Chapter 3 – Kurt of America
Author's notes – Happy New Year! Now for the first chapter of 2015. Birusa – thanks for the review. As requested, here is the next chapter.
Kurt checked the map, and then examined his surroundings. It did not seem that far to the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, but he did not want to risk teleporting there, just in case. Teleporting somewhere that he had never been before was dangerous, and he had learned from bitter experience that teleporting was something that should only be attempted when there was little alternative. Besides, he wanted to get familiar with his surroundings, since he was apparently going to be in this place for quite some time. To his right there was a series of shops, and a bank at the corner of the road. That reminded him, he had to change his money into American currency, although that could wait until tomorrow. To his left there was a park, and it looked like cutting across that park would be the quickest – not to mention the most scenic – way in which he could reach his destination. He started to walk through the park, and, for the first time since arriving in America, began to relax a little, as he listened to the birds chirping in the trees. This reminded him a bit of a park back in Germany, the one where the circus had set up during the summer, and the place where Kurt had had his first, and so far only, paid work.
Although his parents had quite happily paid for all of his needs, Kurt had become frustrated with having to stay inside, having to stay hidden all of the time. This had only exacerbated when his oldest brother had got a Saturday job in a local bookstore, and his oldest sister had got a job waiting tables at a local coffee shop. Though they had both complained about the occasional customer that had been practically impossible to please, they had both claimed to generally love their work, their chance to share their knowledge, and to interact with the public in a friendly manner. Of course, earning their own money had helped immensely with their self-esteem, not to mention their financial independence. So Kurt had asked his parents if he could apply to do some similar work, only to be told, kindly, gently, but nevertheless firmly, that it was too dangerous. Kurt understood, but still felt frustrated. That was when his oldest sister had told them that the circus was coming to town, and that they were looking for someone who could work as a Magician's Assistant. She also claimed that she had overheard the conversation of the circus folk while she was giving them their drinks, and that they had said that they already had several mutants working for them, and would be quite prepared to employ another, as long as the mutant had the required skills, or was prepared to work hard to get those skills. Kurt had then pleaded with his parents to let him at least try, pointing out that, if the worst came to the worst and they did want to harm him, he could always use his recently acquired ability to teleport to get himself to safety. And so they had, with a little reluctance, agreed, and the next day he had gone to meet with the circus owner.
He need not have worried. She was an understanding lady, who had met, and indeed employed, many mutants at her circus. She did not care what Kurt looked like, just that he was willing to work hard. She had agreed to give Kurt a trial period of a week, to see if he was suited to the circus environment, and, just as importantly, to see whether or not the circus life was suitable for him. The next day, Kurt had started working as a Magician's Assistant, hiding in boxes and under trap-doors as a part of a magic trick. His parents had, understandably enough, been worried for his welfare, and so had been given tickets to come and see him as often as they wanted, and Kurt had always scanned the audience, knowing that few days would pass without at least one member of his family coming to watch him perform. He had assured them that the closest that he had ever gotten to being imprisoned in a cage had been hiding in one of the magic boxes, and that he was well looked after by all of the circus folk, who were quickly coming to see him as something of a mascot. And so, after the wonderful week of performing had passed, he had been really worried when the circus owner had asked to see his parents once more, claiming that she did not think that Kurt should be a Magician's Assistant any more.
Kurt had been devastated to hear that, wondering what he had done wrong, and if there was any way in which he could earn a second chance. But his fears had been alleviated, when the circus owner had told his parents that she felt that Kurt's talents were being wasted hiding away in boxes and under trap-doors, that he should be using his unique mutant abilities to entertain and awe the crowd – with extra money being paid to represent his increased responsibility of course – and then asked his parents if they would be willing for Kurt to train as an acrobat, to learn how to perform on the high wire and the trapeze, along with the other acrobats. Kurt had been really enthusiastic to learn these new skills, and his parents had proudly agreed, hugging Kurt so hard that he could hardly breathe.
And the next six weeks had been some of the happiest of Kurt's life, as he had learned the skills of being a circus acrobat, pushing his mutant talents to the limit, rather than limiting their use. Every night he had performed in front of the awed crowd, wowing them with his abilities, and he had quickly become the star performer of the show. Kurt had loved the attention, now that it was in safe environment, where he was doing what he truly loved, but not nearly as much as he had loved the proud look on the faces of his family members, when he had enthusiastically told them about the latest routine he had learned, or he saw them in the audience, their faces almost bursting with pride. It had been hard work, long hours with a great deal of time spent rehearsing, getting the technique exactly right, but Kurt had loved every minute of it, and had been disappointed when the time finally came for the circus to move on, to the next town, knowing that he could not go with them. But he had earned quite a lot of money in those wonderful few weeks, money that would no doubt prove useful now that he was in America, and now that he was disguised in a way which meant that he could spend it in the shops over here, just like any normal teenager.
"Hey, you!" Kurt heard a female voice call out, distracting him from his thoughts.
He looked down at himself quickly, suddenly afraid that his wonderful watch had failed, revealing his blue, fuzzy form to the world, but he was still his disguised self, still looked - for want of a better term – normal. "What?" he asked, unable to keep the worry from his voice.
"You boy, shouldn't you be in school?" Kurt turned, to see a woman with long blonde hair, who was pushing a pram with a toddler in it. The woman came closer to Kurt, who quickly checked behind himself, to make sure that his tail was not visible.
Kurt smiled at her, "I just got here from Germany," he said, "I won't be starting school until Monday. I'm on a cultural exchange programme," he added, "learning more about America and visiting relatives. I'm going to Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters right now, to get my papers and stuff…" Kurt's voice trailed off, and he wondered if it really was wise to tell a stranger so much information about himself.
"You are from Germany?" the woman asked.
Kurt nodded, "Bavaria to be exact," he said.
He watched her carefully. I hope she does not hate Germans, he thought to himself. There could be no denying that there had been a great deal of conflict between Germany and America over the last hundred years or so, even though the First World War, at least, had been as much about class conflict as conflict between nations. Still, old fears and hatreds had a nasty habit of lasting, and could unfortunately be passed down from one generation to another. He waited with bated breath, to see how the woman would respond.
"Oh, I love Germany!" she said enthusiastically, picking up the toddler, and cuddling her gently, "That's where they make cars and chocolate, right?"
"Um, among other things," Kurt muttered, watching her with a kind of bemused friendliness.
"You speak English very well," she said, turning her attention back to Kurt.
Kurt grinned at her, "Thanks," he said, "my favourite English word is 'parsimonious', there's something just so fundamentally funny about a complicated word meaning to keep things as simple as possible."
"I like labradoodle," the woman replied, "when I feel sad or upset, I just say 'labradoodle' over and over again, and when I have said it maybe eight or ten times, I always feel better." She turned her attention back to her toddler, "Labradoodle," she said, and the toddler laughed, "Labradoodle, labradoodle, labradoodle!"
Kurt grinned as he watched her. He had heard that Americans were generally friendly, and this lady certainly qualified, even if she was a bit strange. Still, he certainly preferred someone being a little bit eccentric, when compared to the HDL obsessives that he had recently heard about. "Um, excuse me," he said, as the lady continued to make her toddler laugh, "do you know the quickest way that I can reach the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters?"
The lady looked down at him, as though she had momentarily forgotten he was there, "Oh yes!" she said enthusiastically, "That's where gifted children go to school, where their special talents can be nurtured. It's not that far, just a little way further on from the park," she waved her hand in the general direction where Kurt had been heading, and then turned back to her toddler, "Labradoodle, labradoodle, labradoodle!" she said.
Kurt gave her a slightly bemused look, "Thank you," he said, before walking off in the way that she had indicated. Well, that was my first ever interaction with an American, he thought. He shrugged, and continued on his way. His watch seemed to be working, no one seemed to be paying him much attention as he made his way through the park; they would have surely noticed if his tail had been showing, or if they knew that he was in fact blue and furry. He started to relax once more. His knowledge about America came mostly from the films and television shows that he had watched back in Germany, which was also the main way in which he had learned English. Looking back, those films had been pretty silly, although he had enjoyed them immensely while he had been watching them. There was usually an all-American hero with a square jaw and perfect teeth, who had managed to save America, and possibly the world, from a threat such as aliens or some kind of monsters, which were keen on destroying America's landmarks with their impressive special effects. Looking around, there did not seem to be any monsters of any kind currently terrorising America, and no all-American hero just waiting to fight them. Of course, real problems were never as straightforward as that, always required a lot of thought and co-operation, never just the action of one hero coming along and saving everyone and then riding off into the sunset. And so Kurt's mind drifted back to the HDL, and what exactly they intended to do to mutants like him if they got the chance. He looked down at his watch, which was still nearly fully charged. What if it were to suddenly stop working, showing his real form to the world? Of course he could teleport to safety, but if someone were to see him as he really was, then there was always the possibility that they would want to find him, interrogate him or worse. It was a worry, and even with his mutant abilities, there was no guarantee that he would be able to reach safety.
He looked up, and saw that he had reached the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. This seemed to be a mansion, surrounded by gardens, and there was a swimming pool around the back of this mansion. He carefully walked around the place, examining the building. So this was a place for gifted youngsters, was it? Gifted in what way? Those with very high intelligences, musical and artistic ability and the like, or those with…different talents…mutant talents? Kurt shook his head. Well, not everything in the world was about mutants and after all, this could simply be a place where those with natural abilities learned to use them to their full potential. Still, if Magneto was involved in this Institute, there was a very real chance that it did have something to do with mutants.
Magneto's given me a whole bunch of half-answers, Kurt thought to himself, but I've been dragged here against my will, so I deserve to know the whole truth. And if he's not going to give it to me, then I'm just going to have to take it for myself! He looked down at his disguised self, nodding in satisfaction, since his watch was still hiding his true form, and then inched closer to the Institute. He intended to teleport onto the grounds of the Institute, and from there to look into one of the windows, to see what was inside, and then to hide, in the shadows, listening to those inside talking, until he found out information about what exactly Magneto was up to, and where he was located, and then he intended to teleport to wherever he was, and once again hide in the shadows, listening as Magneto talked to this Xavier person.
That had been the intention, but not what had actually happened. He teleported onto the grounds of the Institute, and the moment that he did so, alarm sirens started to sound, and what looked like a laser gun seemed to immerge from the ground, and aim itself at him. Kurt jumped back, and them teleported away as swiftly as he had come, hiding inside one of the nearby bushes as he got his breath back. "What is this place?" he quietly asked of himself, as he watched Magneto emerge from the Institute, accompanied by a bald man in a wheelchair.
"…of course, that is a distinct possibility," said the man in the wheelchair, "nevertheless, Magneto, let us not forget that it was quite possibly a coincidence, and that there are any number of potential reasons for the alarm going off just at that moment."
Magneto snorted, "Any number of potential reasons why we should have been interrupted just when we were discussing issues concerning mutant safety and what needs to be done concerning this? Such as what, exactly?"
The man in the wheelchair sighed, "I do get your point, and as you say, it is a distinct possibility that someone was keen to interrupt our meeting for their own political agenda. But it could still have been nothing more than a coincidence, a cat managing to get into the wrong place at just that moment, or something similar."
"Mystique can turn herself into a cat," Magneto said. Both men looked at each other, sharing long and knowing looks. Kurt felt a desperate desire to get closer to them, to find out more, but was afraid to interrupt their conversation.
The man in the wheelchair sighed, "Indeed, but I can hardly see what she would have to gain by interrupting our conversation at this time. Besides, I hear that she is to meet with her son after finishing school. Tell me, how is Kurt?"
Kurt's ears pricked up upon hearing his name, and he leaned in closer, as Magneto replied, "It's hard to say for certain. The boy seems fairly well-adjusted, all things considered, especially considering that he is blue and furry. It seems that his adoptive parents have looked after him at least reasonably well. But he has been less than thrilled at the prospect of being forced to move all the way over here."
His companion sighed, "Understandable, given the circumstances, especially considering how little say Kurt has had in this. Besides, a sixteen year old boy is understandably rebellious and keen to push boundaries. I would recommend continuing to demonstrate understanding and sympathy towards his situation at this time."
Magneto shook his head, "Perhaps you are right, it can't be easy for the poor boy, and he must be under a lot of stress at the thought of meeting his real mother for the first time in over sixteen years. I would like to be a fly on the wall when that conversation happens," he added.
The man in the wheelchair looked down at his watch, "That should be happening pretty soon," he said, giving Magneto a small smile, "Mystique will have finished school by now, and should be nearly home at the Brotherhood Boarding House…"
Kurt turned his attention back to his own watch. He did not know what time school typically finished in America, but was pretty sure that his biological mother – this Mystique by the sound of it – would want him to be there waiting for him when she arrived back. Kurt mentally cursed himself for losing track of time, as he gave the two old men one more irritated glance, then teleported back to his room in the Brotherhood Boarding House.
There was someone in his room. This someone was going through his books, and turned around in shock when Kurt suddenly immerged in a cloud of foul smelling smoke. Kurt glared at him. He seemed to be about the same age as Kurt, but slightly smaller, and a there was rather unpleasant odour coming from him. He hopped aside when he saw Kurt, one of Kurt's books still under his arm. Kurt glared at him.
"Who're you?" the boy asked. "What're you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question," Kurt growled, "give me back my book!"
"This?" the boy looked at it, "The Neverending Story, say, wasn't that made into a film years ago?"
"Yes," said Kurt, "now give it back," he launched himself towards the boy, who hopped aside again like an amphibian, and began crawling up the nearest wall.
The boy opened the book, and began to look through it, "Hey, how come it's translated into German?" he asked.
"It was originally in German," Kurt said, teleporting to the ceiling and reaching a hand down to retrieve the book, "now give it back." Kurt grabbed the boy's smelly shirt, and both of them fell to the floor, as Kurt tried to retrieve his book, and the annoying boy tried to prevent him from doing so.
"Say, what are you anyway?" asked the boy as he grabbed Kurt's tail and examined the spade at the end of it. Kurt looked down and realised that his watch had fallen off in their fight. His companion could clearly see that he was blue and furry, with pointed ears and a tail. Kurt decided that questions could be asked later, and used his foe's momentary distraction to try and retrieve his book.
That had been the plan, anyway, but a moment later the boy had him on the floor once more, and they were fighting with each other, Kurt desperately trying to retrieve his book, and the other boy determined to keep it from him.
Then the door suddenly burst open, and a tall blue lady with red hair entered the room, and stared down at where Kurt was fighting with the other boy on the floor. "Good afternoon Kurt," she said, staring down at where the two boys had suddenly paused in their fighting, "I am Mystique, your real mother."