Chapter Text
Kath searched. Searched as if her life depended on it. And, in a way, it did.
She combed through every street, every alleyway, every corner Kurt could’ve passed. She retraced his steps like she was chasing a fragile thread of hope in the middle of chaos. Spoke to everyone who crossed her path, even when they looked at her like she was a freak — which, technically, in their world, she was.
But she didn’t care.
Even when people recoiled, casting fearful glances, whispering cruel things behind their hands, she kept going. Some crossed the street. Others flat-out refused to answer.
One boy even screamed upon seeing her up close. And honestly, she understood. That day, in particular, her eyes were different — the left still her usual shade, but the right... the right had turned a vivid green, with a vertical pupil like a cat’s. She had woken up that way, and lacking time or energy, didn’t bother hiding it with lenses or makeup. What difference would it make anyway?
People fear what they don’t understand.
But that never justified the way they treated her.
It was just an eye, for God’s sake! But to them, a mutated eye was enough to brand her as a monster, a threat, a thing.
And all of that was about to make her explode. But she took a deep breath.
It wasn’t for her. It was for him.
Kurt. The smiling idiot who spoke slowly so she could understand, who apologized even when he stepped on his own tail, who said sweet things with that thick accent and eyes overflowing with kindness.
She had to find him.
The map in her hands was covered in scribbles. Circles. Notes. Dates. Possibilities. A mental list of the places he used to go for supplies, the paths he took, the shortcuts. She walked them all.
Nothing.
The hours passed. Days, too.
By the second day, her mutation manifested more strongly: parts of her right arm began to change texture, becoming similar to fine scales with bluish reflections. No one dared look in her direction in that state. And in some ways, that helped. She could walk the streets like a specter.
By the third day, her feet felt like they’d been burned alive. She had slept just one hour, sitting in an alley, arms wrapped around her knees, not removing the doctor’s mask from her face. Her cap pulled forward, trying to hide her gaze. She was exhausted. Starving.
But alive.
And determined.
It was only on the fourth day that something changed.
She was once again looking for Kurt, as she had every day since he disappeared. Her eyes were tired, sunken, and her body felt like lead — but the fire of determination inside her burned stronger than any exhaustion.
The city seemed even darker that muggy afternoon, the sky overcast and oppressive, as if even it knew something was wrong. She walked down a street she’d never noticed before — one of those swallowed by time and urban decay. Muffled music came from a building with flickering neon lights. At first glance, it looked like just another club, the kind of place where lonely men drown their frustrations in cheap booze and empty promises of pleasure.
She hated places like that.
The mixed stench of cigarette smoke, sweat, and strong perfume made her nauseous. The sound of forced laughter, the glare of fake lights, the way some gazes followed her as she passed the entrance — all of it made her want to burn the whole place down with a blink.
But then, she felt something.
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.
"Hey, doll, interested in coming in?"
The voice was raspy and greasy, belonging to an older man with teeth yellowed from the cigarette clinging to his dry lips. His eyes roamed her body shamelessly, and Kath had to hold herself back from snapping his fingers right there.
"No, just passing by," she replied coldly, already preparing to move on. The disgust was evident in her voice, and she didn’t care.
"Aw, don’t be in such a hurry now, huh?"
He gave a guttural laugh, coughed, then looked around before leaning in closer.
"Heard there’s gonna be a good fight tonight."
"Fight?"
She stopped, her eyes narrowing with caution.
"Yeah," he went on, blowing smoke far too close to her face. "Between you and me... this place is just a front. Inside, there’s a ring. Mutant fights. No rules. And tonight... the champ’s facing a rookie."
She raised an eyebrow, already uncomfortable with where the conversation was going, but… she couldn’t just walk away.
"So what?" she asked, trying to sound disinterested.
"Heard the rookie is... different. Some say he looks like a demon."
The man laughed again, as if he didn’t quite believe it but liked the idea.
"Wanna see?"
Kath’s blood froze.
Demon.
Her heart skipped a beat.
What if...?
She turned slowly to the man, forcing a soft smile onto her lips, her voice taking on a sweeter, almost charming tone, as she fought the nausea his presence stirred.
"You know what... I’d like that."
He looked surprised by the sudden change, but shrugged and nodded.
"Then follow me, sweetheart. Today’s your lucky day."
She suppressed the urge to spit on the ground and followed him, entering through a side door, walking down stifling hallways lit with dim red light, where voices and screams mixed with pounding electronic music. The walls seemed sweaty, alive, like the place itself was breathing — and coughing rot.
The man led her down a metal staircase to a wider room. At the center was an improvised ring surrounded by tall railings and a crowd of excited people, betting, drinking, screaming.
Kath scanned the place with a mix of disgust and focus. Her eyes searched for any sign.
A movement, a familiar silhouette, a tail...
"It’s starting," said the man beside her, pointing at the ring.
She approached the railing, and the lights dimmed a little. A siren blared, and a figure was shoved into the center of the ring.
Kath held her breath.
It was him.
Even dirty, wounded, with chains on his wrists — it was him.
Kurt looked lost. His eyes scanned the area in silent desperation, not recognizing where he was, as if every second there was a fragment of a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. The noise, the screams, the flashing lights — all of it pressed on his mind, confused his senses.
He tried to teleport out.
Nothing.
A void in his connection to the space around him. As if something was canceling his power, suffocating an ability that came as naturally as breathing. He staggered, almost fell, his tail moving instinctively to help him balance. Panic filled his eyes.
He was trapped.
Kath watched with fierce concentration, eyes fixed on every detail. Then she noticed — the soft hum in the air, the almost imperceptible distortion between the bars surrounding the ring. She furrowed her brow and whispered to herself:
"There’s a field around the ring... something blocking powers inside..."
Cruel. And grotesquely clever.
Her gaze then shifted to Kurt’s opponent. Another mutant. Tall, imposing, with long white wings — or at least, they once were white. Now, parts were stained with dry blood, hardened into filthy patches that grotesquely contrasted with whatever purity those wings once symbolized.
The feathers, mostly disheveled, twitched restlessly. He paced like a caged predator. Eager to fight. As if violence was all he had left — channeled, applauded by a soul-dead crowd.
Kath didn’t look away, but her body tensed.
What did they do to this place? To these people?
When the fight began, the winged mutant moved first. Fast as lightning, he lunged at Kurt with wings spread, his momentum launching him like a living spear.
But Kurt vanished in a puff of black smoke — bamf — and reappeared across the ring, collapsing to his knees from the effort.
"That..." Kath whispered through clenched teeth.
"That!"
She knew how much he hated pointless violence. How he carried a gentle soul, even while being seen as a monster. That fight — that spectacle — was against everything he believed in.
But still, he fought.
Not to win. Not to prove anything.
To survive.
Kath bit her lower lip hard, her eyes burning with restrained rage. She was already certain — that would be Kurt’s last day in this hell.
"Enjoying the show?"
The disgusting voice slithered beside her.
His hand touched her waist with the audacity of someone who thought he owned everything. The contact was a spark to powder. Kath let out a low, involuntary growl, laced with hatred and disgust.
But the man... he smiled.
The bastard smiled like it was flirtation, as if she were just another piece of the show, an object for his twisted pleasure. He chuckled and turned back to the ring, assuming she’d take it.
But she was patient.
She’d wait for the right moment.
And when it came... nothing would stop her.
In the ring, the fight raged on. The winged mutant struck with force and fury. Every blow dodged at the last second by Kurt, teleporting in short bursts, always retreating, always avoiding direct combat. His body was showing signs of exhaustion. Each bamf left his hands trembling, his stance faltering.
But even so, he didn’t strike back.
Even cornered, humiliated, trapped — he refused to hurt anyone.
Kath felt a mix of pride and despair.
She knew him too well. Knew that even wounded, even when the world said otherwise, Kurt was still that boy with faith in good, in God, in others.
But no one there had faith in him.
Except her.
And that was enough.
She wouldn’t leave without him.
Even if she had to burn the place to the ground.
"Fight! Or they’ll kill us both!"
The voice sliced through the crowd noise like a blade — desperate, full of urgency and fear.
It came from the winged mutant, now closer to Kurt, wide-eyed, pleading.
Kurt turned his head quickly and locked eyes with Kath, through the bars, past the crowd. But what truly paralyzed him was something far worse: armed men began surrounding the ring. Dark uniforms, tactical goggles, rifles aimed directly at the two of them.
Kath’s entire body clenched, a suffocating pressure crushing her chest. The crowd was blind with euphoria, bloodthirsty, craving spectacle — but she saw. She saw the moment hope left Kurt’s eyes.
He hesitated. Tried to teleport again, but only managed a short, painful bamf, collapsing to his knees.
And then, something broke inside him.
A silent, deep snap.
Fear turned into despair.
And despair turned into rage.
Kurt growled.
Low. Guttural. Almost inhuman. His tail moved with lethal precision, whipping through the air and coiling around the winged mutant’s neck. The opponent didn’t even have time to react — with a brutal motion, Kurt slammed him against the ring’s bars.
Electricity surged through the mutant’s body in a deafening crack. Sparks flew, the smell of burning feathers filled the air.
Kath clutched her mouth, heart racing so fast she thought she’d faint.
One of the wings... was completely scorched.
The crowd went wild. Screams, applause, stomping, voices chanting in unison:
NIGHTCRAWLER! NIGHTCRAWLER! NIGHTCRAWLER!
Kath felt sick. She wanted to scream for them to stop, to see that the "show" was torture. Kurt stood there, panting, wide-eyed, hands trembling. His opponent lay smoldering, groaning.
Kurt staggered back, as if he had been shocked. Tears welled in his eyes, his face contorted in deep, choking regret.
"I’m sorry... I’m sorry..."
He repeated, voice trembling, almost childlike.
"Ich wollte das nicht tun..."
(“I didn’t want to do this…”)
He backed away slowly, like fleeing from himself. Like each step in that arena stripped more of his humanity.
Kath wanted to run to him, pull him out, hold him until it all faded.
But she was trapped. In the stands. Surrounded by monsters dressed as humans, screaming for more pain, more blood.
And then, a siren blared.
Loud. Sharp. Prolonged.
An alarm.
The light surrounding the cage flickered. The sparks ceased.
The containment field had been shut down.
The silence lasted less than a second. But in that instant, Kath knew.
This was the chance.
She turned slowly to the man beside her — the one who touched her without permission, who treated her like furniture. He was smiling. Still excited by the fight.
She smiled back.
And in a blink, her claws extended, sharp as razors.
His throat opened without a sound.
He fell sideways, never knowing he was dead.
Now or never.
But when she turned — Kurt was gone.
The air felt heavier, wrong. As if time had tripped over itself.
"What...?" she muttered, spinning sharply, green eyes scanning the ring and surroundings in frenzy. Kath searched through shadows, through smoke-choked corners and flickering red light.
Nothing. No blue tail, no bamf, no shadow moving like only he could.
Kurt had vanished.
"No, no, no, verdammt nochmal, not now!" she growled under her breath, spinning on her heels, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. Something was way too wrong. The ring was empty, guards beginning to move... and she couldn’t find him.
Where did he go? Why didn’t he wait for me?
She took a step back, trying to assess, think quickly — but before she could finish a single thought, sharp pain sliced through her neck like an invisible blade.
"Ah—!"
She let out a faint sound, painful, her fingers flying instinctively to the base of her neck.
Everything spun.
She collapsed to her knees, legs giving out like glass.
Her vision flickered. Flicker, then darker. Flicker again — and it was all scrambled.
Kath lifted her gaze with effort, pupils dilated, muscles locking one by one. Shapes stood in front of her — three, maybe four — silhouettes approaching like silent predators.
And then she saw them clearly.
They weren’t security.
They were men in black, military uniforms, but not the usual kind.
Not the cheap mutant militia.
It was them.
She recognized them. Maybe not their faces — but their movements. The precision. The coldness. The way they surrounded her without a word.
One of them held a syringe. The liquid glowed amber. The needle already stained with her blood.
"Shit…" she murmured, lips already numb. The word came out as a broken whisper.
Her body slumped sideways with the weight of a boulder.
They had found her.
After all the time hiding, running, fighting in the shadows — they had found her again.
The cold floor welcomed her like a concrete blanket. The red light blinked on the ceiling, spinning, spinning... like a mute siren.
She still tried to fight. One last jolt, one last spark in her nerves.
But her body no longer obeyed.
And then — everything went dark.