[Deutsch expressions Kurt uses in this chapter:

und = and

Mein Freund = my friend

Bitte = please

Herr = mister, a polite form of address

Nein = no

Danke = thank you]

Elise knelt behind the doorframe to Colossus' room; anxious to spot any lurkers, she poked her head out for an instant. A fellow wearing a neon-blue vest and royal purple silk pantaloons weaved from room to room. She retracted and paused to think. When the baddy traipsed to this end of the hall and peeked in the doorway, what would he see? She turned and viewed the room in the dim "v" of light angling from the hallway. Good: Kitty's smiling face seemed almost real, good enough for a target to draw enemy fire away from the flesh-and-blood hired help. If something happened to the canvas, Rasputin would make no fuss. Kitty was unaware of his crush on her, and for the moment the shy Russian wanted his feelings, expressed in the portrait, to remain secret.

Sounds of scuffling and whispering drifted in. From the jolt a few minutes before, she assumed her tactics had given the invaders a moment's pause. Now they were probably regrouping. If there were friends about, they would find a way into her hidey-hole or call her name, at least if it were safe to come out. Thank goodness Ma and Dad don't know the half of what goes on here, she thought. They understood I'd be in occasional danger, but am I wrong to hide some of the less pleasant incidents from them? Her independent spirit supplied the answer to calm her worries. Ignorance is bliss. Then her snarky side added, Which means some of these X-bozos must be the happiest people alive.

While Elise pondered her choices, Kitty and Rogue prepared to lug down to the brig a few more of the villains Kurt had vanquished; a fellow in ginger and lemon houndstooth check breeches scooted out on hands and knees to flee down the passage. Rogue dropped her burdens and flew to tackle him, then sped back over the mess from the grenade to the door of Nightcrawler's suite. She whispered, wary of rousing any who might be hiding further down the wing. Easier to clean up one mess at a time. "I didn't think ta count 'em up. Ya think any more woke up and snuck off while we were luggin' that first batch?"

Kitty's brow furrowed. "Maybe we need to cross to the western wing and have another teeny nip from that bar."

Rogue felt a bit sorry for the kid, so young and saddled with all this. On the other hand, she herself had been forced to fend for herself as a young teen; at least Pryde had a safe haven and plenty of adult guidance. "Perish the thought."

The youngster shrugged and grabbed a slender fellow, then trudged into the hallway. "I guess we take this group bit by bit and hope we get 'em all?"

Rogue nodded, the white streak bobbing like lightning. "What Scott doesn't know won't hurt him ... o' course, it might hurt someone else."

Thuds and muffled conversation issued from the direction of Nightcrawler's room. More of the invaders coming to, no doubt. After seeing the guy in blue and purple, Elise had tiptoed to the dark side of the room and slipped back behind the makeshift hiding place, glad to have her nail gun tucked away along with a few of the pilfered weapons. She checked the flashlight to be sure it hadn't been jostled into a state of inaction, pulled the bullwhip out of her side leg pocket and smoothed out the kinks. A kinky whip was no use at all. Pistols and rifle were loaded and in easy reach. Okay, so maybe she had more weaponry than the average fellow slinking through the mansion might carry. If the enemy didn't come calling, she might feel a bit foolish to be discovered with an array of armaments, but better a live fool than a deceased damsel in distress.

Footfalls in the hallway. But so far they weren't coming in her direction. A few grunts as if the unseen were lifting heavy objects. What could they be planning? And why hadn't Mr. All-Seeing Cyclops planned a way to get her out of this mess yet?

In the safe tunnels and emergency-situation rooms tucked away below ground, Kurt Wagner looked up as one of the youngest X-men entered, carrying a load of two no longer sinister but still sartorially-challenged sods. One of the limp bodies seemed familiar, but Nightcrawler had fought so many foes today that he couldn't be certain. He approached the young girl and attempted to lever the unconscious fellow from her shoulders. Her eyes widened and she shied away.

"I can handle it, thanks anyway," she blurted, then scuttled toward the section where the intruders were placed into a variety of enclosures geared toward holding villains of various abilities.

Kurt sighed. This one, Shadowcat, reacted toward him the way so many non-mutants did. Yet she herself disappeared into walls and shorted out electrical systems. She had a normal appearance, he told himself, and probably was only now becoming accustomed to the idea that she was vastly different from her peers. He had been given his whole life to adjust to the fact. Not that he ever became inured to the reactions his looks created. He returned his attention to inspecting another young X-man. "Only a few lacerations here und there, mein Freund. You should be fine."

"There was so much blood," the shuddering young man answered, "I guess I panicked."

"You will soon be flying around again in search of more trouble, I am sure." Kurt smiled, and felt the kid's taut muscles relax under the spandex as he received a smile in response. At least most of the people here did not seem uncomfortable around him.

Then it hit him.

It had been a while since the hidden cook had heard motion, but on the wall across from her sanctuary, a shadow crept. Almost showtime. I'll bean him and deal with the body later. Drat! Where did that nunchaku go? Elise wondered. Looking down, she realized, with the same queasy feeling of someone who had spent a long night binging on greasy food, that it was no longer hanging from her hammer loop.

A silhouette in the doorframe reached down to grab the weapon which she'd dropped during the grenade-lobbing incident.

Lucky for her, he didn't know about the dish towels.

Suddenly Kurt's mental picture snapped into focus: the man Kitty carried had been in front of his bedroom closet. The closet from which Elise had either escaped, or been captured. It was worth another rebuff to find out all he could; after all, he had been charged with defending her, and it would not look good if he ruined one of his first assignments as an X-man. Again he approached the girl with the fluffy hair.

"Bitte, excuse me, Shadowcat –"

"Um, yeah, kinda busy now." Kitty did not look up but continued to tighten the restraints on her captive before rolling him into a cell secured by old-fashioned iron bars appropriate for holding non-enhanced humans.

"When you were in my quarters, did you see any sign of the cook?"

"Nope. Grabbed a bunch of losers and boogied straight down here. Gotta go back for more, bye now." She walked upwards on air and disappeared through the ceiling. Okay, she thought, I forced myself to answer politely, but the way those eyes glow, like someone from a horror flick, and a tail like a devil - c'mon, how could anyone not feel creeped-out around him? She remembered telling Scott last week that the new blue guy talked like Nazis did in old movies. Scott had patted her on the shoulder and said, "You watch too many movies." Big help.

Kurt's shoulders sagged. He had tried so hard to befriend his new teammates, and to be especially gallant, courteous, and non-threatening toward this youngster. But his gentle tone, thoughtful gestures, and kind words did nothing to dispell her dislike of him. Maybe his mutation did not cause the fearful reaction. Perhaps there was in her past a bad memory associated with a German nanny?

Elise held her breath as the dude straightened up. Ready, aim, BINGO! A flick, a twist, a tug, and the implement clattered at her feet. "None for you, Chucky. No nunchaku, that is." She unwrapped the weapon from the bullwhip which had snagged it so quickly. The greasy-haired young man charged, but the nunchaku lobbed in the air landed on his head hard enough to knock him out. "Thank you, Guardian Angel," she whispered, "two in a row." Although her first success, the blue mutant, had been unintended, so maybe that didn't count.

However, all that practice horsing around in the kitchen had counted. "Towel Wars" she called it, and many of the X-men (as well as some of the Institute students who were at times allowed in the X-men wing) liked to challenge the feisty cook to use her ever-present dish towel to rip a towel from between their hands. About the same technique as using the bullwhip, in her opinion.

"Herr Professor," Kurt edged through the X-men milling about the cavernous safe room, "I wonder if you have a moment to answer a brief question."

The Professor's eyes wobbled slightly but soon focused. "Certainly. I sssseem to be fffree at the moment."

Kurt shone a penlight in Xavier's eyes and took his pulse again. The slight slurring of speech was worrisome, but he appeared to be on the mend. "I wondered if you had spoken with Kitty about ... uh, about ..." he crouched next to the wheelchair and spoke softly into the Professor's ear, "me."

Charles Xavier looked at Kurt, knit his eyebrows, and answered in an equally quiet voice, "I believe she issss too young for you. Now, Oro-ro-ro-roro might be more app-propriate." He frowned and looked about him, as if searching for a lost object. "Nnno, wait. I believe she is enamored of ... um ... " His head began to loll, but he squared his shoulders and sat straighter.

"Nein, nein, I meant only that ... well, I think she is afraid of me, although I have done nothing to harm her."

"Aaaaah," Charles said. "Yes, I have noticed a hhhhesitancy about her in trrrraining sessions when yyyou are present. I shall try to talk with hhhher. At a mmmore convenient time of course."

"Oh, Danke, Herr Professor! I do not wish to make a bad impression." He stood and returned to the makeshift sick bay, helping out as needed, part of his mind on the puzzle of where the cook could have gone, and part of him wondering how to approach the young Pryde without eliciting a look of panic.

The latest unconscious form was stashed in Piotr's closet, and an artists' smock draped across the mirror, by the time soft footfalls announced the next joker looking for easy prey. He leaned past the doorframe, peered into the shadows. As planned, he mistook the portrait of Kitty for a real person; his hesitation gave Elise time to shoot a rubber band into his eye. Surprised by the sting, he fell back, clutching his face as his weapon dropped into the darkened bedroom.

Hot on his heels came another satin-clad fellow, who swiveled from side to side brandishing a sleek gun. A vibrant red dot zeroed in on the left side of the smock. A red ray lashed out, then doubled back, ricocheted by the silver of the mirror. Smarty-Pants ducked, but behind him ol' Fancy-Pants rose to confront whomever had smacked him. The laser beam sizzled through his scalp as intense pain doubled him over again. Blood coursed from the wound. His pal pivoted to peruse the damage, and once again the cook of all trades dashed out of her safe place to clobber them both with the gun that Fancy-Pants had dropped.

"Barely squeaked by this time," she muttered to herself as she dragged the first guy to the walk-in closet with his companions. "Hope my luck holds out until that German figures out where to find me." She stuffed the slumped fellow under a row of giant-sized suit jackets and retraced her steps to collect the second victim. "Although at this point, I'm not too picky about who's currently assigned to get me outta this mess."

[To Be Continued ... ]