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."
