Chapter: 3/3
Kurt and Veronica sat in the old church and talked for hours, feeling safe with each other. When they'd ventured to discuss in further detail their near misfortunes with particular mutant-haters, they discovered something quite curious.
"What was the name of the man who was chasing you?" Kurt asked as he sat beside her and nudged her shoulder, for she'd been looking somewhat vacant.
"William Striker," Ronni replied suspiciously.
Kurt sighed deeply. "I have met this Striker also. He was after me for some reason I don't know."
"Well, he does government experiments with mutants. I guess he wanted us for his own sick cause," Veronica admonished sadly.
Kurt wanted to say something to comfort her. He wanted to take a chance and open up to this woman, having faith that she would accept and understand him. But sadly, the fates were against them on this day, for just then the church doors blew open yet again, and there stood the austere William Striker, surrounded by an entourage of official-looking men.
"Glad we found ya, purple-haired woman," Striker hissed with his Southern drawl. "Hanging out with the old Blue Boy I see," he added with a sneer. "Get 'em boys. Don't leave a mess," he threw out with cavalier authority.
As the men filed in from behind Striker, Kurt moved to shield Veronica, but she pushed him away. "Not now," she warned. Kurt simply shook his head and wrapped her in his embrace. Within a split second, they'd vanished in a misty blue fog and resurfaced upon the rafters above.
"This man won't get us. I'll keep you safe," Kurt assured her, still holding her close as they gazed down upon the baffled group of men who stopped suddenly, toppling over one another like dominoes.
"Where did they go?" asked one of the stupid men.
"Up there!" another pointed, spotting the two mutants. "Striker, aim and fire!"
Striker cocked his rifle and fired rapidly. Kurt caught glimpse of the flare headed for them and he again teleported Ronni to a safer distance inside the church. But alas, Striker had expected this, it seemed, for the flare contained a noxious gas. It landed on the ground, having bounced off the rafters. It released its poison and Kurt was soon asleep on the ground, having fallen from Ronni in a motionless heap. Veronica gasped loudly in protest as she knelt beside him. Why was Kurt the only one affected?
"It's a chemical designed to disable mutants, my dear. All my men are safe," Striker called out haughtily as though he'd read her mind.
"Then why isn't she affected?" another man asked.
Veronica then stood slowly with Kurt still limp and lifeless at her feet. Her eyes were filled with wrath and an unprecedented coldness. "Because, my power comes from HIM!" she bellowed, gesturing toward the crucifix upon the altar, "not chromosomes."
Striker then approached her like the slinking serpent he was. "It's too bad your chromosomes fell short in the IQ department too," he taunted evilly. Before Ronni could react she felt someone behind her and the needle sink into the back of her neck. She fell limply upon Kurt.
"Clean this mess up," Striker dictated nonchalantly. "I have somethin' special in mind, particularly for the blue one. When we're finished, we'll return them here and they won't remember a dang thing. Make sure they stay separated too."
One of the men chuckled to another as they scooped the sleeping bodies from the floor. "Guess even if God hears all prayers, sometimes he's gotta say no, eh?"
Kurt and Veronica sat in the old church and talked for hours, feeling safe with each other. When they'd ventured to discuss in further detail their near misfortunes with particular mutant-haters, they discovered something quite curious.
"What was the name of the man who was chasing you?" Kurt asked as he sat beside her and nudged her shoulder, for she'd been looking somewhat vacant.
"William Striker," Ronni replied suspiciously.
Kurt sighed deeply. "I have met this Striker also. He was after me for some reason I don't know."
"Well, he does government experiments with mutants. I guess he wanted us for his own sick cause," Veronica admonished sadly.
Kurt wanted to say something to comfort her. He wanted to take a chance and open up to this woman, having faith that she would accept and understand him. But sadly, the fates were against them on this day, for just then the church doors blew open yet again, and there stood the austere William Striker, surrounded by an entourage of official-looking men.
"Glad we found ya, purple-haired woman," Striker hissed with his Southern drawl. "Hanging out with the old Blue Boy I see," he added with a sneer. "Get 'em boys. Don't leave a mess," he threw out with cavalier authority.
As the men filed in from behind Striker, Kurt moved to shield Veronica, but she pushed him away. "Not now," she warned. Kurt simply shook his head and wrapped her in his embrace. Within a split second, they'd vanished in a misty blue fog and resurfaced upon the rafters above.
"This man won't get us. I'll keep you safe," Kurt assured her, still holding her close as they gazed down upon the baffled group of men who stopped suddenly, toppling over one another like dominoes.
"Where did they go?" asked one of the stupid men.
"Up there!" another pointed, spotting the two mutants. "Striker, aim and fire!"
Striker cocked his rifle and fired rapidly. Kurt caught glimpse of the flare headed for them and he again teleported Ronni to a safer distance inside the church. But alas, Striker had expected this, it seemed, for the flare contained a noxious gas. It landed on the ground, having bounced off the rafters. It released its poison and Kurt was soon asleep on the ground, having fallen from Ronni in a motionless heap. Veronica gasped loudly in protest as she knelt beside him. Why was Kurt the only one affected?
"It's a chemical designed to disable mutants, my dear. All my men are safe," Striker called out haughtily as though he'd read her mind.
"Then why isn't she affected?" another man asked.
Veronica then stood slowly with Kurt still limp and lifeless at her feet. Her eyes were filled with wrath and an unprecedented coldness. "Because, my power comes from HIM!" she bellowed, gesturing toward the crucifix upon the altar, "not chromosomes."
Striker then approached her like the slinking serpent he was. "It's too bad your chromosomes fell short in the IQ department too," he taunted evilly. Before Ronni could react she felt someone behind her and the needle sink into the back of her neck. She fell limply upon Kurt.
"Clean this mess up," Striker dictated nonchalantly. "I have somethin' special in mind, particularly for the blue one. When we're finished, we'll return them here and they won't remember a dang thing. Make sure they stay separated too."
One of the men chuckled to another as they scooped the sleeping bodies from the floor. "Guess even if God hears all prayers, sometimes he's gotta say no, eh?"
