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December 27th, 2000, 03:40 AM
#1
Inactive Member
Well, during my slow days at work I've been working on a story. Beware all, it's long all ready and it's not done yet. I've just reached a writer's block. My fuzzy blue muse took a vacation for a while methinks. I'm open to feedback and ideas for where to take it, as I'd like to finish it. BTW, it's set right before the 1999 Dream?s End/Shattering (everybody thinks Xavier?s cracked, again) storyline. Here we go:
I don't belong here, he thought. This is pointless. He sighed - quietly, ever quiet, can't make noise - and settled his cleft chin on his forearms.
The room below was abuzz with activity, but he didn't see it. His mind wandered. The figures scurried from console to console, airtight suits rustling in the deafening quiet. It didn't matter. He was in England; things were so much simpler, happier, then. With his mind's eye he could see them, his team, his responsibility.
Why did I come back? He sighed again, closing his eyes; his friends were calling him. No. His eyes snapped open again. I must pay attention.
He watched the lab techs scurry below him. They looked like big white ants to him, and were about as interesting. They were slightly blurry from the biofilter and goggles he viewed them through. Really blurry, actually.
I can't see, this is ridiculous, he thought. Chewing his lip for a moment, he made his decision, peeling the dark goggles from his face. There's no way they can see my eyes way up here. All they see is what's directly in front of them, and, I think, not even that.
With an exercise of will he wasn't sure he possessed anymore he stopped his tail from switching and propped himself up on his elbows, peering down into the room. The air vent?s biofilter cast a sickly yellow light on his face, emphasizing the glow of his eyes.
This is one fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Wagner, he thought. You could have stayed in Excalibur. But no-ho, you had to come back to look for Xavier. And look what he does when you find him!
The hours ticked by slowly, he watched passively, noting the movements of a few technicians, ignoring others. At long last, the clock struck five and the whited-suited ants filed out.
Kurt backed his way down his ventilation duct. Recalling the schematic he had memorized, he counted off the sections of smooth metal in his mind. He finally stopped and produced a small metal cylinder from his belt. He depressed a button, spraying its contents into the air and teleported.
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He reappeared in a dark, dank passageway under the building. Slogging through the water that perpetually stood in the storm drain he made his way to the end of the tunnel and stopped just short of the reach of the dimming light. He flipped on his image inducer and peeked outside, looking for movement or signs of discovery before making his way to the hidden car.
The hotel was miles away, and it was easier to look normal and drive than to 'port back and forth. He flipped on the radio and allowed his mind to wander as he drove.
I hope this is over soon, he thought. Charles is clearly mad. As much as I hate to admit it, that Cajun rat is right. I should be in Westchester where I could be of help. I'm clearly not learning anything here.
He had been so happy to come here three weeks ago. The professor had called him to his study late in the evening.
"Nightcrawler, I need you to do something for me," he had said. "I believe the government may have a cure to the Legacy virus. They will never share it with us after the?Onslaught incident." His mouth had twisted with his own disgust.
"What do you need, Herr Professor?"
"I need you to steal it for me."
Kurt had been shocked. Wouldn't Storm or Gambit be better suited for that, he had asked. The professor had explained that with Cyclops gone, Storm was needed here as team leader and Gambit could not be trusted. His powers, teleportation to get him in and out and near invisibility in darkness, made him the obvious choice.
Kurt had been honored that Charles had trusted him with such a task. He had not felt at home since returning to the X-Men. Charles still saw him as the naive team mascot instead of the competent former leader of Excalibur. This was his chance to prove himself to Charles. He had boarded a commercial flight to Georgia the next day.
The professor had set everything up for him. Image inducers, neutralizers to block the stench of his brimstone, surveillance and computer equipment and the schematics of his target; the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta. Charles believed the cure rested there and Kurt's mission was to find it and return to Westchester with it.
Twenty-two long, disappointing days later, Kurt still made his calls to Charles nightly, but he no longer believed the cure was in the CDC. The man was rabid, insisting that it was there if he would just keep looking. He recorded all their secured phone conversations and made him follow a standard report format every night. Kurt's requests to come home or speak to Storm were flatly denied. No one knew he was in Atlanta, Charles had said. And no one would.
So Kurt carried on.
Later that night he reported to Charles in a monotone that he still could find no reference of any work being done on the Legacy virus.
"I've seen AIDS, anthrax, hanta and I got to see a big ol' vial of ebola," he laughed nervously. "But no Legacy. Professor, I..."
"Very good, Nightcrawler. Keep looking. Xavier out." Click.
"...was wondering if you fell on your head recently," he finished with a dispirited growl.
He went to bed shortly after that. His dreams were filled with dark air ducts. He was lost. He couldn?t remember the way out and he couldn't teleport. He was burning up, infected with a dozen diseases. He would die in those ducts. No one would look for him; no one would ever know where he was. He would die alone, and not even Charles Xavier cared.
He woke in a cold sweat. Sleep never returned.
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He had passed this particular vent every day on his way to spy on the top-secret labs. He had no idea why he stopped to look this time. Boredom maybe, or a desire to see other people. People not cocooned in white plastic body bags.
Stop it, Wagner, he thought. You're being morbid.
But he couldn't shake the sinking feeling he had had ever since that dream last night. He shuddered, fingering the biofilter mask he had slung around his neck this morning. He had quit wearing it after the first week, once he learned the vent he perpetually hid behind was already filtered. But today, after that dream, he needed the reassurance of the mask. He'd be damned if he was going to die in here!
He crept up to the vent and peered in; the room was mostly empty except for row upon row of caged mice and a computer console next to a long table. A refrigerator, some unidentifiable lab equipment and a few file cabinets were the only other furniture.
He looked at those mice and shuddered again.
That's me, he thought. Trapped, caged like an animal, running this metal maze every day for a madman...
He dropped his train of thought as two people entered the room. They were chatting about their breakfasts, bantering like old friends.
The man was tall and thin with a bookwormish air, his hair was shot through with gray and his glasses kept sliding down his long nose. The woman looked small beside him, her short black hair obscured most of her face from his angle of view.
They puttered about the room for a few moments, donning lab coats, talking to the mice and fiddling with, what looked like to Kurt, a huge baby incubator. The woman picked a cage of mice from the wall and placed it in the incubator. She sealed the door and pressed a button as the man scribbled on a pad.
Kurt watched with horrified interest as the mice dropped one by one.
"Huh, definitely not an incubator...." he whispered to himself.
He jumped at a loud pop and the woman slapped a red button, panicking as a gasket on the incubator blew off. The man rushed to the wall immediately next to Kurt's hiding place. Kurt began to back up but he was to late; with a clunk and a whoosh of air the emergency fan kicked on, blowing air that smelled of ozone into his face at a gale force.
"Oh, shit..."
He didn't even have time to teleport. The gas began to fill the duct with each grinding whir of the fan. Kurt scrambled to pull his filtration mask up over his mouth but his fingers were already turning to lead. His lungs burned. The last thoughts to pop into his mind as he felt himself lose control of his limbs were that he just knew this would happen. It just figur...
The scientists jumped at the loud thud and groan that seemed to come from inside the wall behind them.
"Uh-oh..." the woman's eyes were wide above her gas mask.
***************************
The man pulled the panel beside the vent away with a grunt of effort.
"Let's see what we've got in he...." he trailed off as the light of his companion's flashlight illuminated the unconscious figure in the duct.
"Wow." Dr. Alyza Stewart was speechless. She trained her flashlight onto the body's face. Words continued to elude her.
"What is that thing?" her associate, Dr. Steven Woodbine, was obviously repulsed and frightened by what he saw.
"That 'thing' is a man," Alyza looked at her friend with a flash of annoyance. "I think," she muttered under her breath as she ducked her head and eased into the tiny crawlspace, reaching her hand out to check his pulse. It was steady.
"Are you sure you should do that?"
"Oh, give over, Steve!" she rounded on him, blue eyes flashing with anger. "Isn't it obvious? He's just a mutant, help me get him out of here."
With a grumble, Steve reached into the space and pulled Kurt out by the ankles, starting when he noticed the unusual three-toed feet. Alyza worked her way behind him and grabbed his shoulders, trying to keep her block-headed friend from bumping the man's skull against the floor.
They struggled him onto a table and stood back for a moment to look at their find.
"We should call security."
"Hmmm, yeah. We'll wait."
"Wait!" Alyza's cold glare stopped him from completing his outburst.
"He was in the wall for a reason, and I want to know why. Besides, we knocked him out; the least we can do is make sure we didn't hurt him."
Steve didn't move, he stared at the man with fascinated horror. Alyza smirked and turned her eyes back to the table. The man wasn't overly tall, taller than her, but shorter than Steve's towering six feet, anyway. He was clad head to toe in flat black, a utility belt circled his narrow waist, dark goggles and a small filtration device of some sort hung around his neck. The black material was stretchy and clung to his well-toned body. The only exposed skin was on his face. Pointed ears poked out from curly indigo hair. She edged closer to the table, leaning over to examine him. She ignored Steve's low warning.
Idiot, she thought. My God, he is blue! I thought so, but in the dark I wasn't sure. His face looks kind of, furry... She reached a tentative hand out to touch him.
She stifled a screech when Steve grabbed her wrist.
"At least wear gloves, 'Lyza."
She jerked her arm away and laid her hand on the man's forehead.
He is furry! She peeled his eyelid back to check his pupilary response and gasped.
"What?"
"Look...no pupils!"
She stepped back, allowing Steve to see the man's solid yellow eye.
"Oh, my..."
She looked at Steve's pale face for a moment and turned back to the table. She checked his other eye with the same result.
Well that won't help me any, she thought. How unusual. I've never seen such an obvious mutant. There's something familiar about him...
"He has a tail," Steve's voice was strained. "We really need to call security."
"We will not! Not until I get to talk to him!" She reached into the pocket of her lab coat, pulling out a syringe. "I'm giving him the counter agent."
Steve clamped his mouth shut and watched her administer the shot to the unconscious man. She stepped back, flipping the spent needle into the biohazard tub.
"Unnngghhh...was?" Kurt slowly opened his eyes and blinked, trying to remember what had happened to him. Was he dead? It was awfully bright. Oh, the duct...right. Oh, shit. He leapt off the table and into an immediate defensive crouch.
He wavered a bit, still woozy from the gas, as he surveyed the room and its shocked occupants. The man looked ready to soil himself, eyes wide and face almost transparent. The woman looked just as concerned for her shaking colleague as for the mutant crouching on the floor in front of her. He knew he should teleport away but he wanted a few more moments to regain his bearings before making the jump. He tried his best to look threatening, baring his teeth in a silent snarl. The woman took a hesitant step toward him.
"Hello.... what were you doing in our wall?" She extended a hand to him, palm down, fingers curled under to protect them.
Kurt fought the urge to laugh. Nice puppy, he thought. At least she looks friendly, but I think I should make my exit now. Might as well give them a show.
Kurt gathered himself and with a smile he could no longer contain he straightened to his full height. He flashed a wink at the woman and turned the full force of his golden glare on the man. He feinted a little jump toward the man, who squeaked quite shrilly.
"Boo!"
He teleported, the man's screams echoing in his ears.
"Wow," Alyza blinked at the cloud of sulphurous smoke as Steve fainted dead away.
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Welllll.....that's what I've got so far, adonde vamos de aqui? What should I do next? Does it just suck? It's the longest thing I've ever written and one reason I tried it was to see if I could sustain a plot and keep up pacing over a longer story. I usually do short well but I dunno about this.....
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~Award-winning designer of Norway's lovely crinkly edges.~
[This message has been edited by Slartibartfast (edited December 26, 2000).]
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December 27th, 2000, 05:25 AM
#2
Inactive Member
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December 28th, 2000, 02:54 AM
#3
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December 28th, 2000, 09:06 PM
#4
Inactive Member
Another fine story from Slartibartfast, award winning designer of Norway's crinkly edges and writer of excellent fanfic!
BTW, is someone going to write another installemnt of the other fanfic. It really ended on a cliffhanger.
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It's all you need in superheroes and haute cuisine:
Culinary_X
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December 28th, 2000, 09:22 PM
#5
HB Forum Owner
I'll probably write more over there as soon as my cable modem is back to working order. I spoiled myself getting that thing and I don't have the patience to upload anything longer than this with this 56K piece of crap.
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December 29th, 2000, 01:57 AM
#6
Inactive Member
All hail Slart! High poobah o' fanfic!
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December 30th, 2000, 07:43 PM
#7
HB Forum Owner
I finally got around to sticking around here long enough to read it, and I must say that it kicks, Slarti! I want to read the next part!
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December 30th, 2000, 08:07 PM
#8
Inactive Member
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December 30th, 2000, 08:16 PM
#9
Inactive Member
Looks like your next award won't be for designing scandinavian countries' circumfrances!!!! Keep it up, but don't forget us lesser scribes on the old fan fic. 
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Keep It Safe In The
Kitchen!
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December 31st, 2000, 05:44 AM
#10
Inactive Member
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SLARTI!!
is it just extra text for flavor or what not? or maybe I'm just being thick t'day
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