Kurt was tired and his head pounded like someone was striking it with a hammer. His muscles, though they seemed distant, were sore from their exertions. Everything seemed tense. His shoulder burned where it had been shot and his mind was seared with images of the act he had nearly committed.
He walked meekly between the two soldiers that were escorting him. He could feel the acid waning from him, his consciousness coming back in short bursts. They had known it too; the collar that blocked his powers had once again been locked around his throat. Once again he was trapped, being led back to his dark prison with new sins weighing on his soul.
The building was different though. He could recognize this in the corner of his mind that was still completely his. It wasn't as damp and he had a feeling that he wasn't underground anymore. It didn't change the fact that his captors were the same people who had murdered his family. It didn't change what he had nearly done; taken a life simply because he'd been told to.
Stryker walked out of a side room, smirking broadly. Kurt's heart clenched in a mixture of hatred and fear; the man before him held the power. Yuriko stood by him impassively. Her dilated eyes stared at him and he returned the gaze, not out of choice, but because she was standing in front of him. They were both imprisoned now with no hope of escape.
"What should we do with this one sir?" one of the soldiers standing by him asked.
Stryker shrugged.
"He's done his job. Wipe his memory and dump him somewhere," said Stryker, "He can serve as a distraction if the police find him; but don't give him to them directly. We can't be connected with this in any way."
"As you say sir," the soldier said.
He turned Kurt away and began to lead him down the hallway. Just before they left he caught another glance from Yuriko, her face still dazed like he knew his was.
"Kid, are you going to let them win?"
She had said it like they had a choice. Kurt knew that neither of them had a choice, not even at the beginning. They had been pawns and nothing more. Amanda and his child had been killed so he could be forced to try and assassinate the president; he didn't know why then. He didn't know what Stryker wanted with Yuriko, but he figured it would be something equally disdainful. No matter what it was she would have to do it.
As the drug began to wane his head cleared some more. Perhaps this had been his fate. He had been born into a world that feared him but had been raised in kindness. Whether he had known it or not he had always lived in a dangerous world. Kurt had never had a choice in the matter though; it had been his lot since birth.
Amanda had had that choice. She could have lived in safety but instead passed into his world. The two of them had foolishly hoped that they could live together in a world that they made themselves. Instead he had dragged her into his. As a result of that he'd had her blood stain him and heard her dying gasps.
He'd never had the choice for a safe life though, not even when Amanda came into his life. Kurt had never had the choice for anything, and he was seeing it now. He had been powerless to save her and in the end, that's what he was; powerless. He'd never had the power to make a choice that would do anything in the end.
"And I thought, so much happened because I did not know better," his father said, "So much because I did not have choice. But you are going to know better, you are going to have choice in what happens."
Kurt blinked. The memory of him and his father in the meadow all those years ago had flooded his mind so suddenly. He blinked again, feeling some control in his fingertips as the soldiers continued to lead him away. His father's words about choices echoed in his head, becoming louder each time they did so.
"I teach you swords so you have a choice," said Azazel, "If you know how to defend yourself you won't have watch as things happen around you if every you are threatened. You will make decisions, you will be the one who is in control. That is gift I want to give to you."
His hands flexed and his eyes took in the room, alert suddenly. His father's words mixed with Yuriko's question.
"Are you-"
"You will make decisions, you will be the one who is in control."
"-going to let them-"
"But you are going to know better, you are going to have choice in what happens."
"-win?"
His hand clenched into a fist. Kurt clamped down on his teeth tightly. That way he wouldn't be able to bite his tongue. Then, with great concentration, he slipped his tail under his collar. The spade dug into his skin, making blood trickle down his back. The pain was incredible but he remained silent and continued moving as the spade sliced deeper.
At long last it was behind his collar. Pushing it outwards he forced the locking mechanism to break. The collar fell apart and collapsed on the floor. The soldiers turned, paying attention to him for the first time since Stryker had ordered him to have his memory removed. It was far too late.
Kurt teleported to the space behind the first one, kicking him with enough force to knock him and his adjacent soldier into the wall. Before they could get up he teleported next to them and knocked their heads further into the wall. When he was satisfied that they were unconscious he began rooting through their gear. Finally he found what he was hunting for; hunting knives, standard issue. They weren't swords, but they would have to do.
He teleported down the hall that Stryker had disappeared down. He needed to find him. It was too late for Amanda, for Blue, but it wasn't too late for Yuriko. It wasn't too late for the countless others that Stryker was torturing at the moment. If he found him, if he stopped him by whatever means necessary, then he would be able to stop what had happened to him from ever happening again.
At the same time that he travelled Kurt realized the unlikelihood of being able to stop Stryker simply by incapacitating him. He knew that Stryker was the kind of man who refused to be stopped no matter what. As he fought he knew that he was going to have to kill him, not for revenge, but to stop him. Otherwise he would just find a way to carry on.
There were more soldiers down the hall. He calculated the distance; he couldn't teleport past them without knowing what was on the other side of the wall. Instead he teleported within their midst, driving the knives into their shoulders and joints. His tail whipped around them, picking them up and throwing them down.
Bullets were sent through the air. Some found the side of his chest, filling him with burning pain to match the pain in his neck and shoulder. He teleported away and saw that they'd only skimmed him. He had to keep moving though. He couldn't afford getting slowed down or stopped. Kurt still had to find Stryker.
Someone, somewhere, tripped the alarm. The wailing filled his ears. He teleported up the stairs and past the soldiers running at him. Kurt looked out the window and saw an unfamiliar city outside, shrouded by night. He ignored it and pushed on. Now wasn't the time to wonder about where he was or how he would find his father when it was all over. He would worry about such things after Stryker was stopped.
Another group of soldiers ran at him. Tranquilizers shot past him, but this time he wasn't a sick invalid in bed. He had ceased to be an easy target and he'd prove that to them. Kurt teleported around them, his feet and tail swinging. Adrenaline was making him forget about his pain, seeing only that he needed to complete his objective. These soldiers were standing in his way and they needed to be gotten rid of.
Blood dripped from his knives but he never aimed to kill, had never aimed to kill. Azazel had never trained him to use his weapons lethally except in extreme situations. His wounds were slowing him down but he still managed to never give a killing blow. Like him these men were mere pawns. The only difference was that they happened to be on the other side of the board. Killing them would only bring more guilt onto his soul.
As he finished he heard a thrumming noise. The noise was getting louder and he realized it was coming from outside. Kurt teleported up a flight of stairs onto the roof. A helicopter stood there, its blades whipping around. He glimpsed Stryker on it before it took off into the air, leaving him behind.
His lips curled as Stryker's face was obscured by a soldier. He put together something Kurt supposed was a gun and began shooting. Kurt barely even paid him attention. They thought that they could get away in a helicopter from a teleporter when they were in plain view? The helicopter was in the air, yes, but it was within a two-mile radius of the ground, if that. They didn't have any clue how strong his powers were.
Kurt concentrated and, a second later, he stood next to the soldier. He smashed his head into the side of the helicopter, knocking him out. He turned around to see Yuriko unbuckling, her eyes unfocused. His heart sank. It was one thing fighting all those soldiers. They were doing this of their own free will. Yuriko wasn't.
She lunged at him and he managed to dodge. The punch that would have gotten his jaw dented the side of the helicopter. Kurt gaped at her for a moment, wondering if that was part of her mutation or it was a result of the metal they'd put in her bones. He didn't wonder about it for long because she lunged for him again.
He sidestepped her and saw Stryker just beyond her. Kurt completely forgot about Yuriko. He teleported into the next room, much to Stryker's surprise. In many books he had read, when the hero encountered the enemy who had slain his family, there was something he said to him. Kurt didn't say anything. Stryker knew what he had done and his goal wasn't to make him cringe and snivel in his last moments. It was just to stop him.
Kurt shoved his knife forwards and Stryker twisted out of the way. Even so the knife plunged deep into his shoulder. Stryker cried out and the sound made Kurt sick to his stomach. He pulled out the knife though, knowing he would have to try it again. If he didn't he wouldn't have stopped anything.
Just as he readied the knife for another blow he felt something hard and forceful smash into his injured shoulder. He had just enough time to recognize Yuriko through the stinging pain before she kicked him out of the helicopter. Kurt fell, teleporting randomly to try and decrease the length of his fall. He teleported into a tree, smashing his head painfully against a tree branch and losing consciousness.
When he came to the helicopter was gone. The adrenaline that had bolstered him had faded and he felt the pain from his wounds keenly. Taking gasping breaths he looked back at the building he had come from. It was swarming with soldiers, and he knew that every one of those soldiers was looking for him.
Kurt took a deep breath and tried to block out the pain. He needed to get out of there. Stryker, unfortunately would have to wait. His wounds would only slow him down and he needed to heal. There were a great may other things he needed to do as well, and there was only one place that he knew of where he could do them.
Charles looked up in Cerebro. A broken path entered his vision, trailing through Boston, Massachusetts. He chased after it, thinking that it was Azazel. He'd lost his trail for several days and gaining it back would bring comfort that something was being done in the search for his nephew. Soon it came to rest and he focused in more. He had to be careful about how much he concentrated; despite their previous enmity he didn't want to hurt them.
He stopped in an abandoned church in Boston. As an image came to his eyes but it wasn't of Azazel. The image was of someone similar, but not him. Charles paused as he saw a three fingered hand light a candle in the crumbling church. Tears slipped down Kurt's eyes and Charles felt the waves of sadness that his mind exuded.
"In company vith Christ, who died und now lives, may zey rejoice in Your kingdom," Kurt whispered, "vhere all our tears are viped avay. Unite us togezer again in one family, to sing Your praise forever und ever. Amen."
Charles pulled back. He took the helmet off his head and wheeled himself out of the room. He hastened through the halls and up the elevator. When he reached Amanda's room he was more composed, feeling a little less anxious. He didn't want to get her hopes up that he could be found so quickly; he didn't know if he'd stay there.
Amanda opened the door, Blue in her arms. She'd been resting like Hank prescribed and he could see her confusion. He gave her what he hoped was a convincing smile before saying;
"Amanda, I need to get in contact with Azazel. I know you know how."
She hesitated, shifting Blue.
"Is this about what happened with the President?" she asked.
"In a way," he said.
She bit her lip. He knew she didn't want to betray her father-in-law.
"Amanda, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent."
Amanda nodded and went over to her bureau. She pulled the phone out and put it carefully in his hands. He thanked her and promised to return it before he left and dialed the number she'd written on the back of it. Charles had to wait only seconds before he heard the line picked up.
"Nevetska?"
"No, Azazel," said Charles, "It's Xavier."
He could tell that Azazel was considering hanging up so he said;
"I found Kurt with Cerebro. He's on 114 West Magnolia in Boston, Massachusetts."
There was a stunned silence on the other end.
"You are sure?"
"Positive."
"And you came to me," Azazel said slowly, "did not tell X-men to get."
"You're his father," Charles said, "and…from Cerebro I could tell something was wrong. He needs someone he knows, and Amanda isn't quite well enough to travel."
There was a pause.
"Spaseebo balshoye," Azazel said at last.
Then the phone went dead.