Hunted and Hated
An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque
I do not own X-Men.
Chapter 16: Collision Course! A Dangerous Rescue!
Rome.
To every man, woman and child in all of Europe, the name was almost magical.
It was truly the "Eternal City", a nexus of civilization and beauty, of sophistication, commerce and trade. Beautiful statues and sculptures of Emperors and Popes dotted the ancient streets, the same streets where the famous legions of Caesar had trod back in the mists of time. The metropolis was so alive: the shouts of vendors and merchants were almost deafening as each tried to outdo all the others in an attempt to expound on the virtues of his wares. Gold flowed freely in the huge marketplace as families bartered for goods from every corner of the world. Persian silks, Greek vases and jars, and weapons from every part of civilization lay side by side in their stalls, while the stale musk of horse dung, the scents of expensive perfumes, and the aromas of practically every fruit and vegetable you'd care to name made one's senses swim. On an ordinary business day, Rome was a sight to behold.
But today was no ordinary business day.
All of the citizenry were abuzz with the news: Pedro Sanchez, the so-called "Sword of the Church" had captured the legendary demon that had been plaguing the Spanish countryside! Everyone who could spare the time had dropped what they were doing, just to get a look at the creature.
The Spanish country folk may have been terrified of Kurt's so called "demonic powers," but the Romans were made of sterner stuff. Their forefathers had defeated the Huns, the Franks, and the Gauls, and even a major fire had leveled the city a time or two. So it was with more curiosity than terror that the people of Rome lined the streets.
Pedro Sanchez arrived in a style fitting of his megalomania. He didn't want to disappoint the masses by not giving them a show.
Slowly, majestically, his massive warship sailed into Rome's harbor. Its sheer size let it tower over every other vessel moored there, its pennants flying and fluttering in the Italian breeze. Pedro himself perched on the bowsprit like a malicious bird of prey, scorning handholds as he exulted in victory. There was no feeling like the pleasure of bringing a heretic to face the Church's justice.
The gangplank thudded loudly as it hit the side of the jetty, and Pedro stroked the mane of his horse before swinging himself into the saddle. The black mare whinnied, as if eager to taste blood, and its impatience mirrored its master's.
Pedro swept an arm at the stairs that led to the warship's lower decks. "Bring out the prisoner!" he thundered. "Let him spend his last hours in the sunlight all demons despise!"
Kurt, meanwhile, was roughly seized from his spot in the brig and practically frog-marched up the stairs, pushed and shoved the entire way. He let the guards have their fun, for Kurt no longer had the strength to fight back. Weeks of malnourishment and casual beatings had taken their toll on him, and Kurt's eyes practically screamed as he emerged from the darkness and into the bright midmorning sun.
Kurt looked like a cadaver. His once-strong arms and legs were now weak with fatigue and disuse, his once-bright pupils now faded and dull. Kurt's blue fur, so glossy and soft before, now clung to his wasted from like an ill-fitting robe. The manacles around his wrists and ankles made it almost impossible to walk, and Kurt found himself wishing that Pedro would just kill him and get it over with.
Somewhere, one of Pedro's men struck up a slow, steady beat on his drum, and Kurt slowly, brokenly shuffled forward, to the cheers of every Inquisitor present.
So absorbed were they in Kurt's suffering that they didn't notice the smaller vessel moored just outside the harbor's entrance….
Meanwhile….
Kitty gasped in horror and shock at what she saw through Black John Hughes's spyglass. Kurt was practically dead already! How could those men have treated him that way…?
She stifled a sob as she handed the instrument back to the good Captain. In a rare show of compassion not seen outside of his crew, Hughes laid a hand on Kitty's shaking shoulder. "There, there, lass. 'Twill be all right, ye'll see."
Kitty nodded, sniffling and wiping her eyes. This was no time to get emotional; if she and Hughes were going to have any chance at saving Kurt, then a clear head was absolutely imperative. Grieving and sadness would come later. Right now, Kitty needed to focus on the job at hand.
Hughes closed his eyes momentarily, no doubt fantasizing about impaling Hughes on the tip of his sword. The Captain's sentiment was shared by every single man aboard; Hughes's assumptions about his crew had spot-on, and the Ranger was now a beehive of vengeful pirates, who were all practically foaming at the mouth with hatred of Sanchez and his followers.
One would no longer be able to infer their occupation by their dress, however. Hughes had wisely ordered his men to discard their ragged finery for more modest, ordinary sailor's garb to give an illusion of legitimacy. After all, Rome was the center of all Christendom, a place of piety home to the Pope himself.
Pirates were hardly welcome here.
Hughes had not excused himself from going incognito. He had put away his gaudy rings and jewelry, and an ordinary sailor's cap took the place of his wide-brimmed hat. He had trimmed his beard, too, and even cleaned under his fingernails. Hughes and all his hearties looked for all the world like ordinary merchant seamen.
But, at the risk of sounding clichéd, looks can be deceiving.
Now he turned to Kitty, and a grim smile stretched his face. "We'll wait 'till Sanchez 'as disembarked afore goin' ashore," he said. "An' even then, it'd be better t'go after dark. I've no doubt that Sanchez'd recognize me."
"But what about Kurt?" Kitty practically exclaimed."
"Lass, I know what I'm doin'," Hughes stated. "An' in my experience, surprise attacks 'ave a better chance of succeedin' under cover o' darkness. We need to wait until the time's right."
"Ahoy the Ranger!"
Hughes abruptly turned his head and glanced over the side. His first officer, Smith, and sever others were returning in a small rowboat. From the expression on Smith's face, he apparently had good news.
"Throw 'em a line!" Hughes orderd. "Get them back aboard!"
Smith saluted before speaking. "I did just as ye asked, Cap'n."
"An' ye weren't seen?" Hughes countered, ignoring Kitty's confused expression.
"Nay, sir. I counted about fifty, includin' Pedro 'imself. I'd say we outnumber 'im."
"That rascal's gotten too cocky," Hughes chuckled to himself.
"What is all this about?" Kitty asked bewilderedly.
"I sent ol' Smith and three others ashore last night," Hughes replied. "I wanted to see 'ow many soldiers Pedro was bringin' with him before we rescued yer friend, Ms. Pryde. I thought he'd 'ave more, t'be perfectly honest, but I suppose Sanchez has gotten complacent. Everyone fears him, so it be inconceivable that someone'd attack him. That gives us the edge."
Kitty thought about that for a moment. "I see," she said finally. "And am I to assume you have a plan?"
"Aye."
"Would you care to enlighten me?"
"Of course," Hughes nodded courteously before blowing on his whistle. Instantly, the deck was packed with a hundred bloodthirsty pirates, each straining to hear what their Captain had to say. Hughes made sure everyone was in attendance before speaking.
"I know we ain't accustomed t'helpin' others besides ourselves," he began, "but even the likes of us draw th'line somewhere." A ripple of assent greeted this statement, and Hughes continued. "But killin' a poor bloke just 'cause 'e looks a bit diff'ren than everyone else? Not proper that isn't, mates. Not proper at all. This feller ain't done nothin' t'deserve what's bin done to 'im, and this young lass has showed bravery and courage in trying to rescue 'im. An' we all admire courage, don't we?" A few scattered shouts of support rang out, and Hughes plunged his dagger into the mast. "That bastard Pedro nearly did me in a few years back, ye all know this to be true. An' I say it be time to teach that namby-pamby that Black John Hughes and his maties never let a crime go unpunished! Whaddaya say, lads? Are we gonna let an innocent man die?"
"NO!"
"Are we gonna let Sanchez get away with spillin' th' blood of our maties?"
"NO!"
"Then are ye with me?"
A hundred voices roared back at him. "AYE, CAP'N! AYE!"
"Then sharpen yer swords an' ready yer pistols, men! We move out at dusk!"
Amidst much shouting and waving of weapons, Hughes's salty crew went about their tasks with zeal, each man blazing with anger and a desire to kill as many Spaniards as possible.
Hughes looked at Kitty somberly. "Ye know we'll all die if'n we don't pull this off."
Kitty gazed out at the sprawling city of Rome, and her voice was laced with steel.
"Then what have we got to lose?"
A/N: Uh, oh! Looks like the endgame is fast approaching! Will there be a happy ending for Kitty and Kurt? Will Black John Hughes have his revenge? And will the evil Cardinal Vittorio ever be brought to justice? You'll soon find out, 'cause the end of this story is fast approaching! And as always, PLEASE REVIEW! ^^
Very soon, I'll have one story down, and two more to go….
Your humble servant,
-Quill N. Inque