Hunted and Hated
An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque
I do not own X-Men.
Chapter 17: To Rescue Kurt
Rome, Italy, just after nightfall…
Kitty tried to contain her anxiety and her supper, which was made somewhat difficult by the bucking motion of the rowboat. The small craft was tossed like a cork in a bottle as it slowly approached the glittering jewel of the Eternal City.
Kitty's hand tightened around the hilt of the sword she carried, to the point that the pressure turned her knuckles white. Every nerve in her body was on edge, every sense on high alert, and every molecule her being dedicated to the mission before her. The prospect of taking the fight to Pedro and his men certainly had the element of surprise, but there were other problems to consider. First, this whole plan hinged on the fact that Kitty would be able to find Kurt in the first place, that he was even alive at all, that she could get him out of the city in one piece, and that the Spaniards didn't kill them both.
Kitty and her allies, the pirates under Black John Hughes, were facing a stacked deck. This was common knowledge to all involved. But even so, Hughes had given the order to go ahead with the plan, even going so far as to muffle the boat's oars so as not to give themselves away.
A movement to her left caught Kitty's eye, and she shifted slightly in between the two burly companions that shared the seat on either side of her. This mission would not be undertaken by Kitty and a handful of others; indeed, a hundred well-armed and well-rested pirates were going ashore in an almost miniature armada, each and every one of them itching for a good fight.
Hughes did not share their enthusiasm. He stood silently in the prow, a beacon of vengeful fury, and his scarred hands kept running over the hilt of his sword. Kitty had no doubt that the two men would clash before the night was over.
Then, a large bump and a heavy scraping heralded landfall, and Hughes swung himself onto the sand with an ease borne of practice. His officer gathered beside him, and Kitty listened too as he went over their scheme once again.
"Smith, take forty and create a distraction at the prison," Hughes ordered. "Make as much noise as possible. We need Pedro's men otherwise involved so's Kitty can get inside. I'll take another two score with me as backup. The rest o' ye, stay 'ere, keep out o' sight and be ready to cast off on my signal. We'll need to get out o' here sharpish once our lass 'as rescued 'er friends."
"Aye, Captain," Smith nodded dutifully. Hughes clapped him on the shoulder.
"Luck go wi' ye. Now let's be off."
Silent as moonlit shadows, Kitty and the pirates headed into the streets of Rome.
Minutes later…
The guard took a pinch of sniff from a metal can grumbling disgustedly to himself as he made his rounds. His metal cuirass bore the insignia of the Inquisitorial Home Guard, an almost Gestapo-like secret police charged with "securing order" in Rome. But any feelings of patriotism had long since vanished from him, and he swore under his breath at his hard luck. What was the point in patrolling if no one was even out and about? Why couldn't he just go back to the tavern and-
Any further mutinous thoughts vanished like the wind, for as the guard passed a darkened alley, a meaty hand clapped over his mouth and dragged him inside.
The unfortunate Inquisitor almost wet himself with terror at the sight of Black John and his men, and would have begged for mercy if he had not been gagged.
The pirate leader pressed a dagger to his captive's lips. "Where is it?"
"Mmmf?" The Inquisitor made a confused noise, and apparently it was not the answer Hughes desired. The deadly blade pressed against the man's throat, and Hughes gave an almost bestial growl. "Where be the so-called demon? Where is it bein' kept?"
The guard gestured in a particular direction, deeper into the city. "An' what cell might he be bein' held in?" Hughes pressed.
The captive held up five fingers, then two.
"Fifth cell on the second floor, eh?"
The Spaniard nodded vigorously, and Hughes smiled in an almost friendly manner. "Thankee kindly," the pirate said, just before cutting his prisoner's throat.
Kitty felt the bile in her stomach roll, but Hughes merely wiped the dagger on the hem of his coat. "Are ye all right, lass?" he asked, almost apologetically.
"Y-Yes," Kitty stammered. "But was that necessary?"
" 'Fraid so," Hughes said. "If'n I'd let 'im go he'd have warned the rest of Pedro's men and we'd have been slaughtered before we'd taken three more paces. Now c'mon!"
Meanwhile…
The large fortress used by the Inquisition to torture its prisoners was certainly an intimidating sight to most people. Its high walls and battlements lent it a menacing air, and soldiers patrolled the parapets in an almost ceaseless parade of shining weapons and tramping feet. The mouths of cannon bristled on all sides to deter attackers, and any attempt to invade such a structure would certainly have seemed suicidal.
But Mr. Smith and his men were not most people. They had taken several such fortifications during their raids in the Caribbean, each and every one said to be "impregnable". The pirates were old hands at this sort of work, and they had no doubt that this particular fort would fall amidst smoke and fire like all the others.
Though Smith could not have known it, the fort looked much more frightening than it actually was. The cast-iron cannons guarding it were now coated with rust and degraded from disuse, and its garrison was more well-trained in parade ground maneuvers than actual warfare. The soldiers were ill-disciplined and lazy, unlike their approaching foes. Warfare was what these men did for a living.
With a wave of his sword, Smith sent a flurry of iron grapnels sailing through the air, and the barbed claws made a dull clank as they latched onto the stone. With daggers in their teeth, swords at their sides and pistols in their hands, the pirates scaled up the wall on the sturdy ropes in utter, practiced silence.
It was abject misfortune, therefore, that one particular soldier had his back turned at just the right time for Smith and several others to climb over the battlements. One man tiptoed behind the Spaniard, and a tap on his shoulder caused the man to turn around.
With a single swipe, the pirate parted the man's head from his shoulders before ascending the spiral staircase to the ground, his mates close behind him…
Inside the fort's barracks, several officers and men were engaged in a rather high-stakes game of cards. Many others were either asleep in their bunks or tending to their weapons, trying to relive the boredom of yet another-
CRASH!
Something shattered a window, and a flurry of grenadoes rolled along the wooden floorboards. These exploded seconds later, every man inside was either blown to pieces or shredded by shrapnel. The barracks were turned into a bloody slaughterhouse with a few well-placed explosives.
Smith grinned ferally. "Git ready, mates. Someone will have 'eard that…"
At the same time…
Just a few hundred yards away, Black John Hughes smiled to himself. The once-proud fortress was now engulfed in a shroud of smoke, and he could clearly make out the shouts, the firing of pistols and the ringing of swords. Smith had done his job well.
Kitty felt her knees quake slightly as Hughes winked at his men. "Time to throw caution away, lads!" Hughes roared. "Attack!"
Like a tidal wave bristling with deadly metal, the pirates bashed aside the fort's ruined gates and joined the fray. Kitty brandished her sword as well, her heart pounding a relentless tattoo as she neared ever closer to her beloved Kurt. Hughes had held up his end of the deal, and now the young woman slipped unnoticed into the darkness of the prison's catacombs…
The fort had been engulfed in chaos in the wake of the surprise attack. Spaniards and pirates fought everywhere, from the parapets above to the lower levels cluttered with bodies. Everything not made of stone had been put to the torch in the midst of combat, and the fighting in question was unbelievably savage. The opposing sides fought with fists and pistols, blades and belaying pins, with no quarter being given or asked.
The battle was inevitably turning in the pirates' favor. The seasoned killers were faring rather well with the lazy, overfed garrison, with two Spaniards dying for each casualty the pirates suffered.
Hughes drew his sword almost lovingly, parrying a thrust to the stomach and slashing his foe's belly open. The Spaniard dropped like a stone, and Hughes sidestepped a bayonet thrust before shooting its wielder at point-blank range. He then scavenged the fallen man's firearm, and Hughes used the hard wooden stock to deflect a halberd's downward swing. A flick of his wrist sent the Spaniard's weapon spinning away, and Hughes immediately pinned the man on the bayonet's point before using his empty pistol butt to bash another foe's skull in. Bits of brain and blood sprayed Hughes's cheeks, but he didn't even break his stride.
To his left, Hughes saw an Inquisitor approach one of his hearties with a drawn sword. In response the Captain yanked a boarding axe from his belt and threw it with mighty precision. The hatchet's blade almost split the Spaniard's head in two, and Hughes laughed with exultation.
Then, by chancing a look upward, Hughes came eye to eye with Pedro Sanchez.
Hate and rage filled the pirate's very core, and Hughes wielded his blade like the Grim Reaper's scythe as he fought to close with the villainous Spaniard…
While an epic battle raged outside, Kitty sped through the prison's dank and reeking corridors with an almost unnatural speed. Her mind flashed back to the directions given by the doomed Inquisitor, and Kitty accordingly ascended a filth-encrusted staircase that carried her into the dungeon's upper levels. By the time she reached the end of the stairs, Kitty was short of breath and red in the face. But mere exhaustion would not suffice to keep her from achieving her goal. She practically flew down another hallway, and it took a few seconds for Kitty to realize that she had passed the very cell she had been looking for. A quick backtrack down the way she came, and Kitty easily found the cell where Kurt was allegedly being held.
But the voice coming from within was not Kurt's.
Inside the dank and dirty cell, Cardinal Vittorio laughed callously as he described his plan in lurid detail with all the panache and heartlessness of a James Bond villain. In his egomania and supreme overconfidence, it was inconceivable to the old man that his plan could go awry.
And go awry it did, for Kitty flung open the door and pushed Vittorio to the ground. Had she been thinking clearly Kitty probably would have had to kill him, but her joy at seeing Kurt alive overloaded any coherent thought. For his part, Vittorio scrabbled to his feet and disappeared down the hallway.
Kitty didn't even notice his departure. Tears brimmed in her eyes, tears of both joy and sadness, and she cradled Kurt's head in her hands. The golden eyes she had grown to love focused on her, and Kurt's furry fingers clasped around her own with a strength unheard of in such an emaciated state.
With considerable effort, Kurt whispered hoarsely, "Knew…you'd come…for me…"
"Shh," Kitty tried to quiet him. "Do not speak, Kurt. Save your strength."
"But…that man…the Pope…have to stop him…"
"What?"
"The Cardinal you saw…is going to try to kill the Pope…and when he does, I'll be blamed…"
"Then we must stop him!" Kitty said with determination as she helped him up.
"How?" Kurt asked. "We…have no proof…"
"I will think of something," Kitty said shortly. "But first we need to warn His Holiness!"
"Then we should…get going."
Outside in the courtyard…
A dead Spaniard slumped to the ground, covered in blood, and Black John Hughes stepped over the fresh corpse with vengeance in his veins. Come Hell or high water, he vowed, Sanchez would not live to see the dawn.
Many of Pedro's men wouldn't, either.
It would be evident to anyone with half a brain that the battle was lost for the Inquisitors. The elite of Europe's soldiers, the cream of the military crop, fell in droves before Black John's pirates. Like corn before the reaper they were cut down, one by one, and Sanchez occupied himself by seeking any means of escape whilst encouraging his fighters to make a stand.
"Fight, you fools!" Pedro snarled. "They are merely pirates, WE are the soldiers of GOD!"
"An' yet ye act no better than th'likes of me," Hughes stated coldly. "The Good Book says that God is merciful, yet ye showed my mates no such thing when ye gunned 'em down all those years ago. I owe ye a debt in blood, mate, an' I've come to collect!"
Recognition dawned in Pedro's eyes. "Seascum," he spat. "Heathen pirate! You will join the demon at the stake!" With that statement, Sanchez's rapier slithered out of its sheath.
Hughes caressed the edged of his cutlass. "Not if I kill ye first, Spaniard."
The two blades clashed…
Vatican City
Cardinal Vittorio struggled to keep his cool as his feet echoed in the wide corridor. That…girl had been able to free the demon, but the evil Cardinal refused to admit to anyone, even himself, that his plan was in jeopardy. Pedro and his men would no doubt catch the two of them before they escaped, Vittorio reasoned. Granted, there was the distraction of the pirates, but they, too, would be dealt with shortly. Nothing could go wrong.
His withered, clawlike fingers knocked softly upon His Holiness's bedchamber. The door opened, and Pope Gregory XIII's benevolent, smiling face greeted the usurper.
The Cardinal bowed and even smiled back, but inwardly he was fuming at having to grovel to such a soft-hearted wretch. "I brought you your medicine for this evening, Your Holiness," Vittorio said humbly. "I know from experience how the damp night air makes one's bones ache."
"I am most grateful," the Pope said ruefully. "My old joints are creaking like a rusty gate."
"Then I believe this mussel shell and agrimony broth will do you good," Vittorio simpered as he handed the Holy Father the poisoned goblet.
The Pope went to bring the cup to his lips, and Vittorio's eyes widened in triumph-
"STOP!"
Both men turned instinctively at the loud noise, and Cardinal Vittorio was absolutely aghast to find Kitty and her demon lover standing in the doorway to His Holiness's chambers. Upon seeing Kurt, the Pope's hand strayed to the crucifix around his neck…
But Kitty's accusation made him momentarily forget Kurt's bizarre appearance. "Whatever is in that cup, do not drink it!" she cried. "It is poisoned! He," Kitty pointed to the cringing Cardinal, "is trying to kill you so that he might take your place!"
"What? That is absurd!" The Pope replied. "Vittorio has always been loyal."
The creature draped about the young woman's arms spoke, and its voice was dry and parched. "If you do not believe us, then have the Cardinal drink from the goblet. Then we will see."
"A splendid idea," His Holiness agreed. "Would you mind?" he asked, turning to his most "loyal" servant.
The color drained from Vittorio's face, and with shaking hands, he picked up the chalice-
-And threw it across the room. The evil Cardinal used the distraction to grab the Holy Father and lift a dagger to his neck.
The prospect of instant death might intimidate some people, but not the Pope. He just sagged, as if weighed down by sadness, and his voice was filled with the hurt of betrayal. "Why?" His Holiness asked simply.
"Why do you think?" Vittorio hissed in his ear. "You were always to soft, too weak! You never came down hard on the legions of heretics that infest Christendom, you pardoned thousands of the deaths they deserved! But when I take your place, I will expunge every last heretic and every last dissenter from our realm! The fires will burn long and brightly, and you will be forgotten while I live on in greatness!"
"I don't think so."
In his psychopathic rant, Vittorio hadn't noticed the so-called demon sidling up next to him. Something cold and hard pressed against the old man's temple, and Kurt Wagner's voice showed no emotion. "Let him go, and I'll let you keep your life."
"NEVER!"
Vittorio whirled around, plunging the dagger into Kurt's chest-
-But not before the heroic mutant pulled the trigger. There was a flash, a bang, and an instant later, Cardinal Vittorio fell dead to the floor.
Kitty screamed at the hilt that protrude from Kurt's chest, and her arms caught him as he collapsed like a fallen redwood. "No," she sobbed. "No, no, no…"
Kurt gripped her hand suddenly, tugging her ear close to his mouth so he could whisper in her ear.
"I love you."
Then he sagged in her arms, and the tears flowed freely down Kitty's face.
But the Holy Father was not giving up on the mysterious stranger who had saved his life. He tore strips of fabric from his papal robe, staunching the blood flow in order to remove the dagger still lodged in Kurt's body. The Pope pressed an ear to Kurt's mouth. "Do not grieve yet, my child," he told Kitty. "He lives still, but we must act quickly to save him. You will find a needle and thread by my bedside. Would you bring it to me, please?"
Back at the fortress…
Only two men remained inside the dungeon's ruined walls. The pirates had returned to their vessel on their Captain's orders, and the Spaniards were either dead or dying. The buccaneers had carried an overwhelming victory, but one particular Inquisitor was not willing to admit defeat. There would be no victory until one of them slew the other.
Black John Hughes and Pedro Sanchez clashed for what seemed like the millionth time. Neither man had managed to wound the other, and both were beginning to tire. Hughes had discarded his long overcoat, and Pedro had forsaken his cuirass in favor of more speedy attacks. Like savage dogs they had fought, around the walltops, down the stairs, through the courtyard and up the stairs again. Pedro's rapier may have had a longer reach than Hughes's short, heavy cutlass, but it was also more fragile. It was only inevitable that Hughes decided to break Pedro's blade so as to disarm him before running the evil Inquisitor through.
Hughes lunged with a heavy overhand swing, as if to cleave Sanchez in two. Pedro responded just as Hughes had planned, with an overhead block, and the razor-sharp blades rasped together as the two combatants came almost face to face.
"You will die screaming, pirate," Pedro hissed. "I will make you beg for mercy before I finally kill you."
"Ye will not live to see tomorrow, that I promise!" Hughes replied grimly. The old pirate twisted his weapon so as to get Pedro's sword out of the way, and in that split second, he lunged-
-But was stopped by the point of Pedro's main gauche dagger, which the Spaniard had hidden behind his back.
Hughes coughed, and blood spilled onto his beard as Pedro grinned maniacally down at him. "You lose, seascum," he gloated. "And you will burn in the fires of Hell forever."
But the pirate was not one to just lie down and perish. With all the fight left in his scarred body, Black John Hughes drew a pistol and pointed it right between Pedro's eyes. "If that…be the case, Sanchez…I'll be havin' some company…"
The last thing Pedro Sanchez ever saw was the flash of gunpowder.
The Spaniard slumped against the walls, dead as a doornail, and Hughes's voice still retained a touch of his old humor as he collapsed alongside his fallen enemy.
The pirate grinned crookedly. "In all my life…I never did a damn thing worth doin' till now…I think I'd rather die savin' lives rather than takin' 'em…" His heart began to slow, and Hughes blinked his eyes blearily. "Wait fer me, my ol' shipmates…I'll see ye…soon enough…"
A harsh rattle escaped the man's lips, and Black John Hughes died.
But strangely, he was smiling.
The Vatican
Kitty felt like she would die from worry. Almost an hour had passed since Vittorio's final act of malice, and in that time the Pope had called his personal healers and physicians to try and save Kurt's life. Now the wait seemed an eternity, and her heart ached for news, any news, about the state of her friend's health.
The Holy Father, seated next to her, clasped her hand in a comforting gesture. "Have faith," he said simply. "It will be all right." To be perfectly honest, the Pope wasn't too optimistic on Kurt's chances for survival, but this young lady didn't need to know that. His heart hung heavy in his chest, weighted down by the tales Kitty had told of the Inquisition's savagery, of their gleeful torment of the one called Kurt. His Holiness was now utterly convinced that the young man was not demonic or supernatural in nature; the misshapen young one had even risked, and quite possibly sacrificed, his life. To do all that even after being treated so… The Pope shook his head sadly. The boy was so pure inside, but no one had ever bothered to look past his appearance… If the young man survived the night, the Holy Father vowed, he would place both him and the girl under his personal protection, free of persecution forever.
Then his thoughts were diverted, for one of the surgeons had emerged from the makeshift sickbay. The Pope's voice was grave. "What news?"
The doctor shook his head in bewilderment. "I can hardly believe it myself, Holy Father, but the blue one lives. Granted, he is malnourished and possessing a variety of injuries, but with time he should make a full recovery. The Lord has surely shown favor upon him, for I have seen stronger men die from lesser injuries."
Kitty gave a hoarse, wordless shout of unbridled joy, and her feet practically flew across the floor as she hurried to see her beloved.
The doctor went to stop her, but the Pope gently restrained him. "Let them have some time," he said. "The poor girl has been worried sick about him."
"You don't mean—" The surgeon's voice rose with disbelief.
"It is true," His Holiness murmured, "that love comes in even the most peculiar forms…"
Kurt Wagner opened his eyes blearily. The corners of his vision were fuzzy, but the mutant was far from complaining. He hadn't expected to open his eyes ever again after Vittorio plunged a blade in his chest. He hurt, but not as much as he would have expected. Kurt assumed that a healer or someone else of the medical profession had given him some kind of painkilling herb.
Then a massive weight pressed on his chest, but even though the pressure pained his aching body, Kurt's heart soared with joy as Kitty buried her face in his shoulder.
"I thought you were dead," she sniffled quietly once she had gotten a hold on her emotions.
"I wouldn't die that easily," Kurt joked, but then his voice turned sober. "Are they still going to kill me?"
"Are you jesting?" Kitty arched an eyebrow. "You saved the Pope's life , Kurt. Think about that for a moment."
"So I'm in the clear?" he asked hopefully.
"We both are," Kitty replied with a smile. "And His Holiness has assured me that the Inquisition will never come near us again. He was quite angry when I told him about what they did to you."
"Weren't you…with someone? I could have sworn he looked like a pirate."
Sadness crossed Kitty's face. "His name was Hughes, Kurt. I hired him to ferry me here, and he voluntarily assisted me in trying to free you. They found his body in the fort where you were being held…alongside the corpse of Pedro Sanchez."
"Hughes killed him?"
"Most likely," Kitty nodded.
"Saves me the trouble," Kurt snorted. "But still… from what you've said, he didn't bad as pirates go."
Kitty merely nodded, but Kurt cupped her chin underneath a furry finger. His golden eyes gazed into hers, and in those eyes Kitty saw her entire future, a future with Kurt always by her side.
His voice was husky. "I've…been waiting so long to do this…I love you, Kitty."
She smiled back. "I love you too, Kurt."
And with a slow, cherished kiss, the pain and agony of the past months washed away like dirt under a heavy rain. Everything else on Earth was forgotten as Kitty and Kurt embraced.
The future, their future, lay ahead of them both.
~The End~
A/N: WOW! That was a long chapter! XD I hope you all have enjoyed this last, and greatest installment of "Hunted and Hated", and I thank all of you for your continued readership and warm reviews (and speaking of reviews: I did try to make this last installment epic and action-packed, and I would REALLY like to hear your opinion of it, especially the fight scenes! ^^) I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! And for the record, the readers have spoken! By almost unanimous vote, it has been decided that my next installment will be "Devil of the Sea"! So keep a weather eye on the horizon, for this author is far from done!
Your humble servant,
-Quill N. Inque