Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, the only thing I own in this story is Centaura, and if you still decide to sue, all you'll get is a pregnant gerbil and a few books.



Note: I'm not going to put up the other chapter until I get AT LEAST five reviews for this. I have no idea if this sucks or not - and predictions about what's going to happen next would be appreciated.







~I~

Amanda Sefton growled as she flung her overly-small bag onto the hard hotel mattress. Her annoyance increased as she sat down, and finally found out /why/ the airline was willing to pay for her room in this place. It was cheap, and none to pleasant. Tiny, uncompromising, with barely tow chairs and a practically miniature table able to fit in the small space provided between the bed and the outside wall. There wasn't even a balcony to relieve the nearly claustrophobic feeling! And everything, from furniture, walls, bedspread, and carpet, was all in that hideous shade of green you never seem to find anywhere else.

However, there was something important that had been nagging at the back of her mind, as if she had seen something vitally important and overlooked it. *Well, the airline paid for a rental car, and I want another look at that place. Who knows? I may be spending too much time around the X-Men,* Amanda thought to herself. Grabbing her cell phone (hey, even a sorceress needs a modern means of communication), she locked the door on her way out.

Down in the garage, Amanda looked despairingly over the car TWA provided. *I'm stuck in Seattle for a week with one of those miniature foreign things that /looks/ like it should fit four people, but really only fits three!* Still, Amanda started the bright green thing, wishing she wasn't forced to hunch over, even when the seat was at it's lowest.

*The things a girl will do for her boyfriend,* she thought ironically. *If Kurt and I weren't dating (WHEN is he going to ask me to marry him?!? I may have to do it myself . . .), I would have assumed I'd been hallucinating,. Your viewpoints on things change when your boyfriend is blue and fuzzy, his best friend has bones coated in metal, and is a member of a wanted superhero group. Oh well.*

Amanda Sefton had known Kurt longer than anyone, save her mother Margali. Margali of the Winding Road had found him in the river after Mystique, his real mother, threw him over a waterfall to save herself. They, and her brother Stefan, had grown up together, in the accepting safety of the gypsies and the traveling performers, whom Kurt ended up becoming part of. Amanda Sefton wasn't her real name, her given name was Jimaine Szardos - and when Kurt left, it had been to leave a tattered life and family. During a fight to halt Stefan's growing madness, Kurt accidently slew he whom he called brother - and the townspeople /assumed/, because of his mutant looks, that it had been the heartbroken Nightcrawler who'd murdered their children, not his brother, whom Kurt had slain only moments before. The demonic-looking mutant had been on his way to find Margali and Jimaine, to tell them, when he was attacked. His life was saved by a telepath, who recruited him for his mutant team -

The X-Men.

Amanda shook her head as she drove though the city traffic, concentrating on navigating the steep streets. *I knew Kurt could never have killed Stefan in cold blood, so I became 'Amanda', and I proved what I already knew - the Kurt was wholly innocent. So when Mother struck, to bring Kurt to her version of Dante's hell, I dragged the X-Men along for the ride. They would never allow Kurt to go into any hell, not even if he himself thought he deserved it. I admit, Dr. Strange was a surprise, but one that worked to my advantage. When he, Kurt and I revealed to Mother what had /truly/ happened, she forgave him. The X-Men learned Kurt's no-long-dark little secret, and I got to tell Kurt that I had been playing Amanda the whole time . . . What a night that was! And on his birthday, too, poor elf,* ~(See 1980 annual, annual #4, for the full story of 'Nightcrawler's Inferno'), Jimaine laughed. She was entirely content to continue being 'Amanda'. She made a good living as a TWA stewardess, and she saw Kurt more often as well . . .

Amanda turned on the radio, which fizzed and popped until she found one station that worked. And it was, of course, in Spanish. She muttered in German at first the radio, then the dinky little car, then the hotel, and lastly her airline for stranding her in Seattle for a week.



Centaur stretched her legs, then settled into her position. She had come to love midfield, even though she had hated playing it at first. She'd hated soccer, at first, but then she found out she was good at it, and things got a little easier. She lived in her own private little hell around the clock, the only exceptions being when she was standing here, on the grassy front yard of Miss Madeline's Home for Girls, preparing to run the pants off the opposing team. She was feared, hated, teased and mistreated on all other fronts, but no one questioned her rule on the soccer field. She could play other games . . . none of which were allowed at the Home, of course. She watched the forward on her side of the field, keeping one wary eye on the center forward, who was preparing to kickoff. And then the ball moved, and both teams raced into action.



Amanda stared, dumbstruck, at the makeshift soccer game taking place on the front lawn of Miss Madeline's Home for Girls on the outskirts of Seattle. The game was perfectly harmless - a good way for girls who were probably pent up inside most of the time to expend their anger and energy - however . . .

*I have to call the X-Men.*



Ororo Munroe glared at the sickly plant before her. It had recently been repotted, which gave it ample reason to be droopy, but she didn't have to like it. All the same, it would get better, and just as she was about to turn her attention to her other plants, the phone downstairs rang. She paused, waiting for someone else to take the call.

Then she sighed, and walked out of her attic to answer the infernal machine. "Hello, Professor Xavier's School for Higher Learning, how -"

The weather-witch was cut off by a voice she took a moment to recognize. "Ororo? This is Amanda. Is Professor Xavier there? I need to talk to him," Amanda sounded calm, but there was an uncertain edge to her voice. Ororo knew that, had this been a personal call, Amanda wouldn't have used the 'school' line, much less asked for Xavier.

"Why? Usually you -" again, Storm was cut off by the worried German's brief explanations.

"I have to talk to the Professor. I think - I take it back, I /know/ - I've found a mutant in the area. And she's in need of the X-Men's unique assistance," Amanda answered. "She doesn't seem to be very powerful, but her mutation is, hmm, /obvious/, to say the least."

Ororo thought for a moment. Kurt's longtime friend knew all the X-Men, well enough that if she ever switched sides, it would be very easy for all the X-Men to die. *Kurt, though he loves her, would never let that stand in his way, not if he even suspected she might do something of the sort.* "I'll put Charles on," Ororo concentrated, and almost instantly felt another presence in her mind. *Professor? It's Amanda, on the 'school' line. She says she's found a mutant who may require our attention.*

*Thank you, Storm. I've got the phone now,* and with that, the telepath vanished from Ororo's senses. She hung up.



Xavier thanked whatever coincidence or divine intervention that lead to Amanda's discovery of the mutant girl. If Amanda's description of her was correct, she could never make it in a world that was still so prejudiced against mutants. She would become a morlock at the best, murdered at the worst. She simply /couldn't hide her mutation/. All of his X-Men could, although Nightcrawler adamantly refused the image-inducer that would make his façade so much easier.

However, there was simply no one else to send, No one else fit the description perfectly, no one else who had even a /chance/ of extracting her from the shell she /must/ have. She couldn't have survived so long without one.

"Alright," he said, "Amanda, I'm sending Nightcrawler to you. He'll make the arrangements. He'll need your help; we want her to come here both willingly and legally. She can't just vanish, no matter how convenient that would be."

"Fine. When will he be here?"

"In about six hours, mein liebling," Kurt answered as he picked up the phone.

Xavier hung up.



Kurt wanted to stretch, but didn't dare. Not until Amanda got him out of the airport. He put his three-fingered hand deep in the trench coat pocket, sighing. He hoped he wasn't frightening anyone, because he couldn't hide his eyes.

"Hey, Elf!" came a happy voice to his right. Kurt smiled, and started walking over to the familiar blond figure. "I can't believe you flew Delta. You're going to put me outta the job, fuzzy," she ginned at him, and they kissed. Kurt grinned back, a hint of white fang glinting in his mouth.

"On to the car! I need to stretch. I'm so crunched by those seats I think I shrank an inch," Kurt put his arm around Amanda, who was just barely holding in laughter. "This is what I brought on the plane, the Prof. sent the rest on to the hotel. He also rented another room . . ."

"For the girl," Amanda finsihed.

"So I was hoping, yes," at this, Kurt grinned again. They reached the parking lot, and saw the tiny, bright green car. "Tell me that's not yours."

"Well, no, it's not -"

"Dänke."

"It's the rental agencies. I've just got it for the week."

"Unglaublich."

"My opinion exactly."



Four days later . . . .

Amanda vanished into the door marked 'office' for the umpteenth time, and Kurt had had his fill of sitting on the uncomfortable bench outside, just because he had to keep what he looked like a secret. He hadn'e even gotten a look at the girl, whom everyone insisted upon calling 'Centaura'. Her birth certificate, made only two years ago, just before coming here, even said 'Centaura Moscella' (moss-KAY-ya; Spanish pronunciation of double L's). Amdana had described her, but Kurt found it hard even to picture her.

The Elf stood and began wandering around the public halls of the Home. He was about to pass another one of the identical doors, when he heard shouting come from behind it.

"Back off, you inbred bitches, or I'll do to you what I did to Christie!"

Kurt paused. *That,* he decided, *is not a good sign. I think I's better check things out . . .*

"Oh, the half-breed's gonna tell us off! As if we got better ta do then mark her hide till it's black-and-blue. You ain't no better than the rest of us, horse-child! In fact, you're worse! You ain't worth my foot, you freak!"

"Good," the first voice spat. "I wouldn't want to be worth so little!"

The second voice screeched, and Kurt poked his head inside. None of the girsl noticed him. "You put on a face like you've changed for the adults," she sneered. "But you're the same filthy, vile gang-banger you were when they brought you here! You're a traitorous back stabber, murderer, and have no respect for anyone but yourself!"

"And who," the first voice growled, seemingly untouched by the other girl's cruel words. "should I be respecting?"

"Me. And the other's who've been here longer 'n you. We tried to teach you when you got here, more then a year ago, but you wouldn't learn. You we're gonna have ta teach you the hard way," the second voice hardened in finality, and the semi-circle of girls surrounding the first began to close in. Kurt watched as she shifted her weight, and turned the half-made fighting stance she been in before into a full one. It was a position that Kurt, in the service of the X-Men, had been in many times.

"I've been learning things the hard way a long time, Katerina. But I never learned nothin' that wasn't worth knowin'," the first girl, the girl in the center, was outnumbered and seemingly out muscled. She was a good deal shorter than the others, looking to be about 4 feet, eleven inches tall. Her long brown hair was tied up in a rather severe french braid, and her emerald eyes were as hard as the gemstone they resembled.

It was then that Kurt realized that the girl in the middle, one to the groups six, was the mutant they'd been sent after.

Seeing Centaura in the flesh was much different than hearing her described. If she'd been born the way she looked now, Kurt had no doubts that her given name really /was/ Centaura. For that's exactly what her build suggested; a centaur. She was no half-hose, all part of her were human . . . she just had a few too many parts. Set up like a centaur, she had four legs, four /human/ legs. There was about six inches of torso-like body between each pair of legs, and it seemed her backbone had been made to keep her torso upright, bent that way. The only part of her that really wasn't human was her tail. It was much like his own, made only of bone and muscle, just as strong and prehensile. At four feet long, it whipped behind her, making a /crack/ing sound. She was stocky, but very lithe. Her legs were only a little longer than her torso, and unless you knew what to look for, she didn't seem imposing. But well-developed muscles rippled under her skin, although they had been mostly out-of-use for a year and a half. Even after so long a time, she was stocky because of muscles - there wasn't an ounce of superfluous fat in her entire body.

Centaura, the only one facing him, noticed him first. Kurt cleared his throat. The other six girls whipped around, and seeing an adult, ran. Nightcrawler noticed what Centaur was wearing, and almost laughed because it looked so ridiculous and out-of-place.

She wore the same gray uniform as everyone else, though the skirt was custom-made. It looked rather . . .foolish, on her, as did the sleeves just this side of puffed, and the white stockings. The black booties didn't help matters.

Centaura looked at her unexpected rescuer for a moment. She knew that she was being 'transferred' to some school in New York, acros the country, and far from anything she'd ever known. "Sir?"

"Centaura? Am I right?"

*There's something strange about his eyes . . .* "Yes. Sir, it's not my place, but your eyes -"

Kurt laughed, and pulled back the hood that he wore to conceal his features. Blue fur, bright, pupil-less yellow eyes, blue/black hair, and large, pointed ears grinned down at Centaura from ten inches above her. "Are yellow, my face is blue, and I have elf-ears. I realize all this."

Centaura blinked. And blinked again. Then she shook her head, and asked, "Do you have fur all over, or just on your face?"

At this, Kurt started laughing all over again. "What's so damned - sorry, danged - funny? It was an honest question. And you left somethings out. You have three fingers. And a tail."

"Sorry, fraülien, but you have a unique reaction to me. And I'm blue all over."

Centaura began circling him, and continued her commentary as f she wasn't aware she was channeling a vulture. She didn't move elegantly, but every step contained controlled power. Nightcrawler was inwardly surprised at this, since her papers said she was only a little older than fourteen. "How should I react? By screaming? Oh, yeah, good idea. You'd probably be shot on sight, and fine thanks that would be for saving me from them. I didn't want to get in trouble for beating the pulp out of them. Again. Besides you actually look," she though about it for a second, and stopped her inane circling in front of him. "Pretty cool. Fur would be cool. Me, I've just got four legs and a tail. What can I say?"

Just then a voice yelled "Kurt!" from the hallway, and the Elf rolled his eyes (not that anyone could tell . . .)

"Coming, 'Manda," he called, pulling the hood back into place.

"Kurt? Is that your name?" Centaura asked. The mutant girl was desperate for more at least seemingly intelligent conversation, and even their short talk had been outlandish compared to the average, droning, ever-present and never-changing conversation around the Home.

"Kurt Wagner, Nightcrawler, at your service, young Centaura," Kurt bowed, flashed a roguish grin, and was gone in a BAMF.