2013.05.08 - Briefcase and a Prayer

Don't you just love anonymous tips?

One happened to be left where a certain fuzzy blue mutant would be able to find it, for his eyes only. 'Mutant research. Charon Memorial Cemetery. 1 AM.' There's no mention made about coming alone, the person responsible for the note has good reason to believe he'll come alone without it needing to be said.

The air is still tonight. Thick fog has rolled in from the Delaware Bay, coalescing with the aged gravestones marking Gotham's turbulent past. It would be the perfect setting for a Halloween party or a horror movie. Atmosphere can work against a person, or it can work for them.

In this case the setting couldn't possibly be any more perfect.

It was inevitable that Kurt would start getting something of a 'reputation' for wanting information on mutant research. It's no secret to anyone that watches the blue elf. It's a 'known' since he asked for the research as 'payment' (well, and money, but less than what the others received) from one of his earlier (botched) missions. It's not as if he has it tattooed across his forehead, but.. the need and desire is there.

And Kurt is curious. Always curious.

One AM.. just past witching hour, when the moon begins its descent in the night's sky. Kurt is there amongst the gravestones now, teleporting up.. and around, but after every departure and arrival, he pauses, letting the darkness envelop him, those yellow eyes looking through the night as if it were day in the dim evening's light. He's on guard, most definitely, looking for the contact, or perhaps an obvious sign of a delivery.. or a note that may direct him further.

An obvious sign is quick in coming, though it might not be the sort of thing that the local teleporter is expecting.

"Oh god, get it away from me!"

The voice belongs to a man, middle-aged. Italian. Its exact location is difficult to trace with the natural ground cover, hindering eyesight and modifying the field's acoustics.

Seconds pass, then another voice calls out from somewhere else amongst the tombstones. "Help me, please, god, someone help me!"

Somewhere within the dark mist another pair of featureless luminescent yellow eyes pierce through the encompassing veil, watching. Studying.

A third voice. Another man. No words are called out this time, instead sounding out as a blood-curdling scream which ends abruptly.

Now.. that Kurt certainly doesn't expect. His head rises, his face scanning the environs for the source, for the direction of those calling for help. Those glowing yellow eyes seek to penetrate the fog and the damp of the air, but it is difficult to see in any real clarity. And the accoustics is such that..


 * bamf*

Kurt leaves behind the telltale odor of brimstone, and as he reappears in that same sound of the rushing of air to close the portal to Hell, he calls out, "Where are--"

And the scream ends his words, causing the young teleporter to look in earnest now for the source. Or for that which could cause such a horrific sounding end.

"Where are you?"

"Closer than you think."

This time the voice has better direction behind it. The masculine tones and Italian seasoning have all vanished, leaving behind a sultry feminine song that would be perfectly familiar to the ears she speaks to.

It's then that Mystique steps forth out of the haze, an amused expression filling the blue skin and lending a mischievous sparkle to otherwise vacant eyes. Tonight has her in 'slick assassin chic' black attire, complete with a spot for a vicious blade at the small of her back and a pistol holster at her hip.

She's also got a dark brushed aluminum briefcase held in both hands behind her back, not exactly hidden from view.

"Nightcrawler. So glad you could make it. You can be a tough mutant to get hold of, what with being dead and all."

Kurt looks around for those few extra seconds in the silence before the distinctly familiar feminine voice emerges from the darkness. He straightens, his tail curing about, and turns his head slowly towards that sound. There is the thought that crosses his mind; teleport the hell away, but..

Turning about slowly, glowing yellow eyes meet yellow eyes, and he offers a slow exhale of air. Wariness tinges his tones as he responds slowly, "Mother," and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts, ".. you are looking well.."

"As are you," Mystique offers in return as she steps closer, looking to wrap her arms about you in a hug and plant a motherly kiss upon your cheek. Without weapons! "I'm so glad to see that you are alive and well, child. Your friend puts on a good show, doesn't she? Most convincing. But, as promised."

That lone briefcase comes forth between the two blue x-geners, offered up to you. Free of charge, apparently.

"A meager contribution to your little ongoing science project. You have quite a number of people to thank for this moment. Would you like a list of names, or would you rather I replay the last words that each of them said while they continued to waste space upon our planet?"

With barely a flicker her figure turns into an aged, fat-rolled man in an expensive black suit. If he happens to look like a mob boss, that's because he is.

Or was. The particular wounds that he had suffered are reproduced frighteningly well.

"We could share their final moments together, in honor of your victory."

-Your- victory.

It's a slow step that is taken towards you, still so very wary. He was an unwitting part in turning her into that mob, but also a tacit accessory to their rather messy and timely deaths. He does return the hug tentatively, as if fully expecting her hand to turn into a tendril and strike him where he stands, in her embrace. Dying in his mother's arms. She doesn't need weapons. She IS a walking weapon.

When the briefcase comes out, yellow eyes blink at the container, and he says quietly, "I was in the place where that was supposed to go. Mother, it was another research facility." Meaning, right there, as he reaches for it.. it was very important to .. many people.

When you begin that shifting, however, Kurt shakes his head rapidly and looks to turn away from the show that you're so very willing to give. "I would rather not.

"It was not my idea."

Mystique may have thought about killing you before. Perhaps on several occasions. Tonight she's honestly, legitimately, happy to see that you're well.

It's Amanda whom she's going to kill.

Her hug should suggest that her feelings here are genuine, though even that could be faked. She's done that before, too.

The chunky mobster shifts back to her previous, natural form, complete with a lingering grin. It's there for more than just your discomfort now, things run -so- much deeper than you seem to realize.

"I know, Nightcrawler. Dreadful climate out there, wasn't it?" The question is left to linger, her grin growing into a lopsided sneer as she starts to walk a lazy circle around you, complete with fingertips delicately tracing along the backs of your shoulders. Halfway around she leans closer, chin hovering over the peak of your arm as she quietly speaks into your ear.

"I'm the one that led you there."

Eyes widen again, and there's an expression first of disbelief before it shifts to one of.. resigned knowledge. He's being used, yes.. but there's a niggling thought in the back of his head. Ultimately, there is a goal there that is shared..

But to be accessory to murder? It weighs heavily on the soul.. but how to confess such a thing?

"I was not paying attention to the cold, mother." It was more.. the specimens. The mutants. At least some of them have names, but he does still see them some nights when he closes his eyes.

Kurt stays stock still as you circle him, his muscles tensing. That isn't the precursor to a bamf, however.. that is more the application of will to remain where he is as you move. His jaw tenses at the whisper before his smile appears. It's not one born amusement, however. It's grim.. and almost bitter.

"Those machines, mother... what are they?" It was all he could do to get his team out alive. "I won't ask why you told me. You needed a distraction," is said with more than a little certainty.

"What is sad," Kurt begins slowly once again, "is that I cannot ignore a call such as that. And you know it." Beat. "But one day, mother.. things may not go as you plan. Und you won't have the upper hand." The smile grows, and fangs come out now. "You will need me. Us."

Now there's two blue grins, Mystique coming back around enough that she can both hold you tenderly by the shoulders and look back into your eyes at the same time. "A -distraction?- You wound me, Nightcrawler. If I needed a mere distraction I would not have invited you to the event. You're wrong, dearest."

"I called you out there so that you could properly witness what these self-righteous -humans- are up to. How they secretly plot against our kind, using our very genetics against us. Flaying us apart to learn how to better exterminate us. You don't like me because you see me as leading a life of wickedness. In truth, I am only responding in kind. They are the ones that have made me like this. First blood has always been on their hands, not mine. Not ours. I was hoping that you would start to realize this by catching them in the act."

Such tension in those shoulders... She knows you could disappear in an instant, knows that you'd like to do just that. It's ..sad, really. Knowing how badly you'd wish to retreat from your own mother. It's because of that reason alone that she continues to hold onto you. It's one of those things, she has to make the most of it while she can. Before long, this window will vanish. It always does.

"We already need you, Nightcrawler," she says with a gentle sigh, her expression finally going neutral. "This is nothing new. I have tried to explain this to you for years. Those machines were designed for the sole purpose of wiping out our species, cleansing the globe of our 'filth.' They played their own hand in the development of the Sentinels. No good came from those people, that facility, or their entire country of mutant-hating scum."

Kurt shakes his head slowly and his tail begins a slow sway. "I pray for them, mother.. but I know that some will not stop until we are dead. All of us. But some? I know that some would understand if they could see." It's become words, however.. words he so desperately wants to believe, but what it is he's seeing is more and more what you see. And how it gets translated, which is the more frightening for him.

"Why do you think I want their research? I want to know what they're doing. How they're doing it." He sounds in earnest now. "I need to know, because I agree. They will use our genetics against us because it is the only way to kill us." Here, however, his head begins to shake slowly again, "But I cannot believe they should die, mother. Showing mercy shows that we are better than they."

Now, Kurt's head rolls forward, a breath of air exits his lungs in an audible sigh, echoing your own. "I am not their judge, however, mother. I am simply.. one. Kurt Wagner." Taking a step back, away from you, his yellow-eyed gaze rises, "And I am ashamed to know, to rely upon the fact that you can kill so easily." There's an admission to the knowledge that he knew you would walk out of that mob's HQ, leaving no one alive behind. And how he relied upon it. Perhaps hoped, even.

You're allowed to take that step back, though Mystique closes the gap a moment later. With your head already bowed forward she rests her forehead atop of yours, allowing her eyes to close as she simply remembers. So much time lost between these two. So much distance, a rift which may never be gapped even if she may try to bridge it with the bodies of those that dare stand against them.

"I pray for us."

Seconds pass, if allowed, before she takes a step back and grants you your own space. "I know why you seek their research. It's why I've brought this case to you. There will come a time, not when I need your help but when we need each other's help. When that time comes I will not be afraid of what must be done to guarantee our survival. I pray that you will be able to say the same."

Once more looking at you directly, her smile starts to return with less of its former energy. "You are one. You are the Amazing Nightcrawler. You are strong, and with that strength you will survive." Which you're going to do anyway because you're from her genes. Superior.

"Even so. Know that I would stand against anyone to protect you."

Here stands you, his mother. The woman whose actions spared her own life, and who would have known his own? He's forgiven you, in his heart and in his head. Now, it's a mere fact, with no more emotion than.. a formula. But the woman who raised him, spent all those years helping mould the man he is now? Could kill him without a thought, and you.. you would protect him, shield him.. and in turn help direct him to where you believe he needs to go, taking his energies, his beliefs, and trying to send him forth.

He believes you, mother.. that you would stand against any who would come after him. You proved it to him over and over.. which was yet another reason for his tears. "I know, mother," is yet another admission, but he shakes his head, "But your hands.." and he reaches out for them, to take your hands. "I can't wash the stains off. Stains colouring them on my behalf."

Kurt raises his gaze again, and offers a ghost of a smile. "I will survive, mother.. for as long as I need to get my job done here. Und I will do it to my last breath."

"Don't you cry for them."

It's always a matter of time before Mystique's emotions come full circle, so often ending closer to the side of anger. "My hands may wear their blood, but they wore the blood of our kind. -Eight- more of us, reduced to nothing more than biological samples kept in cold storage," she nearly growls while jabbing a finger at the case she had brought out here for you.

"Who will mourn for them? -We- will. Why should we also mourn for those that have put them there? Would you pray for those that have thought up the Sentinels, built them, used them against us? We do not thank the bullies that back us against the wall, child. We make a stand, or -this- becomes our fate."

A long breath is claimed, held, then released before she motions once more to the case with a slight bow of her head. "You have thirty-seven minutes left to get those devices into cold storage, the internal supply is not meant for long-term use. Honor our fallen for what they have given us. The humans would not have done us any such favor."

Kurt has the case, and he holds it carefully, reverently. He'll know their names; will find them. "We will mourn them, mother, because we know better."

Taking a step back now, it becomes obvious that the teleporter is more than ready to depart. It's simply a 'courtesy', a warning as it were, that he will be leaaving. "You will not believe this mother, but I love you.. und pray for you."

Turning his back, Kurt looks to the case now.. this case that has caused so much consternation, so much upheaval in his life in the last month. But, as he's told Risque, he would do it all over. Even knowing what he does now.

And not change a thing.


 * bamf*