Chapter 2

Many things led Raven to be laying on the floor of the underground club, bleeding and staring down the barrel of a gun.

First, there was of course the very existence of the club itself. Rumors reached her months ago about covert mutant fighting rings in Eastern Europe. These fights pitted mutants against each another in a perverse battle of powers, like a twisted, real-life video game. They only existed for a night or two before moving to a new secret location, making the operations highly difficult to track. Second, there were whispers of mutants disappearing only to be found dead, often with horrific injuries or bullet wounds, discarded on the streets in the same cities these underground fights were rumored to take place. There was an unspoken fear brewing in the mutant community; a fear that powerful mutants or those with exceptional physical mutations were being snatched from their homes and hideouts and forced to battle in these fight-or-die operations. Few things inspired white-hot rage in Raven more than mutant-trafficking and the thought of mutants dying solely for human entertainment.

Third, and most important, was Caliban's cryptic message to her days before. She had visited his headquarters to arrange passage to Westchester for a young girl with a highly visible mutation. Although Raven hadn't spoken to Charles since '73, she had been clandestinely filling his school with students for years, often relying on Caliban's services when her rescues displayed physical or difficult-to-control mutations. Caliban was a tricky person, as far as Raven was concerned. She didn't fully trust him, even though over the years he proved to be reliable enough for her needs. All of Raven's rescues had been safely relocated, and she knew Caliban would keep his word once he gave it. The tricky part was getting his word to begin with. Caliban had a steep price, and if the price was right, Raven often wondered if Caliban's word was ever for sale.

"Caliban is wondering if Mystique has heard of the great and undefeated fighter Archangel?" Caliban inquired in his polite yet creepy manner when she handed him payment to transport her newest ward. Raven remained silent; she didn't have time for small talk or Caliban's games. The mutant transporter knew very well that she had been tracking information on the underground fight scene in the East. So far her search only led her to human-on-human fights, or fights between consenting mutants that didn't end in fatalities.

"Oh, how the fight promoters love their Archangel!" Caliban continued, ignoring her silence as he counted her money. "Such a beautiful mutation, and so strong! They love their Archangel so much that they even asked Caliban to find a demon playmate for him; one might say, for a battle of good verses evil." Caliban stated this nonchalantly, but his eyes glanced up to catch her reaction. Raven steeled her face, belying the cold ball of fear growing in her stomach at his words. After a long, uncomfortable silence, the man finished counting the money. Satisfied, he put his hands on the table and leaned forward, looking at the blue woman in earnest.

"Of course, Caliban did not help them," Caliban smiled widely, as if to reassure her. The knot in her stomach lessened and Raven nodded before turning to leave. She didn't like being in Caliban's presence any longer than necessary. She knew he wasn't a telepath, but there was something about his way of hinting at her darkest secrets, ones he couldn't possibly know, that unnerved her.

"Mystique?" Raven stopped and peered at Caliban over her shoulder.

"What?" She demanded. A thin, cruel smile grew on his lips. She was getting tired of his manipulating tone and the entire conversation.

"Did you know the Munich Circus is in town?" A wave of adrenaline raced through her as if someone poured ice down her back. She played her best poker face, raising an eyebrow, as if to say 'so what?' to his question, but her heart was now beating so hard she felt it would burst. Raven was very aware of the Munich Circus, although she never once breathed a word to anyone as to why. Caliban pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He put it on the table and slid it towards Raven. She snatched the paper and unfolded it. It was a small poster advertisement, torn from store window. It showed a simple drawing of a smiling blue devil with golden eyes swinging on trapeze by a tail. Beneath the image it read: "See The Incredible Nightcrawler!"

"Such a curious mutation, don't you think? And what lovely colors!" Caliban shrugged casually before waving in dismissal. "Caliban just thought you might like to know." He turned to his next client. Raven felt nauseous as she ran up the steps, bolting from Caliban's lair. If Caliban was telling the truth - even if he didn't help the promoters find what they sought - his message was a warning that it was only a matter of time before before they discovered him on their own. In all her travels, she had met exactly two mutants she'd describe as demonic. The first was a shadow from her past, dead and gone; the second was her own flesh-and-blood, just about to reach his seventeenth birthday, whether he knew that or not.


The warehouse was loud, smokey, and dank. To blend in, Raven created a scandalous metallic dress and chanced wearing a familiar face. She knew this particular face was risky, but accidentally showing her natural skin would be a death sentence; she trusted this face enough to know she wouldn't shift it accidentally in shock or surprise. Raven never traveled through the Eastern Bloc - not after the events of '67 - but this particular reason made it unavoidable. A blonde Raven melted into the crowd and pushed towards the main cage, scanning the layout of the warehouse to find its exits and weak spots. She noted the armed men standing guard. She saw a winged young man in the cage she could only assume was the famed Archangel. By his rally cries and fist pumps, she briefly wondered if he was there by choice, despite what the presence of armed men told her.

"Meine Damen und Herren ...! Gut gegen Böse ...! Engel gegen Teufel...!"

The garish announcer sang the billing of the fight as Raven spied a box being hauled to the cage. Sparks sizzled around it, as if it was made from electricity. Raven saw the same sparks radiating off the cage fencing. He must be a teleporter, she realized. She knew first-hand that certain electric fields interfered with a teleporter's ability to pass freely through them. The box was roughly upending into the cage and the body inside spilled out unceremoniously, landing face-first on the floor. When the spotlight illuminated the ring, Raven finally saw him.

For the briefest second, she didn't see the teenage stranger, tossed into a cage to fight for his life. Instead, she saw the tiny infant in her arms for the three glorious, breathtaking days that she allowed herself to love him. When he vanished, she couldn't help but smile slightly with pride, until she heard his shrieks of pain when he hit the fencing in his desperate attempts to escape. Each jolt made her quake, as if she was being shocked alongside him. When he finally stopped trying to escape and stood wide-eyed and confused in the center of the ring, Raven saw for the first time how hard his entire body as shaking in fear and pain.

She turned away quickly, feeling tears burning her eyes. Raven didn't watch where she was going and bumped into the woman behind her. She smiled apologetically at both the dark-haired woman and the man in the grey suit next to her. She kept moving through the crowd, trying not to break down each time she heard the sting of the electric fencing. Only after she reached the other side did she face the fight again. They were both on a rafter now, the angel striking at the indigo boy with his wings, but he was holding his own, moving acrobatically to avoid being hit. Displeasure flickered across Raven's face. She abandoned him; it was her fault the boy was now fighting for his life, and she would be damned if she didn't get him out of that wicked cage.

She glanced to the left of the fight and saw a control tower. Her eyes followed the controls to the shadowed ceiling, where the main electrical conduits glowed each time the fencing was struck. For a split second, Raven swore she saw a flicker of movement in the catwalk shadows. She shook her head and walked towards the guard at cage controls. Raven had a plan.

She would rescue the indigo boy and they would both travel immediately to Westchester, to the safe halls of Charles's school. She wasn't ready to tell the boy the truth of his past or who she was, but for the first time in seventeen years, she wanted to rest knowing that her son wouldn't have to live as a secret in some dark recess of her mind. She wanted to know he'd always be safe with family, even if he didn't know that's who they truly were.


All her noble intentions looked lost now as she breathed hard on the ground, tasting blood and staring down the barrel of a gun. Raven had been shot once before, in '73. She didn't know which part had hurt more: the bullet entering her flesh or the fact that it had been put there by someone she once trusted, even loved. I'm so sorry, she whispered in her head; a final, silent apology to the child she failed since the moment she brought him into the world.

She waited for the killing blow, but it never came.

Instead of a bullet exploding, she heard a soft rush of air and a surprised gasp escape the guard's lips. She looked from the gun to the guard's eyes. He was staring in wild confusion at where she lay. Both Raven and the guard then turned their eyes to the source of the man's surprise; a thin silver blade, like a stiletto needle, protruded from his chest directly in line with his heart. The guard looked back at Raven, his face contorted in an expression almost as if he was asking her to help him figure out just what exactly went wrong before his eyes glazed over and he crumpled to the ground. As he fell, the blade slipped silently out of his chest. A figure stepped over the dead guard, out of the shadows and into the light; her savior. He looked at Raven silently before extending his free hand for her to take. Even in the dusky light of the club, she couldn't help but notice that the blood dripping down the blade matched the color of his skin.

Raven wasn't looking at a savior; she was looking at a ghost.


A/N: I finally saw XMA the other night and I loved it! Kurt was written & acted exactly how I imagined :) I won't give any any spoilers in this note, but there will be some spoilers in "Monsters" in the next few chapters. Also, as a warning to my XMA fans: I do play with the timeline in this story. What is shown as happening over a few days in the movie might be happening over a few weeks/months in my story.

And, oh my, was Caliban SO FUN to write! I loved him in XMA. What a delightful creeper.