Protective father Azazel is best.
That's all I have to say.
Also, if Mystique can feel at least a little regret at dropping Kurt over the waterfall in this universe, then I don't think it'd be a far cry for Azazel to want to be a better person after twenty years.
I own nothing you recognize as canon in any X-Men universe.
*~Because Being Together is Enough~*
Chapter Ten: Change
Azazel had promised himself he'd try not to be violent. When Kurt had been born, he decided not to be as reckless in the future—for his son's sake. He couldn't change the fact that he was a killer—the consequences of his past would be dealt with in the afterlife, in one form or another. But he would be damned if he didn't try to be a better person—a father—in the eyes of his newborn son.
After waking up in the labs, groggy, scarred (more than usual), and in pain, he made a promise that if he escaped, he would take things slow. He'd get by without killing. Hurting, yes. Killing, no. He'd tried to make that same message clear to the bamfs, as well.
Unfortunately, people hurting his son brought that killing instinct back to the surface. He wanted nothing more than to slice every scientist's head right off.
He was visibly shaking with rage when he remembered coming down to the labs and seeing Kurt in that tube.
The bamfs swarmed through the open door like giant red rats that walked on walls. They began investigating files, smelling liquids in vials, and checking every nook and cranny for cameras and secret doors.
One directed Azazel's attention to a large tube filled with green liquid. Outside of it was a life support machine. Hooked up to that machine, inside the tube, was Azazel's son. His chest was wrapped in bandages, as was one of his arms. Was that blood he could see peeking through the bandages in some areas? Azazel had no clue, but it pissed him off, regardless.
Azazel balled his fist and punched the glass. Cracks appeared. He punched even harder. A spider web of cracks branched out from the first spot. Azazel roared in defiance and punched the glass one last time. The glass shattered, releasing the green liquid.
Kurt fell into Azazel's arms. Azazel ripped the monitor wires and electrodes off, and tore the oxygen mask off of his son's face. Kurt gasped, taking in a big gulp of fresh air. Azazel knew he'd been breathing in only a little amount of oxygen, laced with heavy sleeping gas. His son would be woozy for a while, and probably not remember how to breathe correctly at first.
Kurt coughed after inhaling too much air at once. Azazel patted him gently on the back, keeping a hold of him. Kurt finally registered him and looked up. His golden eyes were lacking the luster of life, giving off a faint, yellow glow. He groaned in confusion.
"Wake up, little one," Azazel whispered. "We must go."
"…hurts," the blue mutant squeaked.
"I know it hurts. I went through the same thing. But I did it alone, with no way to know how to leave. You have help. Slow breaths, little one."
Kurt coughed again and weakly clutched his chest, clawing at the bandages. He was shivering, still covered in the green liquid. A couple of bamfs wrapped small towels around him, trying to dry him off. It wasn't working that well.
"Breathe in and hold it, Kurt," Azazel ordered. "I will teleport you out."
"…too veak…hurts," Kurt complained.
"Your X-Men will be waiting," the red mutant promised, hoping he wasn't wrong and that they were actually near the entrance. "They can help you more than me. But I must take you to them in the quickest way possible. Unfortunately, that means I teleport you."
Kurt's head lolled to his chest. Azazel wound his tail with Kurt's, making the younger mutant look up in quiet surprise. Obviously, no one had done such a gesture with his tail before.
"Hold your breath, little one. Here we go."
He wrapped Kurt in a gentle hug, then teleported them back to the entrance, right next to Storm.
Azazel was back in the lab, now. The bamfs had wrecked the place already, but had missed a few samples. The man took some tubes in his tail and smashed them against the tables. Cables lay sparking around cameras and machines. Glass was everywhere. The bamfs crawled the walls, eager for more destruction.
Azazel caught their eyes. "Find the specimen room," he ordered. "Rescue your brothers. Destroy the rest of the evidence." He held his sabers up. "I'll take care of the witnesses."
The bamfs 'ported away at once. Azazel smashed the remains of the lab before he heard footsteps rushing down the hall. He cocked his sabers and held them in a common stance.
Guards poured into the labs. Armed guards. The mutant smiled. These he could handle not killing. They weren't the ones that hurt his son. Azazel teleported to them and immediately disarmed them. He knocked them all unconscious with their own guns and ran down the hall, shooting off a gun to make sure more people heard him.
Bingo.
Chaos ensued as more armed men ran for him, trying to protect scientists and men in suits. They fell, of course. The lab coats ran for their lives, screaming in fear. Some of them bowled over others in their panic to escape their former experiment's wrath.
Azazel actually recognized one. Memories swirled in his mind. Ones filled with green vision, bubbles, immense pain…and a face that kept scowling at him. One that looked like a child trying to solve an unsolvable puzzle, or maybe an insane Sudoku. Yes, Azazel recognized that face. He didn't know that skinny man's name, but he never forgot that face.
Azazel teleported right to the man and held his neck against one of the blades. "Dobryy den', Doctor Frankenstein," he growled into the man's ear. "Remember me?"
The man gasped as the sword pressed closer to his neck. "Subject 296," he managed. "Welcome back…" He choked. "Come back for more…? Or did you wish…to share your secret…of proper reproduction?
Azazel was about to slit his throat in anger when he heard a yell from down the hall: "Don't do it, Azazel!"
The red mutant froze as he saw two X-Men sprinting through the unconscious bodies toward him. Wolverine had his claws out, looking for a fight—which Azazel wasn't above giving him, at the moment. Storm, the X-Man he'd talked to hours earlier, rushed behind him, looking highly uncomfortable in the underground environment.
"Killing isn't the answer," Storm protested. "It's not going to help anything."
"Says you," Azazel snarled. "This man kept me caged and drugged for almost twenty years! He performed experiments on me, created clones of me, and has begun to do the same to my syn! Retribution is deserved!"
Wolverine looked ready to pounce, but Storm held him back. She stepped closer to Azazel, her brilliant eyes calm and determined. "The X-Men don't believe in killing to get their way. We don't look for revenge, no matter how tempting it is or sounds."
"I am not an X-Man."
"But Kurt is."
That made Azazel pause. His sword twitched away from the man's neck ever so slightly.
"Kurt needs medical attention," Storm continued. "Do you think he cares about revenge right now? Think of the near future; he won't want revenge even then, because that is not how he thinks. You want to be a father to him? Don't waste your chance to prove yourself a better parent than Mystique."
The sword quivered a little. Never before had he regretted the decision to kill a man. "I…I need to do this," he weakly argued. "If I don't…this man will hurt again."
"Not if we hand him over to the proper authorities."
Azazel glanced at Wolverine, who nodded, though the feral mutant seemed a little uncomfortable at the idea as well. It seemed he did not like the pacifist ways, either. That made Azazel feel slightly better.
"Kurt's been hurt by the knowledge of his mother being a terrorist. It tore at his heart to learn that she'd never change her ways. You have the chance to give him one good parent, to be the father he can properly look up to."
Azazel growled to himself as he mulled over this decision. The man that had tortured him for years—the one that had just tortured his son—was in his arms, ready to die! But now…now he couldn't find the strength to slice his throat.
All he saw in front of him was his son, looking at him with hopeful eyes. He smiled and whispered, You wanted to change…You wanted to stop killing. You can. Let him go.
Storm looked nervous. She knew there were only two possibilities in this situation, and if it went south, she and Wolverine would have to treat him as a criminal. And Kurt—because after tonight, he would find out the truth, one way or another—would possibly go beyond the breaking point with that information.
Wolverine growled low in his throat, his claws poised for striking. He was all too ready for round 2 with Azazel, and this time, he was not hindered by too much whiskey.
Please, Father…
Azazel let out a breath. He withdrew the sword from the doctor's throat, then bashed him in the back of the head with the pommel. The man crumpled in front of Azazel with an audible groan.
Azazel sheathed his swords, but frowned. "I will do it for syn."
Logan sniffed the air. "Where's yer personal army? They ain't here?"
"Their orders are to rescue their brethren still trapped in this place and to destroy any remaining experiments in the beginning stages. Especially experiments that have just been started within the last few hours."
Storm held out a hand. "Beast will need your help in the infirmary. You're the only one who knows what Kurt's been exposed to."
"I do not know all the medical terms," Azazel stated. "But…I will help."
He took her hand, grabbed Wolverine (while smiling at the feral mutant's uncomfortable grunt), and teleported into another lab. He signaled his bamfs to finish up and jumped away soon after. The bamfs followed quickly.
"Since when is it a good idea to get the X-Men involved?" Dr. Jared's boss yelled. "We've been trying to keep this a secret from the big mutant groups, and what do you do? You go and kidnap one of the X-Men!"
"Sir," the scientist defended. "He's a teleporter, like subject 296. We thought he'd be more useful—"
"Your orders were to recapture subject 296!" The figure on the computer screen pinched the bridge of his nose. "To Hell with a beast that resembles him!"
Dr. Jared squared his shoulders. "From the DNA tests we did initially—before the escape—we discovered that the boy is indeed 296's son. Something was done right to create that boy."
"I understand the reasoning, but it was still not the best thing to do! If you were not our lead scientist, I'd fire you."
"We checked to see what genes allowed the growth of Nightcrawler," the scientist continued. "I thought perhaps the mother's genes were the key. Apparently they were."
"What do you mean?"
The doctor pulled out a vial of blood, one that had been in his pocket during the raid. Had Azazel been more observant, he'd have noticed the last piece of evidence that had been on its way to the labs. "This is a vial containing Nightcrawler's blood. In his DNA we found subject 296's DNA, along with the DNA of a shapeshifter. I think you know only one female shapeshifter, sir."
The boss leaned back in surprise. His whole form stiffened. "Her? Nightcrawler is hers?"
"It would appear so. And with her DNA, we can unlock subject 296's gene block and create something other than a colorful rat with three fingers."
"Fine. Start on the first clone, then. Just one. We need to observe growth speed and abilities before we can begin making a suitable army. And make sure it's deadly."
"No problem, boss. But, um…we do need a new location now that this one is trashed."
"Of course. Use the one in Jersey. And keep me updated on this new clone. It had better be a good one."
"It will be, sir. It will be."
A/N: And you thought everything was good. It looks like bossman finally made an appearance.
If you know who it is, then you know why he was surprised at a certain shapeshifter having Nightcrawler for a child. If not, then have fun making the connections in the future.