Part Three
The mansion's basketball court slid open and a stray orange ball dropped into the widening chasm, bouncing off the X-Men's sleek black jet as it rose from the sophisticated hangar underneath.
"Ach!" Nightcrawler winced, leaning far over the jet's control panel to watch the rogue ball continue to bounce on the hangar's metal floor far below. "Let's hope that didn't mark the paint job, ja?"
"Damn kids," Wolverine grunted from the seat behind him, speaking around his unlit cigar. "They know they're supposed to keep that court clear."
"At least we know they're using it," Storm pointed out from the co-pilot's seat, watching the court close up again as the jet continued to rise. "If you ask me, these kids don't spend nearly enough time outdoors."
"Yeah, sure." Wolverine smirked, extending three long adamantium claws from his fist with a sharp SNIKT! "We'll see how many games they can play with a flat ball."
Nightcrawler snickered, but Storm looked disapproving. "There are better ways to teach responsibility, Logan," she said.
"None as fun for me," the rugged Canadian shot back, retracting his claws and folding his thick arms behind his head. "Nice lift-off, Elf. Barely felt a thing back here. Even with that orange bogey bouncin' off our nose."
Nightcrawler smiled happily. When Storm and Professor Xavier had initially encouraged the shy teleporter to begin flight training, the Professor had told him that his quick reflexes and acute sense of spatial perception would make him an exceptional pilot. Still, it felt good to hear the prickly Wolverine actually praise the new skills he'd been working so hard to learn.
"Danke, mein Freund," he said, adjusting his headset with his tail as he sped the sleek jet high, high over the trees. "Our course is officially logged and set, and we should arrive in Las Vegas by 1300 hours, local time. That should give us a chance to explore and maybe find some lunch before the show!"
Wolverine sat up, his low brow furrowed. "You expectin' to explore the Strip?"
Wolverine's tone was hardly unexpected, but Nightcrawler winced again and lowered his head, his shoulders hunching.
"Yes. Well… That is – I thought…"
Storm glanced at him with some concern. "Kurt? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just…" He squeezed the jet's controls hard, then relaxed his grip and sighed. "I probably should have told you earlier," he said with some difficulty.
"Told us what, kid?" Wolverine pressed.
"Here." Nightcrawler reached his tail over the back of his chair, the spade wrapped around a small metallic cylinder he'd unclipped from his beltloop. Wolverine stretched forward to take it, curiously turning the small device over and over in his hands.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Press the button," Nightcrawler told him. "The big one, near the top."
Wolverine did, shielding his eyes with his arm as he was engulfed in a sudden shimmer of light.
"Huh! What just happened?"
Storm looked over her shoulder and gasped. Instead of the gruff, thickset Wolverine, she saw a lean, slender man with dark hair and a chiseled jaw. A man who looked strangely familiar…
"Kurt, is that—"
"Stewart Granger," Nightcrawler confirmed with a wicked smile, his golden eyes gleaming impishly. "Star of Scaramouche – the film with the longest uninterrupted sword fight in cinematic history."
"The hell is this, Elf!" Wolverine snarled, pressing the button again and again. Each time, the image masking his rugged features flickered and changed, shifting to—
"Well, that is Jimmy Stewart. You know, Destry Rides Again?" Nightcrawler identified, working hard not to laugh as, through the parade of holograms, Wolverine's expression got angrier and angrier. "There's Leslie Howard. Ach – Cagney! That one's Errol Flynn. Basil Rathbone. Harpo Marx - he clashed blades with the baddies in A Night In Casablanca. Stan Laurel. Danny Kaye – Ororo, have I yet shown you his marvelous film, The Court Jester?"
"Actually, I don't think—"
"Enough with the old-timey actors!" Wolverine cut her off. "How do I turn this blasted thing off!"
"Hold the button down," Nightcrawler told him.
The image of Danny Kaye shimmered out. Wolverine looked down at his own blunt fingers with a grunt of satisfaction.
Storm raised a regal eyebrow, though Nightcrawler could tell from the twitch at the corner of her lips – she was struggling as much as he was not to burst into giggles.
"Care to explain, Kurt?" she said.
He shrugged, still smiling, though his earlier discomfort had started to creep back into his eyes.
"Herr Professor calls it an 'image inducer,'" he said, his snake-like tail snatching it back from Wolverine and handing it over for Storm's inspection. "It's like…like a costume I can clip to my belt. He had it made for me by a man named Forge."
"That the same Forge who's been helping the Prof with the upgrades to Cerebro, the Danger Room, and the mansion's security system?" Wolverine asked.
"Ja, that's him," Nightcrawler confirmed. "From what I understand, his mutant gift involves a powerful affinity for machines. I think he may be part machine himself."
"He designed this at the Professor's request…" Storm rumbled, an undercurrent of anger in her voice as she narrowed her eyes at the shiny little cylinder, then handed it back to Nightcrawler. "And you intend to use it when we arrive in Las Vegas?"
"I have been considering it, ja," Nightcrawler admitted, his tail twitching uncomfortably. "I…would not wish my appearance to…to attract questions or, God forbid, cause a scene. You know?"
"It's Vegas, Elf. I don't think you or the Prof need to be that concerned," Wolverine growled. "Place is prolly crawlin' with costumes. Fan conventions, celebrity impersonators—"
"Ja, exactly," Nightcrawler said, a little sharply. "I know how to hide myself in plain sight, Logan. Pretending my blue skin is just make-up, that my hands are gloves and my tail merely a clever prop. It is how I got away with performing at school events and public parades outside the circus. With this…" He rubbed the shiny cylinder thoughtfully with his thumb. "I would not have to make such excuses."
"It's still a costume, Kurt," Storm said. "You'll still be hiding. And if this…hologram projector…should malfunction—"
"I know, Ororo," Nightcrawler told her. "I know it's a lie. When the Professor gave it to me… Honestly, I did not know how to feel."
He sighed through his nose and shook his head.
"All I want is a fun day out with my friends. No trouble. If this…device…can give me that…"
He clipped it back onto his belt loop and shrugged, fixing his golden gaze on the horizon ahead.
"Maybe the lie may be worth it, for a time. Nein?"
Wolverine looked thoughtful, his flinty eyes softening a little as he considered all that lurked unsaid behind his friend's words.
"So, who're ya goin' as?" he asked.
"You'll see when we get there," Nightcrawler said cryptically, his scarred face burning deep purple when he caught Storm's curious look. "But, let us talk about something else, ja? This will be my first time seeing the American West! Are there any special landmarks we should be looking out for?"
"Well, I've heard the Grand Canyon's not too far from the city," Storm told him. "At least, by jet. Perhaps we could circle around there before landing."
"Wunderbar!" Nightcrawler grinned, his tail swaying with excitement. "I wonder if we'll be able to see how deep it really is from the air. Logan, have you ever been to see the Grand Canyon?"
As the conversation shifted and the jet flew on, Kurt brushed his fingers past the dangling image inducer to touch the wooden rosary he always kept in his pocket.
He'd told Logan the truth when he said he was used to hiding his mutations in plain sight. He hadn't told of the terror-filled times the brazen ruse had failed him…the broken ribs, smashed bottles, and gleaming switchblades…the hateful slurs that still pained his heart, his mind…
He didn't want his friends to see that…to draw them into a fight that could easily be avoided…
...as long as he hid his true self.
His jaw tightened, his mind swirling with uncomfortable thoughts. How would Ororo react to his disguise? How would he react if…
If she should like what she saw…?
Kurt drew in a long breath, then let it out, squeezing the rosary's smooth beads tightly in his hand. I should be thankful for the small miracles, he told himself. The miracle that I should be flying this incredible jet. The miracle that my sister has found me after all this time. That my dear friends are here, happy to share this reunion with me…
He smiled, feeling his heart regain its customary cheer. Working in concert, he and Storm adjusted their course to circle over the Grand Canyon, the three of them marveling through the windscreen at the jutting Skywalk, the majestic striated cliffs, the rushing river far below. Touching down at a private airport just outside Las Vegas, Storm had Nightcrawler taxi the jet on his own, following the signs and guideposts to their designated gate, then powering the craft down.
As they prepared to exit the craft with their packs – stuffed with evening wear, sleep wear, essential toiletries, and their uniforms – Kurt hung back. Once Logan had disembarked, he pressed the image inducer's smaller button, flinching when the mask of light covered his shadowy form.
"Ororo," he said quietly, standing straight with his chin up and his tail wrapped around his waist, where it wouldn't show through the hologram.
"Yes, Kurt?" Ororo glanced up from her pack. "Did you remember to— Oh…!"
She trailed off, needing a moment to recognize the man in front of her. Without his blue skin, powerful tail, and pointed, elfish ears Kurt looked younger, smaller. The holographic image even hid his scars.
Storm's wide-eyed expression made Kurt want to kick himself. He could have disguised himself as Errol Flynn – why had he chosen to mask his own mutant features with this illusion of normalcy?
Turning toward the exit door, Kurt swallowed hard and ducked his head, feeling his heart clench, his face burning…
Damn you, Charles, Storm projected, not caring if the Professor picked up on the thought or not. Rushing forward, she grabbed Kurt's arm, his hand. The way the pale, holographic fingers remained paired, like the Vulcan salute, only reinforced the fact that what she was seeing was only an image. Behind the blue irises and dark chestnut curls, Kurt's golden eyes were staring out at her, and she wanted to see them – to see him.
"Kurt," she said. "I want you to hear me, OK? It's a very nice image. You're a very handsome man. But in all honesty…" Holding down the button on his image inducer, she watched the illusion flicker away, then pressed a kiss to Kurt's midnight lips. "I prefer the real you," she said, staring straight into his shining yellow eyes. "Believe that."
Kurt's breath hitched, and he touched a hand to his lips, his smile tender as he gently reached out to smooth her hair behind her ear. "I do, meine Liebe," he told her, leaning in closer. "Wholeheartedly."
Ororo smiled back, meeting his lips for another, longer kiss. This one was deeper, more passionate, and she felt her eyes close, his tail twining around her… A surge of electricity shot up her spine, through her fingers; an impossible breeze rose to lift her hair, swirling, spinning around them both…
"Unglaublich," Kurt whispered, his low voice bright with awe as he held his hand to hers, feeling the electricity crackle between them.
"Beautiful," she whispered back, tracing her slender fingers over the point of his ear…the raised patterns on his indigo cheek.
Kurt's smile broadened and he kissed her again, his tail waving happily behind him as he held her close in his arms. "I love you, you know," he whispered against her hair. "And…I will need you out there. On the street, in the open… It will not be like it was when I hid myself in the spotlight. Should the press of the crowds become too great—"
"Kurt, it's all right," she assured him, brushing his wavy hair from his troubled forehead. "I'll be right here with you. Besides, only Logan and I will know that behind this false façade," she flicked the image inducer, "the man they see is really the Incredible Nightcrawler. All right?"
"Ja…" Kurt nodded, and Ororo smiled to see his familiar playful confidence re-energize his posture. "Ja! Let's do this!"
Reactivating the masking image, Kurt slung his pack over his shoulder and held a pale hand out to her. Ororo willingly took it, giving his thick fingers a squeeze as they headed for the exit.
"Kurt," she warned. "Tail."
"Ach!" The snake-like tail disappeared beneath the hologram, and Kurt's pale face reddened. "Danke, meine Schatz."
"Come on," she said, already heading down the ramp. "I want to see if Logan will recognize our own swashbuckling celebrity."
Kurt blinked, then laughed. "Meine Dame, you flatter me."
"Not at all," she said. "Raise the ramp and secure the jet. I'll go find Logan."
To Be Continued…
Hi everyone! Thanks for reading my story! :)
Next time, I figure I'll let the three friends have some fun exploring the Las Vegas strip before the darker, more plotty plot stuff kicks in. But something...or someone...may be watching.
Stay tuned, and please let me know what you think so far! :)