Chapter One:
Befreiung
It wasn't unusual for circuses to swing through the Big Easy, its bustling melting-pot of people making it a fun place to attract a tonne of various customers. Remy enjoyed the crowds, a slightly different atmosphere than the usual New Orleans air, but with that same undercurrent of excitement and merriment buzzing around him.
Blending in, he moved amiably from attraction to attraction, not ever overly-impressed, but content with what felt like an interesting evening. Truthfully, he just enjoyed being out. Some stopped to stare at his strange eyes, mainly children, but most assumed he was just a performer on break.
The hunger was just starting to pinch at his gut when he saw something that made his blood run cold.
He made his way to the animal cage, standing a ways away behind the large crowd, his breathing coming in slow, angry bursts. He tried to calm himself down, but it was a faraway impossibility at the sight of the reinforced steel bars, sheltering a mutant boy looking no older than sixteen, emancipated, barely clothed and slumped in the shadows as if trying to hide himself from the strangers surrounding him.
And no wonder he would, Remy reasoned, he was being exhibited like a wild beast for the sake of entertainment.
LeBeau was disgusted. He watched the boy's blue form until he could regain the will to move, and then resolved that he was absolutely going to do something about this injustice.
'T'ink they can just display mutants as if we are mere beasts, do dey?'
Remy tried to reel in his sense of control, feeling the pull of static charge as it filled his bones, screaming to be released.
Feeling suddenly naked standing in casual clothes without his weapons, he told himself, 'Non, not yet.' Retribution would come, but he would do it at a time when there were no on-lookers around to try and minimise the casualties.
Kurt awoke to a jagged whispering voice in a language he could barely understand. He rose rather fast, his head spinning in punishment. When he could drag his iron-eyelids open, there was the visage of the dämon-eyed man, tampering with the lock on his cage's door. It seemed too unreal and he questioned abstractly not for the first time if he might finally be losing his mind just as he'd lost his dignity.
But the nausea bubbling in the pit of his stomach was very grounding, and all too real. He used the bars to help himself stand, whispering to God in a low German tongue. The creature was muttering to himself, but Kurt understood none of it. Was he going to be dragged to hell? Had his time finally come?
"Gott, bitte nicht mich verlassen." [God, please do not forsake me.]
When the door popped open silently, the figure reached a hand in to him openly, but Kurt made no move to accept it, baring his fangs and growling deep from within his throat to try and scare them away. He realised as the hope deflated from his heart that this wouldn't do much to intimidate a dämon – and it didn't.
They merely looked irritated, whispering more irately at him this time. Kurt understood the heavily-accented "Now, now!" but the rest was lost on him. Kurt pulled away when the dämon tried to latch onto his arm. He was completely inside the cage now, advancing slowly on him, never ceasing with his hurried language.
Lights started to turn on in the caravans, disturbed by the noises they were making. They quickly brought Kurt out of his stupor as his fear was enveloped by a greater horror – the animal-tamer, and the circus owner himself. Memories crashed into his hazy head far too fast and with way too much impact, things he'd tried to forget, things he never wanted to remember.
Reeling, he swallowed his burning humiliation until it was a hot ember nestled tightly in his chest and he wrapped his tail around the dämon's leg. He refused to look him in those terrifying eyes as he made silent apologies to God. The creature cried out in a sickly satisfied triumph, unlatching Kurt's tail as he pulled him out of the jail with renewed enthusiasm.
Kurt's breath came hard and heavy as they made their way to the outskirts of the circus – but it was never going to be that easy, was it? They were being followed and Kurt was far too frail to fight or even run. His dämon turned with a smirk and pulled playing cards from his black-clad body, igniting them with pink flames. He then pitched them at the feet of a strong-man drawing near, and the ground erupted with a loud BANG!
Everyone coming close was toppled, partly in surprise and somewhat in fear, though the blast itself had been formidable. They got back up with a new-found sense of terror, and the pursuit seemed to become somewhat less intense.
What was this devil magic? Was this what everyone was so afraid of him doing, what he had potential to unleash if not for the mutant suppressant he'd been administered since age twelve?
Kurt started to shake as the dämon's fingers dug into his elbow, being lead and pulled as gently as the situation would allow. Dizziness hitting him like a wave, he could barely put one foot in front of the other, his vision beginning to blur.
He tried to tell this to the dämon, but his voice came out distorted and incomprehensible.
Pretty soon, Kurt felt his entire body being lifted up and slung over the other creature's shoulder, but he was unable to protest.
The rugged footfalls of his rescuer and the uneven way he kept bouncing up and down reminded Kurt of playing ball with Jimaine and Stefan when he was much younger. The sky had always seemed crystalline on those days, or maybe it was just with reflection that they'd been burned consummately into his mind, made brighter by the darkness that had consumed his life not long afterwards. Salted potatoes on his tongue, the pollen of fresh flowers lingering lovingly in the air, trees and trapezes a constant source of joy in his little blue life. He had a family, friends, who all treated him like an equal – like he was a person. It made him swallow bitterly to think of how fast it was all lost. And now, like a hot brand on his chest, the stain of the freak show was something he felt he could never wash away.
"Überall, überall aber hier. Wenn es meine Zeit ist i leiden die Hölle, so lange wie es ist weg von hier, Vater." [Anywhere, anywhere but here. If it's my time I'll suffer hell, as long as it's away from here, Father.] He whispered to himself, and in his delirium it occured to him that maybe this was hell, and that the man that had come to take him away wasn't a demon, but an angel afterall.
He succumbed to unconsciousness praying the escape hadn't been but a dream.
Unsurprisingly, the other man didn't weigh very much, but carrying him turned out to be an awkward task indeed. He could tell by just how limp "Nightcrawler" had become that there was no way Remy was gettin' him to run alongside him anytime soon.
He had thrown a couple more charged cards in the direction of their pursuers, but to his dismay, they seemed to have found some weapons of their own.
As he sped down the street avoiding bullets and pursuit, he started to laugh at the ludicrousy of himself. What was it Jean-Luc LeBeau had once told him? "A thief should be pragmatic above all things. Not yield to sentiment. Not run to the rescue of imperilled damsels, or waste his time buying redemption with random acts of kindness." And yet that was exactly what he always seemed to be doing.
Maybe he should go join the X-Losers, running around like this, or maybe he was just a romantic.
"You have a romantic streak. A perverse weakness for gallantry."
He was gaining distance, and weapons or no they were afraid of him.
It took a while, but Remy wasn't worried, and once he was sure they were safe he lowered "the Incredible Nightcrawler" and himself gently onto the sidewalk, breathing heavily from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Now, to just walk the rest of the way to his apartment with an unconscious blue mutant, hoping no one would see them that he couldn't charm into keeping their mouths shut.
He smiled as another laugh rose from his chest. Ah yes, the easy part.
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Befreiung = Liberation
Thanks for reading.
