Part the Eleventh: On The Silver Screen
[Author's Note: Sorry. This has absolutely nothing to do with
Quicksilver/Pietro. Deal. You know, if you're *that* hungry for Pietro,
you could go write him into some PWPs of your own :) ]
It was the entertainment unit of the century. Nay, the millenium. Nay,
the *eon*. Kurt could feel drool collecting on his lip. It had
everything but bathroom fixtures.
"Whoah," he said for the fiftieth time.
And there was a competition to win it.
All he had to do was make a film, and there were billions of
categories. He could *do* this. He really could. He had the skills. He
had the technology - care of a dusty abandoned box in one of the
basements. He had the space - care of cleaning *out* said basements on a
punishment detail. He even had a wild idea.
All he needed was money for the film stock and an entry form.
The entry form was free. He was halfway there.
Logan could hear the hammering clear across the other side of the
Institute, but then, he had super-sensitive senses. If it wasn't for the
earplugs Chuck had given him, Logan would never be able to survive the
kids' wake-up music every morning. Especially since the Elf had borrowed
one of Rogue's thrash metal CD's, claiming it gave him just the scare he
needed.
Considering the -er- 'fluffy' way he looked in the mornings lately, he
may have had a point.
Regardless of their morning habits, someone's new hobby was starting
to tick him off. Just when he thought the mystery hammerer stopped, they
started again. Surely no-one on Earth would need that many nails in
something unless -- Logan broke into a run at this point -- they were
building something really *big*.
Chuck sure as hell didn't authorise it, because he would have warned
Logan that the kids were up to something.
Logan burst onto the incriminating scene with a harsh, "All right.
Who's doing what and why wasn't anyone told?"
"Guten tag, Herr Logan!" The Elf looked up from what seemed to be part
of a house frame. "I guess I should have put up soundproofing first,
ja?"
"What the hell are you doin'?"
"I'm building mein set," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing
in the world. "I scrounged all the parts myself. Can you believe all
these things weren't wanted?"
"The Prof know what you're up to?"
"Er. Not - exactly... He was sort of busy when I asked. I figured I
shouldn't bother him further with anything." That nervous smile was
supposed to be ingratiating. It just grated.
Logan folded his arms. "What did you tell him? Your *exact* words."
"I... said I was going to enter a competition."
"That's it?"
"Das ist it..."
"Are you gonna *tell* me about this competition, or am I gonna have to
beat it out of ya?"
"You're not mad?"
"Not yet. Spill it, Elf. Now."
"Oh, you should see it, it's so *cool*..." Kurt began, then vividly
described the exact sort of entertainment unit that would guarantee
Logan some soundproofing in his room. Then Kurt outlined the
competition. Make a film, they said, anything from a short to a feature-
length movie. The categories were so wide and varied that Kurt's idea of
a musical short would fit right in.
One scene. One tap number on a revolving set, and the one-man elf show
was done. It couldn't take him more than a week.
_Ah, shoot,_ Logan thought. _May as well help the little hairball.
Keep the hammering down to a minimum. Besides, if he's got his heart
*this* set on winning the thing, *I'm* sure as hell not gonna stop him._
Fortunately, or unfortunately - depending on one's point of view -
others had ears as well. The noise of construction bought down some,
while the search for some bought down others. Pretty soon, the whole
Institute was buzzing about Kurt's 'little project'.
Evan decided to be cameraman. Kitty giggled her way into becoming the
female lead - even though there were only two parts and Kitty got the
only line. Just about everyone else helped.
The Professor, somewhere upstairs, managed to enjoy the relative peace
and quiet for a change.
At least until the music started.
Evan looked at the set. There were several things that were going to
go wrong with the shoot. He could *see* it. "Uh. K-man? Don't you think
something's wrong with the set?"
Kurt looked at it. The chandallier, the curtains and the little
ashtray that he was going to drop the 'house keys' into. "Looks fine to
me," he said, screwing the metal plates into the bottoms of his built-up
shoes. Ordinarily, he hated the things, and only wore them rarely,
during muddy season. Today was different.
Evan didn't know when Kurt had figured out he could tapdance with the
ungainly things. All he knew was that he just did it one day after
Wolverine had been on a binge, at Xavier's insistance, to teach Logan a
lesson in being a role model.
"Dude, the shot's going to screw up the second you go up the wall.
Everything's going to go sideways."
Kurt just grinned at him. "Have faith, mein fruend."
"Your funeral," Evan sighed. He readied the camera. "Speed!"
"Kurt's short, take one." Scott snapped the clapper in front of the
camera. "Action!"
Kitty giggled. "Like, thanks for a wonderful time," she said, and
kissed Kurt on the cheek. "Gotta go. My dad's like, here."
Kurt, looking human, waved her goodbye and shut the door.
Roberto turned on the music. Full blast. It didn't matter, because it
would have to be looped, anyway. The mike was set up to pick up Kurt's
tapping.
Kurt was pretty nimble, even *with* those hideous built-ups on. Evan
almost didn't notice when he began tapping up the wall. Then his jaw
fell open.
The keys were staying in the ashtray. The curtain was still apparently
obeying gravity and pointing to the floor. The chandallier was doing
likewise.
_How in hell?_ Evan figured out the ashtray. It must be at least
partially magnetic. The chandallier was wired up so that it wouldn't
move.
No it wasn't. Kurt deliberately whacked it with a hip, making it swing
to and fro. Even the little chandallier pieces swung about. _Spring
loaded... Sneaky little elf._ But how was the curtain staying put?
Kurt came to a grinning stop, back on the floor, as the music came to
a close. Then, behind them, the Professor scared everyone.
"*What* is going *on* down here?"
Kurt looked absolutely horrified.
"Cut!" Yelled Evan, stopping the camera.
"Icanexplain," said Kurt, holding up his hands in surrender. "Please,
don't ground them, it was my idea."
"Kurt..." the Professor sighed. "Whether or not I ground anyone is
entirely up to you explaining what's going *on*, here."
Kurt took a deep breath, and started from the beginning. How fantastic
the entertainment unit was. How fabulous it would look in the common
room, where everyone could enjoy it. How he was going to win with his
little entry in the special effects competition. How he didn't want to
interrupt the Professor's phone call any further with what the
competition was or how he planned to win it.
Evan winced. Prof. was going to come down on him like a ton of bricks,
this time. This probably went *way* beyond 'unauthorised extracurricular
activities'.
At the end of it all, the Professor was pinching the bridge of his
nose. "Let's see the rushes," he said.
A handful of seconds ticked by in stunned silence.
"You mean it?"
"I've only seen the last few moments of your work, Kurt. The least I
can do is see what sort of effort you've made, before I make a
decision."
The figure on the screen danced jubilantly up the wall while the
camera apparrently stayed on the floor. Even those of them who had seen
it happening oohed and ahed.
Then it all went pear-shaped.
Kurt tapped a series of pirouettes, and in the middle of one, his
normal shape popped out for the whole world to see.
"No way, man!" Evan objected. "I was watching the whole time! His
holowatch behaved. It was *working*!"
Kurt had his mouth open in fear and dread. A tiny noise escaped his
throat.
His image returned to humanity on the trip down the opposite wall, but
everyone could see that the damage had been done. Yet, oddly enough,
Kurt was smiling. He'd figured something out.
"Dude, that is *so* over. We're doomed," said Scott.
"Nein... I can make it work. The holoprojector didn't fritz. It was
out of synch mit the camera... I can make this shot work. I just need a
bigger movie."
"Kurt?"
"Everyone will think I'm a special effect!" He crowed. "They'll never
know how we did it! It'll work and it'll *wow* them! We're going to
*win*..."
Evan groaned. Kurt and his wild ideas were a guaranteed wreckage zone.
"I'm gonna need a day, maybe two. Six pencils, some rubber bands - and
some time on your computer, Katzchen. Oh, and -er- your kind permission,
Herr Professor?"
_Oh yeah. This is going to be a doozy. I'm wearing my helmet for a
whole month..._
Xavier was hiding a smile. He had that look of terminal curiosity that
seemed to follow Kurt wherever he went. People got it when they just
*had* to know what he was going to do next. Or what was going to
*happen* because of what he did next. "You have it," he said. "I think
this might be an enriching excercise for all of us."
Kurt was grinning like a maniac.
Evan went into his personal version of Defcon 4.
"He's *what*?"
"He's *typing* with them, for the fiftieth time," said Rogue. "He's got
the pencils strapped to his fingers and he's using them to type."
"Lead end or eraser end?"
"This *is* Kitty's computer, remember? Of *course* he's usin' the
eraser end."
"D'oh!"
Jamie chose that point to run into the room. "Hey guys! You won't
believe what *I* just saw!"
"Kurt's typing with pencils strapped to his hands," said Roberto.
"Seen it," said Rogue.
"Heard about it," said Amara.
"Thinking about publishing a newspaper," added Evan.
"...darn," said Jamie. He wasn't allowed to swear. "I never get to the
cool stuff first."
"You're kidding."
"Just proofread it, man."
"A Romantic Musical Horror film?" Scott made a face. "This is *nuts*."
"It's going to *work*," Kurt insisted. "Just make sure I didn't screw
up the English, ja?"
Scott read. "I see you've made our monster sympathetic."
"How could I not?"
"You *can* sing, can't you?"
"Ja, but I'm a better hoofer. I think I got mein fill of singing in
choir practice."
Scott stared at him. "You've *got* to be kidding. *You* in a *choir*."
"What? It was *Heirelgart*. Nobody cares how anybody looks in
Heirelgart."
Scott gestured with the script, "You've got to give yourself at least
one song. It's in the rules of musicals. Maybe a duet with Kitty."
Kurt grinned. "I know just the song!" And then he threw himself back
at the computer.
"So, how's the beta draft?"
"Interesting plot," said Hank. "Quite a twist on boy-meets-girl and
boy-versus-monster."
"Ja. And?"
"It's a little - surreal in places..."
"The hero has a warped mind."
"Apparrently, so does the writer," said Hank, fixing a pointed glare
at Kurt over the tops of his glasses. Finally, he sighed. "The English
checks out, however, I still want see you in some counselling sessions,
okay?"
"Es ist not autobiographical, man. I just wrote what made sense."
"Exactly why I want to see you in some counselling sessions."
"Haha. Very droll. Can we film it?"
"Talk to the Professor."
Sigh. "Jawohl."
The Professor had approved. Now he had a far tougher audience on his
hands. The cast.
"I don't get it," said Evan.
"Please, God, do *not* explain it *again*?" Rogue begged. "You just
*act* it, Porcupine. Y'all don't have to *understand* it."
"No offense, Fuzzy, but this like, reads like one of those like,
foreign films my Mom goes to like, *cry* at? The only thing like,
missing is subtitles."
"Page seventeen," said Ray.
Kitty looked. "Okay. It *is* one of those wierdo foreign films my
Mom'd like, adore."
"*Duh*," said Jubes. "Foreign-guy writer? *Hello*..."
"Clue to Kitty, clue to Kitty. Respond, Kitty," said Bobby.
"Leave her alone," said Kurt.
"Why am *I* one of the villains?" asked Amara. "The audience is going
to hate me."
"Ach, villains get the best lines," said Kurt. "And it's a natural way
to display your full acting talents."
"Like she has to *act*," snorted Kitty.
"Hey..." warned Scott. "We're supposed to be a team, here. No
fighting."
"You screwed up, elf," said Logan. "I got the part of the school
counsellor."
Everyone laughed.
"Nein. You're the counsellor."
"*WHAT*?"
"He's an intimidating figure to the hero. And you do intimidating so
well, ja?"
"Why did I agree to do this?" Logan asked the heavens.
"I bought everyone sand...wi...ches..." Ororo's face fell. The
basement sets were full of Jamies.
One of them was grinning at her, fit to burst. "Hey, Ms Munroe!" He
called. "Guess what *we* found out we can do?"
She took a stab at it. "Woodwork?"
"Isn't it the coolest?" said another. "We can actually *do* something!
Something cool, that is."
"Where's the original Jamie?" There was no way they could afford to
feed the vast proliferation of clones. Not even with the emergency
stores that filled sub-basement seven.
"Uhhhhh..." said about five of him.
"I can narrow it down to half a dozen," said a voice from the ceiling.
A blue arm reached down and snaffled a PBJ.
"I was wondering where you'd gotten to," said Ororo. "How can you be
that accurate? We always have trouble when he loses track like that."
"I found a ratty old party hat in one of the boxes that used to be
here," he told her. "Every time he accidentally dupes himself, he makes
the clones take off the extra hats."
Sure enough, there was a pile of identical ratty party hats in a
corner.
Kurt cupped his hands around his mouth. "Party hats, front and
centre!"
Sure enough, six Jamies appeared, each wearing a disreputable party
hat.
"And -er- what happened to get you confused about these six?"
"We fell down the stairs," said the Jamies. One winked out of
existance as they spoke. "The original got kinda lost in the shuffle."
"Nicht ist es wundervoll?" Kurt grinned. "We get the sets built in a
fraction of the time, and the workforce just vanishes at the end of the
day."
{Crash!} "Whoah!"
"Give or take a few," Kurt added.
"Hey, Beast."
"Jamie." Hank didn't even look up from his reading.
"Herr McCoy."
"Kurt."
"Hey, Beast."
"Jamie."
"Hey, Beast."
Deja vu. Hank looked up. It was a parade. About every third Jamie
chirped a greeting as he passed. Each was carrying - or helping other
Jamies to carry - some mostly-wooden object out of the basement sets.
Down the hall, they met Ray.
"Ray."
"Ray."
"Ray."
"What are you idiots up to, now?"
"We have to have exterior shots, you know," said Kurt. "It can't just
be a bottle movie."
"I'm not gonna ask," said Ray.
"He means something that's done all indoors," said one of the Jamies.
Further down the hall, "Hey, what is this? An ant farm?"
"Hi, Jubes."
"Hi, Jubes."
"Hi, Jubes."
Hank turned some pleading eyes towards the Professor, who was hiding
behind his newspaper.
"Yes, I *am* still going to allow this," he said. "The effort they're
going to will make them appreciate the value of their prize."
"You make it sound like they're going to win."
Charles folded the newspaper down. "I have the utmost confidence in
them," he said. "But I can also easily afford the entertainment unit.
Either way, I feel they would have worked hard enough for it."
"Aha," Hank murmured. "A little cheating, hm? Even if they lose,
they'll win."
"Quite."
"Hey, these flowers are like, fake."
"CUT!"
"Of course they're fake," said Kurt. "It's bad luck to have real
flowers."
"Kitty, your line is, 'Uh. Thanks. I think. Word to the not-so-wise?
Try a professional arrangement.' Not, 'These flowers are like, fake',
okay?"
"Jean, just because you're like, assistant director doesn't mean you
can like, abuse people."
"Man, we're *working* for that entertainment unit..."
"Are these like, fabric?"
"Katzchen, please stop messing mit the flowers? They took hours to
make."
"You like, *made* these?"
"Oma ran out of things for me to do, one winter. So what? A little
knowledge ist a useful thing, ja?"
"I'm really starting to wonder about you, K-man," Evan muttered.
"Oh, and I guess you'd prefer we *bought* everything? We barely have
the cash for film stock and -- will you get out of mein face mit that
*camera*?"
"Hey, I'm doing a making-of thing. Prof insisted. He's keeping me in
batteries and tape."
Someone's watch pipped.
"Time for lunch," chirped Jubilee.
"Rrrfff..." Kurt took off the holowatch they'd rigged for filming and
put on his usual one. "With a little luck, maybe tempers would have
cooled by the time we finish eating. With a little luck, maybe we can
get this *scene* done."
"K-man, you are really going strange on us, here."
Kurt continued to wipe down the old window with petroleum jelly. "It's
an old movie trick. We don't have cheesecloth, so we're using this."
"*What*?"
"You film through it and you get a nice romantic haze," explained
Kurt. He held it up. "See?"
"Hey cool..." Evan looked through the portal. "How do you know so much
about all this?"
"Winters get *really* boring in Heirelgart. Trust me on this."
"Okay, so *why* 'Windmill park'?" Evan asked as he watched Kurt put
the artificially-aged sign up in front of a grove of trees.
"It's an in-joke. The first movie Frankenstein's Monster was chased
into an old windmill."
"I'd like, take his word for it," said Kitty. "Kurt and ancient film
are like *that*." She held up two crossed fingers.
"Kommen diese Weise," Kurt gestured for them to follow. He lead them
to a clearing in the wood where a massive boulder lay. There was a new
park bench snugged up against the vertical side. It still had a 'wet
paint' sign on it.
Kitty obeyed human nature and touched it to see if it was.
"I wondered where that went," said Jean. "So this is the little park
where nobody goes, huh?"
"Don't tell me you're like, starting to understand the script," said
Kitty.
"So I like art films. Deal." Jean toured around the rock, climbing it
with a minimum of effort from the low side. "I didn't even know this was
here."
"I'm full of surprises," said Kurt.
"Okay, now this ist one of the big fantasy sequences. I want to see
everyone *happy*, okay?"
"Ready, mister music," said Evan.
"Uh. We have a problem," said Jean.
"Vas?"
"The Professor's read the fine print in the entry form. We can't use
any copyrighted music."
There was a mutual groan.
"A week's work right down the drain..."
"It's not a problem," said Kurt.
"You *have* gone nuts, K-man."
"Come *on*. Who here can play a musical instrument?" Kurt held up his
hand.
There were several other uncertain hands in the air.
"See? We just form a band and do covers of everything we're using.
Easy."
"Uh. Hello? No musical instruments?"
"Obviously, *you* haven't gone to sub-basement thirty-six."
"Oh. Right. I forgot. Herr Punishment-detail over there," Jubes jerked
a thumb at him. "What sort of instruments are we talking about?"
"Everything your little heart could desire, fraulein."
They set up an audio room in the basement underneath the sets. It was,
after all, already soundproofed.
Ray played a riff on the drums. He was grinning like a little kid on
Christmas. "Ha. I thought there'd be a fight for the drums with you
around, Elf."
"Hey, it takes real skill to play one of these," Kurt licked his lips
and pumped the slide of the trombone. "I think some of us may need some
warm-ups first, ja?" He blew a phrase out, and only one note was off. "A
lot of warm-ups."
"You are like, *too* much of a perfectionist," said Kitty. She tried
out her sax. "Ugh. This like, *so* needs a new reed. I'll be like,
back."
Rogue was tuning her accoustic guitar. "What *I* can't figure out is
why the Professor never told us about all this stuff."
Scott played a rather loud riff on his electric guitar. "Ahhh, brings
me back."
"Do the math," said Jean. She was helping a crowd of Jamies put
together the sound board.
"*Evan*... get outta here with that..." said Sam. He was setting up
the mikes. "We're tired of your 'making-of' jerkin' around."
"Ye point that at me *one* more time, daftie, an' ye'll get a chanter
where a chanter was never meant to be," Rahne threatened Evan with part
of her pipes. "Lord alone knows what kind o' sound we'll have."
"I do," said one of the Jamies. "'Evan, get lost!'"
"Oh, hahaha. I'll just find somewhere out of everyone's way, then."
"You do that."
"Urgh." {Whump!} Hank buried his face in the pillows on the couch.
"I take it I shouldn't ask how your day was," said Ororo.
"They made, _Now I'm A Believer_ go on for *fifteen* minutes..."
groaned Hank. "Replete with German verses."
"Have they decided on a name yet?"
Hank sighed. "They're still arguing between 'X-static', 'The Flying
Mutants' and 'The Basement City Rollers'."
"What happened to 'Sergeant Logan's Lonely Hearts Club Band'?"
Hank glared at her. "You *know* Kurt was the only one bucking for that
one."
"*I* liked it." Ororo smiled. "I thought it was cute."
"I put in my vote for 'X-static'," said Hank. "It's easier to spell."
"Kurt's doing the credits, huh?" Ororo handed him a mug of hot
chocolate and a painkiller, which he took with a greatful sigh. "I think
he's the only one who still knows who's doing what."
"Either that, or he's making them up out of whole cloth."
"What do you *mean* I don't get to beat you up? I've been *waiting*
for this scene!"
"Chill out, Ray. You get to do all the yelling," said Kurt.
"Yeah. Post-production."
"Look," said Jean, "all the violence is never seen. Just the
consequences. It's because Kurt's character erases the events from his
mind. All the audience sees is flashes of white and new wounds."
"When you think about it, it's more violent than showing the attack,"
said Kurt. "The audience's mind fills in everything. It makes the horror
more intense."
"You," Ray announced, "are damn wierd."
"Ja, I know. Can we do the scene, now?"
"...rassafrassingrumblemumblestoopidelf..." Ray sighed. "Okay. But
this better look frikkin' good."
"What's this musical number for?"
"*Duh*... It's like, the happy ending."
"Naw, it's a dream sequence."
"No way, the window's in storage. It's for real. Besides, Kitty
rescues him in the scene right before this."
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Doing things out of order like this does my head
in."
"Where's the Professor? Isn't he like, *in* this scene?"
"Aw, man, we're losing the light..."
"Sorry I'm late," announced the Professor. "I had a little trouble
with my costume. *Someone* told me I had the shirt on backwards."
Kurt grinned. "Couldn't help myself."
"Hurry up. The corset on this thing is like, *killing* me. And I look
like a Faberge merangue!"
"You look beautiful, leibe," Kurt soothed. "Every girl who sees this
scene will go green mit envy."
Kitty blushed.
"Are we ready, now?"
"Yes, O great and powerful assistant director."
"Shut up, Evan. Kurt, lose the holowatch. Jamies three through seven,
ready the confetti. Storm, a light breeze, please. Hank, get the boom
out of shot. Okay. *Action*."
The confetti fell seemingly from nowhere while Kurt and Kitty enacted
a wedding scene like no other. Kurt was grinning like a fool and
everyone knew why. The kiss.
Kitty was acting her heart out to look happy and slightly possessive,
the way all brides looked. All the time, inside, she knew she was going
to ruin the shot, somehow. She was going to scream or react when Kurt
kissed her. Everyone *knew* she wasn't into facial hair, and now she had
to be kissed by a guy who had a fine coat of fuzz all over.
All too soon, it was, "You may kiss the bride."
Her heart jumped into her throat as he moved closer. She closed her
eyes and parted her lips, leaning towards him. _I hope nobody guesses
this is like, my first kiss..._
His lips touched hers gently, softly; in a series of light semi-kisses
that moved ever deeper each time their lips met. His tongue brushed
against her mouth and she welcomed it.
_Like. Wow._
He was making her head spin. His fur was like silk, or down. _So soft
and warm..._ She kissed him back, taking subtle little cues from him on
how to respond. He tasted sweet.
_You may *stop* kissing the bride..._ the Professor prompted inside
both their heads.
Kitty could feel Kurt's grin as his answer.
Lord alone knew how he expected her to dance after *that*.
"*So*?" Rogue prompted as they made their way to the recording studio
after dinner.
"What?" said Kitty.
"Is he a good kisser?"
"*Rogue*!"
"Come on. Share a li'l. Y'all know I have to live vicariously. Spill
it!"
"Ain't tellin'," Kitty held her nose up in the air in mock arrogance.
"Because if I did, you'd want to steal him. Every single one of you."
"Ooooohhh..." said Rahne. "That's *good*."
"If he wasn't such a gypsy peasant," teased Amara, "I may even deign
try him out."
"Was his tongue fuzzy, too?" asked Jubes.
"Shut *up*..." Kitty blushed.
{Ring ring}
Hank took the headphones off before he picked up the phone. "Hello?"
An adult, with a German accent, "Wer sind Sie? We were forwarded here
looking for Kurt."
"This is Hank, one of Kurt's tutors. You must be the Wagners."
"Ja, das ist us. Wo bist unser Kurti?"
_'Kurti'?_ Hank tried not to snigger. "He's recording in the studio at
the moment. I'll try to catch his eye." Hank made some inventive
handsigns at the group in the studio until one of them tapped him on the
shoulder. Then he did the international gestures for 'you' and 'phone'.
Kurt slapped his forehead and the recording session broke down.
"You should hear the latest of their hits," said Hank. "You've raised
a very cynical young lad."
"That doesn't sound like our Kurt."
"Trust me. It's him. No-one else could have come up with words like
this."
Kurt pried the phone off him and did his best ingratiating, "Jawohl?"
A laugh. "Gutenabend, Mama! Papa... Nein, I'm not cynical. I was just
being funny. Es ist about the beauty industry. Ja. I think I can get you
a preview." He gestured to the girls, who trooped in with lyric sheets
in hand. "Leiben, Mama und Papa want to hear our song. Think you can do
it acapella?"
The girls grinned, gathered around the mouthpiece, and burst into
song.
"You must be beautiful,
It's your duty to be beautiful,
You must be young and beautiful,
If you want to be loved..." they chorused.
Amara, "You must wear Savoir Faire."
Kitty, "But it's expensive,"
The rest, "Ha! You can ask us if we care,
You must be clothed in Savoir Faire,
If you want to be loved..."
One by one, Kurt's lyrics shot down clothing, makeup, shoes and
hairdressing. He even had a verse on perfume.
Hank had to put his hand over his mouth to stop laughing. Funny or
not, it was still damn cynical. Come to think of it, the acapella
version sounded pretty good. They'd have to try a track when Kurt's
parents hung up.
"You like? Es ist *not* cynical! It's a humour piece. *Honestly*..."
Then again... "Girls? Would you like to try an acapella version in the
studio while Kurt takes his call?"
The vote was carried, three nods to two shrugs. They even got it down
before Kurt hung up, despite his attempts to crack them up by pulling
faces at them through the glass window.
It was the wee small hours and, despite their whirlwind shooting
schedule, Rahne couldn't sleep. Like most nights she couldn't sleep, she
wanted to *do* something. She took the chanter - the part of her
bagpipes that actually played the melody - off and sought a solitary
place where she could compose/practice without waking anyone else up.
The first place that occurred to her, the sound studio, was already
occupied. A large reel of tape was spinning on its slowest setting and,
judging by the amount of tape already on the recorded reel, Kurt had
been up for some time.
There was a little doll-version of Kurt propped up against the console
side of the studio window, and Rahne had to smile. _His mum made 'im a
just-like-me doll. Cute._ It was even wearing a set of jammies exactly
like Kurt's.
Everyone here, as far as she knew, had some little childhood knicknack
from home. Ostensibly, it was for luck; but the real reason was a little
touch of home comfort in a strange place. Rahne's was a moth-eaten old
stuffed toy dog she called Bowfy.
Kitty, the only one to actually own up to still playing with stuffed
toys, had a little dragon she called Lockheed.
Kurt's was obviously a knitted blue demonic moppet with gold button
eyes. And - she had to see and touch - a crochetted little tail, replete
with spaded tip.
It was a really good thing that Kurt routinely played with his eyes
shut.
The music stopped. "Verdammt. Take fifty-seven." There was a deep
breath, and the music started again.
It sounded something like a flute, but it looked like Kurt was playing
a tuber of some variety. It was small, round and sounded sweet and
lonely.
_Ye daftie,_ Rahne chided. _It's an ocarina. Of *course* he'd play it.
He's got the right number of fingers 'n' all._
Rahne snuck into the studio, proper, leaving Bowfy to keep Kurt's
moppet company, and sat herself in front of a mike. She raised the
chanter to her mouth, and started to jam.
If Kurt was surprised, he showed no sign. The only emotion was a tiny
hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth.
The music soared, painfully lonely and as sweet as heaven. Rahne
wanted to cry, but she somehow kept her emotions in check until they
came to a stop.
"Wunderbar," Kurt whispered. "I think we can print that."
"Aye," said Rahne. "D'ye want te try for a happier piece?"
Kurt grinned. "Naturalich," he said, then told the microphone, "_Happy
Place_, take one."
"*Damn*," said Evan for the fiftieth time.
Rogue touched her eyes.
"What *are* those instruments?" said Ray. "It's driving me nuts."
"I played me chanter," said Rahne. "That's Kurt on the ocarina."
"What? That like, weenie clay thing that like, looks like a dove?"
Everyone stared at Kitty.
"Well it like, *does*, okay?"
Hank rewound to a little before the beginning of the piece, plugging
in the headphones so he could check on something. "Sixty takes, Mr
Wagner?"
"Es ist the fur. I keep getting half notes when I want full ones."
"So what's this?" Bobby held up a little blue Kurt-moppet.
"Er. Das ist -er- ah...."
"For luck," said Rahne. "Just like mine."
"Ja. It's for luck. Ja."
Jean was grinning her head off.
"*Cool*!" Kitty was bouncing up and down. "I didn't know we were like,
allowed mascots. Can I add Lockheed to like, keep 'em company?"
Kurt's fur was darkening around his cheeks, a sure sign of stage one
mortification. Stage two had him tying knots in his arms behind his
back. Stage three was a full-out Kurt-tangle on a piece of furniture,
somewhere. "Er. Ja. I guess. If you think it's lucky."
It turned into a little dolly parade. After Lockheed, several other
well-loved stuffed toys 'appeared' on the sill of the window, and Hank
had to face an increasing audience of glass, button, stitched and
printed eyes.
Someone kept arranging Kurt's mascot in an embrace around Lockheed,
which Kitty kept disturbing by moving the stuffed dragon somewhere else
in the display. Yet, somehow, the little blue moppet would find itself
once again wrapped around the neck of Lockheed.
Everyone seemed to find it incredibly amusing.
Once, Lockheed had appeared in a supine position with Kurt's
'Schmerzmann' on top in a suggestive pose. Mr Crisp was suitably
punished, after the laughter, screaming, and slap-fight died down.
Evan had to be physically restrained from filming the dolls.
"So how the heck are we like, going to film the mall montage?"
"Mein Dame, I have a cunning plan," Kurt grinned.
As a direct result, they wound up in a little oddessy of the Bayville
Mall's restricted area, for a talk with the manager. He was not happy.
"Absolutely not!" He said. "You're the tenth bunch of kids I've had to
chase out of here with film equipment. There is not *one* thing you
could say to me to get me to change my mind."
"Ja? How about 'incidental advertising'?"
"Another bunch of yahoos already tried it. I'm *not* going to be
endorsed by a film calling itself the 'Blair Bitch Project', and I don't
*care* how fast you talk, you're not filming here."
"I smell the brotherhood," Jubes murmured.
"We're not them," said Kurt. "This is a sensitive movie about
accepting people despite their differences. It's more - art - than
parody."
The manager glared at Evan, who wore a shirt that read, on both sides,
"Students filming, please don't gawk" and murmured to himself.
"*Or* we could just film the outside of the mall for an establishing
shot and then build up a bunch of sets."
"Yeah," said Evan, playing devil's advocate. "Didn't you find some old
clothing racks in the dump or something?"
"And we could like, put some old pre-loved stuff on them and pretend
like, retro is in," said Kitty, who got what they were up to. "No-one
will like, notice the difference."
The manager's eyes bugged. Everyone could practically see the word,
'misrepresentation' dancing in front of his eyes. "I don't think I'd
have any real trouble having my mall placed in an artistic film. Just
try not to interrupt normal business practices *too* much."
They waited until they were out of his sight to exchange high-fives.
"Logan, you're being too nice!"
"I never thought I'd hear *that*..."
"Come on, you're character's menacing. Be a little bit meaner. Growl
or something."
"I can't believe I agreed to this..."
Hank sighed. "I can't read these lines. They're not me."
"That's why it's called like, 'acting', Mr McCoy," said Kitty. "Relax.
It's just like, your voice. Nobody ever like, sees the abusive uncle,
and you're like, not working under your real name, anyway."
"Ja," said Kurt, "You're going to be 'Hank LaBette'."
"LaBette?" Hank sighed.
"Come on, nobody else has enough bass. You can do it mein Herr."
"I can't believe I agreed to this..."
"Kurt, this isn't going to work," said Ororo. "Everyone will be able
to tell I'm also playing Evan's Mom for the film."
"Not if you make your voice warmer. Besides, you'll be speaking German
for this part. No-one will notice, Ich verspreche."
Ororo sighed. "I can't believe I agreed to this..."
Kitty, also at the mixing board, said, "Why is it like, *all* the
adults are like, having trouble with their like, voice roles?"
"Wait a minute, I thought I was also 'Trish' in the mall..."
Kurt grinned. "You're all Trish, all the time. Except when you're
being the ghost-mama's hands, of course."
Jean sighed. "Just when I was beginning to understand this... So in
your character's world, all salespeople are Trish?"
"Ja, das ist it. If you want to feel better about it, we can give you
different hairstyles for each role."
Jean had a speculative look. "Okay. I think that could actually
*work*."
"Ready Katzchen? This ist our duet. Think you can sing like you're in
love?"
Kitty smiled. "Kurt, this is like, nearly method acting."
"Wow. Those toys truly *do* bring luck..."
"Are we *quite* ready?" Hank drawled over the speaker. "Done flirting,
Mister Wagner? Miss Pryde? Okay. _Something Stupid_, take one."
Rogue began strumming her guitar.
Kurt started, "I know I stand in line until you think you have the
time to spend an evening with me..."
There was a film festival with all the entries involved. Some insisted
on calling it a marathon, with cinema six in the Bayville Mall showing
movies pretty much nonstop.
The judges worked on a rotational basis which dictated the order in
which the categories were shown. Thus, multiple categories got shown
towards midnight.
It was a stroke of luck that the Brotherhood's _Blair Bitch Project_,
being a Horror/Parody, got shown right next to the Institute's _Blue
Love_, which was a Romantic/Musical/Horror.
Through a mutual agreement, both teams decided to keep the sparring
verbal; the first team to make the other team tell them to shut up would
win. Likewise, yelling or speaking above a whisper was an automatic
loss.
Win what, no-one was sure.
"You know, it's amazing what four idiots mit handycams can do these
days, ja?"
"Who are you calling an idiot, freakshow?" Lance hissed.
"Wait, wait. Haven't I like, seen this movie?"
"Et tu, Kitty?" Lance pleaded.
"Yeah," whispered Jubes. "This whole thing was done to death years
ago."
"Yeah, but *we* got a surprise ending," gloated Fred.
"There it is," said ScreenTodd to ScreenLance. "That's the house.
*Her* house..."
ScreenLance said, "But - didn't it burn down twenty years ago?"
"Help! Help me!" screamed both ScreenPietro and ScreenFred from off
camera.
"We're comin', guys!" yelled ScreenLance.
The handheld cameras toured the lower section of the Brotherhood
boarding house, which was as close to a ruin as one could get and still
have it habitable.
"Ewwwwww..." said Kitty. "Like, gross-o-rama. I can't believe they
like, *live* there."
"Oh look," Kurt pointed out a rat, "it's Lance's baby brother."
"Shut up, freakshow."
"Ha ha! We win! You have to shut your mouths for the entirety of our
movie. Dummkopfs."
"Rrrr," said Lance.
"Rrrr," mumbled Fred.
"Rrrr," growled Todd.
"Rrrr," murmured Tabitha.
"Rrrr," snarled Pietro.
On the screen, Lance met an appropriate demise at the hands of the
Blair Bitch - played by Tabitha. She was dressed in her normal clothes
and more concerned with getting Todd and Lance out of her room than
acting. Though, to their credit, the Brotherhood *did* make it look like
they 'died'.
The lights came up for a short intermission.
Neither the Brotherhood nor the X-men moved. They all stared at the
judge as she made notes. Then the lights went down and the X-men all
broke into grins.
_Blue Love_ opened with a POV shot, Kurt's ficticious guardian, played
by Logan's arms and Hank's voice, was reading the Bayville Herald and an
article about the local bogey-monster, the Bayville Demon.
Kurt's voice. "Excuse me, fraulein? What are you in for?"
Kitty's voice. "What?"
"What are you in for?" Kurt's voice repeated. "Your hands look fine to
me. In fact, they look perfekt."
The paper went down, and everyone could see Kurt flirting with Kitty.
He'd captured one of her hands and was examining each finger.
Kitty giggled.
"I can't imagine what such perfekt hands are doing here waiting for
the hand doctor."
"*Kurt*!" yelled Hank's voice.
Kurt sighed. "Ich bin taurig, Onkel." Then, to Kitty, he mumbled, "I'm
not allowed to talk to girls." He put up the hood of an army-surplus
jacket he wore and stuck his hands in his pockets.
The paper went back up, and the camera cut to a more omniscient POV.
Kitty was trying to sneak looks into Kurt's hood. "FYI? My dad's the
physiotherapist here. I'm waiting for him to finish work so we can go
home. What are you 'in for'?"
Kurt pulled his hood a little back and gestured 'shh' with two fingers
over his lips.
Kitty touched her hand, as if remembering how he'd held it. "Whoah...
advanced ligamential tridactylism with muscular servility. That's pretty
darn rare."
Kurt whispered, "I'm glad *you* can pronounce it."
"Kurt..." warned the 'uncle'.
Kurt mimed 'hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil' before he
mouthed, "Sorry," at Kitty.
Kitty rolled her eyes and went back to her homework.
Kitty's father, played by Sam in a ludicrous moustache and a white
coat, called Kurt into the office and asked a bunch of questions about
his condition. The Uncle answered every single one. Each time he did,
Kurt became more cowed and shy. After Sam pronounced his case hopeless
without the correct medication - which the Uncle deemed too expensive
for such a worthless boy - Kurt re-entered the waiting room to talk to
Kitty while the Uncle's back was turned.
"FYI, fraulein," he murmured. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever not
talked to. I do hope I can not talk to you again."
Kitty giggled, but this time Kurt was noticably away from her when the
POV shifted back to the Uncle.
Cut to inside a house. Kurt, his jacket now off, had his neck held
tight in the Uncle's hands.
"Ich bin taurig... Ich bin taurig..."
"You're in *America*, slimebag. Speak *English*! I *know* you were
talking to that little slut! How *dare* you disobey me! Worthless trash!
You should have died with your whore of a mother!" The Uncle threw Kurt
across the room, and the screen went white.
"[Hang on, love,]" said Mother's voice, translated through subtitles.
"[Any day now, you'll be free. Hang on.]"
Kurt's voice, sounding hurt and weary. "Jawohl, Mama. Jawohl."
Cut to Kurt, trudging to school. A blind teacher, played by Scott with
a cane, caught him being tardy to his first day at his new school. Of
course, the teacher finds out about Kurt's wounds, and they both wind up
in the counsellor's office for a scene in which Logan the counsellor
threatened to confront the Uncle.
Kurt excused himself to run to the washroom, another POV shot, and
when he washed his hands, they come out of the sink tridactyl and fuzzy.
His face, though battered, remained 'normal'. Through careful and
repetative words, Kurt calmed himself down and his hands returned to
normal.
And so it went, the surprisingly intriguing tale of a boy who found
himself turning into the 'Bayville Demon' when his emotions got strong
enough. Which was also a musical. Evan played Kurt's neighbor and
friend, who found ways around Kurt's Uncle. And, periodically, the film
would delve into Kurt's rather surreal fantasy life.
The crowd scenes in the fantasies were handled by Jamie, who played a
set of identical quintuplets. The rest of the time, it was a lot of
close shots with noise recorded from various public places around
Bayville.
Kurt's flirtations with Kitty were complicated by the school bully,
played by Ray - who enjoyed his role a little too much - and who
considered himself the master of a popular-girl harem. However, he did
manage to get her away from the 'in crowd', at which point she reverted
to her usual, sweet self.
Their covert happiness didn't last long when he finally transformed
fully and completely into the 'demon'. All the people he knew thought he
was going to destroy them, somehow.
Except for Scott's character, who had only ever judged him by the
person he was.
There was a marvellous scene where the whole cast was demanding
Scott's character to give them the demon, and he had to ask what they
were talking about. He wasn't harboring a demon, he said, he was giving
shelter to a frightened boy.
Pity it didn't work on the crowd. Most of them ransacked the home,
though Kitty and Evan crept away from the scene. Together, they realised
that Kurt was still Kurt, even though his outside had changed, his soul
was still the same. Likewise, they beat the mob to his hiding place -
the little park where no-one went.
There, Kurt was ready to die, only to be saved by Kitty and,
symbolically, true love. And, of course, they lived happily ever after.
The lights faded up as the credits rolled, revealing the Brotherhood's
mutual stunned-mullet expressions.
"I don't get it," said Lance, but it was more out of pure spite than
any real feeling of confusion.
"Of course not, you idiot," said Tabitha. "It's *art*."
"We're *so* screwed, yo," said Todd. "That's goin' to *Cannes*."
"Shut up," Pietro hissed. "Show a little team loyalty, willya?"
"Oh. Uh. Yeah. Uh. That -er- sucked," said Fred.
"That is just *so* convincing," Lance sarcasmed. He sighed and turned
to face Kitty. "Sorry about the dweebs, pretty-- Holy *crap*!"
Kitty had evidently been paying no attention at all to the film for
quite a while. She was far more interested in kissing Kurt. Judging by
the looks on the X-geek's faces, Kitty and Kurt kissing had become
something of a regular spectacle at the Institute.
"Ooooohh... crash and *burn*," said Todd.
Fred gave Lance what he imagined to be a gentle pat on the shoulder.
"There, there," he soothed. "There's more fish in the sea. Mmmm...
fish..."
Pietro was busy doing the 'loser' cough.
Tabby was snickering.
_I *need* asprin..._
"Peasant... cease!" Amara put her book down and glared at the ceiling.
"I'm *trying* to do my book report."
Kurt, despite the Princess' protestations, kept pacing around on the
ceiling. "Why does it have to take so long?" he asked. "Why can't they
just confer and decide when the festival's over? It's been *weeks*...
They've even taken the display down at the store."
Amara sighed. "Obviously, you're in even *less* of a listening mood
than usual. Is it possible to take your topsy-turvy fret-frenzy
*elsewhere*?"
"Maybe somebody else won and they don't notify the losers. But it
wasn't even in the local news who won."
"...stupid peasant," Amara mumbled. Then she had a bright idea. "Hey,
I think I heard that Kitty was going to experiment with the deep fryer
today."
{Bamf!} He was gone.
_Kitty and food. The magic combination for Elf-B-Gone._
There was a small crowd around the set. The whole room smelled excited
and nervous. Logan took in the scene - replete with elfin contortionism
in the corner of the couch - and gave up.
"All right. What's going on?"
"The local station's running a special on who won the film festival,"
said Evan. "But they aren't saying *when* it's on."
"We can't miss a minute," said Jamie.
"Shutupshutupshutup! It'sthead!"
Twelve kids leaned forward, holding their breath.
"Say when it's *on*," Rahne urged in a whisper.
"SHHH!"
The ad ended, again without saying when the feature was scheduled.
There was an anguished cry from the multitude, followed by various
screams at the screen.
"Say when it's *on*!"
"Unglaublich!"
"You morons!"
"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Augh!"
"The pain... the pain..."
"That does it, I'm ringin' 'em up."
"They're not answering the phone, remember?"
"Jerks."
"...whimper..."
"Maybe they'll say in the *next* ad," and with that, they all fell
silent again.
Logan found Ororo on his way back out. "This has to be the first time
in history that anyone's watched the local station for the
*advertisin'*."
The whole mansion was glued to the set by the time they actually aired
the special, and, of course, the moment everyone was waiting for was at
the end of several hours worth of cheap 'entertainment'. Just about
everyone was yelling, "Get to the point!" before half an hour had
elapsed.
Charles Xavier couldn't stay in a room with so much telepathic noise,
and retreated to the library. Ororo kept herself busy by feeding the
kids, with Hank's help, while Logan propped up the doorframe and scowled
at the tube.
It was a minor miracle that the Brotherhood hadn't taken advantage of
the situation and tried to start a war.
Meanwhile, at the Brotherhood's abode...
"...to win the twenty-inch flat-screen, surround sound TV. And the
winner of the multiple category film contest is..." the bimbo on the
screen opened the envelope. "The Bayville Brotherhood's _Blair Bitch
Project_!"
"YYYEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!"
"We beat the X-geeks! We beat the X-geeks!"
"We got a television! We got a television!"
"Correction. We got a television that *works*, yo."
Lance, meanwhile, was airing his ass in the general direction of the
Institute. "YES! Pucker up and kiss it! Losers! Kiss mah leetle white
bee-haind..."
"...unglaublich..."
"Hey, now. The competition isn't over," soothed Jean. "There's still
the overall winner of the grand prize."
"Nein, we won't win that. There were plenty of better films." He
sighed. "At least we had fun, ja?" Kurt relaxed out of his knot and
buried his face in Kitty's neck.
"You bet it was fun," Kitty gave him a hug. "Betcha they like, bribed
the judges or something."
"Don't turn it off," said Jamie. "I wanna see who won the grand
prize."
"Yeah, like we were going to miss that."
"We beat the X-geeks! Neener, neener, neener! The X-geeks are loosers!
Ha, haha, ha, ha, ha!"
"Shuttup! They're doing the grand prize."
"And the winner of the overall best film is..." the bimbo struggled
with the envelope.
"The Xavier Institute's _Blue Love_!"
"*Vas*?"
"YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"
"Ow! Kitty, I need that ear for later..."
"Wewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewon!"
"...I guess he's *not* such a stupid peasant after all..."
Jamie was dancing on the coffee table. "We got it! We got it! We got
it! We-- whup!" {Thud} then three of him sat up and said, "Sorry."
Logan sighed. _Chuck, I got good news, and I got bad news._
_Don't tell me,_ Xavier's telepathic reply felt like he was smiling.
_I think I can guess. Same news for both, yes?_
_Close. Good news is, you don't have to buy them that fancy
entertainment unit. Bad news is, soon as they get it, they're throwin' a
loud party._
_Should have ordered you those industrial earplugs..._
"No *way*! The fuzzy freakshow *beat* us?"
"Looks like you gonna have to pucker up an' kiss *his* fuzzy little
butt, yo."
"Shut up!"
Todd held a piece of rope on his backside like a tail and waggled his
rear at Lance. "Oh, ya! Dis ist mein victory butt! Keess mein furry blue
bottom!" He made a moue, and loud kissing noises.
And that was how the Brotherhood got a second Todd imprint in the
plaster.
[Author's Note: Sorry. This has absolutely nothing to do with
Quicksilver/Pietro. Deal. You know, if you're *that* hungry for Pietro,
you could go write him into some PWPs of your own :) ]
It was the entertainment unit of the century. Nay, the millenium. Nay,
the *eon*. Kurt could feel drool collecting on his lip. It had
everything but bathroom fixtures.
"Whoah," he said for the fiftieth time.
And there was a competition to win it.
All he had to do was make a film, and there were billions of
categories. He could *do* this. He really could. He had the skills. He
had the technology - care of a dusty abandoned box in one of the
basements. He had the space - care of cleaning *out* said basements on a
punishment detail. He even had a wild idea.
All he needed was money for the film stock and an entry form.
The entry form was free. He was halfway there.
Logan could hear the hammering clear across the other side of the
Institute, but then, he had super-sensitive senses. If it wasn't for the
earplugs Chuck had given him, Logan would never be able to survive the
kids' wake-up music every morning. Especially since the Elf had borrowed
one of Rogue's thrash metal CD's, claiming it gave him just the scare he
needed.
Considering the -er- 'fluffy' way he looked in the mornings lately, he
may have had a point.
Regardless of their morning habits, someone's new hobby was starting
to tick him off. Just when he thought the mystery hammerer stopped, they
started again. Surely no-one on Earth would need that many nails in
something unless -- Logan broke into a run at this point -- they were
building something really *big*.
Chuck sure as hell didn't authorise it, because he would have warned
Logan that the kids were up to something.
Logan burst onto the incriminating scene with a harsh, "All right.
Who's doing what and why wasn't anyone told?"
"Guten tag, Herr Logan!" The Elf looked up from what seemed to be part
of a house frame. "I guess I should have put up soundproofing first,
ja?"
"What the hell are you doin'?"
"I'm building mein set," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing
in the world. "I scrounged all the parts myself. Can you believe all
these things weren't wanted?"
"The Prof know what you're up to?"
"Er. Not - exactly... He was sort of busy when I asked. I figured I
shouldn't bother him further with anything." That nervous smile was
supposed to be ingratiating. It just grated.
Logan folded his arms. "What did you tell him? Your *exact* words."
"I... said I was going to enter a competition."
"That's it?"
"Das ist it..."
"Are you gonna *tell* me about this competition, or am I gonna have to
beat it out of ya?"
"You're not mad?"
"Not yet. Spill it, Elf. Now."
"Oh, you should see it, it's so *cool*..." Kurt began, then vividly
described the exact sort of entertainment unit that would guarantee
Logan some soundproofing in his room. Then Kurt outlined the
competition. Make a film, they said, anything from a short to a feature-
length movie. The categories were so wide and varied that Kurt's idea of
a musical short would fit right in.
One scene. One tap number on a revolving set, and the one-man elf show
was done. It couldn't take him more than a week.
_Ah, shoot,_ Logan thought. _May as well help the little hairball.
Keep the hammering down to a minimum. Besides, if he's got his heart
*this* set on winning the thing, *I'm* sure as hell not gonna stop him._
Fortunately, or unfortunately - depending on one's point of view -
others had ears as well. The noise of construction bought down some,
while the search for some bought down others. Pretty soon, the whole
Institute was buzzing about Kurt's 'little project'.
Evan decided to be cameraman. Kitty giggled her way into becoming the
female lead - even though there were only two parts and Kitty got the
only line. Just about everyone else helped.
The Professor, somewhere upstairs, managed to enjoy the relative peace
and quiet for a change.
At least until the music started.
Evan looked at the set. There were several things that were going to
go wrong with the shoot. He could *see* it. "Uh. K-man? Don't you think
something's wrong with the set?"
Kurt looked at it. The chandallier, the curtains and the little
ashtray that he was going to drop the 'house keys' into. "Looks fine to
me," he said, screwing the metal plates into the bottoms of his built-up
shoes. Ordinarily, he hated the things, and only wore them rarely,
during muddy season. Today was different.
Evan didn't know when Kurt had figured out he could tapdance with the
ungainly things. All he knew was that he just did it one day after
Wolverine had been on a binge, at Xavier's insistance, to teach Logan a
lesson in being a role model.
"Dude, the shot's going to screw up the second you go up the wall.
Everything's going to go sideways."
Kurt just grinned at him. "Have faith, mein fruend."
"Your funeral," Evan sighed. He readied the camera. "Speed!"
"Kurt's short, take one." Scott snapped the clapper in front of the
camera. "Action!"
Kitty giggled. "Like, thanks for a wonderful time," she said, and
kissed Kurt on the cheek. "Gotta go. My dad's like, here."
Kurt, looking human, waved her goodbye and shut the door.
Roberto turned on the music. Full blast. It didn't matter, because it
would have to be looped, anyway. The mike was set up to pick up Kurt's
tapping.
Kurt was pretty nimble, even *with* those hideous built-ups on. Evan
almost didn't notice when he began tapping up the wall. Then his jaw
fell open.
The keys were staying in the ashtray. The curtain was still apparently
obeying gravity and pointing to the floor. The chandallier was doing
likewise.
_How in hell?_ Evan figured out the ashtray. It must be at least
partially magnetic. The chandallier was wired up so that it wouldn't
move.
No it wasn't. Kurt deliberately whacked it with a hip, making it swing
to and fro. Even the little chandallier pieces swung about. _Spring
loaded... Sneaky little elf._ But how was the curtain staying put?
Kurt came to a grinning stop, back on the floor, as the music came to
a close. Then, behind them, the Professor scared everyone.
"*What* is going *on* down here?"
Kurt looked absolutely horrified.
"Cut!" Yelled Evan, stopping the camera.
"Icanexplain," said Kurt, holding up his hands in surrender. "Please,
don't ground them, it was my idea."
"Kurt..." the Professor sighed. "Whether or not I ground anyone is
entirely up to you explaining what's going *on*, here."
Kurt took a deep breath, and started from the beginning. How fantastic
the entertainment unit was. How fabulous it would look in the common
room, where everyone could enjoy it. How he was going to win with his
little entry in the special effects competition. How he didn't want to
interrupt the Professor's phone call any further with what the
competition was or how he planned to win it.
Evan winced. Prof. was going to come down on him like a ton of bricks,
this time. This probably went *way* beyond 'unauthorised extracurricular
activities'.
At the end of it all, the Professor was pinching the bridge of his
nose. "Let's see the rushes," he said.
A handful of seconds ticked by in stunned silence.
"You mean it?"
"I've only seen the last few moments of your work, Kurt. The least I
can do is see what sort of effort you've made, before I make a
decision."
The figure on the screen danced jubilantly up the wall while the
camera apparrently stayed on the floor. Even those of them who had seen
it happening oohed and ahed.
Then it all went pear-shaped.
Kurt tapped a series of pirouettes, and in the middle of one, his
normal shape popped out for the whole world to see.
"No way, man!" Evan objected. "I was watching the whole time! His
holowatch behaved. It was *working*!"
Kurt had his mouth open in fear and dread. A tiny noise escaped his
throat.
His image returned to humanity on the trip down the opposite wall, but
everyone could see that the damage had been done. Yet, oddly enough,
Kurt was smiling. He'd figured something out.
"Dude, that is *so* over. We're doomed," said Scott.
"Nein... I can make it work. The holoprojector didn't fritz. It was
out of synch mit the camera... I can make this shot work. I just need a
bigger movie."
"Kurt?"
"Everyone will think I'm a special effect!" He crowed. "They'll never
know how we did it! It'll work and it'll *wow* them! We're going to
*win*..."
Evan groaned. Kurt and his wild ideas were a guaranteed wreckage zone.
"I'm gonna need a day, maybe two. Six pencils, some rubber bands - and
some time on your computer, Katzchen. Oh, and -er- your kind permission,
Herr Professor?"
_Oh yeah. This is going to be a doozy. I'm wearing my helmet for a
whole month..._
Xavier was hiding a smile. He had that look of terminal curiosity that
seemed to follow Kurt wherever he went. People got it when they just
*had* to know what he was going to do next. Or what was going to
*happen* because of what he did next. "You have it," he said. "I think
this might be an enriching excercise for all of us."
Kurt was grinning like a maniac.
Evan went into his personal version of Defcon 4.
"He's *what*?"
"He's *typing* with them, for the fiftieth time," said Rogue. "He's got
the pencils strapped to his fingers and he's using them to type."
"Lead end or eraser end?"
"This *is* Kitty's computer, remember? Of *course* he's usin' the
eraser end."
"D'oh!"
Jamie chose that point to run into the room. "Hey guys! You won't
believe what *I* just saw!"
"Kurt's typing with pencils strapped to his hands," said Roberto.
"Seen it," said Rogue.
"Heard about it," said Amara.
"Thinking about publishing a newspaper," added Evan.
"...darn," said Jamie. He wasn't allowed to swear. "I never get to the
cool stuff first."
"You're kidding."
"Just proofread it, man."
"A Romantic Musical Horror film?" Scott made a face. "This is *nuts*."
"It's going to *work*," Kurt insisted. "Just make sure I didn't screw
up the English, ja?"
Scott read. "I see you've made our monster sympathetic."
"How could I not?"
"You *can* sing, can't you?"
"Ja, but I'm a better hoofer. I think I got mein fill of singing in
choir practice."
Scott stared at him. "You've *got* to be kidding. *You* in a *choir*."
"What? It was *Heirelgart*. Nobody cares how anybody looks in
Heirelgart."
Scott gestured with the script, "You've got to give yourself at least
one song. It's in the rules of musicals. Maybe a duet with Kitty."
Kurt grinned. "I know just the song!" And then he threw himself back
at the computer.
"So, how's the beta draft?"
"Interesting plot," said Hank. "Quite a twist on boy-meets-girl and
boy-versus-monster."
"Ja. And?"
"It's a little - surreal in places..."
"The hero has a warped mind."
"Apparrently, so does the writer," said Hank, fixing a pointed glare
at Kurt over the tops of his glasses. Finally, he sighed. "The English
checks out, however, I still want see you in some counselling sessions,
okay?"
"Es ist not autobiographical, man. I just wrote what made sense."
"Exactly why I want to see you in some counselling sessions."
"Haha. Very droll. Can we film it?"
"Talk to the Professor."
Sigh. "Jawohl."
The Professor had approved. Now he had a far tougher audience on his
hands. The cast.
"I don't get it," said Evan.
"Please, God, do *not* explain it *again*?" Rogue begged. "You just
*act* it, Porcupine. Y'all don't have to *understand* it."
"No offense, Fuzzy, but this like, reads like one of those like,
foreign films my Mom goes to like, *cry* at? The only thing like,
missing is subtitles."
"Page seventeen," said Ray.
Kitty looked. "Okay. It *is* one of those wierdo foreign films my
Mom'd like, adore."
"*Duh*," said Jubes. "Foreign-guy writer? *Hello*..."
"Clue to Kitty, clue to Kitty. Respond, Kitty," said Bobby.
"Leave her alone," said Kurt.
"Why am *I* one of the villains?" asked Amara. "The audience is going
to hate me."
"Ach, villains get the best lines," said Kurt. "And it's a natural way
to display your full acting talents."
"Like she has to *act*," snorted Kitty.
"Hey..." warned Scott. "We're supposed to be a team, here. No
fighting."
"You screwed up, elf," said Logan. "I got the part of the school
counsellor."
Everyone laughed.
"Nein. You're the counsellor."
"*WHAT*?"
"He's an intimidating figure to the hero. And you do intimidating so
well, ja?"
"Why did I agree to do this?" Logan asked the heavens.
"I bought everyone sand...wi...ches..." Ororo's face fell. The
basement sets were full of Jamies.
One of them was grinning at her, fit to burst. "Hey, Ms Munroe!" He
called. "Guess what *we* found out we can do?"
She took a stab at it. "Woodwork?"
"Isn't it the coolest?" said another. "We can actually *do* something!
Something cool, that is."
"Where's the original Jamie?" There was no way they could afford to
feed the vast proliferation of clones. Not even with the emergency
stores that filled sub-basement seven.
"Uhhhhh..." said about five of him.
"I can narrow it down to half a dozen," said a voice from the ceiling.
A blue arm reached down and snaffled a PBJ.
"I was wondering where you'd gotten to," said Ororo. "How can you be
that accurate? We always have trouble when he loses track like that."
"I found a ratty old party hat in one of the boxes that used to be
here," he told her. "Every time he accidentally dupes himself, he makes
the clones take off the extra hats."
Sure enough, there was a pile of identical ratty party hats in a
corner.
Kurt cupped his hands around his mouth. "Party hats, front and
centre!"
Sure enough, six Jamies appeared, each wearing a disreputable party
hat.
"And -er- what happened to get you confused about these six?"
"We fell down the stairs," said the Jamies. One winked out of
existance as they spoke. "The original got kinda lost in the shuffle."
"Nicht ist es wundervoll?" Kurt grinned. "We get the sets built in a
fraction of the time, and the workforce just vanishes at the end of the
day."
{Crash!} "Whoah!"
"Give or take a few," Kurt added.
"Hey, Beast."
"Jamie." Hank didn't even look up from his reading.
"Herr McCoy."
"Kurt."
"Hey, Beast."
"Jamie."
"Hey, Beast."
Deja vu. Hank looked up. It was a parade. About every third Jamie
chirped a greeting as he passed. Each was carrying - or helping other
Jamies to carry - some mostly-wooden object out of the basement sets.
Down the hall, they met Ray.
"Ray."
"Ray."
"Ray."
"What are you idiots up to, now?"
"We have to have exterior shots, you know," said Kurt. "It can't just
be a bottle movie."
"I'm not gonna ask," said Ray.
"He means something that's done all indoors," said one of the Jamies.
Further down the hall, "Hey, what is this? An ant farm?"
"Hi, Jubes."
"Hi, Jubes."
"Hi, Jubes."
Hank turned some pleading eyes towards the Professor, who was hiding
behind his newspaper.
"Yes, I *am* still going to allow this," he said. "The effort they're
going to will make them appreciate the value of their prize."
"You make it sound like they're going to win."
Charles folded the newspaper down. "I have the utmost confidence in
them," he said. "But I can also easily afford the entertainment unit.
Either way, I feel they would have worked hard enough for it."
"Aha," Hank murmured. "A little cheating, hm? Even if they lose,
they'll win."
"Quite."
"Hey, these flowers are like, fake."
"CUT!"
"Of course they're fake," said Kurt. "It's bad luck to have real
flowers."
"Kitty, your line is, 'Uh. Thanks. I think. Word to the not-so-wise?
Try a professional arrangement.' Not, 'These flowers are like, fake',
okay?"
"Jean, just because you're like, assistant director doesn't mean you
can like, abuse people."
"Man, we're *working* for that entertainment unit..."
"Are these like, fabric?"
"Katzchen, please stop messing mit the flowers? They took hours to
make."
"You like, *made* these?"
"Oma ran out of things for me to do, one winter. So what? A little
knowledge ist a useful thing, ja?"
"I'm really starting to wonder about you, K-man," Evan muttered.
"Oh, and I guess you'd prefer we *bought* everything? We barely have
the cash for film stock and -- will you get out of mein face mit that
*camera*?"
"Hey, I'm doing a making-of thing. Prof insisted. He's keeping me in
batteries and tape."
Someone's watch pipped.
"Time for lunch," chirped Jubilee.
"Rrrfff..." Kurt took off the holowatch they'd rigged for filming and
put on his usual one. "With a little luck, maybe tempers would have
cooled by the time we finish eating. With a little luck, maybe we can
get this *scene* done."
"K-man, you are really going strange on us, here."
Kurt continued to wipe down the old window with petroleum jelly. "It's
an old movie trick. We don't have cheesecloth, so we're using this."
"*What*?"
"You film through it and you get a nice romantic haze," explained
Kurt. He held it up. "See?"
"Hey cool..." Evan looked through the portal. "How do you know so much
about all this?"
"Winters get *really* boring in Heirelgart. Trust me on this."
"Okay, so *why* 'Windmill park'?" Evan asked as he watched Kurt put
the artificially-aged sign up in front of a grove of trees.
"It's an in-joke. The first movie Frankenstein's Monster was chased
into an old windmill."
"I'd like, take his word for it," said Kitty. "Kurt and ancient film
are like *that*." She held up two crossed fingers.
"Kommen diese Weise," Kurt gestured for them to follow. He lead them
to a clearing in the wood where a massive boulder lay. There was a new
park bench snugged up against the vertical side. It still had a 'wet
paint' sign on it.
Kitty obeyed human nature and touched it to see if it was.
"I wondered where that went," said Jean. "So this is the little park
where nobody goes, huh?"
"Don't tell me you're like, starting to understand the script," said
Kitty.
"So I like art films. Deal." Jean toured around the rock, climbing it
with a minimum of effort from the low side. "I didn't even know this was
here."
"I'm full of surprises," said Kurt.
"Okay, now this ist one of the big fantasy sequences. I want to see
everyone *happy*, okay?"
"Ready, mister music," said Evan.
"Uh. We have a problem," said Jean.
"Vas?"
"The Professor's read the fine print in the entry form. We can't use
any copyrighted music."
There was a mutual groan.
"A week's work right down the drain..."
"It's not a problem," said Kurt.
"You *have* gone nuts, K-man."
"Come *on*. Who here can play a musical instrument?" Kurt held up his
hand.
There were several other uncertain hands in the air.
"See? We just form a band and do covers of everything we're using.
Easy."
"Uh. Hello? No musical instruments?"
"Obviously, *you* haven't gone to sub-basement thirty-six."
"Oh. Right. I forgot. Herr Punishment-detail over there," Jubes jerked
a thumb at him. "What sort of instruments are we talking about?"
"Everything your little heart could desire, fraulein."
They set up an audio room in the basement underneath the sets. It was,
after all, already soundproofed.
Ray played a riff on the drums. He was grinning like a little kid on
Christmas. "Ha. I thought there'd be a fight for the drums with you
around, Elf."
"Hey, it takes real skill to play one of these," Kurt licked his lips
and pumped the slide of the trombone. "I think some of us may need some
warm-ups first, ja?" He blew a phrase out, and only one note was off. "A
lot of warm-ups."
"You are like, *too* much of a perfectionist," said Kitty. She tried
out her sax. "Ugh. This like, *so* needs a new reed. I'll be like,
back."
Rogue was tuning her accoustic guitar. "What *I* can't figure out is
why the Professor never told us about all this stuff."
Scott played a rather loud riff on his electric guitar. "Ahhh, brings
me back."
"Do the math," said Jean. She was helping a crowd of Jamies put
together the sound board.
"*Evan*... get outta here with that..." said Sam. He was setting up
the mikes. "We're tired of your 'making-of' jerkin' around."
"Ye point that at me *one* more time, daftie, an' ye'll get a chanter
where a chanter was never meant to be," Rahne threatened Evan with part
of her pipes. "Lord alone knows what kind o' sound we'll have."
"I do," said one of the Jamies. "'Evan, get lost!'"
"Oh, hahaha. I'll just find somewhere out of everyone's way, then."
"You do that."
"Urgh." {Whump!} Hank buried his face in the pillows on the couch.
"I take it I shouldn't ask how your day was," said Ororo.
"They made, _Now I'm A Believer_ go on for *fifteen* minutes..."
groaned Hank. "Replete with German verses."
"Have they decided on a name yet?"
Hank sighed. "They're still arguing between 'X-static', 'The Flying
Mutants' and 'The Basement City Rollers'."
"What happened to 'Sergeant Logan's Lonely Hearts Club Band'?"
Hank glared at her. "You *know* Kurt was the only one bucking for that
one."
"*I* liked it." Ororo smiled. "I thought it was cute."
"I put in my vote for 'X-static'," said Hank. "It's easier to spell."
"Kurt's doing the credits, huh?" Ororo handed him a mug of hot
chocolate and a painkiller, which he took with a greatful sigh. "I think
he's the only one who still knows who's doing what."
"Either that, or he's making them up out of whole cloth."
"What do you *mean* I don't get to beat you up? I've been *waiting*
for this scene!"
"Chill out, Ray. You get to do all the yelling," said Kurt.
"Yeah. Post-production."
"Look," said Jean, "all the violence is never seen. Just the
consequences. It's because Kurt's character erases the events from his
mind. All the audience sees is flashes of white and new wounds."
"When you think about it, it's more violent than showing the attack,"
said Kurt. "The audience's mind fills in everything. It makes the horror
more intense."
"You," Ray announced, "are damn wierd."
"Ja, I know. Can we do the scene, now?"
"...rassafrassingrumblemumblestoopidelf..." Ray sighed. "Okay. But
this better look frikkin' good."
"What's this musical number for?"
"*Duh*... It's like, the happy ending."
"Naw, it's a dream sequence."
"No way, the window's in storage. It's for real. Besides, Kitty
rescues him in the scene right before this."
"Oh yeah, I forgot. Doing things out of order like this does my head
in."
"Where's the Professor? Isn't he like, *in* this scene?"
"Aw, man, we're losing the light..."
"Sorry I'm late," announced the Professor. "I had a little trouble
with my costume. *Someone* told me I had the shirt on backwards."
Kurt grinned. "Couldn't help myself."
"Hurry up. The corset on this thing is like, *killing* me. And I look
like a Faberge merangue!"
"You look beautiful, leibe," Kurt soothed. "Every girl who sees this
scene will go green mit envy."
Kitty blushed.
"Are we ready, now?"
"Yes, O great and powerful assistant director."
"Shut up, Evan. Kurt, lose the holowatch. Jamies three through seven,
ready the confetti. Storm, a light breeze, please. Hank, get the boom
out of shot. Okay. *Action*."
The confetti fell seemingly from nowhere while Kurt and Kitty enacted
a wedding scene like no other. Kurt was grinning like a fool and
everyone knew why. The kiss.
Kitty was acting her heart out to look happy and slightly possessive,
the way all brides looked. All the time, inside, she knew she was going
to ruin the shot, somehow. She was going to scream or react when Kurt
kissed her. Everyone *knew* she wasn't into facial hair, and now she had
to be kissed by a guy who had a fine coat of fuzz all over.
All too soon, it was, "You may kiss the bride."
Her heart jumped into her throat as he moved closer. She closed her
eyes and parted her lips, leaning towards him. _I hope nobody guesses
this is like, my first kiss..._
His lips touched hers gently, softly; in a series of light semi-kisses
that moved ever deeper each time their lips met. His tongue brushed
against her mouth and she welcomed it.
_Like. Wow._
He was making her head spin. His fur was like silk, or down. _So soft
and warm..._ She kissed him back, taking subtle little cues from him on
how to respond. He tasted sweet.
_You may *stop* kissing the bride..._ the Professor prompted inside
both their heads.
Kitty could feel Kurt's grin as his answer.
Lord alone knew how he expected her to dance after *that*.
"*So*?" Rogue prompted as they made their way to the recording studio
after dinner.
"What?" said Kitty.
"Is he a good kisser?"
"*Rogue*!"
"Come on. Share a li'l. Y'all know I have to live vicariously. Spill
it!"
"Ain't tellin'," Kitty held her nose up in the air in mock arrogance.
"Because if I did, you'd want to steal him. Every single one of you."
"Ooooohhh..." said Rahne. "That's *good*."
"If he wasn't such a gypsy peasant," teased Amara, "I may even deign
try him out."
"Was his tongue fuzzy, too?" asked Jubes.
"Shut *up*..." Kitty blushed.
{Ring ring}
Hank took the headphones off before he picked up the phone. "Hello?"
An adult, with a German accent, "Wer sind Sie? We were forwarded here
looking for Kurt."
"This is Hank, one of Kurt's tutors. You must be the Wagners."
"Ja, das ist us. Wo bist unser Kurti?"
_'Kurti'?_ Hank tried not to snigger. "He's recording in the studio at
the moment. I'll try to catch his eye." Hank made some inventive
handsigns at the group in the studio until one of them tapped him on the
shoulder. Then he did the international gestures for 'you' and 'phone'.
Kurt slapped his forehead and the recording session broke down.
"You should hear the latest of their hits," said Hank. "You've raised
a very cynical young lad."
"That doesn't sound like our Kurt."
"Trust me. It's him. No-one else could have come up with words like
this."
Kurt pried the phone off him and did his best ingratiating, "Jawohl?"
A laugh. "Gutenabend, Mama! Papa... Nein, I'm not cynical. I was just
being funny. Es ist about the beauty industry. Ja. I think I can get you
a preview." He gestured to the girls, who trooped in with lyric sheets
in hand. "Leiben, Mama und Papa want to hear our song. Think you can do
it acapella?"
The girls grinned, gathered around the mouthpiece, and burst into
song.
"You must be beautiful,
It's your duty to be beautiful,
You must be young and beautiful,
If you want to be loved..." they chorused.
Amara, "You must wear Savoir Faire."
Kitty, "But it's expensive,"
The rest, "Ha! You can ask us if we care,
You must be clothed in Savoir Faire,
If you want to be loved..."
One by one, Kurt's lyrics shot down clothing, makeup, shoes and
hairdressing. He even had a verse on perfume.
Hank had to put his hand over his mouth to stop laughing. Funny or
not, it was still damn cynical. Come to think of it, the acapella
version sounded pretty good. They'd have to try a track when Kurt's
parents hung up.
"You like? Es ist *not* cynical! It's a humour piece. *Honestly*..."
Then again... "Girls? Would you like to try an acapella version in the
studio while Kurt takes his call?"
The vote was carried, three nods to two shrugs. They even got it down
before Kurt hung up, despite his attempts to crack them up by pulling
faces at them through the glass window.
It was the wee small hours and, despite their whirlwind shooting
schedule, Rahne couldn't sleep. Like most nights she couldn't sleep, she
wanted to *do* something. She took the chanter - the part of her
bagpipes that actually played the melody - off and sought a solitary
place where she could compose/practice without waking anyone else up.
The first place that occurred to her, the sound studio, was already
occupied. A large reel of tape was spinning on its slowest setting and,
judging by the amount of tape already on the recorded reel, Kurt had
been up for some time.
There was a little doll-version of Kurt propped up against the console
side of the studio window, and Rahne had to smile. _His mum made 'im a
just-like-me doll. Cute._ It was even wearing a set of jammies exactly
like Kurt's.
Everyone here, as far as she knew, had some little childhood knicknack
from home. Ostensibly, it was for luck; but the real reason was a little
touch of home comfort in a strange place. Rahne's was a moth-eaten old
stuffed toy dog she called Bowfy.
Kitty, the only one to actually own up to still playing with stuffed
toys, had a little dragon she called Lockheed.
Kurt's was obviously a knitted blue demonic moppet with gold button
eyes. And - she had to see and touch - a crochetted little tail, replete
with spaded tip.
It was a really good thing that Kurt routinely played with his eyes
shut.
The music stopped. "Verdammt. Take fifty-seven." There was a deep
breath, and the music started again.
It sounded something like a flute, but it looked like Kurt was playing
a tuber of some variety. It was small, round and sounded sweet and
lonely.
_Ye daftie,_ Rahne chided. _It's an ocarina. Of *course* he'd play it.
He's got the right number of fingers 'n' all._
Rahne snuck into the studio, proper, leaving Bowfy to keep Kurt's
moppet company, and sat herself in front of a mike. She raised the
chanter to her mouth, and started to jam.
If Kurt was surprised, he showed no sign. The only emotion was a tiny
hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth.
The music soared, painfully lonely and as sweet as heaven. Rahne
wanted to cry, but she somehow kept her emotions in check until they
came to a stop.
"Wunderbar," Kurt whispered. "I think we can print that."
"Aye," said Rahne. "D'ye want te try for a happier piece?"
Kurt grinned. "Naturalich," he said, then told the microphone, "_Happy
Place_, take one."
"*Damn*," said Evan for the fiftieth time.
Rogue touched her eyes.
"What *are* those instruments?" said Ray. "It's driving me nuts."
"I played me chanter," said Rahne. "That's Kurt on the ocarina."
"What? That like, weenie clay thing that like, looks like a dove?"
Everyone stared at Kitty.
"Well it like, *does*, okay?"
Hank rewound to a little before the beginning of the piece, plugging
in the headphones so he could check on something. "Sixty takes, Mr
Wagner?"
"Es ist the fur. I keep getting half notes when I want full ones."
"So what's this?" Bobby held up a little blue Kurt-moppet.
"Er. Das ist -er- ah...."
"For luck," said Rahne. "Just like mine."
"Ja. It's for luck. Ja."
Jean was grinning her head off.
"*Cool*!" Kitty was bouncing up and down. "I didn't know we were like,
allowed mascots. Can I add Lockheed to like, keep 'em company?"
Kurt's fur was darkening around his cheeks, a sure sign of stage one
mortification. Stage two had him tying knots in his arms behind his
back. Stage three was a full-out Kurt-tangle on a piece of furniture,
somewhere. "Er. Ja. I guess. If you think it's lucky."
It turned into a little dolly parade. After Lockheed, several other
well-loved stuffed toys 'appeared' on the sill of the window, and Hank
had to face an increasing audience of glass, button, stitched and
printed eyes.
Someone kept arranging Kurt's mascot in an embrace around Lockheed,
which Kitty kept disturbing by moving the stuffed dragon somewhere else
in the display. Yet, somehow, the little blue moppet would find itself
once again wrapped around the neck of Lockheed.
Everyone seemed to find it incredibly amusing.
Once, Lockheed had appeared in a supine position with Kurt's
'Schmerzmann' on top in a suggestive pose. Mr Crisp was suitably
punished, after the laughter, screaming, and slap-fight died down.
Evan had to be physically restrained from filming the dolls.
"So how the heck are we like, going to film the mall montage?"
"Mein Dame, I have a cunning plan," Kurt grinned.
As a direct result, they wound up in a little oddessy of the Bayville
Mall's restricted area, for a talk with the manager. He was not happy.
"Absolutely not!" He said. "You're the tenth bunch of kids I've had to
chase out of here with film equipment. There is not *one* thing you
could say to me to get me to change my mind."
"Ja? How about 'incidental advertising'?"
"Another bunch of yahoos already tried it. I'm *not* going to be
endorsed by a film calling itself the 'Blair Bitch Project', and I don't
*care* how fast you talk, you're not filming here."
"I smell the brotherhood," Jubes murmured.
"We're not them," said Kurt. "This is a sensitive movie about
accepting people despite their differences. It's more - art - than
parody."
The manager glared at Evan, who wore a shirt that read, on both sides,
"Students filming, please don't gawk" and murmured to himself.
"*Or* we could just film the outside of the mall for an establishing
shot and then build up a bunch of sets."
"Yeah," said Evan, playing devil's advocate. "Didn't you find some old
clothing racks in the dump or something?"
"And we could like, put some old pre-loved stuff on them and pretend
like, retro is in," said Kitty, who got what they were up to. "No-one
will like, notice the difference."
The manager's eyes bugged. Everyone could practically see the word,
'misrepresentation' dancing in front of his eyes. "I don't think I'd
have any real trouble having my mall placed in an artistic film. Just
try not to interrupt normal business practices *too* much."
They waited until they were out of his sight to exchange high-fives.
"Logan, you're being too nice!"
"I never thought I'd hear *that*..."
"Come on, you're character's menacing. Be a little bit meaner. Growl
or something."
"I can't believe I agreed to this..."
Hank sighed. "I can't read these lines. They're not me."
"That's why it's called like, 'acting', Mr McCoy," said Kitty. "Relax.
It's just like, your voice. Nobody ever like, sees the abusive uncle,
and you're like, not working under your real name, anyway."
"Ja," said Kurt, "You're going to be 'Hank LaBette'."
"LaBette?" Hank sighed.
"Come on, nobody else has enough bass. You can do it mein Herr."
"I can't believe I agreed to this..."
"Kurt, this isn't going to work," said Ororo. "Everyone will be able
to tell I'm also playing Evan's Mom for the film."
"Not if you make your voice warmer. Besides, you'll be speaking German
for this part. No-one will notice, Ich verspreche."
Ororo sighed. "I can't believe I agreed to this..."
Kitty, also at the mixing board, said, "Why is it like, *all* the
adults are like, having trouble with their like, voice roles?"
"Wait a minute, I thought I was also 'Trish' in the mall..."
Kurt grinned. "You're all Trish, all the time. Except when you're
being the ghost-mama's hands, of course."
Jean sighed. "Just when I was beginning to understand this... So in
your character's world, all salespeople are Trish?"
"Ja, das ist it. If you want to feel better about it, we can give you
different hairstyles for each role."
Jean had a speculative look. "Okay. I think that could actually
*work*."
"Ready Katzchen? This ist our duet. Think you can sing like you're in
love?"
Kitty smiled. "Kurt, this is like, nearly method acting."
"Wow. Those toys truly *do* bring luck..."
"Are we *quite* ready?" Hank drawled over the speaker. "Done flirting,
Mister Wagner? Miss Pryde? Okay. _Something Stupid_, take one."
Rogue began strumming her guitar.
Kurt started, "I know I stand in line until you think you have the
time to spend an evening with me..."
There was a film festival with all the entries involved. Some insisted
on calling it a marathon, with cinema six in the Bayville Mall showing
movies pretty much nonstop.
The judges worked on a rotational basis which dictated the order in
which the categories were shown. Thus, multiple categories got shown
towards midnight.
It was a stroke of luck that the Brotherhood's _Blair Bitch Project_,
being a Horror/Parody, got shown right next to the Institute's _Blue
Love_, which was a Romantic/Musical/Horror.
Through a mutual agreement, both teams decided to keep the sparring
verbal; the first team to make the other team tell them to shut up would
win. Likewise, yelling or speaking above a whisper was an automatic
loss.
Win what, no-one was sure.
"You know, it's amazing what four idiots mit handycams can do these
days, ja?"
"Who are you calling an idiot, freakshow?" Lance hissed.
"Wait, wait. Haven't I like, seen this movie?"
"Et tu, Kitty?" Lance pleaded.
"Yeah," whispered Jubes. "This whole thing was done to death years
ago."
"Yeah, but *we* got a surprise ending," gloated Fred.
"There it is," said ScreenTodd to ScreenLance. "That's the house.
*Her* house..."
ScreenLance said, "But - didn't it burn down twenty years ago?"
"Help! Help me!" screamed both ScreenPietro and ScreenFred from off
camera.
"We're comin', guys!" yelled ScreenLance.
The handheld cameras toured the lower section of the Brotherhood
boarding house, which was as close to a ruin as one could get and still
have it habitable.
"Ewwwwww..." said Kitty. "Like, gross-o-rama. I can't believe they
like, *live* there."
"Oh look," Kurt pointed out a rat, "it's Lance's baby brother."
"Shut up, freakshow."
"Ha ha! We win! You have to shut your mouths for the entirety of our
movie. Dummkopfs."
"Rrrr," said Lance.
"Rrrr," mumbled Fred.
"Rrrr," growled Todd.
"Rrrr," murmured Tabitha.
"Rrrr," snarled Pietro.
On the screen, Lance met an appropriate demise at the hands of the
Blair Bitch - played by Tabitha. She was dressed in her normal clothes
and more concerned with getting Todd and Lance out of her room than
acting. Though, to their credit, the Brotherhood *did* make it look like
they 'died'.
The lights came up for a short intermission.
Neither the Brotherhood nor the X-men moved. They all stared at the
judge as she made notes. Then the lights went down and the X-men all
broke into grins.
_Blue Love_ opened with a POV shot, Kurt's ficticious guardian, played
by Logan's arms and Hank's voice, was reading the Bayville Herald and an
article about the local bogey-monster, the Bayville Demon.
Kurt's voice. "Excuse me, fraulein? What are you in for?"
Kitty's voice. "What?"
"What are you in for?" Kurt's voice repeated. "Your hands look fine to
me. In fact, they look perfekt."
The paper went down, and everyone could see Kurt flirting with Kitty.
He'd captured one of her hands and was examining each finger.
Kitty giggled.
"I can't imagine what such perfekt hands are doing here waiting for
the hand doctor."
"*Kurt*!" yelled Hank's voice.
Kurt sighed. "Ich bin taurig, Onkel." Then, to Kitty, he mumbled, "I'm
not allowed to talk to girls." He put up the hood of an army-surplus
jacket he wore and stuck his hands in his pockets.
The paper went back up, and the camera cut to a more omniscient POV.
Kitty was trying to sneak looks into Kurt's hood. "FYI? My dad's the
physiotherapist here. I'm waiting for him to finish work so we can go
home. What are you 'in for'?"
Kurt pulled his hood a little back and gestured 'shh' with two fingers
over his lips.
Kitty touched her hand, as if remembering how he'd held it. "Whoah...
advanced ligamential tridactylism with muscular servility. That's pretty
darn rare."
Kurt whispered, "I'm glad *you* can pronounce it."
"Kurt..." warned the 'uncle'.
Kurt mimed 'hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil' before he
mouthed, "Sorry," at Kitty.
Kitty rolled her eyes and went back to her homework.
Kitty's father, played by Sam in a ludicrous moustache and a white
coat, called Kurt into the office and asked a bunch of questions about
his condition. The Uncle answered every single one. Each time he did,
Kurt became more cowed and shy. After Sam pronounced his case hopeless
without the correct medication - which the Uncle deemed too expensive
for such a worthless boy - Kurt re-entered the waiting room to talk to
Kitty while the Uncle's back was turned.
"FYI, fraulein," he murmured. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever not
talked to. I do hope I can not talk to you again."
Kitty giggled, but this time Kurt was noticably away from her when the
POV shifted back to the Uncle.
Cut to inside a house. Kurt, his jacket now off, had his neck held
tight in the Uncle's hands.
"Ich bin taurig... Ich bin taurig..."
"You're in *America*, slimebag. Speak *English*! I *know* you were
talking to that little slut! How *dare* you disobey me! Worthless trash!
You should have died with your whore of a mother!" The Uncle threw Kurt
across the room, and the screen went white.
"[Hang on, love,]" said Mother's voice, translated through subtitles.
"[Any day now, you'll be free. Hang on.]"
Kurt's voice, sounding hurt and weary. "Jawohl, Mama. Jawohl."
Cut to Kurt, trudging to school. A blind teacher, played by Scott with
a cane, caught him being tardy to his first day at his new school. Of
course, the teacher finds out about Kurt's wounds, and they both wind up
in the counsellor's office for a scene in which Logan the counsellor
threatened to confront the Uncle.
Kurt excused himself to run to the washroom, another POV shot, and
when he washed his hands, they come out of the sink tridactyl and fuzzy.
His face, though battered, remained 'normal'. Through careful and
repetative words, Kurt calmed himself down and his hands returned to
normal.
And so it went, the surprisingly intriguing tale of a boy who found
himself turning into the 'Bayville Demon' when his emotions got strong
enough. Which was also a musical. Evan played Kurt's neighbor and
friend, who found ways around Kurt's Uncle. And, periodically, the film
would delve into Kurt's rather surreal fantasy life.
The crowd scenes in the fantasies were handled by Jamie, who played a
set of identical quintuplets. The rest of the time, it was a lot of
close shots with noise recorded from various public places around
Bayville.
Kurt's flirtations with Kitty were complicated by the school bully,
played by Ray - who enjoyed his role a little too much - and who
considered himself the master of a popular-girl harem. However, he did
manage to get her away from the 'in crowd', at which point she reverted
to her usual, sweet self.
Their covert happiness didn't last long when he finally transformed
fully and completely into the 'demon'. All the people he knew thought he
was going to destroy them, somehow.
Except for Scott's character, who had only ever judged him by the
person he was.
There was a marvellous scene where the whole cast was demanding
Scott's character to give them the demon, and he had to ask what they
were talking about. He wasn't harboring a demon, he said, he was giving
shelter to a frightened boy.
Pity it didn't work on the crowd. Most of them ransacked the home,
though Kitty and Evan crept away from the scene. Together, they realised
that Kurt was still Kurt, even though his outside had changed, his soul
was still the same. Likewise, they beat the mob to his hiding place -
the little park where no-one went.
There, Kurt was ready to die, only to be saved by Kitty and,
symbolically, true love. And, of course, they lived happily ever after.
The lights faded up as the credits rolled, revealing the Brotherhood's
mutual stunned-mullet expressions.
"I don't get it," said Lance, but it was more out of pure spite than
any real feeling of confusion.
"Of course not, you idiot," said Tabitha. "It's *art*."
"We're *so* screwed, yo," said Todd. "That's goin' to *Cannes*."
"Shut up," Pietro hissed. "Show a little team loyalty, willya?"
"Oh. Uh. Yeah. Uh. That -er- sucked," said Fred.
"That is just *so* convincing," Lance sarcasmed. He sighed and turned
to face Kitty. "Sorry about the dweebs, pretty-- Holy *crap*!"
Kitty had evidently been paying no attention at all to the film for
quite a while. She was far more interested in kissing Kurt. Judging by
the looks on the X-geek's faces, Kitty and Kurt kissing had become
something of a regular spectacle at the Institute.
"Ooooohh... crash and *burn*," said Todd.
Fred gave Lance what he imagined to be a gentle pat on the shoulder.
"There, there," he soothed. "There's more fish in the sea. Mmmm...
fish..."
Pietro was busy doing the 'loser' cough.
Tabby was snickering.
_I *need* asprin..._
"Peasant... cease!" Amara put her book down and glared at the ceiling.
"I'm *trying* to do my book report."
Kurt, despite the Princess' protestations, kept pacing around on the
ceiling. "Why does it have to take so long?" he asked. "Why can't they
just confer and decide when the festival's over? It's been *weeks*...
They've even taken the display down at the store."
Amara sighed. "Obviously, you're in even *less* of a listening mood
than usual. Is it possible to take your topsy-turvy fret-frenzy
*elsewhere*?"
"Maybe somebody else won and they don't notify the losers. But it
wasn't even in the local news who won."
"...stupid peasant," Amara mumbled. Then she had a bright idea. "Hey,
I think I heard that Kitty was going to experiment with the deep fryer
today."
{Bamf!} He was gone.
_Kitty and food. The magic combination for Elf-B-Gone._
There was a small crowd around the set. The whole room smelled excited
and nervous. Logan took in the scene - replete with elfin contortionism
in the corner of the couch - and gave up.
"All right. What's going on?"
"The local station's running a special on who won the film festival,"
said Evan. "But they aren't saying *when* it's on."
"We can't miss a minute," said Jamie.
"Shutupshutupshutup! It'sthead!"
Twelve kids leaned forward, holding their breath.
"Say when it's *on*," Rahne urged in a whisper.
"SHHH!"
The ad ended, again without saying when the feature was scheduled.
There was an anguished cry from the multitude, followed by various
screams at the screen.
"Say when it's *on*!"
"Unglaublich!"
"You morons!"
"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Augh!"
"The pain... the pain..."
"That does it, I'm ringin' 'em up."
"They're not answering the phone, remember?"
"Jerks."
"...whimper..."
"Maybe they'll say in the *next* ad," and with that, they all fell
silent again.
Logan found Ororo on his way back out. "This has to be the first time
in history that anyone's watched the local station for the
*advertisin'*."
The whole mansion was glued to the set by the time they actually aired
the special, and, of course, the moment everyone was waiting for was at
the end of several hours worth of cheap 'entertainment'. Just about
everyone was yelling, "Get to the point!" before half an hour had
elapsed.
Charles Xavier couldn't stay in a room with so much telepathic noise,
and retreated to the library. Ororo kept herself busy by feeding the
kids, with Hank's help, while Logan propped up the doorframe and scowled
at the tube.
It was a minor miracle that the Brotherhood hadn't taken advantage of
the situation and tried to start a war.
Meanwhile, at the Brotherhood's abode...
"...to win the twenty-inch flat-screen, surround sound TV. And the
winner of the multiple category film contest is..." the bimbo on the
screen opened the envelope. "The Bayville Brotherhood's _Blair Bitch
Project_!"
"YYYEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!"
"We beat the X-geeks! We beat the X-geeks!"
"We got a television! We got a television!"
"Correction. We got a television that *works*, yo."
Lance, meanwhile, was airing his ass in the general direction of the
Institute. "YES! Pucker up and kiss it! Losers! Kiss mah leetle white
bee-haind..."
"...unglaublich..."
"Hey, now. The competition isn't over," soothed Jean. "There's still
the overall winner of the grand prize."
"Nein, we won't win that. There were plenty of better films." He
sighed. "At least we had fun, ja?" Kurt relaxed out of his knot and
buried his face in Kitty's neck.
"You bet it was fun," Kitty gave him a hug. "Betcha they like, bribed
the judges or something."
"Don't turn it off," said Jamie. "I wanna see who won the grand
prize."
"Yeah, like we were going to miss that."
"We beat the X-geeks! Neener, neener, neener! The X-geeks are loosers!
Ha, haha, ha, ha, ha!"
"Shuttup! They're doing the grand prize."
"And the winner of the overall best film is..." the bimbo struggled
with the envelope.
"The Xavier Institute's _Blue Love_!"
"*Vas*?"
"YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!"
"Ow! Kitty, I need that ear for later..."
"Wewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewonwewon!"
"...I guess he's *not* such a stupid peasant after all..."
Jamie was dancing on the coffee table. "We got it! We got it! We got
it! We-- whup!" {Thud} then three of him sat up and said, "Sorry."
Logan sighed. _Chuck, I got good news, and I got bad news._
_Don't tell me,_ Xavier's telepathic reply felt like he was smiling.
_I think I can guess. Same news for both, yes?_
_Close. Good news is, you don't have to buy them that fancy
entertainment unit. Bad news is, soon as they get it, they're throwin' a
loud party._
_Should have ordered you those industrial earplugs..._
"No *way*! The fuzzy freakshow *beat* us?"
"Looks like you gonna have to pucker up an' kiss *his* fuzzy little
butt, yo."
"Shut up!"
Todd held a piece of rope on his backside like a tail and waggled his
rear at Lance. "Oh, ya! Dis ist mein victory butt! Keess mein furry blue
bottom!" He made a moue, and loud kissing noises.
And that was how the Brotherhood got a second Todd imprint in the
plaster.