Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men or anything related to them. Catrina
and Lara are my characters and cannot be used without permission.
I'm experimenting with a different style of storytelling for me. Parts of
it are written in Kurt's POV, the others as flashbacks through Kurt's eyes.
Enjoy!
The hallway was dead silent. I shuddered as that thought came to me, trying to clear the image of a dead woman from my mind. My tail was swishing back and forth violently as I paced the width of the hall, glancing at the closed metal doors a few feet from me. I prayed for those doors to open as well as dreading it. I did not know what I would be told when those doors did open, and that scared me.
"Gott schützen sie," I whispered.
Footsteps approached me, softly, as if not to disturb my worrying. I spared a glance over my shoulder before turning back to the door. Remy. I was not surprised; the man had been visiting on the hour. Catrina was a good friend to the Cajun. He was, after all, one of her angels.
"Any news?" Remy stopped so that my pacing path was between him and the door. I wondered briefly why he was wearing his sunglasses in the mansion.
"Nein. Not for two hours."
"Lara's with Ororo." Good. She liked playing in Aunt 'Ro's garden. "She's been asking where you are."
I stopped pacing when I reached the wall and leaned my head against the cool metal. "What am I supposed to tell her?"
Remy didn't answer me. He walked over to the door and placed his palm on it. "Je ne suis pas un ange."
I was feeling the same way right now. Some angels we were.
Remy's uproarious laughter was not helping the situation any. Kurt glared at his friend, who only laughed harder. He really didn't see what was so funny. Finally, he had enough. "Remy, will you please shut up?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"Oh, man, Kurt, that'll hold me over for a good month."
The two of them had decided that lounging around the mansion was not appropriate for a Friday night, so they had driven into New York City. Kurt had picked the bar. Within ten minutes Remy was chatting up some blonde who looked ready to jump him. Kurt had decided to try his luck. He went over to a brunette and asked to join her. When she turned to look at him, he was surprised to see that she had green cat eyes. He asked if she was a mutant, which earned him a sharp slap. Meaning she felt his fur. Meaning that he and Remy were kicked out of the bar for being mutants.
When he told Remy about her eyes, the Cajun started cracking up. Apparently there were contacts that made your eyes look that way. Kurt didn't understand American fashion.
"I can't believe she slapped you!"
"When is this going to stop amusing you?"
"Not 'til tomorrow at least, homme." Remy looked like he was going to say more, but a crash from an alley across the street interrupted him. Both men stopped, and turned to see what had caused the noise. It was too dark to see fully into the alley, even for Kurt.
"Am I the only one hoping that Scott's training has me finding danger lurking around every corner?" Kurt asked.
"This is New York. There is danger lurking around every corner."
"Well, then I hope this is the mangy cat kind of danger."
"Wanna go check it out?"
"Fine." They crossed the road, Remy pulling out his retracted bo- staff. "But if I get fleas, I'm blaming you."
As they were reaching the mouth of the alley, they heard whispers. "Do New York cats talk?" Kurt muttered to Remy.
"Only when they're on Broadway."
Kurt squinted his eyes, making out a group in the back corner. "There," he said, pointing to Remy. "It looks like they're...Scheiße! They have a woman!" Kurt didn't bother to keep his voice down, running down the alley. Remy ran beside him, extending his staff as he did. When he got close, he vaulted to the group, kicking out as he did.
The men grouped around the fallen woman turned when they heard Kurt yell. One of them was quickly taken down by a kick to the head from Remy. Kurt got a few good punches in before teleporting to a better position.
"Another mutie!" one of the men yelled to his companions.
"Ja," Kurt agreed, snarling. He flicked off the image inducer he had worn for a night out. "A mutant that doesn't take well to those that hurt other mutants."
"Holy shit!" another guy yelped. "He's like the freakin' devil!"
Kurt laughed bitterly. "I am not the devil. My father, on the other hand..."
"Oui, hommes, it's your luck day. You up against le Diable Blanc and the Devil's son. You think you can take us?" Remy came up besides Kurt, whirling his staff.
"She ain't worth it," one guy decided, sounding slightly uncertain.
"There are plenty more muties out there," another agreed. Kurt snarled and the three standing men quickly left. He not-too-gently kicked the man left behind away from the unconscious woman.
"She's still breathing, and her pulse is strong," he told Remy after checking. "Her leg is broken, though, and she got hit pretty hard on the back of the head." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remy wince as he saw her leg. Legs did not bend at that angle. And the way the night had been going, it was too much to hope that it was part of her mutation.
"I'll go get the car," Remy said, wiping a trickle of blood off his lip.
"I'll see what I can do for her leg." Kurt wished that Hank had come with them. He knew basic first-aid, but had no idea how to make her comfortable. He belatedly realized he should have asked Remy for his cell phone.
Suddenly, she groaned and blinked. She looked up at Kurt, who wondered if perhaps he should have turned his image inducer back on. She stared at him, making Kurt uneasy. He tried to fill the silence.
"My name is Kurt Wagner. Please, stay still, you have been badly hurt..." She cut him off with a query.
"Are you an angel?"
Not quite the question he expected. "Nein, liebling. I am just a person."
"Did you save me?"
"My friend and I did, yes."
"Then you're both my angels." She blinked again. "My head hurts. And my leg."
"Your leg is broken. Remy, my friend, went to get the car. We will take you to a place where you will be safe."
"Okay." Before Kurt could stop her, she moved to sit up, jarring her leg. Blood drained from her face, and she clenched her jaw. "That was not good," she half-hissed, half-whimpered.
"Nein," Kurt agreed. He grasped her hand in his three-fingered one and tried not to wince as she squeezed. "Remy should be here soon, liebling, hold on."
A squeal of tires at the entrance to the alley announced Remy's arrival. He haphazardly parked the car before leaping out of the driver's seat and running down the alley. "How is the femme doin', Kurt?" he called as he ran.
"I'll live," she responded through gritted teeth.
"She's awake," Remy said with a smile to the woman. "Bonjour, petite. M' name's Remy." He turned to face Kurt. "Help me lift her?"
"Ja." They each grabbed one of her arms and lifted slowly, supporting her waist as they went. She cried out as they moved her. When she was standing best she could, she wrapped her arms around their shoulders, and they held her waist. Kurt hesitated before using his tail to help support her as well.
They moved slowly to prevent unnecessary discomfort for the woman. When they reached the car, they put her in the back with her broken leg lying across the seat. As Remy climbed into the driver's seat, Kurt bamfed to the passenger seat before remembering that she had never seen him use his powers. He turned to see if she was frightened, and found her smiling at him, her head leaning against the window.
"What's your name, chere?" Remy asked as he started the car.
"Catrina Lewis," she responded. "Thank you, my angels." With that, she closed her eyes, trying her best to ward off the pain.
Translations: German: Gott schützen sie—God save her
Nein—No
Ja—Yes
Scheiße—Shit
Liebling—sweetheart
French: Je ne suis pas un ange—I am not an angel
Homme—man
Oui—Yes
Le Diable Blanc—the White Devil (what Remy was called when he was younger)
Femme—woman
Bonjour, petite—Hello, little one
Chere—dear
The hallway was dead silent. I shuddered as that thought came to me, trying to clear the image of a dead woman from my mind. My tail was swishing back and forth violently as I paced the width of the hall, glancing at the closed metal doors a few feet from me. I prayed for those doors to open as well as dreading it. I did not know what I would be told when those doors did open, and that scared me.
"Gott schützen sie," I whispered.
Footsteps approached me, softly, as if not to disturb my worrying. I spared a glance over my shoulder before turning back to the door. Remy. I was not surprised; the man had been visiting on the hour. Catrina was a good friend to the Cajun. He was, after all, one of her angels.
"Any news?" Remy stopped so that my pacing path was between him and the door. I wondered briefly why he was wearing his sunglasses in the mansion.
"Nein. Not for two hours."
"Lara's with Ororo." Good. She liked playing in Aunt 'Ro's garden. "She's been asking where you are."
I stopped pacing when I reached the wall and leaned my head against the cool metal. "What am I supposed to tell her?"
Remy didn't answer me. He walked over to the door and placed his palm on it. "Je ne suis pas un ange."
I was feeling the same way right now. Some angels we were.
Remy's uproarious laughter was not helping the situation any. Kurt glared at his friend, who only laughed harder. He really didn't see what was so funny. Finally, he had enough. "Remy, will you please shut up?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"Oh, man, Kurt, that'll hold me over for a good month."
The two of them had decided that lounging around the mansion was not appropriate for a Friday night, so they had driven into New York City. Kurt had picked the bar. Within ten minutes Remy was chatting up some blonde who looked ready to jump him. Kurt had decided to try his luck. He went over to a brunette and asked to join her. When she turned to look at him, he was surprised to see that she had green cat eyes. He asked if she was a mutant, which earned him a sharp slap. Meaning she felt his fur. Meaning that he and Remy were kicked out of the bar for being mutants.
When he told Remy about her eyes, the Cajun started cracking up. Apparently there were contacts that made your eyes look that way. Kurt didn't understand American fashion.
"I can't believe she slapped you!"
"When is this going to stop amusing you?"
"Not 'til tomorrow at least, homme." Remy looked like he was going to say more, but a crash from an alley across the street interrupted him. Both men stopped, and turned to see what had caused the noise. It was too dark to see fully into the alley, even for Kurt.
"Am I the only one hoping that Scott's training has me finding danger lurking around every corner?" Kurt asked.
"This is New York. There is danger lurking around every corner."
"Well, then I hope this is the mangy cat kind of danger."
"Wanna go check it out?"
"Fine." They crossed the road, Remy pulling out his retracted bo- staff. "But if I get fleas, I'm blaming you."
As they were reaching the mouth of the alley, they heard whispers. "Do New York cats talk?" Kurt muttered to Remy.
"Only when they're on Broadway."
Kurt squinted his eyes, making out a group in the back corner. "There," he said, pointing to Remy. "It looks like they're...Scheiße! They have a woman!" Kurt didn't bother to keep his voice down, running down the alley. Remy ran beside him, extending his staff as he did. When he got close, he vaulted to the group, kicking out as he did.
The men grouped around the fallen woman turned when they heard Kurt yell. One of them was quickly taken down by a kick to the head from Remy. Kurt got a few good punches in before teleporting to a better position.
"Another mutie!" one of the men yelled to his companions.
"Ja," Kurt agreed, snarling. He flicked off the image inducer he had worn for a night out. "A mutant that doesn't take well to those that hurt other mutants."
"Holy shit!" another guy yelped. "He's like the freakin' devil!"
Kurt laughed bitterly. "I am not the devil. My father, on the other hand..."
"Oui, hommes, it's your luck day. You up against le Diable Blanc and the Devil's son. You think you can take us?" Remy came up besides Kurt, whirling his staff.
"She ain't worth it," one guy decided, sounding slightly uncertain.
"There are plenty more muties out there," another agreed. Kurt snarled and the three standing men quickly left. He not-too-gently kicked the man left behind away from the unconscious woman.
"She's still breathing, and her pulse is strong," he told Remy after checking. "Her leg is broken, though, and she got hit pretty hard on the back of the head." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remy wince as he saw her leg. Legs did not bend at that angle. And the way the night had been going, it was too much to hope that it was part of her mutation.
"I'll go get the car," Remy said, wiping a trickle of blood off his lip.
"I'll see what I can do for her leg." Kurt wished that Hank had come with them. He knew basic first-aid, but had no idea how to make her comfortable. He belatedly realized he should have asked Remy for his cell phone.
Suddenly, she groaned and blinked. She looked up at Kurt, who wondered if perhaps he should have turned his image inducer back on. She stared at him, making Kurt uneasy. He tried to fill the silence.
"My name is Kurt Wagner. Please, stay still, you have been badly hurt..." She cut him off with a query.
"Are you an angel?"
Not quite the question he expected. "Nein, liebling. I am just a person."
"Did you save me?"
"My friend and I did, yes."
"Then you're both my angels." She blinked again. "My head hurts. And my leg."
"Your leg is broken. Remy, my friend, went to get the car. We will take you to a place where you will be safe."
"Okay." Before Kurt could stop her, she moved to sit up, jarring her leg. Blood drained from her face, and she clenched her jaw. "That was not good," she half-hissed, half-whimpered.
"Nein," Kurt agreed. He grasped her hand in his three-fingered one and tried not to wince as she squeezed. "Remy should be here soon, liebling, hold on."
A squeal of tires at the entrance to the alley announced Remy's arrival. He haphazardly parked the car before leaping out of the driver's seat and running down the alley. "How is the femme doin', Kurt?" he called as he ran.
"I'll live," she responded through gritted teeth.
"She's awake," Remy said with a smile to the woman. "Bonjour, petite. M' name's Remy." He turned to face Kurt. "Help me lift her?"
"Ja." They each grabbed one of her arms and lifted slowly, supporting her waist as they went. She cried out as they moved her. When she was standing best she could, she wrapped her arms around their shoulders, and they held her waist. Kurt hesitated before using his tail to help support her as well.
They moved slowly to prevent unnecessary discomfort for the woman. When they reached the car, they put her in the back with her broken leg lying across the seat. As Remy climbed into the driver's seat, Kurt bamfed to the passenger seat before remembering that she had never seen him use his powers. He turned to see if she was frightened, and found her smiling at him, her head leaning against the window.
"What's your name, chere?" Remy asked as he started the car.
"Catrina Lewis," she responded. "Thank you, my angels." With that, she closed her eyes, trying her best to ward off the pain.
Translations: German: Gott schützen sie—God save her
Nein—No
Ja—Yes
Scheiße—Shit
Liebling—sweetheart
French: Je ne suis pas un ange—I am not an angel
Homme—man
Oui—Yes
Le Diable Blanc—the White Devil (what Remy was called when he was younger)
Femme—woman
Bonjour, petite—Hello, little one
Chere—dear