He had been seeing nothing but dim cloth, hearing nothing but propellers, and feeling nothing but the sheet over his body and the rumble of the engines for longer than he could even pretend to judge. Under the strange drug, which gripped his cerebrum and spinal cord in a tyrannous first, he could do more than breathe a bit shallowly and, if he really needed it, blink slowly and painfully.

Vhy? he kept asking himself. Who are zhese people? Vhat do zhey vant? He mentally sighed, not being about to do so physically, and gently prayed for help. He slowly drifted into an uneasy consciousness with his eyes half-closed.

Suddenly, he woke up, a tingling sensation where he had felt the controlling pressure before. He blinked, feeling only a whisper of discomfort. Was he free again? Tentatively, he moved his right first finger. Something happened – whether there was movement or not, he couldn't tell, but there was definitely some sort of response in his digit. He clenched his fist, and saw creases appear in the dimly lit white sheet above him. He could function again!

Carefully, still a little odd feeling, he pulled the white sheet off of his face. He was in a surprisingly roomy helicopter belly, with padded walls and a few belted seats behind the cockpit. In the low light of the control panel, he saw two figures - one short and wide, the other tall and lean. Out the window was a grey darkness that suggested the people were busy finding their way through a snowstorm.

"There's the base," shouted the female into her headset, pointing at a radar screen.

"Good. Begin landing sequence," replied the man.

Kurt sat up. He had been lying on a simple stretcher on the floor, and hadn't been restrained in any way. He quickly looked around for anywhere to hide, but the helicopter was empty. He stretched, feeling his muscles un-cramp but remain sore. His tail felt worst, more than likely from being trampled on. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, he slid out from under the sheet and stood up. He was a little wobbly from what could have been hours of total lack of movement. Wind buffeted the helicopter, causing it to lurch sideways, and he fell to the floor.

The woman must have had an amazing sense of hearing, for even Kurt couldn't hear his fall over the propellers, but she quickly turned around and stared at him with a dull, surprised expression. The man looked at her. "What's the –" He looked back and cursed. "Yuriko, get him!"

Barely had she been commanded when the Japanese female tore off her restraints and headset and advanced on Kurt. He looked around wildly for something to defend himself with or hide behind, but when he looked back at the woman, she had suddenly grown incredibly long metal claws out of her fingers.

"You are a mutant?" he asked her, even more confused than before. She replied by continuing to track him with cold, bright blue eyes and an odd, maniacal expression. Kurt began to back up, his hurt tail lashing behind him slowly. Suddenly, she sprang at him with a growl, claws first. Where she landed, there was nothing but a puff of dark blue, sulfurous smoke. He was behind her now, next to one of the empty seats. Angrier than ever, she ran at him with a growl, but like before, he had teleported away before she even touched him.

The blizzard outside raged on, and the helicopter was being thrown about by the fierce winds. The man still in the cockpit seemed unfazed by the storm, and provided an odd, rather peaceful contrast to the chase occurring behind him.

Suddenly, a strong gust came up, causing the helicopter to swerve dramatically. The two mutants were thrown into the wall – the Japanese went into a padded section claws first, and the German put his head into a girder of the helicopter's belly.

Kurt, crumpled on the floor, woke in pain and tried to raise a three-fingered hand to his head to check for blood. The hard fist of control was around his spinal cord again, and his heart sank. Without warning, a soft, strong, horribly un-metaphorical long-clawed hand wrapped around his throat and moved his head upward to the deadly mutant. She looked at him with a sick smile, and he knew she had somehow guessed he couldn't move again with such close contact. He noticed that the helicopter had stopped moving, and realized that he had been knocked out and then taken control of.

The man appeared in his vision, his balding and short look a façade over some twisted, demon-like mind. "Let's try this again, shall we? Stand up." Kurt, with a horrible, sinking feeling, felt his legs straighten and steady, making him stand. "Now walk." Uncontrollably, his feet moved, and his whole body began walking normally, as if under Kurt's control. He followed the man and woman, fighting it mentally all the while. As they walked over fresh snow, the grey sky slowly lightening, the man asked him, "Any limits to that skill of yours?"

Horrified, Kurt felt himself speak. "I can only go two, zhree miles at zhe most. And I can't go if I don't see or know vhere I am going, or I might end up in somezhing solid."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Von't."

The man smiled and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Yuriko?"

Still walking, the female wrapped it around Kurt's head and eyes, blocking him from seeing where he was going, and preventing any chance of his escape.