Captive

by abracadabra

~X~

"Ihr name wird gepriesen. Ihr königreich kommen," And zhank you, Fazher, for giving me such an opportunity to be in zhe circus and see America.

Pain, confusion, hot wax. Someone, someone horribly strong, had taken his arms and slammed his upper body right into the candle rack, the peaceful flame of his offering now a white-hot warning beacon by his right temple. He shouted out in German, not understanding or caring about his own words. His mind blanked with the shock of both being caught completely by surprise and being forcibly held in such a peaceable place, and he let his instincts take over as he tried to free out of his attacker's grip by struggling and rolling.

If he tried to teleport, his racing and unthinking mind would more than likely send him into a solid object nearby, and there was also a good chance all of or a part of his attacker would travel, too. But now, even his dexterity from a lifetime of acrobatics was no use – there were more now, strange men, cold men, holding him down and keeping his upper body pinned.

He thrashed his legs, trying to get some sort of grip on the ground with his toes, but even more forceful arms pushed them down into the dusty stone floor. A gloved hand appeared in his vision, and like a cornered and frightened animal, he extended his neck and bit it with wide, sharp fangs. His yellow eyes rolled as he continued to fight the strange people, and something hard and alien was shoved into his mouth. For a few precarious seconds, he gagged, but the adrenaline pumping into his system was finally starting to clear the haze from his mind.

Calm down, he told himself. Concentrate. If you focus enough, you can travel vizh just yourself. Somehow, it took more energy to stop fighting, but he stilled himself and closed his eyes.

Now, there was talking, walking, someone behind him, surrounded with a nebulous aura of intimidation and fear. Kurt brought his breath in slowly and evenly, focusing on getting himself away.

Suddenly, there was something on his neck. It felt cold and wet at first, and then, a split second later, a horrible, biting, burning sensation burrowed itself into his spinal cord. His eyes opened and he saw ice-blue spots in his vision. He tried to shout out, but when he couldn't even open his mouth, he realized that, somehow, he had entirely lost control of his body. Nien! Nien! he screamed, without a sound or sign.

The men – and women, he now saw – lifted him, and the flashlight clattered out of his slack lips and extinguished the candle. Trapped in his useless, limp body, Kurt could do nothing but cry out mentally to whomever was listening as they lifted him and carried him out of his violated sanctuary.

~X~

"Colonel Krawley – good work. Your efforts in the war on mutants are laudable."

"Thank you, sir." Krawley shook Stryker's cold hand as the three special ops exited the private – and, therefore, easily trackable – helicopter. "And good luck with…the training…." He motioned to the sheet-covered bundle in the back of the helicopter, blue tail peeking out barely noticeable in the night and subtle red light of the soldiers' gelled headlamps.

"Yes. Well, I have practice." He glanced at his watch, grabbed Yuriko, who had been at his side, lowered her head, and effortlessly inserted serum from a pocket syringe into the caustic hole in the back of her neck. She never protested or even flinched, and stood up afterwards as if nothing had happened. Krawley looked rather apprehensively from the assistant to Stryker, who then added to the colonel, "Remember, we never had this operation."

"Of course."

The military strategist nodded, and without any further acknowledgment, followed Yuriko into the cockpit. With control and dexterity, her slim, long fingers flew over the panels, and soon the propellers began to throb. The helicopter rose into the sky over Washington, D.C. and, after using a few connections and well-put phrases, Stryker secured an unhindered and private flight to Alkali Base for the next six hours.