Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHh! THE CLIFFHANGER!!!!
So happy to see this back up and about.
I'm very curious about what Azezel's connection is to this story besides being at the very base of all problems...heh.

It was well worth the wait!

Until next time,:bow
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by HoodedMan »

Most excellent! Very tension-filled and a fascinating plot! I'm very sorry I didn't see this one sooner! :bamf
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by DoomInABox »

Wow. Seriously. This has got to be one of the best things I've ever read from you, Rowena. It's so clean and straightforward, yet utterly twisted through with plot ... and so unbelievably heartwrenching. I swear, between you and Zamweasel I'm never gonna have dry eyes again.

Belasco has always been a fav of mine ... but until I read this story I had no inkling of the connection to Dante. Those comic book writers continue to befuzzle ...

I can't wait to see this twisty plot unravel itself ... you've got something amazing in store, I can just sense it.
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by Rellie »

I *love* this story, hope to see more of it soon!!
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by Rowena »

Awesome!!! :D It feels so good to finally be working on this again! And it's such a huge relief to know you're still enjoying it!

About Azazel's connection to the story....to my mind, he's a lot like Livia in I, Claudius (one of my all time favorite books, by the way, as well as an awesome BBC mini-series). His evil schemes are very subtle and often take a long time to hatch. He's all about patience.

This twisted plot's going to be unraveling pretty quickly from here on in, now that Ororo's on the scene. The whole point of this story is to achieve Kurt's redemption, but don't expect the ending to be all sunshine and lollipops.

OK, that's enough hints for now. On with the show! :D

Chapter Fourteen

Even though Ororo was well aware of the fact that everything she was seeing was in Kurt’s mind, the experience of teleporting with him through the screeching coldness of the midden mire was as real as anything she had ever felt. The warmth of his body, the strength in his arms and tail where he held her close…these were not mere illusions. She squeezed her eyes closed, burying her face in his fuzzy neck in a vain attempt to stave off the sickening vertigo that clutched at her stomach. This teleport was definitely real.

Striving to keep her calm center despite her dizzying nausea, Ororo took a deep breath through her nose. Kurt smelled just as she remembered, warm and musty with a sharp undercurrent of strong soap.

That made her smile. Kurt had always been so self-conscious about the smell his teleporting left behind, secretly terrified that the reek of brimstone lingered in his fur. And it did, but only very slightly. Ororo had never admitted it aloud, but she had always rather liked the way he smelled.

She took in another discreet breath, her eyes still closed as her mind filled with warm memories…strolling through her garden in the moonlight as they talked over their latest assignments; sitting on his bed as he told her colorful tales of his years with the circus; the priceless look on his face when she sprayed him with the hose in an uncharacteristic fit of childish silliness; the security of his arms as he held her close in the elevator, soothing her claustrophobia with the kind words of friendship. Suddenly, Ororo had the strange, irrational wish to melt into him so they could stay in each other’s arms forever.

Despite the difficulty of the trip, the turbulent teleport only took a handful of seconds to complete. All too soon, Ororo felt Kurt’s embrace loosen, and she stepped away, quickly schooling her features into a mask of professionalism. Kurt needed her to be strong. If she allowed her confusing emotions to distract her from her duty as a guide, it was entirely possible that she would lose her friend all over again—this time for good. So, instead of praising him for the way he’d broken them away from the realm of howling chaos that had ensnared him, she took a moment to drink in their new surroundings.

They were standing in the center aisle of a very small, very ancient stone church. There was one round, stained-glass window at the back, and a very ornately carved wooden crucifix hung over the meticulously kept marble altar. A highly polished, upright piano stood in the space just below the altar, opposite a stone basin of holy water. The remaining windows were thin and narrow, and the thick, wooden rafters that made up the ceiling sloped to a sharp peak. A glass display case filled with archaeological artifacts lined the wall beside the only door that led outside, and the double rows of hard, wooden pews strewn with dog-eared hymnals made the small space seem full even though they were the only ones there.

“Where are we?” Ororo asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable and out of place in the oddly occupied atmosphere of this empty church. Even her voice sounded muffled.

When no answer was forthcoming, she turned to face her companion, only to cry out in concerned alarm at what she saw.

Kurt was crouched on the last pew, his shoulders hunched and his head down. His colorful, threadbare clothes were torn and grass stained, and his fur and hair were matted with mud, grass, and what looked like blood. Ororo rushed to his side.

“Bright Goddess!” she exclaimed. “Kurt, are you all right? What happened?”

Kurt didn’t look at her. He just kept staring at his bloodstained hands, his golden eyes wide with shock and pain. When he spoke, his voice was haunted, distant. It chilled Ororo to her marrow.

“I—I had to stop him. I had to. I’d gotten the knife away from him…everything should have been OK. But he…he punched me, lunged for the knife… What else could I do? God help me, Father, what else could I have done?!”

Ororo spun around, but no priest was there. Only her and him and whatever horrible memory was eating at his tortured soul now. Slowly, Ororo crouched down beside him, gently taking one of his scratched, blood-matted hands in hers.

“Kurt,” she said softly, “tell me why you brought me here. What did you want me to see?”

Kurt took in a shaky breath, his shoulders trembling as his golden eyes filled with tears.

“I used to feel so safe here,” he whispered hoarsely, choking back his sobs. “The monks at Neuhertzel had always been so kind to me. After our circus was bought by that millionaire Texan, they were the only ones who would give me a place to stay. Sabu…” He took in a shaky breath. “Sabu was d-dead, and Amanda couldn’t leave with me, so the monks let me live in their monastery while I searched for my brother. And they were the only ones I could come to after…” he turned his head to the wall, hunching himself into an even tighter ball, “after I found him.”

He shivered, closing his eyes for a moment as he struggled to find the strength to go on. Ororo lowered her head in understanding, her thumb soothingly stroking the back of his fuzzy hand.

She was well aware of the tragedy he was referring to. It was the event that had first brought Kurt in contact with the X-Men. After the man who’d bought his circus threatened to put him in the freak show, the nineteen-year-old Kurt had left the only home, the only family he’d ever known and gone off in search of his older foster brother, Stefan Szardos, who had left the circus several years earlier. He’d found him some weeks later just a few short miles from the monastery at Neuhertzel, living in the small, isolated town of Winzeldorf.

At first, everything had been wonderful, but after a while Kurt began to notice something…off…about his brother. He seemed unnaturally obsessed with the mysterious string of child murders that had been taking place in the area, claiming that the victims weren’t children at all, but demons in disguise. As time went on, his words and actions became more and more peculiar until, finally, Kurt began to track his brother’s movements in hopes of proving his growing suspicions to be wrong.

One night, he followed him to a cemetery, where he’d watched from a tree as Stefan pulled a long knife on a small child. Horrified, Kurt leapt to the child’s defense, grappling with his raving brother for control of the knife. Kurt finally managed to grab the weapon with his tail and toss it out of his brother’s reach, but Stefan socked him across the jaw and lunged for the knife. Kurt leapt after him, kicking him hard in the chest. Stephan was hurled backwards like a rag doll, snapping his neck on a gravestone. He was dead by the time his brother reached him.

Kurt had fled the scene, appalled and sickened by what he’d done, but he’d returned several hours later, resolving to take his brother’s body home and explain what had happened to his mother and sister. Unfortunately, he had only just found the knife and was leaning down to lift his brother when he was spotted by a groundskeeper. The old man misunderstood his posture and his intentions, and before he knew it, Kurt was under attack by a raging mob, all accusing him of being the demon responsible for the deaths of their children. If Professor Xavier hadn’t been there to stop them, Kurt would never have escaped alive. And even though his mother and sister had later forgiven him for the death of Stefan, Ororo knew that Kurt had never been able to forgive himself.*

“I’ve always loved this place,” Kurt continued after a long moment. “I’ve never felt more protected than I did while I was here. This monastery was a place of peace, of study and contemplation devoted to charitable works and the simple love of God. And once I left, it was only to find a world of violence and hatred…a world I’ve never been able to escape from since.”

“Is that why you chose to come here, Kurt?” Ororo asked. “To escape?”

Kurt looked down at her with dim, hollow eyes, then rose to his feet, pacing up the aisle until he was standing before the altar looking up at the large, ornate crucifix.

“I killed my brother, Ororo,” he said bluntly. “I was a murderer in my own right long before I’d even heard of Belasco. I’ve harmed so many people in the name of justice. Since joining the X-Men, I’ve led a life of violence and bloodshed. I called myself a righteous crusader, yet how often did I allow my anger to influence my actions?”

He sniffed sharply, his features clenching in anguish. “Xavier’s words seem so hollow now,” he whispered to himself, “seeing them from this darker side of the looking glass. I never should have left Neuhertzel.”

He sighed, turning his face in shame from the crucifix on the wall. Ororo started to move towards him, then froze in place, her mouth agape as the red blood that dripped from Kurt’s thick fingers began to pool up his arms and down his torso, altering his clothes and features as it spread. The whole time, he continued speaking, apparently unaware of the transformation taking place.

“I know now that the old saying is true,” he ground out, his hoarse voice harsh with bitterness. “It was my good intentions that led me on this path to Hell.”

“Kurt, stop this!” Ororo cried out, rushing over to take him by the shoulders. She gasped in alarm as she felt that, beneath his long, red cloak, his right arm was now missing. The russet-skinned demon sneered at her expression.

“Stop what?” he snapped, gesturing fiercely with a five-fingered hand to his horns and spaded tail. “This is who I am, Ororo. This is what I always was. It doesn’t matter whether I kill Belasco or Belasco kills me. In the end, we’re both guilty of the same crime.”

“You know it’s not the same thing, Kurt,” Ororo protested vehemently. “And Stefan’s death was an accident! He was the aggressor. You never meant for him to die!”

“Do you think that matters?” he snarled, his golden eyes narrowed into cold slits. “The fact is that he is dead, and at my hand. God’s law commands that we shall not kill. It doesn’t say ‘you shall not kill unless it’s in self defense or in defense of another’. If you add addendums to the rules whenever they don’t suit you, you only end up justifying the very crimes you were trying to prevent!”

Ororo shook her head, frustrated by Kurt’s sudden attack of philosophic pigheadedness. “We’re wasting time with this argument,” she stated, running a hand through her long, white hair. The Professor’s presence was itching at the back her mind, urging her to press harder, to cut through this protective rigmarole of blocks and excuses he had constructed straight to the festering blackness his unconscious was struggling so hard to conceal.

“There’s something else here,” she observed sharply, advancing on him with such purpose that he actually took a step back. “Something beyond your brother and even Belasco. It’s a gnawing guilt that you refuse to acknowledge, even though it is eating your soul alive.”

Kurt stared at her in confusion, backing up even further.

“What is it Kurt?” Ororo pressed, getting right up in his face. “What is it that you did that’s so terrible you can’t bring yourself to remember it, even now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kurt snapped back, starting to grow defensive. “I already told you why I deserve this fate—“

”No, you haven’t,” Ororo countered. “You haven’t given me a single good reason why a man as decent, as caring, as forgiving as you should be condemned to this half-life, controlled by some heartless demon who should have died centuries ago!”

“I murdered my brother!” Kurt screamed back, the veins in his neck close to popping. “I used my power to teleport myself away from the Gray Gargolyle’s grasp, when I should have tried to get my team out instead! I stood by while Belasco used my body to torture and maim X-Men from dozens of alternate realities. I watched him kill you again and again, Ororo, and rather than try to stop him, I slipped away into my subconscious, hiding like a craven coward from your screams and from the screams of everyone else I held dear. Scott, Jean, Hank, Logan, the Professor, Rachel…even Kätzchen! I was the instrument Belasco used to achieve your deaths, a willing slave to the Lord of Limbo! Your blood is on my hands!”

Ororo raised her chin, her crystal eyes sharp as she replayed the start of Kurt’s rant in her mind. He had mentioned the Gray Gargoyle, his last mission before his capture. Could that be it? Could there be a connection between that mission and the memory the Professor had sent her to find, the one the demons had repressed, shattering his psyche so the implanted Belasco personality would have a chance to take root?

The Professor was still urging her to press harder. They were getting close, but Kurt was still fighting to keep the memory buried. She would have to push him to his limit, squeeze him into such a tight corner that remembrance would be his only way out. Reassuring herself that this harsh approach would ultimately help Kurt to heal, Ororo continued her attack with renewed passion.

“That’s still not good enough!” she snapped, fixing Kurt with her most imperious glare. Her eyes whitened and her hair began to rise as she menaced him back until he was forced to stop by the worn basin of holy water. “None of that was your fault, Kurt, especially Belasco’s crimes against the X-Men! They were all forced on you by Azazel! He implanted Belasco’s personality and memories into your mind without your consent—“

“NO!” Kurt exclaimed, his voice cracking as a flood of tears burst from his burning eyes. “Ororo, you don’t understand…!”

“What don’t I understand, Kurt?” Ororo demanded, refusing to let up on him even though the sight of him in tears was tearing her heart to shreds. “Tell me! Explain what happened to you after the Gray Gargoyle attacked.”

Kurt shook his head, collapsing to the floor in soggy heap of misery and shame. Black tears as thick and slick as crude oil streamed down his russet cheeks, staining his cloak and pooling on the uneven stone floor in a viscous puddle. Ororo’s heart jumped with alarmed concern at the startling sight, but the Professor seemed glad. At last, he appeared to be whispering, his ghostly voice bending around the corners of her mind. At last, the painful memory that had been locked away for so long was starting its rise to the surface.

Ororo lowered herself to the floor beside her friend, reaching out with a tentative hand to gently touch his shoulder. He flinched away, but she only moved closer, wrapping her slender arms around him until he finally gave in to her tender embrace, carefully leaning his horned head against her shoulder.

“My sweet Kurt,” she sighed, brushing her lips against his pointed ear as she ran her fingers through his short, red hair. “It’s time for the truth to come out. No matter what it reveals, I will never think any less of you. You know you can trust me.”

Kurt pressed his nose against her snowy hair, breathing in the clean scent of her herbal shampoo as he struggled to control his wracking sobs. “With my life, Liebchen,” he assured her, twining his tail loosely around her waist. “With my very soul.”



*I made up some of this backstory, but it’s mainly based in Comicverse fact. For more details on Neuhertzel, Winzeldorf, and Stefan’s death, see Giant Size X-Men #1: Second Genesis, King-Size Annual X-Men #4: Nightcrawler’s Inferno, Part the Second (NOTE: Ororo gives Kurt a birthday kiss in Part the First!), and the animated DVD X-Men: The Legend of Wolverine. (The episode’s name is Nightcrawler.)

*******

BAMF!

Hank looked up from his office computer at the soft sound that had broken the silence of the medbay, his furry brow wrinkling in confusion—an expression which quickly turned to alarm when he saw the two red-skinned demons standing just before his desk.

“Oh, my stars and garters!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and backing up against his over-stuffed bookcase.

“And greetings to you, my good doctor,” the taller of the two smiled, his black goatee providing a disturbing border for his sharp, white fangs. “I see from your expression that you’ve guessed who I am, but I believe you have yet to meet my son.” He gestured for the other demon to step forward. This one was clean-shaven, sporting meticulously styled red hair and a haughty expression that bordered on smarm.

“Henry McCoy,” said Azazel with a theatrical flourish, “I’d like you to meet Mephistopheles.”

“Mephisto, for short,” the red-haired demon nodded politely, holding out a clawed hand for the doctor to take. Hank stared at it for a long moment, then looked into the demon’s craggy face with wary curiosity.

“Surely you’re not the same Mephistopheles—“

“From the famous history of the damnable life and deserved death of Doctor John Faustus?” Azazel broke in. “Of course he is. Not all my children have proved to be disappointments, after all.”

Hank narrowed his eyes. “If I remember my Goethe correctly,” he said, “wasn’t Faust redeemed in the end?”

Mephisto scowled darkly. “That is a lie,” he growled. “No matter what Goethe may have written in his vaunted play, that fool Faustus paid for my services with his soul, just as we’d agreed. I escorted him to our dimension personally, where the renowned scholar now serves as one of my father’s slaves in retribution for his hubris.”

“Ah,” said Hank with a nervous smile. “So, I take it you prefer Christopher Marlowe’s version of the story, then.”

Mephisto’s cold, amber eyes flashed. “Are you mocking me, mutant?” he spat, leaping up to crouch menacingly on Hank’s desk, scattering his papers in all directions. Hank dropped to the floor with an involuntary cry, falling into a defensive crouch of his own. Azazel held up his hands.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!” he placated. “We’re wasting time with this childish behavior.”

He turned to Hank, placing a firm hand on Mephisto’s shoulder as he climbed down from the desk.

“I know you are holding my son, Kurt Wagner, in the other room,” he said.

“Kurt Wagner is my patient, yes. And he’s currently in terrible shape, thanks to you,” Hank glared, hauling himself to his feet and crossing his long arms over his thick chest. “His genetic code is in a state of violent flux, and he’s in constant pain.”

“I know that too,” Azazel said calmly. “In fact, that’s why we’ve come.”

“Why?” Hank snapped. “To gloat?”

”No,” Azazel smiled, his pointed teeth clenching slightly with the effort of holding Mephisto back. “To help you restore your friend to his proper form. When my son awakens, I want it to be to his own face, his own body, and his own powers.”

“Pardon my frankness, but neither of you seems to me to be of the philanthropic sort,” Hank frowned, trying his best to ignore Mephisto’s freezing glare. “Why would you go to all this trouble for a son who has repeatedly rejected everything that you stand for?”

Azazel’s thin lips twitched slowly upwards in a small smile that showed no teeth. Hank shuddered despite himself.

“Mephisto,” the black-haired demon ordered, striding past Hank through the open door to the medbay, “hand me my plasmotic alternator. We have a great deal of work to do, and not much time in which to do it. Doctor McCoy,” he called over his shoulder, “you can either stand there or you can assist us. It’s up to you.”

“Of course I’m assisting,” Hank declared, heading the demonic pair off before they reached Kurt’s bed. “But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you two anywhere near my patient before you first give me a full and detailed account of exactly what you intend to do to him.”

Azazel and Mephistopheles exchanged a look.

“We will provide you with a brief overview of the procedure,” Azazel allowed. “As we work. But I’d advise you to be more careful about how you phrase your thoughts from now on, Doctor,” the demon smirked, his burning eyes cold. “The next time you threaten your own damnation, I just might take you up on it.”



Be sure to tune in next time for the climactic flashback, when Kurt’s darkest secret is finally revealed! :D
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by HoodedMan »

Angst. :) for me and definitely :( for Kurt. FANTASTIC use of emotion, that of the characters and of the reader. Keep it up; I am enthralled!
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by Rellie »

Still enjoying this story alot, can't wait to find out what happens next!! :)
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

OOoooo000oooo0o0oHHHH!!!!

Now ain't that just the sadest family reunion!

Got to hand it to ya, I love how 'Ro had to scare the truth out of Kurt...*dodges bricks* What!??

Oooh, Rowena, you know how to make adrenaline run...I love how you made Mephisto Kurt's Brother, though having read Universe X it will probably just confuse the heck out of me:LOLbut thats ok...I gotta go run around or something. I can't stop shaking.
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by Rowena »

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SCENES OF DEATH AND VIOLENCE, INCLUDING THE SEVERANCE OF A LIMB. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.


Chapter Fifteen

Kurt stood with Ororo on the threshold of memory. It was like standing before an enormous movie screen, peering through an invisible divider to a completely different world just beyond. The images flooded their senses, yet there remained an almost surreal feeling of separation. For this show they were to be observers, protected by the distance of time. The participants were on the other side…

The Gray Gargoyle’s cave was far from the cold, desolate place they’d been expecting when they’d first received their assignment. In fact, the place was almost unbearably hot. Rivers of magma snaked by, splashing dangerously into fiery pools. Logan turned his head to shoot Kurt a wry smirk.

“Kinda makes me wish we’d thought to bring some marshmallows, eh Elf?” he joked. Kurt smirked back, but didn’t respond in kind. Something about this sweltering cave was making his fuzzy skin crawl, and it wasn’t just the large, black spiders that seemed to lurk in every crevice.

“Try to keep your mind on task for once, mein Freund,” he said, keeping his accented voice as light as he could. “Call it my Gypsy intuition, but something about this place doesn’t feel right. The sooner we find the Gargoyle’s weapons stash and leave, the better I’ll like it.”

“It isn’t just you, Nightcrawler,” Sage said, adjusting her hood over her dark hair. “I feel it too. And these awful spiders aren’t helping matters.” She shivered in disgust as she brushed one of the hairy arachnids from her shoulder.

“Hmmm,” Benny Salway mused. “If I were a crazed stone Gargoyle bent on destroying all mutantkind, where would I hide my nuclear warheads?”

“When you figure it out, let us know,” Sage snapped, frowning disapprovingly at the eighteen-year-old trainee. “In the meantime, I’ll run a scan. The electromagnetic interference is weaker in here than it was outside, so our instruments should work.”

“Good to know,” Benny said, his third eye blinking in curiosity as he leaned in close to peer over her shoulder. Sage took a pointed step away from him, never pausing in her work. Melinda Blake, a raven-haired girl with creamy, lavender skin and ruby red eyes, flashed him a warning glare. This was their first real mission, and the nineteen-year-old fire manipulator was desperate to make a good impression.

Kurt sighed, silently clenching his teeth as he watched the exchange. He didn’t think he had ever felt so deeply angry and sincerely worried as he did at that moment, and he knew he had to push those distracting emotions aside if he was to stand a chance of making a success of this mission. The problem was, he still couldn’t fathom what Xavier had been thinking, assigning these two kids to his team. While it was true that the older students did need more real-world experience, Kurt could think of any number of missions more appropriate for a training operation, and he had vehemently argued his point with the Professor for days. Ultimately, Xavier had actually gone over his head, stubbornly insisting that the best students needed to work with the most elite teams, facing adversity far beyond their experience, if they were to stretch beyond their perceived limitations and live up to their full potential. After all, he’d argued, Kurt had been only nineteen himself when he had gone on his first mission as an X-Man, and then he’d had to fight against a living island. The nuclear threat posed by the Gray Gargoyle, while potentially devastating, was actually pretty standard business by comparison. Besides, Benny’s remarkable telekinesis and Melinda’s fire manipulation could be extremely useful to the mission.

While Kurt agreed with some of the Professor’s points, Xavier’s continued reassurances did nothing to ease his disquiet, and he knew Sage and Logan shared his view. Benny and Melinda may have earned the top grades in their respective classes, but success with tactical models and Danger Room Sims, no matter how realistic, could not guarantee how the students would react to the real thing. There were no safeties here, no observer in the control booth, no comfortable mansion waiting just beyond the sliding doors. Here, if even one of them were to freeze or panic under pressure, it could very easily mean the difference between life and death for the entire team. In Kurt’s opinion as team leader, Melinda’s and especially Benny’s classroom-bred arrogance and dangerous naiveté made them more of a liability than an asset in this potentially deadly circumstance.

“Hey, Elf,” Logan greeted as he came up beside him, his voice so low that even with his pointed ears, Kurt had to strain to hear him. “We’re in luck so far. The Gargoyle’s been here, but not for the past few hours. If we work fast, we just might be able to pull this off before he comes back.”

Kurt nodded, but kept his eyes fixed on the trainees. Benny was using his telekinesis to drop rocks into the nearest magma pool, while Melinda frantically lectured him, all but begging him to cut it out before someone noticed.

“Look at them, Logan,” he said, keeping his voice just as low. “How nervous they are. How young.” He sighed deeply, leaning his head against the cavern’s uneven rock for a moment. “I will have to talk with them again before we can go on.”

Logan nodded slowly, giving the air a quick sniff. “They’re scared, all right,” he agreed, “but they’re tougher than they look. I may not agree with Chuck’s decision to stick us with them, but I do know this.”

He turned to face Kurt, looking him straight in the eye. “Don’t pull the reigns too tight on ‘em,” he said. “Give ‘em their head room. They might be green, but they need to know we have confidence in them—especially you, since you’re the leader.” He shrugged. “Who knows,” he said, a strange gleam softening his flinty eyes. “They just might surprise you. Like you surprised me, kid, way back when you were nothin’ more than a circus-boy show-off.”

Kurt’s eyes widened at that and he opened his mouth to retort, but he was interrupted before he could make a sound.

“There’s another cavern twenty-six meters to the south-west,” Sage spoke up, snapping her scanner closed and reattaching it to her utility belt. “There’s a block of interference so thick even my equipment back home couldn’t pierce it. That must be where he’s storing them.”

Kurt nodded, suddenly all business. “Then that’s where we’re going,” he said, striding over to Benny and Melinda. They jumped when they saw him approaching, halting their bickering and coming to attention at once. Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes heavenward, even though with his solid yellow corneas they probably wouldn’t have been able to tell anyway.

“We think we’ve located the warheads,” he said, keeping his voice low in the echoing cave, “and we’re about to move out. Before we go, though, I want you to keep some things in mind.” He took a breath, trying to think how best to phrase what he wanted to say.

“I know you’ve been training for this mission a long time,” he told them, “but this isn’t a Danger Room simulation. If something goes wrong, I don’t want to see any bravado or heroics. Our goal is to locate the warheads, render them inoperable, and get our tails back home—hopefully without being discovered. We don’t want to have to say here a moment more than necessary, so I’m going to need you both to stay focused. So far, you’ve been doing very well, but keep in mind that we don’t know enough about the Gargoyle to predict his actions. There could be any number of booby traps between us and those warheads, so keep your guard up. OK?”

The two teenagers straightened in acknowledgement, suddenly serious under the weight of their leader’s stern, golden gaze.

“Yes, sir,” they chorused softly.

Satisfied, Kurt turned to Logan, who nodded with the smallest of smiles. Kurt returned the nod, then silently indicated that his friend should take the rear, where he would best be able to alert them if someone—or something—approached. Sage took the lead with her scanner.

The small group reached the cavern Sage had indicated with no trouble. While this relieved the trainees, it only increased Kurt’s uneasiness. Especially when they found the five warheads stored in plain sight, just behind a thick, fang-like stalagmite that was standing like a pillar beside the cavern’s only entranceway. Rows upon rows of pointed stalactites hung from the ceiling, giving the gray, shadowy space an eerie resemblance to the inside of a shark’s mouth.

“Blast,” Sage snarled, giving her scanner a good whack. “It’s the interference. My equipment’s gone dead again.”

“Wolverine,” Kurt said, a cold chill starting in his stomach, “can you tell if these warheads are active?”

Wolverine inspected each of the weapons in turn while Sage searched the walls for a hidden control panel or anything that could be causing the interference that was blocking her scanners. Benny and Melinda took up positions at either side of the entranceway, keeping a sharp look-out.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Wolverine growled after several long minutes, “but not only are these things not active, I don’t think they’re even real.”

”Was,” Kurt gasped, a chill of apprehension snaking up his spine. Suddenly, this was no longer a straight-forward mission. If these warheads were fake, that meant the Gargoyle’s threats had been a ruse to lure them this cavern. But for what purpose…?

“Wait a minute,” Benny exclaimed, obviously annoyed. “Do you mean this whole thing was a bluff? I can’t believe this! My first actual mission and it turns out to be a false alarm!”

“Shut up, Benny!” Melinda frowned, her large eyes darting to the shadows at the far end of the cavern. “The mission’s not over yet. Did you just see that?”

“See what?” Sage asked, coming up beside the teenagers, her dark eyes sharp and her expression wary.

“Back there,” Melinda said, pointing. “I thought I saw something move. It looked like…”

She trailed off with an uncertain glance to Nightcrawler.

“Like what?” Sage prompted. Melinda suddenly looked sheepish.

“Well, it was probably just Nightcrawler’s shadow,” she mumbled, flushing deeply. “I mean, no offense, but there aren’t many other people out there with tails like yours, Herr Wagner.”

“You’d be surprised, kid,” Logan grumbled dryly as he sniffed the air. Suddenly, he bared his teeth, his senses on full alert.

“What is it?” Melinda asked, her eyes wide with apprehension.

“That ain’t no shadow you saw, girlie,” the Wolverine growled softly, clenching his fists in anticipation of a fight. “There’s four of ‘em, ‘Crawler. Back there, in the shadows. Three men, one woman. And the Gargoyle’s with them.”

“Lieber Gott, it’s a trap,” Kurt announced with deep conviction, his tail twitching agitatedly behind him. There was something evil out there, something immensely powerful pulsing at him, pulling at him…a cool, reptilian voice whispering softly at the corners of his mind. Whoever was lurking in those shadows, they were after blood. He wasn’t sure how or why he could be so certain, but Kurt knew better than to question the warning in his heart. If he didn’t get his team out of this cavern immediately, they were never getting out. Wolverine could have his fight another day.

“We’ve got to get back to the jet,” Kurt said, his words clipped. “Now.”

“What? Why?” Benny asked. “What’s going on?”

Before anyone could speak, something small and fast whistled past the teen’s nose. Kurt gave a short cry of alarmed pain, clapping a hand to his neck.

“A dart,” he exclaimed, pulling the tiny needle from his neck as quickly as he could, praying the tip wasn’t poisoned or drugged. The movement at the back of the cave was more apparent now. The demonic silhouettes were slinking closer. With his night vision, Kurt could just make out the russet hue of the tallest shadow’s smooth skin, the lines of his narrow face. He knew those proud, aristocratic features…so familiar yet so foreign. Somehow, Azazel had found a way to return to Earth.

“Run,” Nightcrawler ordered his team, his accented voice sharp with command. “Back the way we came. Schnell!”

There was no hesitation. Kurt took the rear as his team began racing back towards the magma river. Barely had they gone ten feet, however, when a deep, chilling voice barked out a strange incantation. Instantly, a powerful forcefield leapt up in front of them, so close that the five of them collided full force with the shimmering wall of orange energy. Lightening bolts of agony tore through their spasming muscles as their own momentum threw them back into the dim cavern—winded, aching, and half-paralyzed. It was from this prone, helpless position that the five X-Men got their first real glimpse of the Gray Gargoyle.

The Gargoyle was a squat, thickset figure with leathery skin as thick and tough as a rhino’s. His blunt, square face was like a mask, his expression hard and cold as stone, but his small, piggish eyes burned with an icy flame. He loomed over the X-Men like a deadly specter; his leathery, bat-like wings spread wide in a predatory posture that radiated menace.

“Why…why did you bring us here?” Kurt rasped, gasping with effort and pain as he struggled to turn his head towards Azazel. To his shock, however, the demon was no longer there. Nor were his shadowy companions. Only the Gray Gargoyle remained, his cold eyes now focused on Kurt.

“I’m sure the Master has his reasons,” the Gargoyle spoke slowly in a deep, rumbling bass, causing Benny to give out an embarrassing, involuntary whimper. “But mine are simple. I was promised the full return of my senses if I carried out a certain number of tasks. Already, I have regained my hearing. By destroying you, my sense of touch and taste will be restored.”

He sighed, his stony face nearly wistful as his eyes unfocused. “It has been centuries since I have last been able to feel the rock beneath my feet, to taste the pale fish that swim in the lightless lakes. The death of five strangers is well worth the prize. But do not worry,” he assured them, his gravely voice taking on an eerie sort of kindliness, “the end will be swift, and if you remain still there will be no pain.”

Logan glared, baring his teeth at the Gargoyle from the cave’s uneven floor. “So,” he growled, “you’re tellin’ me that you can’t feel nothin’? Not even if you stepped into one of those magma pools out there?”

“It is an unfortunate side-effect of my condition,” the Gargoyle explained, melancholy self-pity leaking from his glowing eyes. Logan nodded slowly.

“Well,” he commented gruffly. “That’s a real shame, bub. I was really hopin’ you’d feel it when I did this!”

Before the Gargoyle could react, the Wolverine was on his feet with a roar, his sharp adamantium claws embedded a full six inches into the creature’s tough belly. But if Logan expected the Gargoyle to simply fall over after that, he was sorely disappointed.

The instant he withdrew his claws, the deep slits he had created in the creature’s thick hide began to glow, the dull gray heating up to the color of liquid magma as the wounds quickly closed without even leaving a scar. Infuriated, Wolverine attacked again, slashing and punching with blinding speed, a feral glint of madness growing in his flinty eyes as the Gargoyle simply stood there and took it.

The paralyzing effects of the forcefield’s energy were very slowly starting to wear off, but it still took an enormous amount of effort for Kurt to turn his head towards the rest of his team. Benny had landed right next to him, where he was now staring up at the spiked ceiling, his young face pale with terror.

“Benny,” Kurt hissed, smiling when the young man managed to turn his head enough to look at him. “Your telekinesis,” he prompted, gesturing with his chin towards the fight going on just in front of them. “Try to help Logan.”

“I—I can’t,” Benny whispered back, his three eyes wide with something very close to panic. “I can’t move!”

”Benny,” Kurt said, keeping his voice as calm and authoritative as he could under the circumstances. “You can do this if you concentrate. Use your mind.”

Benny took a deep, shaky breath, struggling to collect his waning courage. “OK,” he said. “OK, what do you want me to do?”

“Try to move that Gargoyle closer to me,” Melinda’s voice spoke up from Benny’s other side. Kurt turned his eyes to her, a proud grin instantly brightening his features. Somehow, the raven-haired girl had managed to turn herself over onto her side with one arm stretched out before her. Her ruby eyes were blazing with effort and fierce determination. “I need a clear shot. He may be able to stand up to adamantium, but I’ll bet he can still burn.”

“Good thinking,” Sage praised, her voice tight and laced with pain. “This damned paralysis shouldn’t last much longer. If we can hold the Gargoyle off, I calculate that we should be able to make our way back to the jet within five to seven minutes.”

“Sage, are you hurt?” Kurt asked, the strain in her voice causing a cold dread to race along his spine, making his tail give a painful twitch.

“A stalagmite,” she panted, keeping her voice low and calm. “Got me in the side when I landed.”

“Oh my God,” Melinda gasped, her voice bright with concern and fear, “Oh my God, you’re bleeding!”

Sage swallowed, gathering her strength, then turned her head to shoot the girl a reassuring smile. “I’ll be all right,” she asserted. “You sock that Gargoyle a good one for me, OK, Melinda?”

The lavender-skinned girl nodded, but her ruby eyes remained wide and apprehensive as she returned her focus to the one-sided fight going on before them.

“Benny, you ready?” Kurt asked.

“Got him,” the boy smiled, all but his third eye closed as he used the power of his mind to lift the startled Gargoyle from the ground and drift him closer to Melinda.

“Logan, down!” Kurt warned his friend as a roaring blast of flame burst from Melinda’s lavender fingertips, encompassing the Gargoyle in a binding swirl of fire. Logan dropped flat, the searing heat passing within inches of his head.

Under the fierce onslaught of Melinda’s fiery attack, the Gargoyle’s thick skin gradually began to glow. His white eyes burned brighter than Melinda’s hottest flames, and even though he couldn’t feel the heat on his skin, it was clear she was having an effect. Benny’s breath began to hitch as he struggled to keep the creature still. Kurt reached out to place a strengthening hand on the boy’s shoulder, silently grinding his teeth against the sharp, tingling pain the movement caused him. The gesture seemed to calm the struggling teenager, though, and his breathing slowly became less ragged.

“It’s working,” Sage whispered, her drawn face brightening slightly. “Keep it up, Melinda, you’ve almost got him…”

Just then, the Gargoyle’s leathery wings burst open and stretched to their full span, the flames fanning out to lick their bony tips. Benny screamed, clutching his head and curling into a shuddering ball of sheer agony. Melinda tried to force herself to her feet, keeping one arm outstretched as she fought valiantly against the pain lancing through her slender body to keep her flames from dying. The Gargoyle fixed her with his blazing eyes, flapping his wings once, twice, three times to send the fire that ringed his glowing form shooting right back to her.

Melinda shrieked and fell back, her raven hair ablaze. Logan jumped to his feet, crouching to spring at the Gargoyle and knock him from the air, but this time the Gargoyle was too fast. Holding out one arm, a blast of white energy shot from his palm, freezing the Wolverine just before he could pounce. All color was leached from Logan’s uniform and skin, the brightness was sucked from his adamantium claws. Kurt blinked, his jaw dropping in sickened alarm as he realized what the Gargoyle had just done to his best friend. What had mere moments before been a living, breathing man was now nothing more than a statue of lifeless stone.

“NOOO!” Kurt screamed, pounding at the invisible divider that kept him apart from his defenseless team. “Not again! Let me in there! I won’t let this happen again!”

“Kurt, stay back!” Ororo warned sharply, trying to pull him away. “You can’t let yourself get too close—“

Kurt spun on her, his golden eyes wild, half-mad, hot tears streaming down his russet face as the long-repressed memory continued to unfold.

“I have to save them, Ororo,” he told her, his voice cracking with emotion. “You don’t understand—they’re all going to die!”

His expression frantic, he turned back to the battle, where Melinda was now fully engulfed in her own flames, a crackling fireball with blazing, ruby eyes bravely gathering the last of her strength to launch a final blast at the Gargoyle. Before she could lift her arms, however, a second stream of white energy burst from the Gargoyle’s palm and Melinda fell to the ground, her flames dying around her as her lavender skin was transformed to blackened stone.

“Oh, God, no,” Kurt sobbed, slamming his horned forehead against the barrier. Ororo tried to reach out to him, to calm him with her presence, but he was too far gone, his eyes distant and his narrow features set with determination.

“I have to stop this, Ororo,” he said, taking several slow, measured steps backwards, never taking his eyes from the Gargoyle’s square face. “I couldn’t save them before…I couldn’t help them! They were my team, my friends—I was responsible for them and I let them down! I teleported away when I should have stayed there and shared their fate. Well, not again!”

“Kurt, no! Don’t—”

But, before Ororo could stop him, Kurt was running for the invisible border. He disappeared an instant before he collided with it, jaunting through the barrier with a resounding BAMF! With a cry of alarm, Ororo raced through the already dissipating teleport smoke to where he had just been standing. Pressing a helpless hand against the boundary, she watched in despair as, no longer shielded by the distance of time, her dearest friend was sucked into the prone body of his former self. His worst memory had now become his only reality.


Through sheer strength of will, Kurt forced his stiffened, aching body to sit up, to bend its legs, to rise into a crouch. The pain was nearly unbearable, but he couldn’t just lie there while his team was under attack. His power of teleportation was utterly useless as long as his movements remained restricted by the lingering effects of the forcefield. He had to move, to get the blood flowing again. He had to attack at once, or they would all be lost.

He had an opportunity. Perceiving that the immediate threat had been taken care of, the Gargoyle was taking a moment to fly around the cave, cooling down after Melinda’s attack. Kurt glanced over at what was left of his team, wracking his mind to think up some kind of plan that would allow him to get them all out. Sage was starting to shiver, her face pale and her breathing ragged, a growing puddle of blood slowly staining its way across the uneven surface of the cave floor. Even so, the brilliant mutant was hard at work, her slender fingers tapping rapidly at the keypad of one of the instruments she kept at her belt.

“Setting….to give out…charge,” she explained between rasping breaths, somehow managing to flash Nightcrawler a determined grin. “Throw at….Gargoyle……and teleport…” Her grin faltered for a moment as her dark eyes turned to Benny, who was still curled in a protective ball. “At least….” she whispered, “you can….get him….out.”

Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but Sage shook her head. “No heroism,” she said, her eyes sharp. “No…bravado. You said……yourself…”

She closed her eyes, resting her head back against the floor. Kurt crawled stiffly over to her, one eye fixed on the circling Gargoyle as he knelt by her side.

“I know what I said,” he told her, blinking back a sudden wave of unexpected tears. “But I can’t abandon you here, Sage. I’ll ‘port you both out. Now, before he comes back. Just give me your hand.”

Sage shook her head again. “I couldn’t……..take the…strain,” she admitted with great difficulty, slowly opening her pain-bright eyes. “Stalag…stalagmite….went all the way through….”

She took a deep breath, gathering all her remaining strength to press the device she’d been working on into Kurt’s hand.

“Just throw it,” she whispered, “and ‘port. And Kurt…” she shuddered, her voice hitching as a tear leaked down her pallid cheek, “May God—may God be with you.”

She fell back with a sigh, her breathing shallow and her eyes closed. Kurt watched her for a long moment, the stark knowledge that there was truly nothing he could do for her clawing at his heart. He looked over to where Logan still stood frozen, poised forever for an attack that would never come. Melinda lay at his feet, pale curls of smoke still rising from the charred stone remains of what had once been a brave, intelligent young woman. Benny was now rocking slowly, a thin string of drool stretching from the corner of his mouth. Kurt could only guess what the Gargoyle’s dramatic escape from his telekinetic hold had done to the boy’s mind. His entire team lay scattered around him, broken, dead, or dying. And at that sight, something within Kurt’s mind snapped.

Baring his fangs, Kurt surged to his feet with a feral roar that would have rivaled Wolverine. The Gargoyle turned his square head, swooping towards him on his leathery wings. Before he could land, however, Kurt threw Sage’s device.

At that second, time seemed to slow down. As Kurt released the device from his right hand, the Gargoyle simultaneously fired a bolt of white energy from his palm. Kurt saw it coming and tried to fall back, reaching out for Benny with his tail, when he felt the first stinging effects of the Gargoyle’s blast graze the tips of his fingers. The color drained from the fur on the back of his hand with impossible speed, his fingers grew heavy and lost all feeling. The horror of what was happening to him hadn’t even had time to penetrate when, in an action that was purely instinctual, Kurt suddenly found himself initiating a teleport. He reappeared mere moments later, dizzy and nauseous, landing hard on his back in what looked like a deserted alley. It was only then that the reality of what he had done hit home.

“NO!” he cried, fighting his way out of a pile of rotting crates and festering garbage. “Benny!”

Picturing the cave in his mind, Kurt struggled to calm himself, to recall the unique ‘feel’ of the space he had just teleported from. It would be a long shot, especially since he had absolutely no idea where he was, but if he could picture the exact coordinates of the Gargoyle’s cave, there was a chance he could jaunt himself back there before the monster attacked Benny and Sage. His unexpected teleport had come so quickly that he didn’t even know if her shocking device had worked!

After several moments of intense concentration, Kurt believed he had it. Taking a deep breath, he activated his power—

And nothing happened.

This was confusing, but Kurt was too worked up to give it much thought. Instead, he tried again—

And again, nothing happened.

By this time, a good deal of his adrenaline rush had faded and his knees were starting to give out from under him. Even so, he wasn’t ready to give up. Focusing on the end of the alley, he tried to teleport one last time…

And ended up collapsing in an exhausted heap instead. Swearing loudly in German, Kurt tried to pry himself off the stinking crates with his tail, but just as with the teleporting absolutely nothing happened. Frustrated and angry and physically drained from the strain of his unwanted escape, Kurt grabbed on to a nearby brick windowsill with his left hand and yanked himself forcefully into a sitting position. The window had long since been shattered, but a thin pane of reflective glass still remained in the corner. Completely exhausted, his mind in too much turmoil to think straight, Kurt simply stared at the unfamiliar image he saw reflected there.

A striking face with deep blue eyes, high cheekbones, and a long, aristocratic nose was blinking back at him, framed by an unruly tousle of dark, chestnut curls. It took several long moments of blank staring before he suddenly recognized the pale, blood spattered features as his own.

“What the hell—!” he exclaimed. Jumping unsteadily to his feet, he swallowed hard against a rising swell of panic as he replayed in his head how the reflection’s pink lips and flat, fangless teeth had moved in perfect time with his speech. Crouching back down before the glass, Kurt slowly, deliberately shook his head back and forth, opening and closing his mouth without making a sound. The human in the broken window mimicked his movements exactly. It was very creepy, like he was the dupe in an old vaudeville act.

“Nein,” he told the reflection firmly, half fascinated, half appalled at the way the man’s furless brow wrinkled over his astonishingly blue eyes. “This can not be real.”

To prove his assertion, he reached up to pinch his cheek with his right hand, only to experience a sickening mental jolt when—just as with his tail and his attempts at teleporting—nothing happened. Looking down in confusion, the reason why at once became shockingly and gruesomely apparent.

Kurt’s entire right arm was missing. It had been severed just below the shoulder, leaving only a horrific, gory stump. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out all thought as he slowly, tentatively lifted his other hand, holding it up before his eyes. With his glove on, it still looked normal enough, but Kurt could tell something was very wrong. Feeling oddly detached from events, he pulled the three-fingered glove off with his abnormally flat teeth and stared at his hand again.

This was impossible. Four fingers and a thumb, all slender and perfect; pale, smooth, furless skin…

Tilting his head in something darkly akin to curiosity, Kurt watched with wide, wild eyes as he stretched out his hand—his impossibly normal, five-fingered, pale pink left hand—and passed it through the space where his right arm should have been. As he did, a fat drop of blood landed on his palm. The blood was warm and slick and utterly, revoltingly real.

And with that understanding, Kurt Wagner began to scream.



NEXT TIME: A mob. Oh dear, poor Kurt. But it wasn't my idea to do this to him! I'm just trying to repair the damage done. But, guess what! A massive showdown between Kurt and Belasco (with swords!) is planned to occur in chapters ahead and then--the final twist! Stay tuned! :D
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by DoomInABox »

I am staring open-mouthed in shocked horror ... that was unbelievably and stunningly the most vivid piece of writing I've seen in longer than I can remember. I've never laid eyes on the Earth X or Universe X books, but I'd imagine they couldn't have told this part of the story any better than you just have. I have no words to express the kind of things this chapter invoked in me while I read it.

Please forgive my outburst in the "Small Steps, Great Leaps" thread ... this was more than worth any wait.
"Picture this: bumpity bumpity bumpity SPLAT!"
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by HoodedMan »

This last chapter was fantastic. Excellent rendition of a well-written battle, and as DIB said, very vivid. I eagerly look forward to more.
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

:yech
You need a warning for arachnephobes for the first five paragrephs. *shudder*

Mon dieu! What a sad, sad chapter. How painful that must have been:cryI cannot wait for the sword fighting, my favorite villian (besides Sinister) and my Favorite hero! *swoons*
one name: Bruce Campbell
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by Rowena »

*winces* Did you know I haven't updated this in a month? I did not realize it was that long. Sorry!

I just got back from a crazy roller-coaster of a week and I didn't even leave the state! Even so, I did manage to do a bit of writing on this story this evening. I was hoping to get a chapter done, but I only managed half so I figured I'll post what I've got now since I probably won't get another chance to write until Wednesday. Erg! Anyway, here it is, such as it is, and I'm sorry for taking so long! Please let me know what you think! Remember, I can always make changes--especially since this chapter's only half done! :D


Chapter Sixteen (Part I)

Ororo came to herself with a stomach-lurching mental jolt only to find she was back in Cerebro, sitting next to Xavier. An insistent blue light was flashing on the control panel, but her brain was too fuzzy for its meaning to register.

“What am I doing here?” she asked blearily, her disorientation lifting like morning fog as the appalling events of the past few minutes rushed back to the forefront of her consciousness. She spun on the old man then, frantic, her crystal eyes wide beneath her sleek, silver helmet.

“No, I can’t be here!” she exclaimed. “You have to help me go back! Kurt has teleported through your divider and now—“

“I know, Ororo,” Xavier interrupted, removing his helmet with pointed deliberation. “I was monitoring you both, if you remember. But powerful as my gifts may be, I can still only deal with one crisis at a time. And right now we are receiving an emergency signal from the medbay.” He flicked the silver switch beside the warning light, which Ororo now saw was a silent alarm originating from Hank’s lab. Hank’s urgent voice burst from the speakers barely a moment later.

“Charles, we have a situation down here,” he said, his voice low and wary as though he feared someone else might hear. “Kurt’s father has appeared along with one of his minions. They demanded to see Kurt--I couldn’t stop them. Scott is keeping watch, but I have to say I do not trust their motives.”

“Bright Goddess,” Ororo breathed, bringing a hand to her chest.

“And Jean?” the Professor asked, his tone clipped with urgency and worry.

“She’s unconscious, but stable,” Hank assured them. “However, I’m afraid she had to pull out of the fight. The psychic strain of holding off that demon nearly drained her. Another minute and I doubt she would have made it back.”

Ororo swallowed, but even her worry for Jean was pushed aside when she realized, “But that means Kurt is alone with Belasco! Charles, you have to help me go back--“

”Don’t think I don’t share your concern, Ororo,” Hank’s low voice interrupted, “but in my opinion, it’s Kurt’s body we should be worried about now. The demons’ claim is that they wish to help restore Kurt to his natural form, but I’m not about to take them at their word. There’s a dark scheme at work here, and I refuse to let them carry it out. Not on my patient and not in my medbay! Thus, I require reinforcements.”

Ororo worked her jaw, her expression conflicted. “But if we leave here, what is to stop Belasco from striking out at Kurt? He certainly can’t defend himself the way he is now!“

”Actually, Ororo,” Xavier said thoughtfully, “his current mental state might be his best defense. As long as his thought patterns continue to mirror his earlier memory, the Belasco ‘program’ should be unable to locate him and attempt another wipe of his personality.”

“Yes, that makes sense.” Hank’s nod was almost audible. “So he should be safe, at least for now.”

”Try to keep the demons distracted, Hank,” Xavier advised. “Ororo and I will be down momentarily.”

He closed the channel and turned his electric wheelchair away from the control panel with an air of finality, as if that was the end of the matter. Ororo stood, her mocha brow furrowed.

“You can’t mean we’re just going to abandon him to face those horrors alone,” she frowned.

“Did I say that?” Xavier snapped, his eyes hardening with a rare flash of temper. “Kurt is in no danger, Ororo—at least not mentally. Whatever horrors he is experiencing in his mind have already happened. At this moment, I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do for him here. Hank is right. It’s his body we should be most concerned about now.”

“Yes,” Ororo muttered under her breath, her blue eyes cold. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

If Xavier heard her, he gave no sign. Without another word, Ororo followed the old man into the elevator; aloof, regal, and completely expressionless. Even so, deep inside it felt as though a freezing vice was being tightened around her heart.

Ororo had promised Kurt she would help him, be there for him. He had trusted her enough to open his mind to her, yet now that he needed her most she was being forced to walk away. It felt like betrayal. But most bitter thought of all was the knowledge that without Xavier’s help, the former weather goddess was helpless to do anything about it.

*******

The late evening skies were clouded and the air was cold as Kurt lurched down the deserted street, clutching the bloody stump that had once been his arm. His head was spinning with nausea, it was difficult to breathe, but still he kept his legs moving, stumbling over his pale, stubby toes and struggling to keep his wandering mind set on the road ahead.

A shadow brushed by him on clacking shoes, a tattered briefcase in one hand. “Hilfe…” he cried, holding out his bloodied hand as though that could stop the man from walking away. “Bitte!”

But he was already gone, swallowed up by the encroaching night. Kurt sagged against the wall of a run-down shop, shivering with pain and a horrible coldness that seemed to leach all the strength from his body. He knew he had lost a lot of blood, that he was probably going into shock. His legs felt boneless; a cold sweat had broken out on his face.

But he had to keep going. He had to keep walking—find a payphone, a church…anything. If he allowed himself to pass out here, he would never wake up. Even a short rest, a brief stop, could be deadly. If he even…closed his eyes…

A jingle of bells, a flood of light--

“Hey you!”

A gruff voice snapped Kurt back to painful consciousness. Shivering hard, he fought to lift his head…

“Freakin’ junkies… Can’t you read the sign? No loiterin’ and no solicitin’. That means you, buddy. Do your beggin’ someplace else! I run a respectable business here and I don’t need you freakin’ hopheads scaring off the customers, got it?”

It took a moment for Kurt’s drifting mind to process the loud English words spoken in such a harsh tone. He blinked blearily up at the broad shopkeeper, and as he did he realized for the first time how terrifying the dark could be without the benefit of night-vision. Rather than providing relief, the light streaming from the shop’s doorway only intensified the enveloping darkness, washing all the color from the crumbling street and turning the previously defined buildings and scraggly trees into monstrous shapes and looming shadows. The shopkeeper himself was a faceless form, his thick fists clenched and his dark eyes glinting beneath the shadow of his brow. Kurt felt a thrill of fear creep up his spine.

“You deaf or somethin’?” the looming man shouted. “I said get lost!”

Kurt tried to stand, but his wobbling legs gave out, his bare heels scraping against the rough sidewalk and the back of his head slamming into the brick wall as he crumpled to the ground. He swallowed the pain, the sudden jar causing his stomach to lurch and his throbbing head to whirl.

“Get up!” the shopkeeper snapped, kicking Kurt sharply in the thigh. “Get up! You can sleep it off someplace else!”

“Please…” Kurt tried, “…I’m not—“

But the moment he opened his mouth he knew he’d made a mistake. His head was spinning so badly…he barely managed three words before, suddenly, everything was coming up. Thick vomit splattered over the shopkeeper’s shoes, the sidewalk, Kurt’s blood-stained hand. A fit of violent coughing wracked his weakened frame, cutting off his horrified apologies before they had a chance to form.

If the shopkeeper was irate before, he was infuriated now. His broad face reddened and his dark eyes began to glow a livid green as he opened his wide mouth in a truly horrible roar. Kurt cringed at the sound, curling himself up as small as possible against the graffiti-marred brick wall.

“What are you doin’ out there, Rod?” a new voice called out, followed closely by a gigantic pair of old, weather-stained leather shoes. Kurt closed his eyes tightly, trying again and again to activate whatever it was in his brain that allowed him to teleport.

“Phew! Lordy what a stench! Looks like he nailed you good, man.”

“It ain’t funny, Frank,” Rod growled through clenched teeth. “I’ve a right mind to make an example out of this one.”

”Yikes,” Frank commented, crouching down to look Kurt over. “Looks to me like somebody already did. There’s blood all over his clothes, cuts on his head… You sure this guy’s a junkie?”

“Well, you tell me,” Rod glowered. “He’s filthy, dressed in stinkin’ rags, he reeks of garbage, and I found him passed out in front of my shop. What else do you need?”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t know. He looks like he’s been beat up pretty bad, but I can’t hardly see anythin’ in this light.” He stood with a grunt of effort. “Let’s bring him inside.”

“Heck no!” Rod exclaimed, outraged at the very thought. “I ain’t bringin’ no stinkin’ junkie into my shop, especially if he’s bleedin’! Lord knows what diseases these people might be carryin’, shootin’ up all day with those filthy needles of theirs! Bad enough he threw up on me! I’m not about to let him bleed on me too!”

”Well, we can’t just leave him here,” Frank proclaimed. Stepping back into the shop, he called, “Liz! Hey, Liz! Bring me that flashlight, will you? You know, the one Rod keeps behind the counter. Yeah, that’s the one.”

Kurt opened his eyes again just in time to see a girl with mottled gray skin, perfectly round, fish-like eyes, and wetly flapping gills come rushing to the doorway, a flashlight in her scaly hand. She handed it to an enormous, middle-aged man with dark green skin and hair, all the while staring openly at Kurt. The giant smiled down at the girl, then crouched by Kurt’s side, turning on the flashlight and pointing it straight at his face.

“Ach!” he exclaimed, flinching away from the sudden brightness.

“Sorry,” the green man apologized, and Kurt immediately recognized his voice as Frank’s. At that moment, something clicked in his swimming brain, something that made his heart begin to swell with hope. Somehow, he had landed in a community of mutants. If he could just gather his strength…focus his thoughts…surely they would understand what had happened once he explained who he was. He could be back home at the mansion by morning!

“Please,” he panted, swallowing hard to stave off another bout of vomiting. He spoke slowly, enunciating each word with careful precision. “Please sir, you have to help me. I am not a drug addict. My name is Kurt Wagner…Nightcrawler, from the X-Men.”

Rod snorted from the shadows above. “You ain’t neither. Nightcrawler’s blue, ain’t he? If you’re him, then how come you ain’t got no blue fur?”

“Wait!” Liz exclaimed, “I read in the newspaper that sometimes he wears a sort of hologram-maker thinggummy when he’s out on missions. Ask him if he’s wearin’ a watch, Frank!”

“You mean my image inducer,” Kurt gasped, his eyes widening as he realized he could make this work to his advantage. “It used to be a watch, but now it is a cylinder that straps to my belt.” He gestured to the array of palm-sized instruments strapped to his utility belt, shifting his position against the brick wall. He had barely gotten settled, however, when his ears were met by a piercing scream, causing his heart to nearly leap through his ribcage.

“Oh, God, oh GOD!” Liz shrieked, both hands clamped over her wide mouth. “He ain’t got no arm, Frank! Oh, God, he ain’t got no arm! All that blood--“

”Get back, girl,” Rod said gruffly. “He could still be dangerous. One thing’s for sure, though. Whoever he is, he can’t be no X-Man. They don’t leave their own, especially when they’re this bad off.”

“They didn’t leave me!” Kurt retorted sharply, his voice cracking with renewed pain as his muscles clenched. I was the one who left them, he berated himself, his heart heavy with guilt at the shameless way he had abandoned his team. But he didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he hedged. “There was an accident. I…I teleported blindly. Right now, they don’t know where I am. You…you have to call them. You have to let them know I’m here.”

“He sounds sincere, Roddy,” Frank observed with a thoughtful frown. “And he’s definitely got one of them European accents. Isn’t Nightcrawler supposed to be Dutch or Russian or somethin’?”

Kurt stiffened. “Deutsche!” he corrected firmly. “Ich bin--I mean, I am a German, mein Herr. I was brought up in Baden-Württemberg and in Bayern, near München--Munich.” He sagged back against the coarse wall, exhausted and out of breath. “Now please,” he pleaded weakly, his energy draining fast, his thoughts beginning to loose coherence. “Please, you must the X-Men call.” He shook his head, recognizing something wasn’t quite right with that sentence. “I mean, call the X-Men. The number ist hier…”

He reached into one of the hidden pockets in his tattered uniform and pulled out a crumpled business card, the kind he usually handed out to the parents of his students just in case they needed to contact him directly instead of going through the front office. He had used the back of this one to jot down the time for some meeting or other and had never gotten around to throwing it away--something he was deeply grateful for now. On the front was printed his name and the name of the school, the number of his office phone, his fax number, his e-mail address, and the address and phone number of the school. It was to this last section that he pointed as he handed the small card to Frank.

“There,” he said with a weak smile. “My credentials. The number you need is right there.”

Frank read the card, then passed it up to Rod. “Seems legit to me,” he said. Rod just grunted. Frank shook his head.

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Wagner,” the green-skinned giant said, rising to his feet with a reassuring smile. “I’ll go make the call right now. You just sit tight and your friends’ll be here before you know it.”

“Danke,” Kurt breathed, then he gasped as he began to shiver even more violently than before. The shop door slammed with a muffled jingle of bells as he slowly slumped to the sidewalk, too exhausted even to lift his head.




Poor Kurt! Unfortunately, it's only downhill from here. I did say there'd be a mob scene in this chapter. Stay tuned! :D
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by HoodedMan »

Poor Kurt. :(

Well, it seems like at least he'll get some help? Hope so! :)
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

:bow
You already know that I am a fan of your writing, so I don't need to stress that...but I will. I'm coming here for you, the other writers and news now. I won't be visiting this site as much anymore (due to...family problems) except to check check in on fics and any new news that the community will bring, and my posting will be only in this section and the Nightcrawler section so I gotta make them worth it or not at all.

I'd have to say that it's hard to be mad at Xavier. Though in Storms case, he seems very insensitive to her problem of his "pulling" her out, and how it will effect Kurt's view of her and the trust between them, you can't help but be happy that he did what he did. I think I would have to side with Xavier and go with saving Kurt's body, and possibly getting back into his mind after things were straightened out, rather than keeping a solid relationship and end up dying or something else unpleasant because of his dad and Mephisto. Kurt's an understanding guy, he would deal with 'Ro sooner or later.

As for beast calling for backup. Where's Magneto and scott while this is happening?

This Rod fellow, he seems...He's a punk. Frank, might be likeable...*brainfart...(whoops, that's gone too)*...although it seems rather cruel that they all know he is in terrible shap...MISSING AN ARM, WITH A BLOOD FLAMIN' STUMP LEFT...and they just leave him outside by himself where, for all they know, has already lost too much blood and can croak any minute, someone should have stayed out with him and kept him talking, fish girl or something. The dude was shivering like a paint mixer and they couldn't find him a blanket? "Poor Kurt" is a titanic understatement, my fine hed-ju-ma-cated friend.

BLAST!!!! And it's only part of the chapter.
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by Rowena »

I'm really sorry to hear all that, Curlyy! I truly hope everything works out well for you. I'm really touched you're going to be sticking around to check up on the fics, though. I write this stuff with your comments in mind. I hope the second half of the chapter meets with your approval!

Kurt is going to get some help, but it won't be from Rod and the others. "Poor Kurt" is an understatement, unfortunately. In the comics, he was brought to the brink of death by this mob. But you all can read what happens for yourselves. Here's


Chapter Sixteen (Part II)

He hadn’t been lying there long, however, before a new sound forced him to open his eyes. Three young men and two scantily-clad girls--all of them obviously mutants--were making their way down the opposite sidewalk. From their too-bright laughter and stumbling gaits it was clear they’d just come from a night of drinking. They passed under a streetlamp, the yellowed light bringing their features into focus.

Kurt blinked hard, his breath quickening as he forced himself to sit up. One of the girls…she had lavender skin and black hair just like--

“Melinda!” he gasped, his hoarse cry oddly resonant in the nighttime air. The drunken party came to an awkward, giggly stop, peering through the shadows for the source of the call. Half delirious with joy and pain, Kurt staggered to his feet and began to shuffle his way across the street, warm tears streaming from his eyes. “Melinda, Gott sei dank! You’re alive!”

The lavender-skinned girl shrieked in alarm at the sight of the ragged, bloody specter lurching towards her. One of the boys leapt in front of her, pushing his glasses up his salmon-colored nose as he pointed his straight horns at the approaching stranger. But Kurt was too overcome to appreciate the danger he was walking into, his words of relief tumbling over his guilt-stricken apologies as he reached out to her…

“Keep back!” the horned boy warned. “Don’t you come any closer!”

But Kurt kept moving forward, oblivious and disoriented. A dark haired boy in a worn leather jacket dashed into a nearby alley, his legs blurring with incredible speed. Barely an instant later, he returned with an armful of empty beer bottles and broken bricks.

“Get away from us!” he exclaimed, lobbing a bottle at the nightmarish figure with all his might. It hit Kurt on the head and he crumpled to the ground, hurt and bewildered. Sharing wary looks, the five drunken teenagers approached him cautiously, sticking close together behind the boy with the bricks.

“Listen to him talk,” the horned boy said, frowning at Kurt’s delirious babbling. “Did you ever hear an accent like that before?”

“He ain’t from around here, that’s for sure,” the armed boy replied.

“Whoever he is, he’s hurt real bad,” the lavender-skinned girl observed with a look of deep revulsion. “Look at all that blood! You don’t get that much blood from a regular street fight. This guy looks like he’s been in a war!”

“Hey! You think he could be a terrorist or somethin’?” the third boy--a reptilian-looking teen with wings like a pterodactyl--spoke up from the back of the huddle. “Maybe he’s, like, on the run from the FBI! Maybe there’s a reward if we bring him in!”

“This loser ain’t no terrorist,” the boy with the bricks scorned. “Just look at him. I bet he ain’t even a mutant. Just some stinkin’ human that got caught on the wrong side of town. Probably deserves every wound he’s got.” Striding forward, he kicked Kurt sharply in the thigh.

“Hey you!” he shouted. “Flat-scan! What’d you do--run into a propeller or somethin’?”

Kurt stared up at the small gang from the street, his blue eyes glassy and his breathing harsh and ragged as he fought to focus his thoughts into coherent speech. “Didn’t mean to,” he gasped brokenly, “…to teleport… Would have turned me to stone… Gargoyle…had to stop… Mutants…help…” He trailed off, falling back onto the pavement, his fingers numb and trembling.

“Had to stop mutants?” the second girl repeated with a frown, brushing her short-cropped pink hair from her eyes. “Did you hear that? This guy’s been beatin’ up on mutants!”

Just then, the door to the shop opened with a jingle of bells and Frank, Rod, and Liz came filing out.

“Mr. Wagner, we called the school but only got the machine,” Frank was saying, but he cut himself off when he caught sight of the scene in the street.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on here!” he demanded, running over to the teenagers. “Don’t you know who this man is?”

“Yeah. He’s one of them Friends of Humanity nuts,” the dark haired boy declared. “We just heard him sayin’ how he wanted us to help stop the mutants!”

“What are you talkin’ about, boy,” Frank glared. “This here’s Nightcrawler from the X-Men! He even had a card!”

The horned boy snorted. “Card, my ass,” he scorned bluntly. “No way this filthy flat-scan is Nightcrawler! He ain’t got no tail or nothin’!”

“That’s because he’s wearin’ a hologram, moron,” Liz retorted, crouching down to snatch the instruments from Kurt’s belt. “When I find the right one, the hologram will blink out and then you’ll see…” She stood up and backed away, bewildered when nothing happened.

”See what?” the dark-haired boy smirked. Liz frowned, increasingly angry as she scowled at the instruments in her hand, then down at the unchanged human at her feet.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “I think he lied to us, Frank! He ain’t Nightcrawler after all!”

“I knew it!” Rod proclaimed. “He probably stole that card off the real Nightcrawler. I’d even go so far as to bet it was the X-Men that did all this to him! Makes sense if he’s one of the FoH! Heck, he might even be their leader for all we know!”

“Then I say we finish what they started,” Frank said coldly, his green face drawn with fury at how easily he’d been fooled. “These freakin’ FoH bigots have been keepin’ us down long enough. It’s about time we got some of our own back!”

A sizable crowd of mutants had gathered by this time, pouring out from the apartments above the run-down shops to see what the commotion in the street was all about. As Frank shouted, they took up the cry, advancing on Kurt with anything they could find.

Kurt watched them come, blankly uncomprehending until Frank lobbed a brick straight at his head. Only his years of Danger Room training saved his life as he rolled away just in time and climbed to his unsteady feet, his head whirling and his heart pounding. It was only then that the full reality of his situation sank in.

The fact that he was standing seemed to enrage the crowd, their threatening shouts growing in intensity. Kurt experienced a sickening sense of deja-vu, his mind flashing back to that horrible night in Winzeldorf. Then, he’d been scapegoated because he was a mutant. Now he was human, he was seeing that same murderous hatred burning in the eyes of the mutants all around him. Only this time, Professor Xavier wasn’t there to save him from their fury.

A sudden rush of terror surged a desperate strength into his shaky limbs as he ran for his life, the raging mob pounding close at his heels. Glass shattered all around him, the shards cutting his bare feet, bricks left painful welts on his back and legs, yet still he ran. He ran mindlessly, his thoughts as incoherent as those of a hunted deer until, suddenly, he found himself pressed up against a brick wall.

Acting purely on instinct, he tried to climb it, unable to comprehend why his palm and feet refused to stick to the rough surface. He tried again and again, scraping the skin from his hand and knees and toes, yet nothing happened. Turning around, he faced the on-coming mob, his blue eyes wide and wild as he crouched down, throwing his arm over his head in a futile attempt to protect himself from the rocks and bricks and bottles pelting down on him, battering him until he fell helplessly to the sidewalk, no longer able to move.

This was it. This was the end. As painful as it was, Kurt could almost laugh at the irony. His mother had been right. Everything he’d ever worked for, the cause he’d fought so hard to defend, was nothing more than an idealist’s fantasy. Mutant or human, all cultures and communities were the same--fearing any person, thing, or idea that was different from the accepted norm. Xavier’s Dream was a failure, and Kurt’s death would be the final proof.

“Let that be my last thought,” he whispered ruefully through cracked lips as he closed his eyes and gave himself over to--

“Stop that! Get away from him, all of you! Have you all gone mad?!”

A new voice was rising above the mob’s shouts, drawing him back from the darkness enveloping his mind. Slowly, Kurt raised his leaden eyelids, watching in blank befuddlement as the blurry shadows dispersed, leaving only two shiny black shoes standing before him.

Kurt tilted his head back, wincing as even that small movement stabbed his broken body with shooting pain. A flood of light met his tearing eyes, filling his heart with a strange wonder. From out of this light, a kindly face came into focus, the softly wrinkled face of a priest…

“Can this pitiful figure I see before me truly be Kurt Wagner?” the old man asked, his dark eyes filled with sadness as he stood over his prone form. “Where are your friends? Surely the X-Men would not abandon one of their own to a fate such as this.”

Kurt closed his eyes, a searing guilt slicing through him as he thought of Benny and Sage, of how they must have faced their deaths alone and without hope of rescue. He had abandoned them. Why should he deserve any better?

Taking in a shaky breath, he managed a hoarse whisper. “Who…who are you?”

“Here, I am known as Mr. Church,” the old man said, his gleaming eyes appearing almost gold in the dim light of the alley. “But you, my brother,” he smiled, his white teeth lengthening into alarming fangs even as his hair and skin deepened in color to a dark, ominous red, “may call me Mephisto.”*

*The preceding mob scene and Mephisto’s appearance were taken from events in Universe X, Volume 2.

*******

Erik was approaching the medbay from the other end of the corridor when the doors to the elevator opened for Charles and Ororo. Rather than speak out loud, he projected his questioning thoughts to his old friend to prevent being overheard.

“Supper for the rest of the staff and the students has been taken care of, although I did have to be rather creative in finding ways to stave off their questions about what’s going on down here. On that subject, by the way, just how are we going to approach this situation? I doubt it would be prudent to simply walk right in without any strategy at all…” He raised a somewhat challenging eyebrow.

Xavier’s thin lips twitched into a small smile. Speaking out loud, he said, “On the contrary, my friend, that is exactly what I was planning to do. You see, he already knows we’re out here.”

Ororo shot the two men an annoyed look, realizing some kind of silent exchange had just taken place. Before she could ask for clarification, though, Xavier had already maneuvered his electric wheelchair through the sliding door to the main medical bay. Swallowing her frustration, Ororo followed the old man inside with Erik close behind.

For an emergency situation, the scene that met their eyes as they filed into the cavernous room was surprisingly calm. At the far corner, Scott was sitting beside Jean’s bed, gently stroking her vibrant hair as she slept. The monitors that flanked her showed normal rhythms and steady pulses--evidence that she would make a full recovery after her harrowing psychic experiences. It wasn’t the two Summers that caught their attention, however.

“Ah!” Azazel smiled, striding forward with his hand outstretched. “Professor Charles Xavier, I presume! So good to meet you at last.”

Xavier raised an eyebrow. “Indeed,” he said, giving the demon’s proffered hand the most perfunctory of shakes before gesturing to the others. “And these are my colleagues, Erik Lehnsherr and--“

”No, don’t tell me,” Azazel interrupted, his golden eyes fixed on Ororo’s face as he took her hand and raised it to his lips. Ororo felt a deep chill run through her at his unwelcome touch. She knew she had seen those eyes before…

“This can only be the lovely Ororo Munroe,” the demon went on, oblivious to her reaction, “the woman who has held my son’s affections for so long, yet has only now begun to show any signs of true reciprocation. Tell me, my dear, do you treat all your admirers so wantonly or only those whose looks don’t quite match the so-called ideal?”

Ororo’s blue eyes flashed a brilliant white, her long hair rising around her shoulders as she tore her hand from his grasp. Mephisto took a threatening step towards her, leaving Hank alone by Kurt’s bedside, but Azazel waved him back with a low laugh.

“So,” he smirked, his eyes roving over her figure in a way that made her feel uncomfortably exposed and increasingly angry, “the Storm Goddess’s armor is not as thick as she would like us to believe.” He leaned in close, causing her to shudder as the bristles of his black beard brushed against her ear. “If you keep wearing your heart on your sleeve, my dear, it is likely to tarnish.”

She glared at him, moving back several paces. Azazel let her go, but kept his eyes fixed on her face as he continued, clearly goading her. “I offered that advice to my son upon our first meeting, but he proved unable to heed it. You can see the consequences.” He cast a pointed glance at the unconscious Kurt.

“Azazel,” Xavier interrupted firmly before Ororo’s swelling outrage could erupt into violent fury, “why have you come here?”

The demon let his gaze linger on Ororo just a bit longer before he turned a rather disappointed expression on Xavier. “Really, Professor, with powers as vaunted as yours you shouldn’t have to ask such obvious questions. I have come because my son is in need of my help. It’s that simple.”

“Is that so,” Erik retorted, crossing his arms in front of his chest with a scowl. “Then why is it only now that you’ve decided to show up? Why didn’t offer Wagner your help a year ago, or even a week ago? Why did you wait until he was this bad before doing something?”

Azazel shook his head. “Another slew of obvious questions! Clearly I didn’t come earlier because it is only now that any help I could offer would be of use to him. To tell you the truth, before Miss Munroe’s impromptu rooftop visitation I wasn’t even sure if he could be helped. I don’t know what you said to draw him out, my dear, but ever since then that tangled, schizoid swamp he calls a mind has been slowly crawling its way back to sanity, making it possible for me to finally offer him some meaningful assistance.”

Ororo’s whitening eyes were as hard as diamonds. “And why should we trust you?” she snarled, her snowy hair crackling with barely contained electricity as she advanced on the bearded demon. “You’re the one who did this to him in the first place! If it wasn’t for you--“

”If it wasn’t for me, he’d be dead!” Azazel snapped, his eyes flashing a dangerous gold. “Murdered by the ungrateful populace you X-Men had him convinced he had a duty to protect. I gave him a second chance at life, taught him how misguided he had been--“

”And when he resisted, you wiped his personality and implanted Belasco’s instead!” Ororo cried. “Replace a troublesome son with a loyal one, is that it? You probably thought Kurt was gone for good! But he proved too strong, didn’t he, Azazel. And now that he’s begun to recover his identity, you’ve come to finish what you started!” She curled her lip, her posture radiating menace. “You’ve come to help your son all right,” she said, “but not Kurt. You’ve come for Belasco!”

Three slow claps echoed dully in the metallic room, overlapped by Mephisto’s derisive snickering.

“Lovely speech,” Azazel remarked. “And delivered with such fiery passion! I must say I’m impressed. You’re quite wrong, of course, but I can understand how you could have come to that erroneous conclusion.”

Mephisto snorted from across the room, speaking up without taking his eyes from the trilling instrument in his hand. “Belasco is nothing,” he said bluntly. “He was a failure--an untalented, self-centered fool who longed for a prestige he never deserved. Kurt was the one with the potential. He just needed a little…prodding…before he would allow himself to put his skills to use.”

“Prodding!” Ororo exclaimed. “You brainwashed him! You stole his identity, altered his body, distorted his brain paths--!”

“We had hoped that wouldn’t be necessary,” Mephisto frowned. “Kurt Wagner could have been second only to my father in power if he had just opened his eyes and embraced our cause. But he proved too stubborn, and the psychic treatments my sister performed on him didn’t hold. He soon became unstable…irrational. My father placed him in Limbo before he could deteriorate too far, but ultimately he left us no choice but to perform a complete wipe of his personality and memories.” He shook his head, raising his golden eyes from his instrument to cast an openly disgusted glance at Kurt. “Such a waste,” he commented.

Erik furrowed his brow. “Then, it seems to me that you have no more use for him--at least not as he is now,” he commented. “Why, then, have you chosen to help him?”

Azazel smiled behind his trim goatee. “My dear Magneto, I may be a demon but I am not a monster. For all his misguided shortcomings, Kurt Wagner is still my son. And you can trust I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t believe he had earned the chance of a full recovery.”

Ororo looked suspicious. “Earned how?” she demanded.

“By continuing to exist!” Azazel explained grandly. “Wiping Kurt’s personality was the hardest decision I have ever had to make, and I can tell you Belasco made a poor replacement. I mourned my son, Miss Munroe. I mourned him bitterly. For all his obstinate defiance, he had always proved worthy of my respect. You cannot imagine my wonder when I learned he had survived the procedure!”

“A recovery like this should be impossible,” Mephisto added, speaking clinically over his instrument. “Such spontaneous personality regeneration has no precedent, especially after a new personality has been implanted. We have been tracking his progress since we sent him out as Belasco over fifty years ago, and his resilience has proven truly remarkable.”

Azazel beamed proudly. “And that is why I have decided to grant him the opportunity to return to his former life. Such an indomitable will should be rewarded. I want his remaining years on my Earth to be rich and happy, spent among the people he loves so dearly.” He turned once again to face Ororo. “Surely you can’t fault a father for wanting that for his child.”

Scott rose from his seat across the room, his brow furrowed over his glasses. “So let me see if I understand you,” he said, taking a few strides forward. “In order to reward Kurt for miraculously surviving your attempt to blot him out of existence, you’re making this magnanimous offer to untangle the mess you’ve made of his genes and his mind so he can live happily ever after here with us. And then…what? What do you get out of this?”

For the briefest moment, Azazel stiffened, a dangerous gleam in his eye. Then, just as abruptly, his shoulders loosened and he began to laugh. But it was a chilling sound.

“There is a very old proverb, Mister Summers,” he said darkly, his long tail writhing like a snake behind him, “that I think you might appreciate. It goes: Never look a gift horse in the mouth. This is a family affair, little man. My motives are my own.”

“Fair enough,” Xavier spoke up from his chair. “Far be it for me to argue with you. If anything, I would like to thank you for what you are doing for Kurt. I realize he is your son by blood, but ever since he came here at the age of nineteen we have all regarded him as an important member of our family. You can’t blame us for being protective now that he’s returned to us.”

Azazel cocked an eyebrow at the elderly Professor; their sharp eyes boring into each other as though a silent power play was taking place. After a long moment, Azazel blinked. Xavier nodded.

“You will have our full cooperation for as long as is needed to rid Kurt of Belasco,” he proclaimed, the firmness of his tone taking the gathered X-Men somewhat aback. “These facilities are at your disposal. How can we assist you?”

The demon’s thin lips crept into a superior smirk. “Mainly by keeping out of our way,” he said with a pointed glare at Scott and Erik. “McCoy can stay, however. His knowledge is limited in this area, but his skills might prove useful nonetheless. As for you,” he peered down at the Professor, “I’ll need you and Miss Munroe to continue your work in Cerebro. Yes, I know all about it, Charles, don’t look so shocked. In fact, I was counting on it.”

“Then I was correct to attempt containment,” Xavier said, forcing himself to speak civilly, even if it was through clenched teeth. The demon nodded.

“You will have to get Kurt to attack with everything he has,” he said. “He must force Belasco to give ground if we’re to stand a chance of extracting the implant without causing further damage to Kurt’s mind.” He held up a clawed finger to forestall Xavier’s next question, looking him up and down as though sizing him up.

“As you can guess, the operation is extremely delicate. So delicate, I would only entrust it to the most powerful telepath who has ever lived.”

Xavier could feel a flush rising on his face, but before he could respond Azazel continued, his deep voice laced with more than a little smugness. “I will summon her directly once everything is ready. You just concern yourself with making sure Kurt is strong enough to fight Belasco. You may go.”

And with a dismissive flick of his spaded tail, Azazel strode back to Kurt’s bedside, where Mephisto and Hank were too preoccupied with their scans to take much notice of Xavier’s bristling ire.



Swordfight in the next chapter, I promise! There are only two chapters and an epilogue to go, and then this seemingly interminable story will be done, done, done! I really think I can have it finished by the end of the month. Then I can concentrate on finishing up a few other stories I have in the works, including "Small Steps, Great Leaps." Stay tuned! :D

:bamf
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by HoodedMan »

Heh. I love arrogant, well-written characters and Azazel just fits the bill! I hope to see more development on his part and as always on Kurt's part! :)
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by Rowena »

OK, after the last post I made here, I promised myself I wouldn't make another post or even peek at any Nightcrawler sites until I FINISHED Ch. 17 of this story. And even with that self-imposed torture to spur me on, it took me forever to get this down on "paper". This is the chapter where the showdown/swordfight between Kurt and Belasco starts, and it's concluded in the next chapter (which is also the final chapter). I scrapped so many versions of this chapter it's not even funny. I still don't know if I like it. So, rather than stall and procrastinate and mess with it for another week--which would probably make it worse--I'll leave it to you to decide if you like it or not. Please, if you see anything in here that you think could use improvement in any way, let me know! I'd seriously appreciate ANY and ALL constructive criticism you can give! Thanks! :D




Chapter Seventeen

The demon Belasco sat back on his dark throne, his composed expression masking the burning rage swelling in his heart. His link with the physical body he inhabited was stronger than his enemies seemed to think. Even though the body itself was in a comatose state, Belasco had heard everything, every word of the conversation between his father and the X-Men. And what he’d heard had left him fuming.

Belasco had sacrificed everything to serve Azazel. His home, his humanity, his friends… His love. He had turned his back on the life he had known in exchange for his father’s promise that he would impart to him the knowledge of the supernatural, that he would raise him up to the exalted position he had always deserved. But now, after what he had just heard, he was starting to see their pact in a new light. And it didn’t look good.

All this time, Azazel had been using him, just as he had used him to get to Beatrice. He cared nothing for his ambitions, he had no appreciation of his talents. To him, Belasco was only a convenient means to an end. And that end involved Kurt Wagner, not Brunetto Donati.

Belasco growled, the sound rumbling low in his throat. To think that he had been so completely taken in by Azazel’s smooth words, his easy promises. He’d been convinced his father had revived him as show of appreciation for all he’d done for him, that he had been given a new body and a new position as the Lord of Limbo as a reward. He had been so proud of his position, believing that ruling such an isolated plane of existence was a sign of his father’s trust. And it had made sense! After all, if it hadn’t been for him, Beatrice’s twins Mephisto and Ginniyeh would never have been born and Azazel would have been without his two greatest and most powerful advisors. But now he could see how wrong he’d been.

His exalted position had been nothing more than an empty title. Limbo wasn’t a prize, it was a prison! A boggy backwater of a reality plane with no real importance to Azazel’s realm. He’d been placed there so his father could keep an eye on him while keeping him out of his important affairs--as though he were a child in a playpen! His entire existence for the past fifty odd years had been nothing more than a farce; his father’s sick way of keeping Wagner--the only one of his children he had never been able to dominate--under his control. Belasco himself meant less than nothing to his father. He was just a “poor replacement” for the child he couldn’t have. And that’s what really stung.

All this time, it had been Wagner Azazel had wanted by his side. Wagner, the Gypsy brat provincial who had no understanding or appreciation of the power he could so easily have held, the power Brunetto had coveted all his life. The power he would never wield…

Belasco ground his sharp teeth together, his glowing eyes narrowing into fierce slits. His father had used him and he had betrayed him. He had sacrificed Beatrice to that cold-hearted monster for nothing. But if Azazel thought he was just going to give up this body to Wagner, he was dead wrong. He had earned this body. He deserved it, and he was going to keep it! Not for Azazel, but for himself. Azazel could go hang, along with whatever plan he had up his sleeve. He wasn’t about to sacrifice his life for him again.

*******

Kurt squinted in horrified alarm at the demonic face grinning down at him. Mephisto stood beneath the eerie halo of the corner streetlamp, looming over his prone half-brother with his hands on the hips of his black suit. His smooth, blood-red hair shone and his pointed teeth gleamed as he shot a superior snigger from his thin, aquiline nose.

“Not quite what you were expecting, am I?” he smirked, crouching down and tilting his head so he could look Kurt straight in the eye. “You were probably hoping to see a redeeming angel all in white, or maybe the famous tunnel beckoning you to heaven? But tell me, my brother,” he said, “and speak the truth now. Do you really believe you deserve such salvation after all you’ve done?”

Kurt was in agony. His every breath was a painful struggle. Still, he managed a hoarse retort.

“I…I am not your brother,” he hissed, clenching his teeth against the pain. “Leave me alone.”

Mephisto’s lips stretched into a half-smile. “Alone?” he repeated. “Yes, you are alone, aren’t you. There are no X-Men friends to save you this time. I’m the only person on this world who knows where you are, and why you’re here. I know what you’ve done, Kurt.”

Kurt grimaced, his breathing growing sharper and even more ragged. “Go…go away…”

“It’s eating you up inside,” Mephisto persisted, his smooth voice so gentle, so understanding. “You keep seeing their faces in your mind--“

“Stop it.”

“And it’s a torture worse than your own pain. The agony of your broken body is almost a relief, isn’t it? Each twinge and ache and sting soothes your guilt. You deserve this fate. The beating you received from that mob, the loss of your arm and your powers….it’s all God’s justice, isn’t it.”

“…no…”

“The price you pay for killing your team.”

Hot tears stung Kurt’s eyes, leaking down the scratches and bruises on his cheek and pooling in his ear. Every hitching breath brought a fresh wave of agony to his broken ribs, but the physical pain was nothing to the weeping wound in his soul.

“You killed them, brother. Or, rather, you let that Gargoyle creature kill them. And now, your worst fear has come true, hasn’t it. Here you are, lying helpless in a rancid alleyway completely alone. The ideals you fought and sacrificed for, the ideals you killed to defend…they are meaningless now, empty words without substance. You’ve been abandoned by everything and every one you’ve ever loved. Now, even by God.”

It was as if the demon was reading aloud from words printed on his heart. There was no denial in his tears. Only shame. Shame…and fear.

“I understand, my brother,” the demon hissed, snakelike in his ear. “I’ve seen it so many times. But you’re right. I should get going.”

Mephisto’s warmth vanished from his side as the demon rose to his feet. Kurt opened his eyes, squinting again at the bright light that surrounded his imposing form as he turned and started to walk away.

“Good bye, Kurt Wagner.”

Every clack of the demon’s shoes brought terror pumping into Kurt’s heart. Coldness surrounded him, darkness was closing in so fast…

“Stop!”

The word tore from his throat like a terrified moth desperate for escape. And once it was gone, the rest of Kurt’s desperate confession was soon to follow.

“Bitte, I…” He sobbed, an aching, horrible sound. “I don’t want to be alone.”

The demon paused for a long, tense moment. Kurt held in his short, gasping breaths until, slowly, Mephisto turned back to him, returning to crouch by his side once more. His gentle smile twisted into a smirk as he regarded his broken half-brother through knowing, yellow eyes.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t think you really wanted me to leave you. At this point, with your life ebbing away with such frightening swiftness, even my company must be better than none at all.”

Kurt couldn’t answer, too ashamed of his weakness to even look the demon in the face.

“What--“ he gasped, his words dissolving into a breathless wince. “What do you want?”

“Believe it or not, I came to help you, Kurt,” the demon said, his tone and expression completely sincere. “I wanted to let you know that you don’t have to die today. Not like this; a helpless victim of a heartless mob.”

He leaned in closer, his golden eyes fixed on Kurt’s blood-shot blue ones. “You know in your heart why this happened; the real reason you’re lying here in this filthy alley in a pool of your own blood. Your guilty conscience is fighting to deny it, but the truth is that the deaths of your teammates was an accident, a tragedy no one could have prevented. What happened to you tonight, however, was unforgivable.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes in confused denial. “I don’t--.” He took in a shaky breath and tried again. “I don’t understand…”

Mephisto shook his head, clearly exasperated at having to spell out the obvious. The expression on his russet face only made Kurt feel worse.

“Your friends died in the line of duty, fighting to protect humanity from itself,” the demon explained grandly. “Despite its futility, theirs was a noble cause. You, on the other hand, are the victim of a hate crime. There is no honor in that. It is your death that would be the true tragedy tonight, because it would prove your friends died for nothing.”

“What?”

The sound was small, but it had the right tone. Mephisto’s eyes gleamed, the smell of victory already titillating his nostrils. He was on the right track. Just a little more time, and Wagner would be his…

“Listen to me, Kurt,” he said in his most compassionate tone. “Mutant or flat-scan, humanity is all the same. They’re fearful beings, mistrustful of anything beyond their limited range of experience. It takes only the tiniest provocation for that fear to turn to hate, for the defensive to turn violent.”

He sat back on his heels with a sigh, his expression somber. “It’s a shame that only now your eyes have begun to clear, my brother. All your life you’ve lived in a cloud, fighting in defense of a dream without substance. Your struggle has been as noble and as tragic as that of Don Quixote himself. But then, you always have been a romantic.”

He smiled then, but his golden eyes remained deep with pity.

“I realize it’s hard for you to hear this,” he said, “but I can tell by your expression that you know what I’ve said is true. You’ve been tilting at windmills, Kurt, battling symptoms rather than attacking the core disease.”

Mephisto placed a surprisingly gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder, his expression soft with false sympathy as he watched the streaming tears pour from Kurt’s reddened eyes.

“Listen,” he said, his voice intense and sincere. “Don’t try to speak. Just listen. You see me and my kind--our kind--as ‘evil’ because that’s what the humans have taught you to believe. From your earliest days with your circus family all the way through your years with the X-Men, people you’ve cared about have recoiled from you, been afraid to let you get too close. Not because of anything you’ve done, but because of what you are, of what you can’t help being.

“You, like me, are a son of Azazel. Your appearance, if not your actions, marks you as one of us, and that is what your comrades fear. They fear us because we remind them of their shortcomings. The human species are sinners all, and the one thing they hate above all others is to be caught in the act. So, it is our difficult and thankless duty to instill the fear of God into them, as it were, to play on their own guilt to keep them in line. As a result, we are despised by humanity for the same reasons prosecuting attorneys are despised by criminals.

“The devil exists, Kurt, to punish the guilty. To teach them a lesson, just like the lessons learned in Xavier’s school. Understand, my brother…you and me, our father Azazel, all our kind…we were made in God’s image too.”(1)

Kurt closed his eyes, gasping and wheezing, oddly aware that his labored breathing was starting to take on a disturbing whistling sound. But in his mind, drifting and spinning as it was, Mephisto’s words were beginning to click. Something about them sounded so familiar, like he’d heard them all before, long, long ago. In Sunday School, when he was a child. Wasn’t there a story where Satan was portrayed as an advocate working for God…in the Old Testament perhaps…? He couldn’t remember. He was too exhausted to remember. All he knew was that Mephisto’s words made sense.

He opened his eyes again to see Mephisto’s smile beaming down at him. Almost reflexively, he returned it. The warmth that small action sparked in the demon’s golden eyes touched his failing heart.

“That’s right,” Mephisto said, his voice fading then coming back as Kurt began to flicker in and out of consciousness. “I knew you’d come around in the end. You don’t want to die here, do you?”

“Nein,” Kurt whispered, feeling warm and floaty and protected, detached somehow from the pain of his dying body. Mephisto’s smile broadened into a reassuring grin.

“I can help you,” he said. “But you have to come with me of your own volition. Take my hand, my brother. Our father is waiting to welcome you home.”

“Home,” Kurt breathed, awkwardly reaching into the streetlamp’s enveloping light as he searched for Mephisto’s outstretched hand…

“Bright Goddess… Get away from him!”

Mephisto spun in place as he jumped to his feet, snarling dangerously as a new figure stepped onto the scene. Kurt blinked in bleary wonder, the bright light from the streetlamp stretching into long rays as his watering eyes struggled to focus. The newcomer was a tall, stately woman with dark skin and gleaming white hair. Her eyes glowed with a fierceness that caused even Mephisto to take a step back. Kurt’s heart filled with a marvelous awe as she rose slowly into the air, her slender figure radiant with power.

“Ein Engel!” he breathed, bringing his one hand to rest over his pounding heart. “Ein Engel für mir!”

“Kurt, get us out of here,” the angel called to him, ominous lightening flashes brightening the dark clouds gathering above as she raised her arms to the sky. Mephisto growled, fixing her with a glare that could have cut through steel.

“Wagner is mine, witch,” he snapped. “You cannot interfere with what has already come to pass.”

”Shut up,” Ororo retorted, a rumbling boom of thunder lending menace to her words as a lightening bolt whizzed just over his shoulder. “I’ve had my fill of you, and your slimy master. Kurt!” she called again. “Come on, pull yourself together! You’re not dying, Kurt, this is only a memory. You have to concentrate now. Concentrate on getting us away from this place!”

Kurt didn’t understand. A memory? What was she talking about?

“Ca-can’t move,” he rasped, shuddering deeply. “Ca-can’t ‘port.”

“You don’t have to, Kurt! Just think! Think yourself someplace safe…like that church! Remember the church? Come on! We don’t have much time!”

Kurt closed his heavy eyelids, his spinning brain musing on the angel’s instructions. Were they some sort of riddle? Was she trying to test him? He was suddenly frightened, frightened and unsure. She sounded so urgent…but what church did she mean? Weak as he was, there was only one church he could picture with any clarity…

The alley and all the surrounding buildings wavered like a heat mirage in the desert. Kurt closed his eyes tightly to fight down a wave of nausea. Somewhere far away, he could hear Mephisto roaring with fury, but it was a much closer voice that caught his attention as the landscape began to settle once more.

“Thank the Goddess! Kurt? Kurt, are you all right?”

Kurt opened his eyes slowly, surprised to find he was lying on the uneven stone floor of the ancient monastery chapel at Neuherzel with Ororo kneeling by his side, clutching his hand.

“Ororo?” he asked blearily, sitting up and staring at their linked hands; pale, pinkish tan against creamy mocha.

“Oh my God, Ororo!” he gasped, his memories returning in a sudden flash. “I almost…ach, Gott, I can’t believe what I almost did! If you hadn’t come just then…”

He blinked. “Wait a moment,” he said slowly. “This isn’t right. This isn’t what happened. This isn’t right!”

“Kurt, calm down,” Ororo said gently. “It was only a memory. It wasn’t real.”

Kurt shook his head, his blue eyes wide and frantic. “Yes! Yes it was! I-I took Mephisto’s hand and there was all this light! And voices…so many voices. And when I woke up…” He slid his hand away from Ororo’s and raised russet claws to the level of his suddenly golden eyes. “I looked like this!” he spat, his voice harsh. “It was something in that dart they hit me with back in the Gargoyle’s cave. It activated some dormant genes I’d inherited from my mother, allowing Azazel to reshape my genetic code however he wanted. He said it was necessary, that there was no other way to repair all the damage that mob had done to my body…”

He shuddered deeply, his spaded tail lashing the floor as he lowered his head and hunched his shoulders to his ears. “That dart was also why I’d lost my powers after teleporting away from the Gargoyle. Azazel had planned the whole thing just to capture me--the fake warheads, the Gargoyle’s attack, the mob--and I walked right into his arms.”

He shook his head, his short, red hair shading his glowing eyes from Ororo’s view. “I should have died in that cave with my team. I should have let that mob of mutants kill me! How can I have been so selfish, so weak in the face of death? Mephisto was right. I don’t deserve redemption. Some actions should not be forgiven.”

Ororo frowned, grabbing Kurt’s chin and forcing him to look into her eyes. “Don’t you dare talk like that!” she glared, her blue eyes flashing a dangerous white. “You chose life, Kurt! That choice does not make you weak. If anything, it is a sign of strength--of faith even! Look at you! You’ve endured so much, been hurt so badly, yet you’re still here.”

“But as what?!” Kurt demanded, his fangs gleaming in a fierce snarl as he surged to his booted feet, his cape swirling behind him. “I became a demon of my own free will, Ororo. I may have been at the point of death when I took Mephisto’s hand, but I am still responsible for the choice I made. And the truth is that I gave in! I let Mephisto’s arguments sway me.”

Ororo shook her head in frustrated exasperation. “Kurt, you can’t keep blaming yourself for--“

”Yes I can!” Kurt cried. “I was terrified, Ororo…terrified of death. If I’d truly had faith, as you say, I would have spat in that demon’s eye and given myself up to God’s judgment. Instead, I hesitated. I doubted. I failed!!!”

He took in a deep, trembling breath, no longer able to look Ororo in the eye as he admitted, “I deserve everything Azazel did to me, and more. I’m not the man you think I am, Ororo. I never was. This…” He held up his hand, his golden eyes dull as he flexed his clawed, russet fingers, “…this is me.”

Ororo set her jaw, her nostrils flaring as she strode forward, grabbing Kurt’s hand and yanking him to her so sharply he nearly lost his balance.

“Fine,” she snapped, glaring straight into his eyes. “If believing you’re a demon makes you happy, if carrying around all that guilt gives you so much satisfaction, then fine. I’m not going to argue with you.”

Kurt glared. “Ororo…” he growled. But Ororo was only getting started.

“Actually,” she said, “now I come to think about it, that must be why you stopped Belasco from strangling me on the roof the night I first came to see you, and why you rescued Jean and pulled Charles out of that psychotic mess you call the ‘midden mire’ before he lost his mind! It had nothing to do with the fact that you care about us! All those years with the X-Men, you were just putting up a front--pretending to be a decent, compassionate man when in reality--”

“That’s enough!” Kurt roared, struggling to tear his arm from her grasp. But Ororo only held on tighter.

“But tell me this, Kurt,” she said, her eyes boring into his. “If you’re a demon, why is it that you always take refuge in a church when things get bad? I thought the damned couldn’t stand on hallowed ground. And what about this?” she demanded, pulling him forward and shoving his hand down into the basin of holy water.

“This sacred water represents the truth,” Ororo told him, relying on Charles to sort out the subconscious metaphors she was seeing. Kurt recoiled in shock as the clear water turned a deep red the moment he touched it. His shock only deepened when he pulled his hand out again. The skin the sacred water had touched was no longer red, but pale, and the paleness trickled down his arm in wriggly streaks as the crimson water dripped to the floor like droplets of blood.

“You see, my friend,” Ororo continued, somewhat more gently than before, “you are no more a demon than I am a goddess. The truth is, we are both of us only human.”

Kurt shook his head, his shoulders trembling involuntarily beneath his long cloak. “I didn’t want it to be true,” he said hoarsely, backing away from the concern in Ororo’s eyes. “I don’t want it to be true! It would be so much easier to live with the past if I truly was a monster.” He looked up then, his fiery eyes dark with anguish.

“Why did you make me re-live those horrors? Why couldn’t you have left them buried?! What is the good of reawakening such…such pain!” His strained voice hitched as he fought back his stinging tears, his knees as fluid as water as he crashed onto a pew. “Sage, Melinda, Benny…Logan! I was responsible! But there was nothing I could do. Nothing. I could only watch as they fell around me. All of them. I lost all of them!”

Ororo couldn’t endure any more. As swiftly and gently as a cooling breeze, she took a place beside him, wrapping his tense, trembling form in a tender embrace. Soothing softly, she ran her fingers through his curls like a mother calming the screams of her cherished child. And for once, Kurt didn’t pull away.

He was tired. So tired of holding everything in, of carrying on with the act. She knew everything, she had seen the full extent of his darkness and guilt, yet she hadn’t turned from him. She had witnessed his actions in the cave, and instead of accusing him of the murders he felt so keenly, she had approached him with understanding and compassion. She had watched him at his weakest moment, when he had reached out his hand to accept Mephisto’s fateful bargain, and instead of turning on him with the disgust and horror he felt in his own heart, she had beaten the demon back and come to his rescue. And as he realized that, the understanding dawned within him that with this embrace lay the redemption he had dreamed of, the wish that had spurred the hope that had kept him alive all the years he’d spent lost and alone in the purgatory of his own mind. Now, surrounded by Ororo’s acceptance--by her love--Kurt finally allowed himself to accept the reality of what she was offering him. The proof of her love overwhelmed him, toppling his bitter defenses and kindling a warmth he hadn’t felt in decades.

With a choking sob, Kurt released whatever scraps of pride had been holding him together and leaned into her, as desperate to receive her comfort as she was to give it. His hot tears fell unabashedly as she smoothed his hair behind his pointed ears and rubbed his back in calming circles. Safe in her arms, he poured out all his bitterness and anger, all the defensive hatred he had used to keep his pain at bay, and allowed her love to rebuild him from the inside out. The open, weeping wounds at last began to heal. The need to suppress and hide and hurt finally melted away. And when he raised his head to look into her eyes, the man Ororo saw beside her was, at last, whole. Scarred, certainly. But whole.

Ororo’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in wonder at the change she saw in her friend. There was a new strength in his posture, a new ease in his manner. But his eyes…his eyes held the real change. For rather than shifting and blazing with anger and shame, their golden light met her gaze with open candor. And the emotion she saw reflected there was love. Her breath caught in her throat and she suddenly found herself blushing. The gentle smile on his indigo face was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

“Thank you,” he said, reaching up with a thick, fuzzy finger to affectionately brush a few unruly strands of hair behind her ear. “Thank you so much, Ororo.”

Ororo nearly broke out laughing in giddy delight at the way his familiar accent caused him to pronounce her name. Instead, she caught his eyes with a gleaming smile, taking his three-fingered hand in hers and pulling him close in a fierce hug.

“Oh, Kurt!” Her joyful tears dampened the fur of his neck as she breathed him in, squeezing him tightly as he wrapped his tail gently around her waist. For a long time they sat like that, reveling in the closeness of their shared embrace yet all too aware that the moment could not last. Their fight wasn’t over yet. Belasco was still out there, spreading his malignance like a tumor.

Ororo sighed and loosened her hold enough so she could meet his eyes without fully breaking their embrace. It was time Kurt knew the full truth of what his father had done.

(1) Reference from Universe X Vol. 2

*******

“But why?” Kurt frowned, pacing up and down the uneven stones of the ancient chapel’s narrow aisle. “Why would he wish to help me? And why now?”

Ororo shook her head. “All he would say is that you’ve earned a full recovery,” she said. “And I agree--on that point. Even so, I know he’s up to something. Azazel is a patient man. His every action is layered with deceit and double-meaning. I can’t help feeling this whole situation is only a part of something much larger, something none of us can see.”

“Oh, it is,” Kurt agreed. “I have no doubt of that. His plots can span centuries. But that doesn’t mean he’s infallible. We’ve managed to foil him before.”

“But we knew what he was after then,” Ororo pointed out. “You! Even Mephisto said you could have been second only to Azazel in power if you’d given in and taken up their cause. Yet now he seems almost eager to let you go.” She frowned. “To my mind, it can only mean he’s found someone else to take your place.”

Kurt sighed through his nose, sinking down into the pew across from her. “Well, whatever he’s plotting,” he said, “my first priority is clear. I won’t be of use to anybody if I can’t reclaim full control of my faculties. You’ve helped me recover my mind, meine Liebe, and for that I shall eternally be in your debt. But Belasco is still in possession of my body.”

“That’s why you have to confront him,” Ororo told him firmly. “Now, before he has a chance to realize what’s happened. He can’t use your guilt against you anymore, Kurt. He can hurt you, taunt you, but he will never again be able to overwhelm you. You’re stronger than he is. This is your mind, not his. He’s just a program--without substance!”

Kurt tightened his lips, uncertain. “Computer virus or whatever he is, he’s real here, with real powers.” He looked up at her, not even trying to hide his concern. “If he shunts me off to the midden mire again, I will lose everything you have helped me to gain. All my memories will be wiped. I’ll be cast adrift again, a ghost haunting my own mind. Ororo, I don’t think I could bear it!”

Ororo closed her eyes, her heart aching in sympathy and fear. She’d thought she’d understood the risks he would face if he confronted Belasco again, but now she realized this conflict was far more complicated than a simple battle between good and evil. If Kurt was to stand a chance of winning this battle--a battle for his sanity and his future--he could not approach Belasco as though he were a physical foe. The threat the demon posed was completely internal, and the battleground would be Kurt’s entire subconscious.

As she considered this, Ororo was suddenly hit with a flash of insight that wasn’t her own. Xavier was telling her something… She tilted her head, struggling to hear…

“Ororo?” Kurt asked, startled and worried by the way she’d tensed up so suddenly. “Liebling, are you all right?”

But Ororo was no longer in the church at Neuherzel. She was sitting on a chair in Cerebro, her eyes fixed on the Professor’s wrinkled face.

“This is reality,” he told her, his eyes sharp, just before he let her go again, sending her rushing back to Kurt’s side. Ororo blinked in dizzy disorientation, accepting the supportive hand Kurt reached out to her. She shot him a weak smile, giving his thick fingers a reassuring squeeze. It was so strange. The last time she’d seen him in the medbay his fingers had been so swollen it had hurt her just to look at them. The slightest touch had caused him pain, despite the medication Hank had given him to keep him asleep--

Ororo gasped and her eyes opened wide. That was it! That was what the Professor was trying to tell her! She knew how Kurt could push Belasco back without fear of the dangers of the midden mire.

In reality, Kurt was unconscious. His mind was still active, but his brain was functioning as though it were asleep. The man she was speaking with here in this ancient church was only a representation of Kurt’s thoughts and feelings, not Kurt himself. Everything she was seeing and experiencing here had no more reality than a dream. And that was how she had to get him to approach the situation now--as though it was a dream. A dream he could control…

“Kurt,” she said, her bright eyes intense and her posture regal even as her lips quirked into a confident smile. “I have a plan.”

*******

The distinctive sound of teleportation was nearly inaudible over the roar of the green and orange flames that lined the walls and licked the high ceiling of Belasco’s cavernous throne room. In fact, if he hadn’t been listening for it, it might have escaped his notice all together. However, as it was, Belasco’s sharp eyes had latched onto the two intruders the instant they materialized at the mouth of the shadowy cave. Watching their cautious approach through slitted lids, the demon couldn’t restrain a smug smile. Like the wily spider with its web, his patience had paid off. His prey had come to him.

Slipping off his obsidian throne, the demon fell into a crouch at the edge of his tall pillar of stone. His one hand brushed against the pommel of the sharp sword strapped to his waist as he tracked the cautious movements of the two X-Men as they made their way through the cave. They just had to come a little closer…

Just then, a sputtering flame flared up, flooding the cave with a brief burst of greenish light. Belasco frowned, a jolt of surprise shocking his heart as he caught his first clear glimpse of his half-brother’s face--and the face of his companion. For some reason, he had expected the red-head to return, seeking revenge for the thorough thrashing he had given her before. But this dark-skinned witch…he knew her. Hers was the face that haunted his brother’s most secret heart, the face that had kept him from submitting to oblivion. Belasco knew the power she held over him, and he feared it now. For the first time, he felt his assurance beginning to slip. Her presence here was dangerous, and from his brother’s physical appearance and confident bearing, it was clear she had already had an effect. How profound an effect, however, the demon could only guess.

“Fool,” he hissed to himself, angered by his rising doubt. “Have you forgotten who is the master here? How many alternate versions of this weather witch have you destroyed? How many times have you choked the life from her body? The circus freak was helpless to stop you then. This time will be no different.”

At the recollection of his former triumphs, his smirk began to return. If they were seeking to catch him off guard, that strategy had failed. He knew what to do now. He would deal with the dark-skinned witch first. Kurt would be left helpless once again, forced to watch as Belasco--

But wait… He’d been spotted. The blue freak was looking straight at him, calm and confident. Belasco straightened, rising to his full, imposing height, his hand on his sword and his long cape swirling around his blood-red boots. Kurt flashed him a quick smile from far below, then turned to his companion. Ororo nodded once, looking straight into his eyes. Then, she brushed his cheek with her hand and leaned in close, gracing his lips with a kiss that, despite its swiftness, was deep with unspoken emotion. Belasco set his jaw, his heart filling with fury as he prepared to jump--but before he could move, Ororo vanished. No sound, no smoke, no disturbance of any kind. She just…wasn’t there anymore. Belasco stretched out with his mind, wary of a trap, but it only took a few moments for him to be certain she was really gone. She had left Kurt to face his demon alone. Belasco grinned. Even better. He would have the circus brat all to himself. It was time for their final showdown. Drawing his sword from its sheath, Belasco fixed his eyes on his foe and jumped.

*******

Kurt only had moments to react before Belasco came crashing down on top of him, his heavy cape billowing behind him like the leathery wings of a bat. As quick as a thought, Kurt dived out of range, falling into a graceful roll that brought him smoothly back to his feet. Infuriated by his dodge, the demon surged to his feet and lunged for him, swinging his sword straight at Kurt’s head. To his surprise, his attack was met with a sudden flash of steel as a sword appeared in his enemy’s hand. Recovering quickly, Belasco backed off a few steps, keeping his blade before him as he began to move around Kurt in a slow, taunting circle.

“So,” he sneered, his golden eyes derisive. “I see your witch has taught you a few tricks. But remember where you are, my fuzzy little friend. This is my realm. Here, my power reigns supreme.”

Once, such threats from Belasco had filled Kurt’s heart with trepidation and doubt. Once, his guilt, fear, and uncertainty had kept him from fighting back. But that was before Ororo had shown him the truth. Now, he could see the distinction between himself and the demon before him. He no longer blamed himself for Belasco’s cruelty, which meant there was no longer any reason for him to hold himself back. It had taken him centuries to recover all the fragments of his memories and personality. Now that he had finally reclaimed his identity, he was fully prepared for the fight to keep it intact.

“Oh, I know where I am, Belasco,” Kurt assured him, his posture straight and his shoulders relaxed even as his sharp eyes tracked the demon’s movements. “And I know what you are. This is my mind, brother. And I mean to have it back.”

Belasco bared his teeth, his tail beating against his cloak as he made a forceful slash to Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt made a nimble parry, causing the demon to overstep. Spinning quickly, he aimed a sharp kick at the off-balance demon’s backside, causing him to fall flat on his face on the ash-strewn ground. Belasco sputtered and spat, his golden eyes blazing with rage as he scrambled for his fallen sword. But the sight of Kurt’s blade gleaming barely an inch from his face gave him pause.

“Go on,” Kurt allowed, gesturing with the blade’s tip to Belasco’s sword. “Pick it up.”

The demon glared, a threatening rumble starting low in his throat. Kurt just waited, his blade at the ready. But Belasco didn’t move. He just closed his glowing eyes, his thin lips set in concentration. Suddenly, the ground gave a violent shake. Barely a moment later, the cave floor gave way under his feet and Kurt found himself tumbling helplessly down into utter darkness. Belasco’s laughter followed him, the harsh sound echoing around and through him. It was as though the demon was right beside him, but when he reached out all he touched was the smooth edge of the narrow chasm. Kurt tried to swallow his rising terror, to convince himself that this was just in his mind, but his confidence was fading fast. The horrible rush of falling, the blackness that surrounded him, the acrid dust that choked the air--it was real. And Kurt had no control…no way to stop himself, no place to teleport…

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the freefall came to a jolting end. Kurt stood up slowly, cautiously, blindly holding his arms out in front of him in the darkness. The thick air was hot and reeked of sulfur. The dust filled his nose and scratched the back of his throat, sending him into a fit of involuntary coughing.

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

Kurt raised his head at the sound of Belasco’s smug voice, his blind eyes stinging and watering in the suffocating blackness.

“Where are we?” he croaked.

“What, do you mean you can’t see it?” Belasco laughed in derisive amusement. “So, brother, for all your talk you still don’t understand. Perhaps a little illumination is in order?”

A sharp finger-snap sounded right next to Kurt’s ear and echoed in the smoky darkness. Almost instantly, the ground around him began to glow with a dim red heat. As Kurt watched, the glow increased and spread until, with a gasp of alarm, he realized where Belasco had dropped him.

Kurt was standing on a small island of charred, black rock in the center of a rushing river of flaming lava. The instant his mind comprehended his situation, a sudden rush of heat from the stone scorched his bare feet and he gave out a pained cry. Belasco’s taunting laughter filled the smoky chasm as Kurt leapt from foot to foot in and undignified dance of pain and alarm.

Kurt clenched his teeth, fighting to supress the burning pain scorching his soles so he could clear his mind enough to think. The demon was playing with him, trying to discourage him with a show of power. But Kurt wasn’t about to be intimidated. Not this time.

Swallowing his pain for a moment, Kurt forced himself to stand still, focusing his attention in an attempt to pinpoint the direction Belasco’s laughter was coming from. The ash and smoke stung his eyes and the flowing lava spat and sputtered around him as he turned in place, casting his gaze up and around the smooth, black walls of the smoky pit.

Finally, just when he was afraid his feet couldn’t hold out any longer, he spotted him through a cloud of volcanic dust. The demon was crouched on a long, corroded metal outcropping high above the lava river. It looked like some kind of support structure for a mining tunnel that had long since collapsed. The rotting beams jutted out from the wall about half-way across the smoky chasm. Kurt could tell the structure was unstable, but it had to be better than his rapidly melting island. Besides, Belasco’s taunting cackles were really starting to get to him.

Gathering his strength for the difficult upward teleport, Kurt vanished with a resounding BAMF, reappearing just behind Belasco. The corroded metal bent and swayed under his grasping feet, and Kurt had to bend his knees quickly to maintain his balance.

“Nice location,” Kurt observed wryly, resting his hand lightly on the hilt of his blade. “Although, if this scaffolding snaps under our weight we’re barbequed. You do know that, right?”

Belasco spun around, his sword drawn and his lip curled in disgust. “Your fear is your weakness, fool,” he spat, purposely causing the rusted beams to rattle and sway under their feet. Kurt was forced to wheel his arms to keep from falling. Belasco snorted. “If you understood the power I wield, there would be no reason to fear this drop,” he scorned. “Face the truth, brother. I am the stronger here. You cannot win.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, drawing his sword and spinning it by the hilt like a band leader’s baton. “Perhaps you forget, ‘brother’,” he retorted. “I was raised on the trapeze. When it comes to heights and narrow beams, I’m not the one at a disadvantage.”

“We’ll see,” Belasco said, his glowing eyes narrowed as he made his attack. Kurt jumped to the side, catching hold of a narrow beam with one hand and flipping out of range just in time to deflect the demon’s next lunge. Kurt ducked down, aiming an upward slash to Belasco’s chest. Struggling to keep his balance, the demon leaned forward with an awkward parry. However, at that moment the scaffolding gave a horrible creak and dipped down several feet. Kurt grabbed the beams with his hands and feet, but Belasco slipped backwards, the shifting of his weight causing the weakened metal to bend even further. The scaffolding sloped like a slide, forcing the one-armed demon to drop his sword as he scrabbled for a handhold. Alarmed, Kurt inched slowly toward him, grasping one of the narrower beams with his tail and holding his sword behind him as he instinctively reached out to his brother with his other hand.

“Grab hold!” he called, loosening his tail slightly in order to stretch his arm as far as possible. And to his relief, Belasco did. Belasco's deadly slip was halted as the demon’s talons dug into Kurt’s fuzzy arm, drawing blood. But Kurt ignored the pain, focusing instead on his struggle to pull the slightly larger man to safety. His balance became increasingly precarious as he inched upwards, but he didn’t once consider letting go, even in spite of the obvious hatred burning in Belasco’s eyes. Even so, as Kurt’s progress became more labored, the calculating look on the demon’s narrow face cracked into an eager smile. Timing his move carefully, Belasco gave a swift, powerful tug on Kurt’s arm, raking the flesh and ripping the indigo mutant from the scaffolding he’d been climbing. Now, it was Belasco who was holding Kurt above the flaming brink, his boots wedged securely into the wildly swaying bars. The flash of panic in the mutant’s golden eyes sent a rush of triumph surging into the demon’s heart.

“So,” he hissed through his pointed teeth, “do you still believe this is your mind? That an ungrateful circus brat like you could wrest power from me! This body is mine, Kurt Wagner. I’ve earned it. I’ve sacrificed for it. And I mean to keep it!”

And with a fierce, psychopathic laugh, Belasco let go of his half-brother's arm, sending Kurt hurtling head over heels towards the flaming lava that bubbled far below.

*******

To Be Concluded! Next time: The two combatants go from the depths of the Earth to a land of sky and clouds! It's going to get weird, people, so stay tuned. (I just hope I can pull it off without having it go all silly on me!) Thank you so much for your patience with me and with this story! :D
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
CurlyyHairGirl
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

Finally! I've been trying to get on the computer since saturday morning to put in a few words, unfortunately my sister was on the computer all weekend putting together her senior project (a scrap book with stuff from 2nd grade to 12th) so she was using the scanner to make copies of pictures to put in it...which is now broken:hrumph

Anyway, I read this a couple days ago, and big surprise, I loved it:D as always. I thought that the scene between Kurt and Mephisto was ingenious. I've read Universe X vol.2 so it was kinda cool to read this particular scene played out with alot more depth. The comic is rather...blah compared to yours, there wasn't really anything in the book to make you believe that Kurt would give in. Bloody good job! I also like Ororo's entrance into the scene and how she stops Kurt from giving in. In fact after I got off the computer, the scene sort of just stuck in my head and I just had to draw it out. I would have posted it for you, but My scanner is dead now, and it wouldn't matter anyway because I currently can't upload anything new to my web site. Mer.

The fight scene between Belasco and Kurt was cool. I'm glad to see that the old "circus brat" is back and making jokes (dreams do come true).
The whole scene with Belasco hanging from Kurt's arm by his claws evoked images from the Lion King when (sorry for bucheing his name if I do) Mufasa is trying to help Scar from falling into the Stampede below. :LOL:kiss
I thought that was rather amusing and cool.

As for misspellings and missing words, grammer, etc. I think there was, like, one mistake, but I cannot for the life of me, remember where it was. It was no biggie, so you shouldn't worry. I'm sure nobody's gonna flog you for it. I misspell and give not good gramer all the tyme!:LOL not everybody is a (insert name of the kid who won the spelling bee).

I can't wait for the next installment!!! I'm excited!
I must thank you for this, of course. I had my SAT on Saturday, over 3 hours! when I came home, I took a nap and for the time in between my sister scanning picture I read you story, and was glad it had nothing to do with math or was manditory for a sucessful future. It was relaxing. I :bow to you

Until next time, the Anti-Star Wars/ Pro-Star Trek, curly haired spaz monkey (me) will be studying for finals. C'est ne pas juste!!!!
one name: Bruce Campbell
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by Rowena »

Thanks so much, Curlyy!
there wasn't really anything in the book to make you believe that Kurt would give in
Yeah, I know. It really bugged me. That's why I started this tome in the first place! :)
In fact after I got off the computer, the scene sort of just stuck in my head and I just had to draw it out.
You drew a picture based on my story!!!!!?????!!!!! I'm so totally and completely honored!!!! I'd love to see it, but I understand entirely about the dead scanner. Mine's dead too. *sniff*


The Lion King! :doh! I honestly didn't think of that, but now I can see it too. *giggle* Oh, gee...

Good luck with your finals! I'm gonna go look for that typo. Just to let everyone know, once this first draft is done (epilogue and all) I'm going to be going through again to tighten up the saggy bits and try to make this loopy story clearer and more concise. I don't think I'll repost it. More likely, I'll just replace what's there.

Thanks again, Curlyy! And a special thanks to Zam for all the advice she gave me! :D

See ya soon!

:bamf
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
CurlyyHairGirl
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

Okay! I finally got the derned scanner fixed and uploaded the drawing to my site so I can link it. It's not shown on the site so don't try looking for it there.

It's rough, but then again it's a sketch. I hope you like it.

http://www.freewebs.com/curlyy/ncalleyopic.jpg

:shrug

EMO, Love y'all!!
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by HoodedMan »

An interesting style. It's a little more well-defined than most sketches I've seen, but rough at the same time. The depictions of the characters are pretty good, and I hope to see more!
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by Rowena »

Curlyy, I'm speechless! I mean it! This illustration is nothing short of spectacular! The detail is amazing--it's like you pulled the picture straight out of my head! It's beautiful! I'm going to print it out and show it to everyone I know! This is so fantastic! :D :D It's so good, it deserves its very own reply box. I love it! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!!!!
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by Rowena »

Because our contaminated water supply made me sick right after my birthday, I wasn't able to finish this chapter like I wanted to. So, what I'm going to do is I'm going to post it in little sections like I'm doing with Small Steps, Great Leaps. I know that'll make it a little choppy, but I wanted to get at least something of this chapter up before I left for Virginia!

So here it is at last: Part One of the Final Chapter of Belasco's Beatrice! :D


Chapter Eighteen

“Come on, Kurt, pull out of it!” Ororo cried, clutching the edges of Cerebro’s control panel as she watched him fall through the dark smoke towards the boiling lava spurting and bubbling at the bottom of the cavern. “Think yourself somewhere else!”

“You do realize he can’t hear you,” Xavier said dryly, although the drawn look on his wrinkled face showed he was just as worried as Ororo. “It’s important that he works this out on his own. He’ll get it. We just have to be patient.”

“Patient!” Ororo exclaimed, incredulous. “Where’s that helmet? We have to do something before--“

“There, look!” Xavier grinned in excitement, practically cheering as the scene on the monitor began to change. As it did, the screen displaying Kurt’s brain patterns broke out in a burst of green, overshadowing the straight orange lines that depicted Belasco. “He’s doing it! He’s taking control!”

Her eyes fixed on her friend’s image, Ororo held her breath as on the monitor the thick smoke slowly whitened and the atmosphere cleared until, instead of falling through a cavern, Kurt was tumbling through the clouds. The sky around him was a bright, summery blue, and flying towards him in the near distance was something that looked strangely like a sailing ship--

BAMF!

Ororo and Xavier both jumped at the sudden explosion of sulfur-scented smoke behind them. Their shocked expressions fell to annoyance, however, when they saw who was standing there.

“What are you two idiots playing at?” Azazel demanded furiously, his russet face darkening even further in his anger as he advanced towards them over Cerebro’s suspended ramp. “I sent you up here to help my son, not to kill him!”

“What are you talking about?” Ororo frowned, her own anger at Azazel’s blunt intrusion mingling with a sudden rush of sharp concern.

“How much stress do you think my son’s system can take?” the demon glared, bearing his fangs. “No sooner does my serum complete the regeneration process and return his metabolism to normal when his heart rate and brain activity shoot off the scale! It was all your Dr. McCoy could do to keep him from going into cardiac arrest! Now I ask you again, what are you playing at?”

“Bright Goddess,” Ororo gasped, the blood draining from her dusky face. “I knew I shouldn’t have left him. He isn’t strong enough for this! He hasn’t had time to come to terms with the memories--“

“Don’t start doubting him now, Ororo,” Xavier spoke up, his cultured voice calm and unconcerned. “Look at this.”

He nodded his head towards the flickering monitor screens on the control panel, indicating the squiggling mess of colored lines beside Kurt’s image. Ororo leaned closer, her eyes widening slightly as she realized what the readings meant. A frowning Azazel leaned over her shoulder, his muscular arms crossed over his armored chest.

“What is being displayed there?” he demanded of Xavier. Charles glanced up at him with a bland look, refusing to react to the demon’s belligerent attitude.

“It is a scan of Kurt’s brain patterns,” he explained in his most maddeningly even tone. “These ordered orange lines indicate the Belasco virus. The more organic, green lines represent Kurt himself.”

“It’s working,” Ororo observed in amazement, a small smile brightening her wide, sapphire eyes. “The green lines are wrapping around the orange like a basket! And there are so many more of them than there were before.”

“Yes, he’s starting to pull himself together,” Xavier nodded, “but even though he is growing stronger, the Belasco program is adapting itself to the changing environment.” He looked over to Azazel, who was staring at the screen with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“If you’re still planning on bringing in that telepath of yours,” he said, his expression twisting ever so slightly. “I would do it soon. Even with our help, this is going to be a close fight, and I want to be sure we don’t miss our opportunity to trap Belasco.”

“Never fear, old man,” the demon sneered. “My daughter is already here. We are ready to do our part. All we need is the correct sign from Kurt himself.”

Ororo frowned up at him from her stool. “And what sign is that?” she asked. But Azazel ignored her.

“Continue your monitoring,” he told them, shooting one last glance at the green and orange lines before turning on his heel with a swish of his long cloak. “Be sure to contact me if anything should go wrong. I shall be in the medical bay with my son.”

And with a flaring puff of sulfurous smoke the demon was gone, leaving Xavier and Ororo alone once more to watch the battle playing out in Kurt’s subconscious mind.


Please Review! :D




:bamf
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
CurlyyHairGirl
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Belasco's Beatrice (COMPLETELY Complete! Please Review!)

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

I'm glad you liked it Rowena! I feel all warm and fuzzy inside now.:content

I don't mind the split chapter, they're like mini-chapters leading up to the grand finale!!
I love how you dipict Professor X, he seems so peeved with Kurt's pimp daddy around.
I want to beleive that Belasco wants to help Kurt, but that would be giving him too much credit...at least at one time. I have this odd nagging feeling in the pit of me stomach, ach!

until next time!:peek

love y'all!!
EMO
one name: Bruce Campbell
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