WOW! I got a bazillion reviews in one day, all of 'em good! ^__^
*Uber-happy* Well, I guess I'll keep writing it then! *Shine* Uhm, I have
no idea what Kurt is saying in the second sentence. . . x.X It sounded
cool. Lol uhh, yeah. YAY! Reviews! *Bounce bounce. . .* This takes
place right before the attack on the White House, in case you haven't
figured. . . So some details might be in the prequel comic x.x I do not
own x-men! © XD! SPOILER ALERT!!
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Chapter One
The sharp stinging of pain. Opening those golden hues to the dim light in the room, Nightcrawler realized that he was lying on some sort of bed, though it could have fooled him. It felt like a large boulder rather than a soft mattress. His head was throbbing where the gun had made contact. He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Metal clamps bound his hands and feet, and a matching collar was around his neck. Obviously these people hadn't wanted him escaping anytime soon. He turned his head, trying to take in all his surroundings. It was a small room, and all of it was made out of the same cold cement. There were two beds and a toilet. Looked like a holding cell, Kurt thought to himself.
Hearing the iron doors creak as they were opened, his yellow eyes shifted from the wall to the figure emerging from the shadows. "You see? There he is. Are you sure this whole idea of yours will work, William?"
"Of course. I've done work on other mutants before, remember? Now, when mutant 243 is done, bring her here. She'll share a room with this . . . unusual creature." The other man nodded, taking a seat for now.
William Stryker. The name alone wasn't very inviting, and his looks matched to boot. His brown hair was graying, slicked back away from his face. He had a slight beard growing, and his age shown out from behind those thick glasses he wore. Kurt noted that this mans eyes were different, one blue, one green. He was dressed casually, a ring of keys hanging from his belt, and he used those to unhook Nightcrawler from the bed. He moved to a seated position.
"Well, my little monster. Why don't you and I sit down and have a long conversation." He moved to seat himself on the other, unoccupied mattress across the room. "Funny thing, you've already taken a seat. How kind." He wore a smug grin upon those lips, one that Kurt would have more than willingly knocked from his face, given the chance. "I won't even think about letting you go, unless you do what you're told." He tapped his foot.
"So, I'd like to know more about you. The information we've gathered is a bit incomplete. We know you're highly agile. We know that you speak five languages, including Swedish, of all things. And we also know that you can move yourself through some kind of dimensional portal - some form of teleportation - and can cover large distances in the blink of an eye." He grinned, bringing a hand up to his chin, rubbing it. "What else do I need to know about you, Kurt?"
Nightcrawler narrowed his golden eyes. He focused, preparing to just teleport and leave the area. He had his mind locked onto a location, but when a burning pain ripped through his brain, numbing all of his senses from head to toe, he cried out, bringing his hands up to his head. He fell to the floor, leaning against the wall, trembling from the pain.
"Let me guess . . . you were trying to do that little teleportation trick I just mentioned. But we've considered that option, as well. "Stryker stepped forward, laughing slightly. He kneeled down next to Kurt, a pretend gaze of sympathy on his face. "I suppose something along the lines of 'to hell with this' went through your little monster mind." He smirked, those different colored hues watching. "Hurts, doesn't it?" He stood, resuming his post on the bed's edge. "Now . . . once again . . . what other interesting mutant talents do you possess?"
Kurt watched the floor, thinking. There really wasn't much left to be told about him, the man had named off nearly everything. But, he could be a jerk about things. "Vell, if you rub my belly . . . my leg viggles uncontrollably."
Stryker stared dumbfoundedly at the mutant before him, before getting up and turning out of the room. The other man followed not soon after.
"Vhat? Are you leaving? Do you not vant to give it a try?" His bright hues watched as they left, the door beginning to shut behind them. "All right. Maybe later. I am here all veek. Vherever here is. . ."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Meanwhile, Stryker was getting very impatient. He was in a secluded, private room, locked down with tight security. He was talking with a few of his crew mates. "I want this model to be an improvement on the first. She has the ability to be just as deadly, so we must make her better. I expect a massive, killing mutant." He grinned.
Jared shrugged. "What about the other guy? He doesn't have the same abilities. What are you going to do with him?"
At that, William turned in his chair. "What am I going to do with him?" He laughed, rubbing the bottom of his scratchy chin. "We're going to use him to re-introduce the Mutant Registration Act, that's what." Jared shot him a confused look. "If one mutant does something horrible, people are naturally going to assume that all mutants are evil, right? Well, I'm going to arrange an attack. On the president."
Another man cocked his head. "You're gunna kill the president?"
Stryker laughed. "Perhaps."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Dear Lord, hear my prayer. Please let all mein freunds be safe, all of zhem back in zhe munic circus. Amanda, Margali, Voodhead, Chester, all zhe ozhers." Kurt Wagner was on his knees, head bowed in prayer. His necklace that was tied around his waist was brought up in his hands, grasped together. He had no idea where he was, or what had happened to anyone else. All that he knew was that one minute he was in the old, abandoned church after an amazing performance, and then he was kidnapped and placed into this strange holding cell. And it wasn't a very nice one, to his standards.
The performance was, indeed, great. He had altered the practiced lines a bit, deciding to do some ad-libbing at the last minute, but all of the other performers had just gone with it. And Amanda, she was wonderful. Margali was his gypsy 'mother'; she took him in as an infant. Amanda was her beautiful daughter, now in her late teens. Kurt himself was only in his early twenties. But rather than thinking of Amanda as a sister, he knew had feelings for her. She didn't care what he looked like; she saw the real character inside of him. He only felt truly happy when she was, and if she was upset, he was there to cheer her up with a silly line or a hug. Unfortunately, there was always that other performer, Werner. Whenever he was around, Amanda would always go to him. Kurt figured that she still thought of him as only a brother. If only. . .
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OKAY! I wrote a second chapter so you people can be happy. Be happy! XD I'm gunna write more, too, since people like it. XD ^_^
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Chapter One
The sharp stinging of pain. Opening those golden hues to the dim light in the room, Nightcrawler realized that he was lying on some sort of bed, though it could have fooled him. It felt like a large boulder rather than a soft mattress. His head was throbbing where the gun had made contact. He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Metal clamps bound his hands and feet, and a matching collar was around his neck. Obviously these people hadn't wanted him escaping anytime soon. He turned his head, trying to take in all his surroundings. It was a small room, and all of it was made out of the same cold cement. There were two beds and a toilet. Looked like a holding cell, Kurt thought to himself.
Hearing the iron doors creak as they were opened, his yellow eyes shifted from the wall to the figure emerging from the shadows. "You see? There he is. Are you sure this whole idea of yours will work, William?"
"Of course. I've done work on other mutants before, remember? Now, when mutant 243 is done, bring her here. She'll share a room with this . . . unusual creature." The other man nodded, taking a seat for now.
William Stryker. The name alone wasn't very inviting, and his looks matched to boot. His brown hair was graying, slicked back away from his face. He had a slight beard growing, and his age shown out from behind those thick glasses he wore. Kurt noted that this mans eyes were different, one blue, one green. He was dressed casually, a ring of keys hanging from his belt, and he used those to unhook Nightcrawler from the bed. He moved to a seated position.
"Well, my little monster. Why don't you and I sit down and have a long conversation." He moved to seat himself on the other, unoccupied mattress across the room. "Funny thing, you've already taken a seat. How kind." He wore a smug grin upon those lips, one that Kurt would have more than willingly knocked from his face, given the chance. "I won't even think about letting you go, unless you do what you're told." He tapped his foot.
"So, I'd like to know more about you. The information we've gathered is a bit incomplete. We know you're highly agile. We know that you speak five languages, including Swedish, of all things. And we also know that you can move yourself through some kind of dimensional portal - some form of teleportation - and can cover large distances in the blink of an eye." He grinned, bringing a hand up to his chin, rubbing it. "What else do I need to know about you, Kurt?"
Nightcrawler narrowed his golden eyes. He focused, preparing to just teleport and leave the area. He had his mind locked onto a location, but when a burning pain ripped through his brain, numbing all of his senses from head to toe, he cried out, bringing his hands up to his head. He fell to the floor, leaning against the wall, trembling from the pain.
"Let me guess . . . you were trying to do that little teleportation trick I just mentioned. But we've considered that option, as well. "Stryker stepped forward, laughing slightly. He kneeled down next to Kurt, a pretend gaze of sympathy on his face. "I suppose something along the lines of 'to hell with this' went through your little monster mind." He smirked, those different colored hues watching. "Hurts, doesn't it?" He stood, resuming his post on the bed's edge. "Now . . . once again . . . what other interesting mutant talents do you possess?"
Kurt watched the floor, thinking. There really wasn't much left to be told about him, the man had named off nearly everything. But, he could be a jerk about things. "Vell, if you rub my belly . . . my leg viggles uncontrollably."
Stryker stared dumbfoundedly at the mutant before him, before getting up and turning out of the room. The other man followed not soon after.
"Vhat? Are you leaving? Do you not vant to give it a try?" His bright hues watched as they left, the door beginning to shut behind them. "All right. Maybe later. I am here all veek. Vherever here is. . ."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Meanwhile, Stryker was getting very impatient. He was in a secluded, private room, locked down with tight security. He was talking with a few of his crew mates. "I want this model to be an improvement on the first. She has the ability to be just as deadly, so we must make her better. I expect a massive, killing mutant." He grinned.
Jared shrugged. "What about the other guy? He doesn't have the same abilities. What are you going to do with him?"
At that, William turned in his chair. "What am I going to do with him?" He laughed, rubbing the bottom of his scratchy chin. "We're going to use him to re-introduce the Mutant Registration Act, that's what." Jared shot him a confused look. "If one mutant does something horrible, people are naturally going to assume that all mutants are evil, right? Well, I'm going to arrange an attack. On the president."
Another man cocked his head. "You're gunna kill the president?"
Stryker laughed. "Perhaps."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Dear Lord, hear my prayer. Please let all mein freunds be safe, all of zhem back in zhe munic circus. Amanda, Margali, Voodhead, Chester, all zhe ozhers." Kurt Wagner was on his knees, head bowed in prayer. His necklace that was tied around his waist was brought up in his hands, grasped together. He had no idea where he was, or what had happened to anyone else. All that he knew was that one minute he was in the old, abandoned church after an amazing performance, and then he was kidnapped and placed into this strange holding cell. And it wasn't a very nice one, to his standards.
The performance was, indeed, great. He had altered the practiced lines a bit, deciding to do some ad-libbing at the last minute, but all of the other performers had just gone with it. And Amanda, she was wonderful. Margali was his gypsy 'mother'; she took him in as an infant. Amanda was her beautiful daughter, now in her late teens. Kurt himself was only in his early twenties. But rather than thinking of Amanda as a sister, he knew had feelings for her. She didn't care what he looked like; she saw the real character inside of him. He only felt truly happy when she was, and if she was upset, he was there to cheer her up with a silly line or a hug. Unfortunately, there was always that other performer, Werner. Whenever he was around, Amanda would always go to him. Kurt figured that she still thought of him as only a brother. If only. . .
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OKAY! I wrote a second chapter so you people can be happy. Be happy! XD I'm gunna write more, too, since people like it. XD ^_^