Chapter 9: St. Kurt the Inebriated

The Professor rubbed at his forehead. "So let me see if I understand the situation," he said.
"Shoot," Scott agreed.
"Kurt was kidnapped in the park by Pietro, who saw through his holographic disguise, and taken to a pep rally being held in his honour that we knew nothing about. Once Pietro had pushed him up on stage, three highly religious members of the Friends of Humanity took it upon themselves to prove Kurt did not enjoy God's protection by attempting to murder him. Kurt not only dodged the bullet, but then disappeared while the Brotherhood, later aided by you, made a bungling effort to find out what had happened, which culminated in the assassins about to kill all of you. Instead, Kurt appeared to stop them, and by the unlikely combination of an errant beam of sunlight and the Scarlet Witch performing a spontaneous act of goodwill, a thousand people are now convinced they saw Kurt perform a miracle that he didn't actually have anything to do with." The Professor took a deep breath. "Does that cover it?"
Jean nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."
"So Kurt is now famous for having performed a public miracle, on top of everything else."
"Yeah, pretty much," said Kitty.
"Damnation," said the Professor.
Rogue brushed her hair out of her face. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Hank tittered. "My stars. And here I was convinced that not even Kurt's vaunted skills at flaunting Murphy's Law could make things worse."
"Where is he now?" Kitty wanted to know. "How's he dealing with this?"
"There's no need for concern," Hank assured her. "He's dealing with it in a very adult manner."
"What's that?"
"He's in his room and he's extraordinarily drunk," Ororo said. Kitty looked startled.
"What? You said he was dealing with this in an adult manner…"
"And so he is," Hank said. "I'm an adult, and in his situation I'd be drinking too."
"Where did he even get the booze?" Rogue asked. Hank failed dismally to hide a grin.
"I believe he managed to pilfer a bottle of Logan's best bourbon," he informed her. "It took him around thirty minutes to work his way through it, and now he's making quite a dent in whatever other alcohol he can find in the mansion."
Scott looked astonished. "He finished an entire bottle in half an hour?"
"Nobody has ever said Kurt lacked stamina," Hank pointed out. "Besides, he's of legal drinking age in a country where beer is practically a food group. It's no surprise he's developed a high tolerance."
The Professor sighed and looked at Jean. "Nevertheless, I think we should talk to him. Jean, if you'd be so kind as to call him down here?"
Jean looked at him like he was crazy. "No."
"What?"
"Professor, with Kurt's constant existential crises, nightmares, self-esteem problems and five hundred other issues, his head isn't a fun place to be at the best of times. Right now he's all that, plus he's drunk, hysterical, violent, angry, and going through a major theological revelation and a crisis of faith." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You want someone to use telepathy to get inside his head? Fine. You do it."
The Professor blinked. "I… don't think I will, when you put it like that."
"Thought you might decide that."

After what had become known as the Bayville Miracle, Kurt had reacted much as expected: he'd stood around being grumpy for a while, then teleported away as soon as nobody was looking. Of course, it was only after he left that the police had arrived to ask questions, delaying the others by over an hour. By the time Scott, Jean, Kitty and Rogue had returned to the Institute, Kurt had been back for the better part of two hours and was locked in his room, drunk as a lord. They'd eventually found the Professor supervising the Danger Room and explained the situation, and it had now been over three hours since the incident at the stadium.
"So what do we do now?" Jean asked. "The case for Kurt becoming a Saint only got stronger, and we've already said we can't retract the offer. We'd make too many enemies."
"For once, I'm completely out of ideas," the Professor admitted. "I agree we have to do something, but I'm utterly stumped as to what. Any suggestions?"
"Kurt could change his name an' move to Georgia," Rogue said. "That's the only way I can see him gettin' out of this in one piece."
"Any rational suggestions?" the Professor asked. Hank shook his head.
"Charles, I'm afraid that may be about as rational as we're going to get. If Kurt is rejected by the Church, it'll become more cannon fodder for groups like the Friends of Humanity. If we withdraw his nomination this late in the game, we'll earn the animosity of the Church. If we do nothing, Kurt's going to have a nervous breakdown." The blue doctor sighed. "I really am afraid we've run out of options."
Scott gave a low whistle. "Wow. Bobby and Jubilee really managed to mess things up this time, didn't they?"
Kitty looked out of the blast window at the Danger Room floor. "And here I was starting to feel sorry for them."
Everyone looked down to where Logan had been beating the merry hell out of the two miscreants for the last hour, just in time to see Bobby picked up by the scruff of his neck and thrown across the room.
"I still feel a little sorry for them," Ororo said. "Logan wasn't in the best of moods to begin with, but when Kurt stole his bourbon he became nasty."
The Professor reached over and pressed the intercom. "Logan, I think they've had enough. If you could come up here, please? You probably need to hear what's going on."
Below them, Logan stopped to catch his breath and gave a small wave of acknowledgement. Bobby and Jubilee climbed to their feet, supporting one another painfully, and hobbled toward the blast doors.

Behind them the door to the control booth swung open and Ray wandered in. For a moment he looked around at everyone gathered together; then his brow knotted in confusion.
"Hey," he said. "What's going on?"
"We're just discussing the problems with Kurt becoming a Saint," Scott said.
Ray shook his head. "No, not that. I mean, what're you all doing here?"
The Professor raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, Ray?"
Ray peered out the window, catching sight of Logan, and his frown deepened. "I mean, if Wolverine is down there and you're all in here, who the fuck flew off in the Blackbird about half an hour ago?"
There was a pregnant pause.
"Uh-oh," said Kitty.
"Wolverine's working out, you guys are having a meeting…" Ray shrugged. "There ain't anybody left who can fly that thing."
Scott turned and banged his head softly against the wall. "Yes there is. Kurt."
"Elf boy? Thought he was passed out in his room."
"As did we," Ororo agreed. "But if he's not…"
Hank looked alarmed. "Either Kurt is three sheets to the wind in charge of a fighter jet, or else somebody stole it. Which one's worse?"
"The first one," Scott said instantly.
"Definitely the first one," Kitty agreed.
"That's probably true," Hank conceded.

Suddenly a ringing sound came from the console. The Professor had installed telephones in the Danger Room in case of an emergency, and one was now lit up and demanding attention. Ororo answered it.
"Hello?"
"Uh, hello?" came the voice at the other end. "Who is this?"
"This is Ororo Monroe from the Charles Xavier Institute. Who am I speaking to?"
"Oh, thank God." The voice at the other end sounded relieved. "Ms. Monroe, this is Warren Worthington. You remember me? The guy with the wings?"
She blinked. "Of course I remember you, Warren. What seems to be the problem?"
"Well, it's the darndest thing. You see I… I've sort of been kidnapped."
"Kidnapped?"
Everyone in the control booth suddenly became very interested in what Ororo was saying. She put the phone on speaker.
"See, I was on the roof," Warren's voice went on. "Just about to go for a fly, you know? And then all of a sudden, something hits me in the back of the head and I pass out. Then when I wake up, I'm in a plane flying over the ocean."
The Professor shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, please no."
"Warren?" Ororo asked nervously. "Who kidnapped you?"
"See, that's the thing," Warren said. "It was your buddy Nightcrawler."

----

"What the hell's going on?" Warren had demanded, rubbing the back of his head. Kurt had spun around from the controls of the jet, eyes shining with drunken agitation.
"You're coming with me," he announced. "We are on a mission from God."
"A mission from God," Warren said flatly.
"Ja!"
"There's a problem. We aren't dressed like the Blues Brothers."
"No, no! Not that kind of mission." Kurt shook his head. "We're off to see his holiness the Pope."
For a long moment Warren stared at him. Finally he said, "You're drunk."
"Right!" Kurt enthused. "That's the plan!"
Warren blinked. "You… you know, there's not really an answer to that."
"You see, it was a disaster," Kurt lamented. "They're trying to make a Saint out of me, Warren. A Saint!"
"Oh, yeah, I heard about that. Congratulations."
"No!" Kurt howled. "That's the whole point! It's a mistake! That's why we're going to visit the Pope. We're going to show him what a mistake this is."
Warren rubbed at his temples. "And being drunk is part of this plan… how?"

In a bound, Kurt leapt from the pilot's seat to Warren's, leaning over the older man. "Look at me," he ordered. "Do you think I would make a good Saint based on how I am right now?"
Kurt was panting in agitation, wafting clouds of sour, bourbon-reeking breath all over Warren. Together with this was the stench of sulfur from recent teleports and the smell of sweat from Kurt's unwashed body, producing a ripe bouquet of stench that nearly made Warren gag. On top of the smell, Kurt's yellow eyes showed red lines around them from alcohol and stress, his facial muscles were relaxed from inebriation into slackness, and his mouth hung open, letting a long string of drool hang from one razor-sharp fang. To cap it all off, Kurt had turned off his inducer, and was in his full demonic glory; not to mention that with every move he made, a puff of blue fur floated in the air from stress-induced shedding.
"You know," said Warren, "I don't think I'm really qualified to give my opinion on that."
Kurt looked delighted. "Exactly! Nobody is!" Satisfied that Warren had taken the point, he stood back up on unsteady feet and beamed at him. "Nobody is qualified to give their opinny on anything regarding me."
"Opinion," corrected Warren.
"Of course, ja, that's what I said. Opinny." Kurt bounced back to the pilot's seat and looked out the window, tail whipping the air in excitement. "We are going to show his holiness that this is a mistake! That nobody can decide except me if I'm worthy of becoming a Saint! Then all of this will go away, you'll see."
Warren cocked his head in thought. "That," he said at last, "is so brilliantly stupid that it'll probably work. If you don't want to become a Saint, getting drunk and abusing the Pope until he stops liking you is definitely one way to do it." He raised a finger. "So why the hell do you need me?"
Kurt pointed at him. "Because you're my backup," he said gravely. "You're going to make sure that everything works out okay."
"What?"
"Don't you see?" he demanded. "We're the same, you and me! Cut from the same cloth!"
"Oh, sure," said Warren. "We're a couple of peas in the same horrible, horrible pod."
"Zigacktly." Kurt nodded his enthusiasm. "Everyone looks at you and they think you're an angel so you have to be good. You get judged on how you look and nobody thinks you're a person, just a thing. You know what it's like!"
Warren frowned. "Well, I guess I know what you mean, but…"
"And it's the same for me! My whole life everyone treated me like some gottverdammt Teufel. They didn't know, or care, what I was really like. And now they feel sorry for me so they're doing the exact opposite without good reason?" Kurt snorted. "No thank you."
"So…" Warren was struggling to understand. "You want to insult the Pope into withdrawing his offer of making you a Saint, and you hijacked me as moral support."
"Zigactkly. It'll all go ferpecktly."
"…I think your English is failing."
"It doesn't matter!" Kurt shouted gleefully. "In a few hours, we won't need English at all!"
"What? Why won't we…" Warren paused. "Oh my God, we're headed to Italy, aren't we?"
"Ja. Our destination is the holy Vatican City."
"…"
"…"
"Oh, this is not going to end well."

----

The group in the control booth was silent for a long moment, thunderstruck by the revelation. Then Scott shook his head.
"Drunk logic. Kurt's going after the one person who he might be able to convince to cancel the canonisation process."
"Warren, have you tried talking him out of it?" Ororo asked.
Warren's voice laughed bitterly. "Oh, sure. For about ten minutes. Then I tried turning the plane around."
"What happened?" Hank asked.
"The blue bastard teleported me outside the damn jet! I was only lucky I managed to get back to the door as it passed me."
"You got back in?" Jean said, astonished.
"Yep. Nightcrawler opened the door himself, bid me welcome aboard the Good Ship Lollypop and kissed me on the cheek."
"And where's Kurt now?"
Warren's voice sounded slightly more relaxed. "He passed out a few minutes ago. I tried to turn us around, but he's got the controls locked into Autopilot and I can't turn it off without a password, so I was wondering…?"
The Professor sighed in relief. "Well, at least things are under control. Warren, the password is Ellipsis. Once you've got Autopilot turned off, the Institute is a preset coordinate, so you shouldn't have any trouble resetting it."
"Alright," Warren said. "Give me a minute."

The minute passed tensely; then Warren's voice came back on the line.
"Uh, you guys still there?"
"Of course," Hank said. "Did it work?"
"No." Warren sounded alarmed. "It just keeps flashing the word falsche at me."
Ororo groaned slightly. "German for 'incorrect'. Kurt's changed the password."
"What?" Warren demanded. "You mean there's no way for me to turn this damn autopilot off?"
The Professor shut his eyes and sighed. "I'm afraid not, Warren."
"Oh, come on. That's not fair."
"What do we do?" Jean asked. "We can't let Kurt anywhere near the Pope like this…"
"Indeed not," the Professor agreed. "Warren? We're coming after you. You don't have that big a head start, so with luck we won't be far behind."
"What about me?" Warren asked.
"Just do whatever you can to keep Kurt busy," he ordered. "Anything at all, so long as it distracts him from trying to find the Pope."
"…alright, but you guys had better find us soon."
"We'll do our best, Warren. Talk to you again."

The line went dead as Warren hung up; Ororo did the same on their end and turned just as Logan walked in the door of the control booth. For a second he looked around at the contrite expressions on everyone's faces. Then he sighed.
"Alright, alright. What'd I miss?"
The Professor moved his chair toward the door. "A lot. Come with me, I'll explain on the way to the Velocity. Suffice to say, we have a pilgrimage to make."
Logan raised an eyebrow as he made way for the Professor. "An' where are we headed?" he wanted to know.
Scott was the one who answered him. "Apparently? We're headed to the holy Vatican City to visit his holiness the Pope."