spin off from my main story
- The Beginning. I wanted to tie up a few loose ends about Kurt for readers, so
here they are. The premise is that Kurt is a slave in a German circus and the
events in this story take place 48 hours before his rescue by Xavier in 'The
Beginning...'
There was a roar of applause. Kurt swung through the air. He was the most athletic and skilled trapeze artist the audience had ever seen. He reached the crescendo of his act. For a finale, it beat all others. He let go of the swing, and spun through the air. The crowd held their breath, wondering how he was going to reach the safety of the net at this degree of spin. For a couple of tantalising seconds, they were left guessing, before Kurt disappeared in a flash of purple smoke. Kurt's performance was over for another night. But it would be the same tomorrow night, and the night after that, and so on and so on until he didn't know when. Kurt hadn't used magic, but had teleported back to his cage. It was his home, where the circus owners kept him. He was not treated as an equal, not even as an employee. The animals were generally looked after and fed well, not so Kurt. He collapsed on the mound of straw that passed as a bed. The metal inhibitor collar cut into his neck. Kurt knew this was to restrict his powers of teleportation, to prevent him escaping captivity. It had a limited range, 50 metres from his cage. Any further than this, and the collar would self-destruct, blowing Kurt's head off. He'd been warned not to attempt escaping, although there was no proof of the collars deadly nature.
Kurt was hungry, he'd not been fed since lunch, and it was
unlikely he'd be fed at all tonight. Why couldn't they see he was like them?
Why couldn't they look beyond the physical? Why could they not see the real man
inside? For the main attraction of the circus, the star of the show, he was
getting the worst deal.
Kurt was tired. He drifted in and out of sleep. Visions came and went in the twilight world between consciousness and the dark. Kurt had been troubled for a long time. His past was almost entirely a mystery. He could not even remember how he'd come to be imprisoned in the circus. What did they want with him? Why, when he asked them, would they not say? How complicit had they been? Why was he treated so appallingly? Why, when he worked so hard for them, was he treated with such hatred and contempt? Each night, he was made to wear a mask. The management felt there was no need to unnecessarily frighten the public. It gave them the impression they were watching someone important, who's identity must be kept secret.
The idea had been there for some time. Kurt knew he was
human, and he knew he was different. The odd television comment here and
newspaper item there had revealed the mutant phenomenon to him. He'd even heard
the labourers discussing it, and joking that he might be one. Kurt had a feeling
that this might be what was wrong with him, but he wasn't sure. And anyway,
what could he do about it?
For the fist time in a long time, Kurt had been beaten. It
was exactly 24 hours ago. He'd performed his usual stunts in the Big Top, but
he'd been very tired. He'd mistimed a few acts. The Boss had seen him
afterwards. Now, Kurt had the bruises to prove it. Although with Kurt's
colouring, these could hardly be seen.
Little did he know that the anguish this punishment induced
had registered on a computer screen unlike any other, somewhere on the other
side of the Atlantic.
Kurt slept. The following day was much like any other. Kurt
hated sunny days. He could see how nice it was through the gaps in the tent
lining. He longed to be free. This was wrong. He was not an animal. He was a
man. How could they treat him like this?
Then there was the girl. She'd lost her mother and gone
looking for clowns. She was at that age where innocence meant everything. Her
world hadn't been tainted
by the adult diseases of hatred and violence.Kurt gave her
his BANF doll. It was a cute, cuddly version of Kurt, and the girl was
overjoyed. It was then that her mother showed up.
They had shouted at him over and over about the girl. Was he
planning to kidnap her? What evil did he have in mind? The accusations came
thick and fast, in between the punches, kicks and stones. They'd staked him to
the ground in the center of the Big Top. He'd become the victim, the whipping
boy. All the pent up
anger and frustration being vented on him, because he was
different. Why, why, why? The question spun through his mind. Still there was
no answer. It made no
sense. They saw him as an animal, but it was they who were animals. The onslaught continued until he lost consciousness. In a way, he felt he'd won, for he no longer felt the pain.
Reality rushed into his mind as he came round. The noise and shouting had passed and there was a hand resting on his shoulder. As blurred vision focused, Kurt saw a bald man in a wheelchair looking down at him…. (Please what happens next in 'The Beginning…')