Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men or Destry. Please don't sue me or steal my story. Thanks!

NOTE: This story was inspired by the movie Destry Rides Again starring Jimmy Stewart and Marlene Dietrich. (I figured Kurt would be a Marlene Dietrich fan ;) ) It takes place in my personal spin-off alternate universe: Earth 723, as seen in stories such as April Fools, Unexpected Angels, and The Day the Earth Stood Back. The town of Gold Dust with its pyrite-sprinkled streets is a figment of my own imagination—in the movie the name of the town was Bottleneck.

NOTE II: This story was a challenge winner at Nightscrawlers!

Wagner Rides Again
By Rowena

The battered, wooden double doors to the saloon swung open with a surprisingly loud clatter. Cessily Kincaid jumped slightly; then, taking a deep breath, she stepped into the dim, smoky room. As she did, she felt the hard, glittering eyes of the rugged patrons on her back, sizing her up as she strode past their card tables on her way to the bar.

"What's yer poison, kid?" the rotund bartender asked bluntly, gesturing to the uneven bottles lining the shelf behind him. "We got whisky or whisky. Take yer pick."

Cessily straightened her shoulders. "Actually, I'm looking for the sheriff," she said, doing her best to ignore the dusty men leering at her through tobacco-stained teeth. "Marta told me I would find him here."

The bartender quirked an eyebrow. "Well, I don't know no Marta," he said, "but the sheriff's at the jailhouse. He brought in a couple o' Bull's Eye Marksman's men late last night, so he's gotta watch 'em 'till the federal marshal gets here."

"Thank you." Cessily nodded to the man, then turned on her heel, keeping her eyes focused on the door as she walked brusquely from the saloon and out into the blistering desert heat.

The jailhouse was just down the block, across the broad dirt street from the bank. The barred windows were too dusty to see through, but Cessily thought she could hear voices speaking inside the brick building so she forwent knocking and simply opened the door. Sure enough, the "sheriff" was there, his over-large feet propped comfortably on his cluttered desk and his concentration fixed on whittling something out of wood.

"So, you are here!" Cessily frowned, slamming the door against the outside heat. The sheriff started at the sound, the legs of his tilted chair slamming to the floor with a jarring THUMP. "Marta said you were training," Cessily continued, clearly annoyed as she glanced around the cramped jailhouse. "This doesn't look like a training program to me."

The sheriff smiled. "Cessily Kincaid, I presume," he said, rising to his feet to offer her his hand. "Kurt Wagner. I was told your plane wasn't arriving until nine."

"Yeah, well, I woke up early this morning so I took an earlier flight," she shrugged, giving his fuzzy, three-fingered hand a perfunctory shake. "Don't worry, you're not the only person I've surprised today."

Kurt nodded and sat back down, his golden eyes amused. "I can imagine," he said wryly. The silver-skinned girl shot him a defensive glare.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" she demanded.

"Why don't you take a seat, Cessily," Kurt said, "and we'll talk. Have you had anything to eat?"

"I ate on the plane," Cessily frowned, plunking her metallic form down into a rough, wooden chair. "So, what is this place?"

"The town of Gold Dust," Kurt smiled. "So called because of the singular way the dusty streets glitter in the sun. Surely you noticed on your way in."

Cessily straightened in her chair. "Are you seriously telling me that's gold in the street?"

"Pyrite, actually," Kurt grinned. "It's practically worthless, but it does look pretty in the sunlight. Don't you think?"

Cessily shot him a dubious look. "Why are you here?" she asked bluntly. "What kind of a sim-program is this anyway? I thought you were supposed to be an acrobat or something. Shouldn't you be, like, swinging from bars instead of playing sheriff in some made-up town?"

Kurt laughed. "Liebling, there are many ways to train," he said. "Being an X-Man requires more than physical stamina and fighting skills. That's what I hope to teach you while you're here."

"That's what Mr. Summers said you'd say," Cessily scowled. "But I don't get why I can't learn that in New York. Why'd I have to fly all the way to London?"

"I think Scott wanted us to meet in person," Kurt said simply. "And, since as the leader of Excalibur I have to stay with my team, it was easier to bring you to England than it would be to arrange for me to come to you in New York. Understand?"

Cessily scowled harder, lowering her silvery eyes to her lap. "Yeah, whatever," she grumbled. "So, you're supposed to be my role model, is that it? So that maybe, by watching some guy who's even more of a freak than I am, I'll start to feel better about my own mutation?"

Kurt's smile faded at once. "Frankness is one thing," he said. "Rudeness is quite another. You were sent to train under me because of the nature of your powers. The decision had nothing to do with your appearance, or with mine. You are a shapeshifter, able to form the metal of your body into any shape, like liquid mercury. My daughter, Suzie, is also a shapeshifter, as was my mother. No one at the IX-MO Headquarters in New York has had as much interactive experience training shapeshifters as I have. I can help you hone your powers, Cessily, but you have to be willing."

Cessily looked up, her silvery eyes wide. That wasn't what she'd expected to hear. "Your daughter is a shapeshifter?" she repeated in surprise. "I—I didn't know that."

"Her mutation is different than yours," Kurt told her, "but your powers are quite similar."

Cessily winced, suddenly feeling rather sheepish. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just thought—"

"I know what you thought," Kurt interrupted, his eyes still sharp. "And I understand why you would think that. But if there is one thing you will learn before you leave here, it is that appearances—while important—are not everything. Take Destry, for example."

Cessily squinted up her face. "Destry?" she repeated. "Who's that?"

Kurt leaned back in his chair with a broad grin. "I take it, then, that you have never seen the classic Western, Destry Rides Again, starring the incomparable Marlene Dietrich—surely one of the greatest actresses of all time," he said, running a hand through his wavy hair.

"Seen it," Cessily scorned. "I've never even heard of it."

Kurt clapped his hand over his heart with a theatrical gasp. "Liebling, we really must see about introducing you to the classics." Cessily snorted. Kurt, however, was already deep into lecture mode and didn't notice.

"Destry, meine Freundin," he said, "was the son of a famous sheriff who had been shot to death by outlaws. So, when he was called upon to take the role of sheriff himself, he refused to carry a gun."

"That's stupid," Cessily said. "He'd be street paste in two seconds in a scummy place like this."

"That's what the townsfolk thought, too," Kurt told her. "But Destry knew differently. He chose not to carry a gun, not because he couldn't use it, but because he understood that often just carrying a weapon can be enough to provoke a fight. He enforced the peace with words, but his enemies knew he had the guts and the training to back those words up with force if necessary. The challenge of this sim-program isn't the fight. It's figuring out how to diffuse a conflict before it erupts into violence. To my mind, such training is just as important—if not more so—than running through my combat course."

Cessily tilted her head, her sharp, silvery eyes looking him over as if seeing him for the first time.

"So that's why you're dressed up like a cowboy," she said. "You're playing the role of Destry."

"Well, sort of," Kurt smiled. "The movie inspired me to create this program, but the obstacles here are a little more complicated than those Destry had to face. You see, in this town, the outlaws carry laser blasters and many have mutant powers. The saloon owner does still bear a striking resemblance to Marlene Dietrich, however." He winked, and Cessily almost cracked a smile.

"Sounds kind of cool," she admitted. "So, Sheriff Wagner. Do you have a deputy in this town?"

Kurt cocked an eyebrow. "Why?" he asked, putting on a rather good impression of Jimmy Stewart. "You offerin' to take the job?"

Cessily had to snicker at that. "Well, since you're in the middle of the program anyway…"

Kurt nodded slowly, then stood up and held out his hand. "Yer on, Kincaid," he said. Cessily looked at his proffered hand for a moment, then took it with a genuine smile. It seemed training under Kurt Wagner was going to be far more interesting than she ever could have imagined.

The End

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