X-Calibre Trilogy: Long Hard Road Out of Hell

It was just too surreal. There I’d been, fighting alongside the rest of the X-Men to bring down the High Lord alypalypse for the last time, fully expecting to die whether I succeeded or failed in the quest to right reality. Everything happened so fast that it’s hard now for me to remember exactly what happened. I do recall that I’d been carrying Mom’s old friend Destiny towards the M’Kraan Crystal; I remember being breathless at the sight of the jagged spire of other-worldly mineral that held all of creation in a way I couldn’t begin to fathom. It was so beautiful, and I’d felt a stab of pain at realizing I wouldn’t ever be able to tell anyone about it. In a few minutes, there would be no one left. Someone fired shots at us and I teleported to the Crystal, came just short of throwing the old woman towards the thing, and ‘ported away again to draw away the fire so she and Piotre’s little sister could fix this somehow. I joined the fight, taking down anyone I didn’t know and several of the bastards that I knew only too well. I used my power a lot because it wasn’t like I goingoing to have to worry about wearing myself down; I was nothing but adrenaline as it hit home second by second that I would simply cease to be if we’d done our jobs well enough. I wondered how it would feel, or if I would feel it at all. On the other hand, if we’d failed, I was going to get as much revenge as I could before I died on behalf of everyone I’d ever helped bury . . . everyone who’d been dumped into the frigid ocean on my way to get Destiny . . . everyone who’d been slaughtered and dumped unceremoniously onto a rotting pile of corpses because nature had decided they’d be straight-genes . . . Even if this existence shouldn’t have been, it was my world and these had been my people. I’d fully intended to defend the living and avenge the dead until my last breath.

Then it happened. Instead of the typical purple-black background of the landscape I frequented for split-seconds at a time, it had become an opaque silver-blue, tinged slightly around the edges by an orange glow. It was the Crystal! We’d done it, we’d finally given Apocalypse the biggest middle-finger salute in history . . . the Crystal was righting itself – reality was righting itself – and it would be over in minutes at the longest. I hung in this sparkling limbo for longer than I’d ever stayed in a teleport void before . . . even longer than when Switchback had extended the time so she and Damask and myself could take out the Shadow King back in Avalon. The Crystal seemed to be coming towards me and I closed my eyes, the adrenaline leaving me in favor of a feeling I could only imagine was peace. Everything felt so right, so perfect, and I surrendered to it. There was no pain, no sorrow, only joy and awe. Perhaps there was a God, and He’d chosen to reward me with a splendidly beautiful death . . .

Or perhaps not.

It wasn’t the worst alleyway I’d ever been in by a long shot. It was rather nice as far as alleys went. But popping out of a teleport – out of the Crystal – to end up here meant I wouldn’t get that blissful death that I could only assume everyone else I knew had received. I crouched down into the darkest corner, hanging my head as my malformed hands ran through my hair. The sudden despair and disappointment was at least as strong as the joy had been; for the first time in years, I actually began to cry. I’d prepared myself so much for my impending death that I simply did not know how to react to surviving this mission; losing such a nice death was a painful insult to me.

I muttered a word any good mother would wash her child’s mouth out with soap for when I heard the front door of the building to my left open and close, followed by the soft scuffing of shoes on the pavement. The shoes carried the person into the alley – a young woman, carrying a gun on her hip. She hadn’t seen me yet because I was keeping my eyes averted. I straightened up and felt the old familiar anger welling up inside me. Not even five minutes alone to grieve my fallen family . . . it was times like these that I truly regretted not having normal hands. The most obscene gesture I could level at the sky was the backwards “peace” sign so popular among the Brits. It couldn’t do justice to flipping the bird, but God’s supposed to be omnipotent, right? He’d understand plainly enough.

Well, no sense wasting time. I’d be able to scare her enough into telling me where I was now. She had spunk, I had to give her that . . . she had no idea I could easily dodge her bullets when she pulled the gun on me and told me to get off her. And besides, I still had the element of surprise – the way she yelped when I intentionally let the light hit me proved that. But I was in a foul mood and didn’t want to take my temper out on her . . . she was an innocent, after all . . . so I demanded the gun instead of taking it forcefully from her. She handed it over and stared at me, answering my questions without a second thought when I asked her where we were. And even though I knew better, I said something stupid about Charleston being leveled before more people came closer.

That she used the German word for “police” made me curious. I wanted to see who they were, so I teleported away even though I could have easily climbed up the wall to get out of sight. The sound and smell would draw them in, I reasoned, and it worked like a charm. I hadn’t bargained on the cops being corrupt bastards, though, and my instincts kicked in when I realized the one officer was going to rape the girl. I decapitated him and quickly killed the other one. Then I did the next thing my instincts told me to do – I took the girl hostage.

She was scared, but also smart. She shut up when I told her to and kept quiet the rest of the time we were on that rooftop. There were no shadows to hide in here because the moon was full in a clear sky; I could almost feel her fear of me when she took a very good look at me. I took the opportunity to study her as well. The first thing I’d noticed about her was her height – as I’d kept her pinned to me I couldn’t help noticing that even though I was only about one and three-quarters meters high [five feet nine inches], she barely came to my shoulders which I figured made her somewhere just over one and a quarter meters tall [four feet seven inches]. Based on the rest of her appearance I could only assume she was so short due to malnutrition. She was young, as I said before; I couldn’t tell how old exactly because she was far too thin for her size, but I guessed no more than twenty-five. Her fair skin was smudged with dirt, as was her shabby clothing. Her tattered skirt came to her shoes, which I noticed were long overdue for serious repair. Her coat was open to reveal a blouse with some sort of pattern on it. When the wind picked up a little I saw the heavy mane of hair blowing past her waist; it was wavy like mine, only a dull brown and in tangles. Her eyes were lighter in color, but despite my excellent vision I couldn’t tell in this light what shade they were. She licked her lips nervously before asking what I was going to do with her and I answered truthfully before asking her for more information about the resistance she seemed to be in.

Oh, it was wonderful news to me. I’d traded in one world run by an insane dictator for another – only this world had no Mutants in it. Of course I had to end up here looking the way I do. Of course. I wondered cynically why it was so surprising that I’d gotten the short end of life’s stick yet again . . . it seemed like it was all I’d ever gotten. And it got better, because there was nowhere to go except North.

Great. It’s be like living at Cold Grey, only all the fucking time. I reached over and grabbed Drake’s favorite figurative “Huge Happy Hat” and lodged it firmly on my head. He was dead, wasn’t like he’d be needing it anymore anyway.

After a moment’s deliberation I decided that was where I’d go, however, and the girl would take me there regardless of her preference in the matter. This wasn’t my world, these weren’t my people in even the Apocalyptical sense of the word, and I had no interest in getting involved in whatever problems this world had. Saving one planet in a day was more than enough, danke [thanks]. This was it, I was through, and when I got up there I’d hang up the swords and armor forever.

“I should thank you.”

I kept my back to her and stopped brooding just long enough to process what she’d said. She had said Thank You, hadn’t she? What for? Telling her she was on a one-way trip to Nowhere?

“You saved my dignity and my life. Thank you.”

I was doundounded. Surely in her mind I was a monster or worse; I was forcing her to lead me across two countries; I scared the shit out of her on general principle . . . and she was kingking me for what happened in the alley. I stared at her before answering. I’d already said one idiotic thing tonight and that was one more than I usually allowed. I wanted at first to tell her it was nothing because it had been nothing for me to take out those two swine – after what had gone down earlier tonight, killing a couple of straight-genes was a joke – but I finally decided upon the more conventional “you’re welcome”. I didn’t turn my back on her again but I had nothing else to say that wouldn’t leave me looking like a complete moron, so I kept my mouth shut. She eventually asked me what I was going to do with her and I told her. She’d assumed I’d use her in other ways and it caused my temper to flare a little. But how was she to know that I had no interest in unwilling sexual partners? No, all I was interested in was getting away from this place. I didn’t miss the thinly-veiled relief that was evident in her features and automatically pushed away the beginnings of hurt pride. I’d long since grown used to rejection, especially from women, and I reminded myself harshly of the promise I’d made to myself after I caught Ororo screwing Pietro behind my back: I would never let my emotions get the better of me ever again, and to help ensure that I would simply not get close enough for anyone else to stab me in the ribs.

When she put out her hand for me to shake I took it reluctantly, then I let her lead me across town to the safe house for the night. As I began to go down the building I’d teleported us to she asked my name and I silently recited that promise again. Kurt was a weak, sentimental, trusting fool . . . and I would not allow Kurt to be used against me. From now on I was Nightcrawler – just Nightcrawler, a ruthless, cunning killing machine that was incapable of love or anything remotely resembling it. In the brief space between when I gave my name and she shared hers, a fragment of song ran through my mind.

. . . I have seen the writing on the wall . . . don’t think I need anything at all . . .

I smiled grimly as I hit the ground and resisted the urge to start humming.