Disclaimer: WIO

The Swastika Tattoo

As Kurt 'ported into the common room, he caught the tail end of a conversation and Kitty put the phone down.

"We've got a client. She's willing to pay three mil for secrets. Jean, you're up." Kitty said brusquely, all traces of the shy, emotionally raw young girl in the kitchen gone.

"What sort of secrets?" Jean asked, putting her magazine down. Apparently, she had come here to wind down.

"Military. She wants the plans to the latest GITMO prisoner interrogation system." Kitty said.

"Pack up, everyone, we're headed to Cuba." Jean exited swiftly, followed by Rogue and Kitty. Evan went off down another hallway, with Kurt in pursuit.

"Vat are ve packing?" Kurt called ahead to Evan, who had gone into working mode, devoid of all emotion, just like the rest of the team.

"Anything you'll want in Cuba that fits in a briefcase. Pack your swords. This's gonna be MFR." Evan said, turning sharply into his room. MFR meant Maximum Force Required. Everyone was going to Cuba – no tech support in California meant flying blind, but this was a violent raid with possible casualties. Very obvious, no need for deception and observation.

Even though Kurt was the newest – newest, but not youngest – member of the White Gloves, he knew enough to move fast or get left behind, and on his first MFR gig with permission to use his swords, he wanted to go. Badly. Cause some damage.

Behind him, Kurt heard Scott stomping down the hall to his room and Kurt scrambled to get out of the way, ducking into his room and pulling out the extra-long, black leather briefcase that was the only thing that fit his twin light swords, but even then, just barely. He had to put them diagonally. Kurt packed no clothes, only weapons.

When he came out into the hallway, at the same time as Evan, he had a briefcase with his two Starfire light swords, Blitz and Blut, four Ekiz 8" daggers that he would later strap to his ankles and forearms, and, if all other swords failed, eight 6" throwing knives that found their home in holsters on Kurt's thighs, chest, and upper arms.

"Blitz and Blut are thirsty," Kurt commented, smiling evilly. Evan looked over at him, confusion breaking his emotionless mask.

"Dude, how many knives have you picked up since we found you in Virginia?" he asked, shaking his head.

"None. I've had my swords since I finished training, and my daggers and knives vere various birzday presents from "friends" who know I like knives," Kurt said. He set his jaw in resolve as he reached the end of the corridor. The girls were already packed in the common room, surveying Kurt and Evan coldly, who returned the gaze with equal iciness. Kurt set his case down and pulled out his knife and dagger holsters and sheathes, strapping the dagger sheathes to his forearms and lower legs, which were actually his feet, since he walked on the balls of his elongated, two-toed feet, it appeared that he had backwards-facing knees, but they were really his heels. As he buckled the knife holsters onto his upper arms, thighs, and waist, he caught Kitty looking intently at him.

When his golden eyes flicked upwards to meet hers, though, she looked away, absorbed in her forearms. Kurt could see the outline of daggers strapped to her arms in a double-draw style, just like his daggers. He smirked as he put the various deadly weapons in their cases on his body, watching Evan's wide eyes. Kurt shrugged his trench coat on, with slits in the right places so he could draw his weapons.

Scott stomped down the hallway, his shades switched to a visor he could open more easily, offering more control than the shades, too.

"Let's get outta here." He grumbled as he stormed past. Kurt bared his fangs, but followed Scott.

~*X*~

The six fit themselves into the SUV in the underground garage and drove (Scott completely ignoring the speed limits) along the same cliffside route Jean had taken to escape the cops, except this time in the opposite direction to the airport. Kitty sat in the way back with Rogue, quietly staring out the window. Kurt was in the middle with Evan, and of course, Jean and Scott in the front seats. As they passed the ruin of Coastline Bank, Kurt couldn't help but smile demonically- it made him happy to see things blown up, for some strange reason. Probably because of his messed-up childhood, with his pyromaniac foster mother and father.

"Evan, how old is everyvone?" Kurt leaned over and asked quietly so only Evan would hear.

"Well, Jean and Scott are 'bout twenty five, Rogue's nineteen, turning twenty next month, I'm twenty and Kitty's fifteen. Why?" Evan replied in an equally hushed voice.

"Just vondering." Kurt tried to dismiss Evan.

"You know, you never told us your story at breakfast. And when did you become such a master at blades—and just how old are you?" Evan asked, a note of slight suspicion creeping into his voice.

"As you know, I come from Germany, but I vas in Virginia visiting a Freundin—a girl I trained in Bavaria viz. Zen I learned about thief gangs, and she suggested I join ze best gang—ze Vite Gloves. So I did. Jean seemed kvite inclined to let me in easily. I learned ze art of svordfighting ven I vas eight, and picked up nife zrowing ven I vas fourteen. Hand-to-hand combat came at fifteen, zen hand-to-hand viz daggers. I alzo studied martial arts. It vas easier for me zan ozzers—my spine is like a cat's, sehr flexible. I can vield a dagger, svord, or zrow a nife as easily viz my tail as I can viz my hands. Plus, I know how to use my body and teeth as veapons. All zat in zis devilishly handsome look and I'm tventy vone." Kurt answered quietly, baring his teeth in a gruesome smile. Evan leaned back as he realized just how dangerous his fellow thief was—he made Scott in a rage look tame, and Jean at full power look like a cripple, also totally outshining him, Rogue, and Kitty put together.

As they neared the airport and got out of the car, Kurt didn't even appear uneasy, though he clearly stood out.

"The jet taking us to Cuba's at the first gate on the left. Departs in five minutes." Jean directed, ushering the five towards the gate. There was no flight attendant to punch their tickets or anything—they just walked onto the luxury private jet and the pilot prepared for takeoff minutes later.

"Vow. I've never been on a plane in ze air zis fast," Kurt commented appreciatively. "Who's paying for our ride?"

"The client. As long as we deliver her info, she gives us three million in cash and we disappear." Kitty said. Kurt nodded, avoiding her eyes as he took out a dagger, ran his thumb over the sharp edge, and examined the cut it made in the pad of his finger.

"What did ya do that fer? Ya emo or somethin'?" Rogue asked pointedly.

"If I can feel ze blade cut my skin, it's too dull." Kurt said absentmindedly as he fished a whetstone out of his briefcase and rasped it along the blade a few times.

"Do yer swords eva get dull?" she asked, seeing Blitz and Blut in the case.

"Nein. Zey're a special metal alloy called adamantium zat's ze hardest metal known to mankind and vill cut zrough anyzing and never get dull. Blitz and Blut vere presents from my svordfighting instructor ven I graduated." Kurt answered, repeating the sharpening test with his other three daggers, using his tail the other times. Kitty shuddered as she smelled blood and glared at Kurt. What sort of person would cut themself for fun?

"I know, you zink I'm not holy. Oh, believe me, kleine Kätzchen, I am," Kurt chuckled darkly, spying the look on Kitty's face. She moved to the other side of Rogue to be farther away.

"He says he's holy, but look at him. He's a demon. What do Catholics do? Baptism, right? Well, no Father in his right mind would baptize that creature." Kitty hissed in Rouge's ear. She saw a dark emotion flicker across Kurt's bright eyes, and when he looked at her, she shrank back into the seat because he had no pupils. You couldn't tell where he was looking, but you knew.

"I didn't alvays look like zis. I vas made zis vay by vone of you—a Jew,"[1] Kurt growled lowly, and Kitty's eyes widened in shock and anger.

"Typical of a German to say. Always against Jews, you filthy Germans," Kitty shot back, but by now, Kitty and Kurt's argument had all the others' attention, though they didn't intervene.

"Are you saying I'm a Nazi?" Kurt growled, standing up and stepping closer to Kitty, towering over her. "I beg to differ."

"You're nothing but a Nazi. Think you're all that, I bet you have a swastika tattoo—" Kitty didn't get to finish her sentence because Kurt had backhanded her across the face. Scott jumped up and grabbed Kurt's arms, throwing back into his seat. Rogue flew to Kitty's aid along with Evan, and she shot a dagger look to kill at Kurt, pinned into his seat by Scott, fangs bared defiantly, eyes blazing.

Kitty lay on the floor, tears streaming from her eyes, holding her jaw, nothing short of pure loathing in her tearful gaze. Rogue turned around to face the German.

"What did ya do? Ya demon!" she hissed, eyes reduced to slits in anger.

"I broke her jaw. Serves ze little bitch right," Kurt snarled. Rogue ripped off her gloves and leaped at Kurt, but Jean froze her in midair just as she would have landed on her target and been impaled by the dagger he had ripped out of his arm sheath and was holding in his tail.

"This is no place to fight. I want all of you to stop it, so help me, I'll open the plane window and leave you to the elements," Jean barked. Kurt bared his teeth at Rogue and but the dagger away, albeit reluctantly.

"I'll see you in Cuba." Kurt said shortly. There was a loud crack and he, his swords, and his attitude had disappeared. [2]

"We can't have him on the team. He needs to be eliminated." Scott said shortly, reiterating the idea that had been running through his head since the fight at breakfast that morning. "Two fights he's started today, and he's broken Kitty's jaw."

"We can't terminate him yet. We need him for GITMO. After that, feel free to kill him." Jean said, eyes narrowed at the dissipating smoke from Kurt's teleportation.

As Kitty lay on the floor, in pain, one phrase whispered in her head.

I know who you are.

~*X*~

[1] I'm going with what I wrote in P&F and saying Magneto made Kurt that way, and this is AU, so in this, Magneto's a Jew.

[2] Again, this is AU, and there's such a thing as suspension of disbelief, so let's just say he can teleport from somewhere over Arizona to Cuba.

Now, you were good and fast for this chap, but I request at least 5 reviews! I know you want chapter four . . . !