"Unser tägliches Brot gib uns heute, und vergib und unsere Schuld, wie auch wir vergeben unseren Schuldigern; und führe uns nicht in Versuchung sondern bewahre uns vor dem Bösen..." his voice softly spoke - the phantom whispering of a force unseen.

The crisp autumn breeze briskly blew open the abandoned cathedral's doors, carrying with it a trail of wayward brilliantly colored leaves, as they drifted aimlessly up the aisle toward the looming crucifix at the alter, just the hint of a crystal glint in their undertone, mirrored in the stained glass windows. The candles in the corner flickered. A momentary shadow eclipsed their soft light. The voice of the wind spoke of something new afoot, carelessly whistling the promise of sweet anticipation. The rustling leaves echoed its hopeful murmur. There was change on the way - change in the very air that filtered through the old stone edifice.

Kurt was tired. He could not remember the last time he'd actually slept peacefully. He had been on the run ever since Striker and his team attempted to abduct the blue mutant, for whatever purpose they had in mind. Kurt knew it couldn't be anything noble. Refugee behavior was easy for a mutant such as Kurt, the "Amazing Nightcrawler," as the Munich Circus had so boldly proclaimed time and again, for Kurt was a teleporter. He could literally move faster across the timespace continuum using a self-secreted dark mist that catapulted him to and from his destination at the speed of light. Moreover, when in transient form, Kurt could vaporize and slink underneath doors, appear and disappear in a gust of blinding smoke. There was a drawback, though. He could teleport only to places he was able to see prospectively. He felt lucky to have landed here in the old church, for a haven it truly was in more ways than one. He felt protected… most days anyway.

The blue mutant remained hidden in the shadows inside the rafters - a veritable loft he'd created for himself. Nightcrawler lurked, perched upon his haunches, his wispy serpent's tail at attention, like an antenna behind his sturdy shoulders. His yellow snake eyes told an emotional tale of woe even inside his vacant expression as he focused all sights on the figure hovering outside the now open door. Kurt's bare blue feet, like talons almost, gripped the wooden beam beneath; he gazed intently upon an hourglass shape scampering inside, gingerly. It was female. There was overwhelming latency in her step. Perhaps she could sense his presence.

There was nothing particularly alarming about her, but Kurt figured he should embark upon his usual routine. Though faith was a definite part of his creed, he was finding it difficult to trust anyone these days, especially considering the Striker incident.

She stepped into the single ray of light cast down through a crack in one of the stained glass window panes. She was cloaked in dark purple, her hood pulled over her eyes, but her crimson lips and fair skin were visible, as well as a few tendrils of soft lilac hair. Kurt gasped. Even underneath the cloak her radiant beauty seemed to emanate and shine right into his soul.

Just what had attracted her to the disheveled old building in the first place?