"Get moving!"

A voice pierced the silence of the quiet New England night, just before the hour that would bring with it the next 'official' day. Within a dark alley that still wouldn't see daylight for another six or seven hours, several muffled thuds and crashes introduced the fast approach of some…Thing. Behind it, more distanced sounds, indicating that this thing had a follower.

"Keep going!" That same voice urged it's follower on, and a gray-scaled hand reached from the darkness into the dim light of the streetlamps. A smaller hand, this one without talons and scales alike, reached to grasp the help offered, jerking as an unexpected and unseen obstacle tripped her up. Together, they rushed onward, moving though shadows and along walls as though in hopes of not being detected.

Following the clatters and crashes of the pair by perhaps about nine or ten seconds, a scampering rumble of boot-steps chased the rogues, guns and bladed weapons poised, shouts quiet yet still angry and malicious.

Suddenly, the gray-scaled figure pressed her partner against a wall to her left, covering the smaller form with her own, a set of almost serpentine, bat-like wings surrounded both. With only a large trash bin to shadow them from being seen, Viikayri had faith that their pursuers would be too focused to think and look to their side and see the poorly camouflaged pair. That faith had been well-placed, for only a few moments later the rumbling group passed them, unseeing and unawares. Tentatively relaxing a few silent moments later, the exotic-looking, very sentient creature lowered her hands from her partners head and once again covered her gray wings with her darker trench coat, watching carefully with reflective green eyes as their pursuers disappeared into the darkened distance. Finally, the taller woman turned to her accomplice with a reassuring smile.

"It's over." The same deep, almost melodic voice that had desperately encouraged her partner to move a few stirring moments earlier.

A grim look of set determination returned the smile, eyes of what appeared to be speckled gold now leveling with the bright green gaze. "For now…" Her tone made her sound set and certain, but it masked an uncertainty that shook the level-headed young woman to the core.
"Come on, this way…I know of a place we can rest for the night. In the morning, we continue"

"Where then, Viik?" The woman replied with a familiarity that came with knowing someone for years. Viik, in response, groaned. This conversation was a frequent one. Darke, Viik's shorter companion, interrupted any objection.

"We can't keep this up forever. I hate this…" As they made their way through the alley, quieter now that the danger had passed, the serious eyes of speckled gold, now reflecting odd colors in the dim lights of the street, revealed her skepticism and disdain.

"What ---Can we do though, Kat? We've been through this…So many times, it hurts. It's not- Oh, watch your step. The stairs are a bit rickety." Viikayri's argument was cut off as they began to ascend the stairs of a rather glorious, historical-looking cathedral. Or, perhaps it was that it had once been glorious. Now, however, it was as Viik had said. Rickety. And old. And possibly the most rundown building this large New England city had to offer. But it was still met with two pairs of admiring eyes. Katherine Darke stopped at the entrance, glancing up and lifting the hood of her sweatshirt from her head to better see the stone gargoyles that guarded its roof. Beautiful. Ancient.

Stepping inside, the pair found the church to be, by all appearances, empty and deserted, as Viikayri had thought it would be. Immediately, Darke moved toward the front, finding the candles. A lighter pulled from blue-denim jeans, and there soon was light. Not much, but enough to see by. And enough to see that the wax of those candles was still warm liquid. Alarmed, she stepped back as a sudden cold chill jumped into her arms and chest, and she glanced around. Viikayri stepped up beside her, placing a powerful arm around her shoulders in a friendly, comforting hug. Wax forgotten, Darke listened for the words she knew would come.

"It's not that we're criminals," the grey, lithe creature continued. "But if we allowed the authorities to find us…We'd be detained, I'd be quarantined and studied. They'd soon find out what you can do, and then they'd do the same to you. They'd think I was dangerous, and they'd find out you are."

With a sigh that was followed by a thoughtful, reserved silence, Darke admitted without words that she did agree. The light that danced from the candles revealed a smooth, youthful face of perhaps twenty-three. Her face was pale, although framed by jet-black, straight hair, and the flames danced reflectively within her multicolored eyes, giving her a rather ghost-like appearance. Indeed, one of her eyes was blue, the other a bright green, and both were flecked with tiny spots of gold. Perhaps the most unnerving thing about it, though, was that only the gold would show in near or pure darkness, as only a few minutes before, only adding to her rather spectral appearance. Beside her, Darke's companion stood, looking slightly more shocking; much more foreboding.

Viikayri was tall, even for her ripe age of twenty-eight. Sharp, triangular ears that reached well past the top of her head made the word 'tall' even more of an understatement. Her face appeared beaked, eagle-like, until one braved a closer look and saw the narrow, sharp muzzle of what resembled a coyote's, as it was much too slim to be that of a wolf. One half-inch of deadly, razor-sharp teeth reached from beneath her upper lip, resting against her lower jaw. Contrasting the dark tresses of her junior companion, a short mop of shock-white hair grew from her head, flying in every which-way direction, giving her a rather masculine appearance. From her slender back grew the bat-like wings, hooked at each top joint with one slender claw, matching her short, fine fur. They were flattened now, however, as her gray trench coat concealed them well. A tail rose up from within the coat, prehensile and tipped perpendicularly with a scythe-like blade, and just as sharp. She stood and walked upon the balls of her feet, her heels curving just as the claws that hooked each of her wings.

Not long ago, she had proudly finished school to be a college professor of the musical arts, though Viikayri DeLorian never found a university that would allow her to teach. Nevertheless, she loved music still, and it was no surprise to Darke that she moved directly to the pipe organ and ran her rough hand over the polished wood fondly. After a moment of thoughtful silence, Viik sat slowly on the bench and began to play a soft melody.

Katherine Darke closed her eyes as Viik began playing, swaying gently with the rhythm. She herself had once been a teacher, but not nearly as extraordinary as her partner, in her own mind. She'd been just short of her first year as a seventh-grade mathematics teacher when the impending threat of the Mutant Registry Act had forced her not only from her career and home, but from her sanity as well. In order to survive, the pair of educators had run from the law, as well as broken it to stay alive. Darke had killed her third officer just days ago, and Viikayri'd let it happen without a second thought. Each time. She had no other choice. Neither did Darke, as fate would have it. There was no disagreeing with Viik…They were both 'dangers', appearances or no.
Slipping back from the candles now, Darke moved backward to a pew, sitting and closing her eyes, allowing the melody that Viikayri played so elegantly to slide through her and relax her tensed nerves.

They were not as alone as they thought.

The soft notes of the small organ pipes had alerted another, hidden and perched comfortably above their heads, away from the wafting breezes that wove through the vented windows.

Kurt 'Nightcrawler' Wagner had returned to this church, what he considered his home, after two months with his newfound friends, the X-Men of West Chester, New York. He'd sought solace, prayer, peace, and time. Time to adjust, to think of the situations and questions he faced with those of the team to which he now belonged. Kneeling within the rafters well out of sight of the pair, he watched with golden eyes full of curiosity, unmoving and silent, for he'd seen Viikayri's ears in the candlelight and knew that any sound he made would surely be picked up. It seemed he was not to find any of those things he'd first sought when coming here this night, though perhaps these two would move on soon. Or perhaps he could appeal to them about Xavier's school…Maybe they would find their sanctuary there.

Indeed, none of that was to be found, this was perhaps Kurt's last night of peace in a long time. The melody, so well-played, he thought, had floated to him and he listened with a relaxed smile upon his normally intimidating façade. If they didn't see him, all would be well. They obviously meant no harm to his home.
But it was too much to hope for.

The doors to the cathedral burst open, and a rather angry team of officers flooded in, guns already leveled upon the piano-playing mutant and her dark-haired accomplice. With a hiss, Darke turned and soon stood balanced atop the pew she'd only a half-second ago been sitting on, her eyes glaring a suden angry red that even Kurt could see from up above. The melody was cut sharply off as Viikayri also moved, turning in her seat and leaping from it. She tucked and rolled from the stage under a pew before standing, trench coat thrown to the side and wings expanded.

"Freeze!" The sharp, simultaneous order from several of the officers was picked up by both Darke and Viik's enhanced senses. This, Kurt watched with growing dread as he shifted, now with feet braced against a vertical beam and one clawed hand holding him in the air, his tail swaying from side to side absently. They were invading his home, his Church, and his sanctuary, as well as the sanctuary of these young mutants. Could they deserve this invasion? Were they criminals? It didn't matter to him as he watched, anger welling within his eyes. He didn't yet move, because his curiosity was surpassing his swiftly increasing anger, even if only for the moment.

"And…What if we don't?" Darke's reply, full of bitterness and sarcasm, reached the officers from her front pew. Leaping with an unnatural grace and speed, she moved from the top of pew to pew until, only a moment after they'd issued their order to freeze, she stood defiantly before the closest one. After an instant of standing as a glaring stone statue, she was moving again. His gun kicked from one hand, a blinding movement to the cop himself, was caught in her own, the butt used to knock the unfortunate officer cold. The thundering clap of gunshots pierced the darkness and silence, but Viikayri was already on the move, already beside Darke, attempting to off the aims of the cops, as well as knocking them down when she was given the chance. The butt of her own tailblade proved to be just as useful as the hilt of the gun Darke had used.

One bullet, however, was not so ill-aimed and shot through Kat's sweatshirt, leaving the black fabric stained with a dark, sickening red. She released a cat-like howl of pain, inhibitions suddenly fleeing her with this blinding, stabbing burn. Wild, adrenaline-driven instinct took over her normally rational thoughts. In a blind rage, she grabbed the officer nearest her and sank her teeth into his unprotected neck. Once she'd drank what she could of his blood within the few moments she felt she might be able to spare, he was dropped, unconscious and forgotten, and Darke turned with a menacing stare to the others that were not yet on the ground.

Viikayri stood back now, recognizing this side of her friend, and crossed her arms in a smug, satisfied manner. "Yer all in for it now"

Indeed, Darke had become a wild animal, in all but the literal sense. She was still quite human, but in her mind the sensible, reasoning part of her brain had been shut off, forced to the back by the raging instincts that had shoved themselves rather rudely to the fore. Darke's eyes flickered into a hateful crimson and small, curved talons grew slowly from her fingernails. Though pain mildly and momentarily shot through her fingers at this change, it was ignored. Teeth that had begun to grow when she'd been shot now stopped, being almost three times their original size. Darke crouched and leaped again in one smooth, fluid motion atop the chest of another officer, his gun hand grasped painfully in her tight, seemingly unbreakable grip. She screamed her rage as she used her other hand to slash at his throat, when all of a sudden, a loud rumble of surprisingly brief thunder was heard and there was a dark form between her and her prey.

"No." The figure, shrouded in darkness but revealing only golden eyes that reflected like a cat's, shoved her away from the man with surprisingly intense strength and jumped with additionally unnatural agility to his feet. The officer behind him lay unconscious, perhaps having fainted from shock. "None will die within these walls." And with those words, dripping with a thick German accent, he disappeared.

Both Viikayri and Darke, as well as the remaining handful of officers not yet dispatched, stared wide-eyed at the open space left. A second thunderclap erupted quietly from a distance, but only Viikayri turned to search the darkness of the rafters.

"God?" Darke heard Viikayri say rather quietly. "No…Can't be…What the hell!"

The other four officers leveled their guns at Darke, who seemed to be the greatest threat of the moment, though her frame was deceivingly small.
The rage, hatred, and instincts were back, and she leaped with lightening-quick speed upon the closest one, slashing him across the face with her talons, though the attack was not enough to cause more than a set of open wounds, but they would most likely never completely heal. She always felt a rather sadistic triumph whenever she left marks such as the ones that now bloodied the face of her most recently chosen adversary. Her fist came crashing down on his head, and, all the while attempting to avoid other gunshots, she leaped from his frame to knock down yet another officer, this one knocked unconscious in much the same manner.

Good, thought Kurt as he watched from his vantage point, once again within the rafters, she listens. It appeared she had no interest in seeing them dead anymore. Just out of the way. And out of the way was something he could deal with.

Viikayri couldn't see him, even with her enhanced eyesight, but she could sense him…Smell him even. She was no longer interested in Darke's attacks, for she'd seen it all before and it was nothing new to her. But this figure, this teleporter, was definitely of interest.

Within seconds, Darke stood proudly near the door, her mischievously glinting eyes meeting Viikayri's as the remaining two officers slid to the floor, their heads having been slammed together with the sickening thud that had drawn Viik's attention in the first place.

"That was…" Viikayri leveled a chastising gaze at her while a hand gestured to the officer with two small holes pierced into his neck.

"Necessary." Darke supplied. "It's been a while since I've fed, Viik. I needed that." As the taller, grey mutant shrugged in response, Darke moved further inside the cathedral, following Viikayri's moving gaze to the rafters. She was intent on figuring out exactly what had happened a moment ago when she'd first tried to kill that officer.

Before she could take more than a step, however, a hand slithered from the shadows outside to grab her around the neck, catching her completely off guard. The retracted claws once again grew as Darke, eyes wild with surprise, reached around and attempted to slash at her assailant. Her natural weapons, though, found no homage, no flesh. Viikayri's own tail-blade slashed out around her friend as she tried to assist, but a foreign object, black as the darkest night and looking to be blunt, settled with a disdainful thud upon Darke's head, causing her to collapse, unconscious, in his arms. He stepped into the dim light barely shed by the candles, again dodging Viikayri's blade.

"Jessop!" Viikayri hissed, ears flattening in annoyance. He was the very last problem they needed to deal with right now. "What are you thinking! Release her"
Taloned hands slashed toward him, but found again, no target. They went right through his body, as though he himself were but an illusion; A hologram.
"I don't think so, DeLorian. Imagine the freedom her head will bring me once dropped before the authorities….Perhaps even the President's first guards…CIA, hmmm? They'll be rather pleased. I hear they've even managed to put together a description of her." His voice lowered as he looked with a sneer down at his silent, harmless charge. "Cop killers don't get much mercy, yanno."

Hearing only this new stranger's first couple of statements, Kurt knew that now he had to get involved, as much as he disliked the idea of what he'd already done. He bamfed from his position on the rafters and appeared between the two, his blue arms wrapping around the girl slumped in the intruder's grip, his fanged teeth bared in a successful attempt to frighten him into letting Darke go.

"You take care of him, I've got her." With those words, he disappeared in a cloud of wispy blue smoke, another brief clap of what sounded like thunder left in his wake. Darke was gone as well.

Viikayri didn't hesitate. Without the girl in his arms, Jessop was as real and solid as could be, and in a moment of his own stunned and dumbfounded staring, was slumped over one of the other fallen bodies of the officers. It took two handfuls with each hand to toss all out of the cathedral, and then she whirled around to see the stranger that had taken Darke from Jessop. He was setting her on one of the front pews. Despite the care with which he moved, he was still a stranger to Viikayri, and so still a threat. Moving on all fours not unlike the wild animal her partner had been moments before, she leaped over the pews when finally close enough and landed against Kurt's chest, throwing him to the ground and pinning him there.

"Who are you?" she demanded, tail blade pressed against his blue neck as she stood atop him, both hind and forelegs pressed stiffly against his chest and stomach. Despite her size, her weight was nothing to be concerned about.

His hands moved up above his head into a surrendering position. "I am Kurt Wagner." He fell silent for only a moment, not even long enough for Viikayri to react. Quickly, a smile spread across his face. "But in the Munich Circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler!" He spoke proudly, and with such an innocent quality to his voice that Viikayri couldn't keep him captive any longer. Slowly, she moved back from atop him, tail slipping away from his throat.

"Incredible Nightcrawler, eh?" She questioned, arms crossing as she stood up straight. He took that opportunity to leap with unnatural agility to his feet, expressing his own talents in the acrobatic arts.

She looked his dark form up and down, brows raised in what could best be described as impressed indifference. Her first thoughts when he'd appeared to save the officer from Darke and then Darke from Jessop had made the assumption that he was perhaps African American. But now, seeing him this close and this well, his skin wasn't a dark hue of brown, but rather a deep tone of navy or perhaps midnight blue. The almost-but-not-quite-prehensile tail that emerged from his own coat gave his mutant heritage away, anyway. Turning to Darke, she brushed a wisp of black hair from her friend's closed eyes. Kurt stepped up behind her, eyeing the fallen girl with sympathy.

"I know someone who could help her. Both of you." His words were tinted with that German accent, smooth with his deep voice. Viik found herself taking an odd liking to him instantly. Despite the threat she'd delivered upon their meeting, he'd reacted calmly. That was a rare quality, especially in a mutant. Perhaps it was just that Nightcrawler was so confident in his own abilities, but then again, if that held true, he would have used them.

"Oh? Well, all she really needs is ice," She explained away quickly. "She's going to have quite a bump there when she wakes up. Pain killers wouldn't hurt either. I'm sure the migraine will surpass the bruise." She glanced at him in surprise. "You don't even know who we are…" She seemed to consider this a moment before slowly offering a gray, taloned hand in an offering of first greetings. "I'm Viikayri DeLorian. This…Sleeping lump is Darke."

"Darke…" For a moment, it appeared as though Kurt expected a second name. It didn't take long before he realized he would get none. "Right. Well. Ice and pain killers, I can provide both. Be back in an instant." And with a thud-like sound that could break sound barriers, he was gone. Before Viikayri could return her eyes to Darke, he had appeared again, giving Viik an alarming start. The blade had instinctively flown toward his throat but this time, he'd been prepared. He blocked it with an arm against the blunt side, eyeing her with a scoldingly raised brow.

"I told you it would only be an instant. Relax." He offered a lightly chiding grin.

Viikayri rolled her eyes and watched as he applied a cold ice pack to Kat's head. She stirred for a moment, eyelids fluttering open soon after. When they peered into Kurt's concerned gaze and realization hit, her eyes widened in fright and her own small claws sank into his neck, almost breaking skin. Viikayri came into her line of vision and shook her head, a fast cue to Darke to let him be. Sitting up and scooting away from this dark-coated stranger, she looked between them.

"What the hell happened?" she demanded, angrily. "Who is he?" She sounded almost accusatory as she eyed Viik and thrust a gesturing hand towards Nightcrawler.

Kurt was still recovering from the shock of the odd color of her eyes as well as her near attack, and so Viikayri spoke first. "Jessop. It was Jessop. He's gone now, though. We're going to have to make quick tracks. The cops will most assuredly send backups. And soon."

"Come with me," Kurt appealed. "I know of a place in New York…Xavier's School of-"

"-Gifted Youngsters" both women interrupted. Kurt's eyes widened, impressed and wordlessly asking for an explanation. As Darke sat up from her pew and attempted to stand, Viik caught her arm without looking at her and spoke to the confused German.

"We've heard of it. So those Gifted Youngsters…Are Mutants?" She inquired, allowing Kurt to take Darke's other arm and place it over his shoulder. Darke rolled her eyes, pulling her arms away from both of them.

"C'mon, guys. I'm not lame. I can walk. Just…Owww…" She moaned and caught her head, hissing with pain as she touched the spot that Jessop had so effectively hit.

"Here," Kurt proudly produced a handful of pills, all of which Darke, of course, eyed suspiciously.

"Thanks…" she grabbed two of them and popped them in her mouth, swallowing easily. "You belong to this school, then."

"I am a teacher of the World Religions." He spoke in the same proud tone as he'd used when he'd been introducing himself to Viikayri, still inclined to keep an arm near her should she need it.

Viik and Darke exchanged glances. "Wonder if they have any openings," Viik mused, more to herself and her companion than to Kurt.

"You are teachers, too?" He seemed surprised by this, indicated by raised eyebrows and a wide grin.

Both nodded. "I teach high school Math and Social Studies," Darke began explaining. "Well, I can. And I did. Math, anyway. And Viik is certified to teach music at a college level." Kat spoke proudly of her tall, oddly-formed friend.

"You will have to speak with Professor Xavier." He produced a small cell phone from his pocket. With no argument from the women, he rang the Mansion. After a short conversation, he closed the cell phone, placed it back in his coat pocket, and nodded.

Again, the women exchanged glances. "He'll let just anyone come to the School?" Darke inquired, thankful for the darkness of the cathedral for the moment. Her headache was bad enough without any artificial light.

"Oh, yes, with open arms. Besides, any threats are dispatched quickly," It was a warning, but without the dark tones. "Within the hour, a jet will arrive to pick us up. I suggest we go to the roof."

"A jet?" Darke raised a surprised brow as she held her shoulder. It pained her, but not so badly that she was incapacitated. "Who is he?" Once Viik had retrieved her coat and they began to make their way up the long winding steps, she questioned Viikayri at what she thought was a safe distance from his earshot.

"A teleporter. His name is-"

"Kurt Wagner," Kurt announced from in front of them without glancing back. "But in the Munich Circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler"
Darke watched his unarmed tail sway in front of them with wary eyes, keeping her voice low as she questioned Viik once more. Viikayri barely stifled her chuckle, and when Kat threw her a questioning glance, she only shrugged.

"Can we trust him?" Now, her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I believe so."