mutants in space: the musical
Who: Kurt Wagner, Rosalie Hale, Ororo Munroe, and Warren Peace
When: The first day. Um, evening?
Where: 2-F, just outside of 2-G.
What: A teleporter is trying to get in through one of the ship's locked doors, but runs into a few roadblocks along the way.
Rating: Probably PG?
Warnings: Demons and flappers
Kurt crouched in the rust-colored, dimly-lit hallway, his shoulders rolled forward and back arched, peering about the perimeter through the shelter of his three-fingered hand as though the light directly above him were searing his eyes. This was the strangest day of his life--quite a feat when you've lived for thirty-four years with blue skin, yellow eyes, six fingers, four toes, and a tail. To begin with, Kurt was certain someone had drugged him back in Schleswig-Holstein and planted a knife on him, like Kurt was supposed to go out and kill someone with it (whom? why?). Then he woke up in this place, on this ship, with minimal clothing (even now, he only wore brown trousers and his raggedy gray overcoat, much of his ritually scarred chest left uncovered). Under the influence of the drugs, Kurt had even tried to attack a man in dark glasses...who proved to be more than capable of fighting back and had injured Kurt in the process.
Kurt rubbed his sore arm. The wound there was fresh, only hours old, still mildly sticky, and newly sealed over.
But the oddity of this day did not stop there. Kurt had managed to turn on one of the holograph machines (computers) and found a young woman reporting about unlocked doors all over the ship. After that, Kurt had very quickly discovered that he was expected to sleep in the same room as a twelve year old boy (fat chance of that; Kurt didn't want to scare the boy, and a thirty-four-year-old should not be rooming with a twelve-year-old, and anyway, Kurt had grown up sleeping in cages, not beds). Then Kurt had had a...rather pleasant conversation, surprisingly, with a school teacher trying to look out for the kids aboard the ship. It was the first time Kurt had spoken at length to a woman who wasn't his mother (the gypsy woman who found him abandoned in Bavaria, all those years ago), and the experience turned out to be new and sort of soothing.
The Nightcrawler scanned the hallway again with a lamplike yellow gaze. He spotted the door Nymta Jaxx had mentioned over the network; standing and stalking closer to it, he tried the handle, and sure enough it was locked, just as she had said.
Kurt pressed his hands against the closed door, and then pressed one of his ears to it, trying to gauge just how thick the door was and whether he dared risk teleporting onto the other side. Usually Kurt wouldn't risk it; if he couldn't see where he was going, he could wind up teleporting into a solid object and get stuck. But if this door was thin enough, then Kurt only had to teleport a couple of inches to get to his destination.
He wanted to find out what was on the other side of that door--and maybe, in the process, find a way out of here and back to Schleswig-Holstein. Kurt didn't feel as though he belonged anywhere on Earth, but he definitely knew he didn't belong here on this ship.
When: The first day. Um, evening?
Where: 2-F, just outside of 2-G.
What: A teleporter is trying to get in through one of the ship's locked doors, but runs into a few roadblocks along the way.
Rating: Probably PG?
Warnings: Demons and flappers
Kurt crouched in the rust-colored, dimly-lit hallway, his shoulders rolled forward and back arched, peering about the perimeter through the shelter of his three-fingered hand as though the light directly above him were searing his eyes. This was the strangest day of his life--quite a feat when you've lived for thirty-four years with blue skin, yellow eyes, six fingers, four toes, and a tail. To begin with, Kurt was certain someone had drugged him back in Schleswig-Holstein and planted a knife on him, like Kurt was supposed to go out and kill someone with it (whom? why?). Then he woke up in this place, on this ship, with minimal clothing (even now, he only wore brown trousers and his raggedy gray overcoat, much of his ritually scarred chest left uncovered). Under the influence of the drugs, Kurt had even tried to attack a man in dark glasses...who proved to be more than capable of fighting back and had injured Kurt in the process.
Kurt rubbed his sore arm. The wound there was fresh, only hours old, still mildly sticky, and newly sealed over.
But the oddity of this day did not stop there. Kurt had managed to turn on one of the holograph machines (computers) and found a young woman reporting about unlocked doors all over the ship. After that, Kurt had very quickly discovered that he was expected to sleep in the same room as a twelve year old boy (fat chance of that; Kurt didn't want to scare the boy, and a thirty-four-year-old should not be rooming with a twelve-year-old, and anyway, Kurt had grown up sleeping in cages, not beds). Then Kurt had had a...rather pleasant conversation, surprisingly, with a school teacher trying to look out for the kids aboard the ship. It was the first time Kurt had spoken at length to a woman who wasn't his mother (the gypsy woman who found him abandoned in Bavaria, all those years ago), and the experience turned out to be new and sort of soothing.
The Nightcrawler scanned the hallway again with a lamplike yellow gaze. He spotted the door Nymta Jaxx had mentioned over the network; standing and stalking closer to it, he tried the handle, and sure enough it was locked, just as she had said.
Kurt pressed his hands against the closed door, and then pressed one of his ears to it, trying to gauge just how thick the door was and whether he dared risk teleporting onto the other side. Usually Kurt wouldn't risk it; if he couldn't see where he was going, he could wind up teleporting into a solid object and get stuck. But if this door was thin enough, then Kurt only had to teleport a couple of inches to get to his destination.
He wanted to find out what was on the other side of that door--and maybe, in the process, find a way out of here and back to Schleswig-Holstein. Kurt didn't feel as though he belonged anywhere on Earth, but he definitely knew he didn't belong here on this ship.