~III~
Kurt sighed, and shook his head. He stared out at the hotel window at the predawn gloom, unable to sleep. He looked at the gray sky, as if it could answer the questions running amuck in his head. He started when Amanda touched his shoulder, then sighed, putting his hand over hers.
"We spent all day with her, 'Manda, all day, and I'm still not sure we know anything about her," Kurt fell back into the bed, his yellow eyes staring at the ceiling.
Amanda lay on her stomach next to him. "I just hope Xavier can help her. He is, after all, the worlds most powerful telepath."
"And the only one close to the X-Men, for the moment. Jean and Scott have all but vanished, no matter how well they keep in contact with us. Besides, to tell the truth -" Nightcrawler sighed again, and pulled Amanda on top of him. She giggled. "I don't think Jean could handle Centaura. She's lead so different a life than any X-Man . . ."
"You're one to talk," Amanda pointed out. "You were, after all, raised by gypsies. Not just gypsies, a gypsy sorceress, who happened to be my mother. And you were an acrobat. So don't you go talking about strange pasts, mein X-Man. Hypocrisy doesn't suit you."
Kurt laughed, hugging the one person who'd known him longest. "Alright, I admit defeat. I yield to your logic. And Xavier is, as you said, the most powerful telepath on the planet."
Amanda smiled. She sighed, and opened her mouth to ask Kurt a question -
And he stopped it with a kiss.
"Bye, Amanda. See you when we get back," Centaura called. The noon sun hung overhead, and with Seattle clear of it's customary misty gloom, her happy send off seemed entirely appropriate. Kurt turned the dinky green car (which he now had possession of) away from the airport, and brought them away from the city. "Um, Kurt? Where exactly are we going?"
Kurt shrugged. "I don't - ah hah! Right over there," he pointed to a small field, with a baseball diamond in the center.
"Why?!" Centaura demanded.
Kurt grinned, fangs showing. "You'll see." Centaura snorted.
And then the dust on the baseball diamond started blowing, and then it created quite a dust storm. Centaura was looking at the sky now, having caught on to what was happening. She didn't see anything, however, until it actually touched down.
The SR-71 Blackbird was an impressive sight, even to one who knew what to expect. Kurt had told Centaura about the aircraft, but she hadn't quite believed him. After all, she'd never seen anything like it before. Kurt was getting out of the car just as the ramp lowered out of the Blackbird's side. A white-haired African woman stepped down the ramp, a laughing smile on her face. "Ready to come home, Kurt?" she called.
Kurt's own smile grew. "First, Ororo, you should meet our newest recruit. She's . . . Well, see for yourself. We can't bring the car on the Blackbird, Centaura."
That snapped her out of her astonished reverie. "Not that we'd want to," she muttered as she wiggled her way out of the violently green vehicle. Ororo walked down off the ramp, and towards Kurt and Centaura. Ororo blinked a few times when, after Centaura pulled her front half out, she continued to get out of the car. Kurt burst out laughing at her expression when Centaura finally managed to extricate herself from the car.
"You were expecting a unicorn?" Centaura asked wryly. Ororo shook her head.
"Forgive me, Centaura. I wasn't expecting your name to be so - "
"Literal?" she suggested.
"That's the word," Ororo smiled. "Logan, hurry up! If you're going to return this - hmm, what should I call that? It's certainly too small to be a car."
"I'm comin', Ro, I'm comin'," Centaura heard a low, gruff voice float out of the Blackbird. "Ya want to get 'Manda's car back."
"Which we do . . ." Kurt mentioned. "Nice to see you again, mien klien fruend."
"Hey, misfit! Back already? And with a new squirt, too."
Kurt laughed as Logan walked up. He hadn't yet seen Centaura from the side, only the front, an angle which makes her seem completely normal . . . "And this one's shorter than you!"
"At least she doesn't have a dragon - at least, I'd hope she doesn't," Logan growled affectionately, greeting his best friend.
"Nope," Centaura answered herself. "Wrong culture. My namesake's Greek, thank you," the young mutant walked away from the viciously green car towards Wolverine, her mutation becoming painfully obvious.
Wolverine blinked.
Then blinked again.
And he wasn't blinking from the sunlight.
"H - Hel - Okay then," Logan shook his head. "I'll go take the car back."
As Wolverine squashed himself into the miniature vehicle (that's how small it is -- Wolvie has to squash), Centaura found herself giggling. "Are all the big bad X-Men going to react like that?" she asked Kurt, who was vainly attempting to keep a smile off his face. As usual, the fuzzy elf failed, and burst out laughing at his friend's latest misadventure.
"That was Wolverine. You'd think, being an X-Man would have him used to strange things," Ororo motioned the four-legged mutant and her escort into the Blackbird. "Still, new things surprise us all."
"You got that right! What do you think happened when I first saw the blue elf here?" Centaura laughed again, nervously, a bit taken aback by the friendly African woman. "The SR-71 Blackbird? Right?" she asked, gesturing to the jet as they walked up the ramp. The interior of the Blackbird took poor Centaura by surprise - it was almost as luxurious as the mansion. After many a missions, the X-Men deserved whatever rest they could get aboard the Blackbird.
Kurt walked into the Blackbird, feeling very close to his second home, as he could never return to his first. He sighed, and flung the small bag onto the seat next to him as he copied his bag's movement and sat down in a chair. Ororo walked gracefully over to the console and double-checked that the systems were cooling properly. Centaura stood in the doorway, surveying the interior of the Blackbird.
"You know, I'd forgotten just how hard it is for some of us, me especially and including, to blend in with non-mutants," he commented, throwing the trench coat over the arm of the seat. It was actually the first time Centaura had seen Kurt without it on . . . and though she hid her gaze, she did stare for a moment. Knowing that Kurt was blue and fuzzy was something entirely different than seeing it . . . Same as knowing a girl has four legs and seeing it! She scolded herself. If you want to stare, Centaura, take a look at this thing! You can't tell any of this from the outside.
Ororo chuckled. "Tired of the trench coat look, Kurt? Remy does want his coat back before he leaves, so suppose it's a good thing you didn't get attached."
Kurt looked up as Ororo sat in one of the seats in the row in front of him. "Gambit's leaving? Any idea why? The Cajun can be very, hm, secretive."
"Actually, for once, he's practically broadcasting the reason!"
"Remy?!"
"Yes. He and Rogue -"
"AH! That explains it. 'He and Rogue'," Kurt grinned mischievously.
"Oh, no, you don't! You're kin to Bobby, I swear. Put those fangs of yours away, elf. He and Rogue are taking a road trip down to New Orleans, through Rogue's hometown," Ororo waggled her finger at Kurt, who blinked a few times and looked innocent.
"Um, question?" Centaura interrupted before the conversation went any farther. Not just one, but it's the only one relevant at the moment. "Where and how am I supposed to sit?"
"I . . . hm. Well." Ororo looked around the Blackbird. For all it's luxury, it lacked a seat that Centaura could easily sit in. Centaura sighed.
"So no one thought about it? Because no other mutant's ever needed such attention?"
"We knew in our heads what you looked like, but I don't think any of us really thought about what kinds of things that would make . . . difficult. This will make things interesting. I ought to call ahead and warn the mansion . . . Is there anything else that you can think of that might need, well, tweaking, Centaura? Besides chairs?"
"Not really. But that doesn't solve the problem of what I'm going to do now . . ." she hinted.
Kurt looked around the jet. "Call ahead, Ro. I'll help Centaura."
By the time Ororo had gotten hold of someone at the mansion who had an idea about what to do about Centaura, the two other mutants had cobbled together something for the poor girl to sit on. "I finally got hold of the mansion . . . Sean's over for a visit. He had an idea or two that we think will work, but you're going to have to be there, Centaura. Dinner the first night you're home may be interesting!" Ororo and Kurt laughed and picked up their pervious conversation. Centaura sat on the makeshift bench, thinking hard.
Home . . . Ororo's home, mine or . . . both of ours? I've never come to a place that opened it's arms to me before. People, once yes . . . But that was so long ago. I've learned the hard way since then. When I think of my time in the gang, it's not as most of my life, it's a fond, far-away memory, more like a dream than anything else. What I mostly remember is reality coming in and stomping my dreamworld into the ground with the force of it's hatred for me. Or rather, for my kind. So what's a place that is for only my kind going to be like? Do they hate too? Do they hate humans? And if they do, what am I going to do?
Centaura gripped the edges of her seat as the Blackbird touched down. The mansion had come into view over the treetops that covered the sprawling grounds of the Xavier estate, and the young mutant had been suitably impressed. Old, mud-red brick covered a broad, sturdy frame that had been rebuilt many times over the past decades. Within it's seemingly age-worn walls were secrets, technology not available to the everyday American, and all the information on scores of 'renegade' mutants that the advanced computers could hold. Also dwelling inside the red brick walls were half a dozen of those very mutants, whose genetic quirk, like Centaura's own, gave them an evolutionary boost over baseline humans.
The sunlight slimmed into a thin line above the Blackbird, then vanished altogether as the jet itself vanished from sight. Below ground, the sounds of the SR-71 Blackbird cooling filled the oppressive, shadowy silence.
Wolverine glanced around the dark hanger. "Are we early?" he growled suspiciously.
The lights inside the Blackbird blinked off as the jet cooled, and Nightcrawlers yellow eyes almost lit up the darkness. Three of the quartet could see in the murky gloom within the Blackbird. One could not. "I'd love to know what's going on," Centaura whispered. "I can't see anything."
Logan made an exasperated sound. "Well, there goes the hope that ya can see in the dark. This ain't right, kid. Where're the flamin' telepaths when ya need 'em?"
"Hopefully, inside the mansion, having forgotten that we were to arrive. Although considering that Xavier doesn't let any psiconic presence go unnoticed on the grounds, that theory is -"
"Unlikely," Storm finished for Nightcrawler. She tossed two wrist radios to Nightcrawler and Wolverine, and took one for herself and Centaura. "Wolverine, Nightcrawler, investigate. I'll bring Centaura into the mansion, and see if I can find out what's going on," Storm strapped her radio onto her wrist, as Nightcrawler, Wolverine and Centaura did the same. "Keep in audio contact with me at all times, and if you sense anything, tell me."
Wolverine made his way down the Blackbird's ramp into the pitch black hanger bay, while Nightcrawler flashed Centaura a reassuring grin and said, "I'm already gone!"
BAMF.
"Oror-"
"Storm. We all have code names that we use to keep our various enemies from knowing our true identities. For many of us, it's a formality, but still - for now, I'm Storm. Keep as quiet as you can, and follow me," Storm whispered to her young charge.
"How?" Centaura whispered sharply back. "I can't see my hand an inch from my face in this!"
Storm paused at the base of the Blackbirds exit ramp. "Wrap your tail around my waist and walk backwards, that will give us a rear guard and keep you from straying."
As they started out across the inky hanger, Centaura listened for anything that might give an attacker away. She wished fervently that she had a gun, or a weapon of any kind, but all she had was her physical strength and what surprise she could extract out of her mutation. "Find anything?" Storm whispered into her wrist radio.
"Nothing. Not yet anyway," Wolverine answered tersely.
"Although it does look as if they were prepared for our arrival. There's a few big banners, and lots of 'Welcome' everything," added Nightcrawler. "You have any trouble yet?"
"Not yet, and we're almost there. About ten more feet to go."
By now, Centaura thought that their nerves were a little much for coming home to a hanger with the lights out, but she kept to their rules. She didn't see any real reason for them, besides paranoia, but she did all the same.
All of a sudden, Storm stopped, and Centaura glanced behind her to see an electronic number pad light up. The mutant woman punched in an access code, and the door slid open.
The hallway beyond was brightly lit, unlike the hanger bay, although there was no sign of a fight . . . or anything else, for that matter. Storm and Centaura made their way down the hallway, and up a short flight of stairs without any mishaps.
When the radio at Storm's wrist crackled to life, both mutants fairly leapt into the air. Centaura let out a huge breath and put her hand over her heart as Nightcrawler voice came over the radio.
"We're still okay down here. I've got the light back on, and everything looks mostly normal," Nightcrawler reported.
"'Mostly'?"
"Yeah, Ro. There's somethin' funny goin' on, because this entire place is as clean as a book on Mother Theresa's sins. It's not somethin' the X-Men are good at; I can't see 'em getting the flamin' hanger this clean while we were gone. It's weird, and it's got my senses tinglin', Fearless Leader," explained Wolverine.
Storm paused for a moment as she took in the mansion around she and Centaura. "I hate to say this, but we're seeing the same thing. Not a speck of dust on the floor. Keep me posted, you two," Storm ordered, and she and Centaura continued.
Centaura tried to look around as she walked, but that was easier said than done. Her nerves were tense, and as paranoid as she thought this search really was - shouldn't someone have come to meet them by now? The mansion, far ritzier than anything else she'd ever seen, passed by in a blur.
"Sean!" Storm exclaimed, and Centaura whirled around to see what had made the African woman cry out. There was a middle-aged man lying on the floor, bright red hair fallen in a circle around his head. As Ororo bent down to check his pulse, the man slowly woke, blinking rapidly.
"Ro? Is that ye, Ororo? Glory!" Sean sat up suddenly and stared right at Centaura. "Who - Ach, ye're the new student, ain't ye? Sorry lass, this is rather strange."
"Sean, what happened? We found the hanger dark, and you're the first person we've run into. Nightcrawler and Wolverine are still in the hanger; they got the lights back on in there."
"Speak of the devil . . ." Centaura muttered as Nightcrawler's voice issued from the radio.
"We didn't find anything abnormal, besides the state of this place. We're coming back in; should we expect anything?"
"We just found Sean. He was lying unconscious in the doorway to the lounge," Storm told the pair.
"Is he alright?"
"I seem to be, lad, but we'll see, won't we?" Sean answered for Storm. "So ye haven't run into any of the others yet?"
"No. Nightcrawler, Wolverine, meet us in to lounge. What, Centaura?"
"Storm? I think we hit the jackpot," Centaura's voice sounded chilled, not truly frightening, but definitely anxious. "Tell me you recognize these people."
When Storm looked over the back of the couch that obscured the rest of the lounge from view, there was a sharp intake of breath. "Goddess," she whispered. Sean pulled himself up to see what had so startled his two companions, and his sentiments echoed theirs.
"Glory!"
