Chapter Text
Hunter and the Prey
August 12, 1996
(Excalibur fan fiction)
This story uses characters from the Marvel Universe, mainly from the comic book series, Excalibur. None of these characters are mine, nor do I intend any copyright violations in using them in this story. The song used is based on a song by Erasure called The Man in the Moon, slight variations were made in order to make it fit the story better. Again, no copyright violations are intended. Enjoy the story in the spirit it was intended to be read.
Hunter and the Prey
Communique -
To: Mr. Gregory Valence
From:
Subject: Possible hunting contract
Mr. Valence,
Our company is aware of your success as a big game hunter, as well as your disregard for the proper laws and procedures when dealing with the legality of hunting certain species. We are also aware of your current dissatisfaction in the sport. We believe that we may have a solution to your problem. If you are interested in learning of the whereabouts of a suitable opponent and entering into an arrangement with us, meet our operative at the Hailey's Comet Club, on the balcony, tonight at eight o'clock.
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Gregory Valence sat back in his chair as a lovely young woman approached his table. "Sorry, sweetheart, the seat's already taken, but come back in an hour or two and we'll see what we can do." He smiled engagingly, his blue eyes sparkled.
The woman smiled thinly, and brushed back her shoulder length brown hair as she took a seat. "Mr. Valence, I assume by your presence here that you received our message and are, indeed, interested in what we propose."
Eyes narrowed, he propped his chin with a fist and stared at her. "So what's all this about, sweetheart? What's with all the cloak and dagger stuff?"
"All in good time, Mr. Valence. Was your last hunt a success?"
"A success? Yes. Fulfilling? No."
"Why is that, Mr. Valence?"
"The creature didn't even put up a fight. There was no challenge in the hunt. Now what exactly is this all about? Who are you, and what is this company you work for?"
She, seemingly, changed the subject again, kept him off-balance. "What is your view on mutants?"
He crossed his arms. "I think they should all be eliminated."
She pulled out a manilla folder and flipped through it. "Yes, and I see you've been arrested several times for trying to do just that? Am I right?"
"How...?"
"And that each time, powerful influences caused the charges to be dropped or, in the case of thirteen year old you killed, reduced. Correct?" Valence nodded and she continued. "As the message indicated, we know quite a bit about you, Mr. Valence."
"Is this a hustle? Blackmail?"
She looked shocked, "Dear me, no. How positively primitive. No, on the contrary, the people I work for would very much like to hire your unique abilities in a small problem we are having."
"You and these people are?"
"If you need a name, you may call me Constance. I work for the And God Created Man Corporation."
"Bunch of purists, right?"
"Exactly. We, as yourself, believe that mutants are abominations in the eyes of God. That they aren't human and should be treated accordingly."
Valence shrugged, "So, what does that have to do with me?"
The woman smiled slightly, "That brings us back to our small problem. Our congregation has been slackening off recently and more mutant tolerance activity has been present. The head executives of the corporation have decided on a course of action that, if it doesn't bring more people into our church, will at least rid us of a mutant that my employer has a particular hatred for." She glanced back into the file. "May I ask you as to your methods of hunting?"
Valence settled back in his chair, curious as to the direction the conversation was going. "I spend a few days getting used to the habits of the creature I am hunting, getting its schedule down and such. Then, once I have that, I set up an ambush spot in which I capture the beast."
"Do you always capture your prey before trying to kill it?"
"Yes."
Her brown eyes narrowed in speculation. "Why?"
"The instant of death can reveal so much about a creature. I feel it my duty, as a hunter, to witness that moment in my kills. Otherwise, it's an empty victory, nothing of worth has been gained."
"The arrangement we have for you will be different from what you normally encounter."
"Lady, so far, you haven't done anything out of the ordinary. In fact, you're a lot calmer than some of the people I get."
She smiled and continued, "As I mentioned before, our congregation is thinning. We need something that will bring people back to the church. The head executive thought that a public exorcism would put the fear of God back into the community."
"An exorcism?" He shook his head. "I still don't see what that has to do with me. Demons are not my specialty."
"Oh, but they could be." At his confused look, she pulled out another folder and handed it to him.
He was silent for a few minutes, read and absorbed the information. He looked up at her with a horrible grin. "Count me in."
She smiled. Stood and shook hands with him. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, sir. All the information you need, both about the mutant and the special arrangements for afterwards, are there in the folder. I'm sure my employer will be pleased at your enthusiasm for the challenge. If you require any assistance, please don't hesitate to contact us." With that, she picked up the remaining folder and left.
Gregory Valence waited until the woman was out of sight before he left the club himself. He would have to plan his next move very carefully. A predatory smile of anticipation crossed his lined face. He was going to enjoy this.
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A few days earlier:
"Kurt?" Brian Braddock came down the stairs of the lighthouse, arrived in the kitchen, map in hand. "Do you think that..." He broke off and frowned as he found the kitchen deserted. He went into the living room, searched, "Kurt?" Nothing. 'Maybe he's downstairs in the computer room.' In the computer room, he found Rachel and Kitty working on something. He stared at the confusing images for a moment before he finally asked, "What are you two doing?"
Kitty glanced up briefly with a grin. "Oh, hi Bri. I challenged Rach to a game of dungeons and dragons."
"Which I am regretting. She's beating me badly."
Kitty laughed, "Your fault for excepting when you know that I've been playing for some time."
Rachel nodded, "True. Aha, I've got you now!"
"Oh." Brian left briefly to check the other room. He came back, frustrated.
"What's the matter, Brian?" Kitty deftly maneuvered her character out of range and fired upon Rachel. Rachel groaned as she took on severe damage. Kitty laughed in glee, "You thought!"
"Do either of you know where Kurt is? I had a question about one of the maps he gave me."
Rachel thought for a moment, "He took the Blackbird to the mainland in order to attend church. He should be back in a couple of hours."
Brian grimaced, "That's right. I'd forgotten. He had even mentioned it to me earlier this morning." He pulled up a chair and watched the two girls play for a while. "I grew up Catholic, but I don't go to church much any more. Kurt always tries to make time for it. Kitty, when he was with the X-Men, was he always this dedicated?"
Kitty nodded, "Yes. He was."
Kurt Wagner stood in the back of the chapel, trying to go unnoticed. Even though the building was warm, he wore a long coat, fully buttoned and the collar up to conceal his blue furred skin and his prehensile tail, his three-fingered hands deep in the pockets. A scarf covered his lower face masking sharp white fangs, a hat was pulled low to cover his pointed ears, and sunglasses hid his yellow, pupil-less eyes from casual glances. But if anyone took a real close look, they'd notice those things he tried so hard to hide.
He wished he could have come openly to church, with no disguise, but he knew from previous experiences that his appearance would frighten the other parishioners. He'd be known as a mutant, or worse, thought of as a demon. He winced away from the sudden memory of a young woman's horror and disgust when he rescued her from a burning building. She had called him a demon and had ran from him in fear. She had looked only as far as his appearance and not at who he really was inside.
He dragged his attention back to the front of the church. The elderly priest who was giving the sermon today was one of his favorites. Father Francise O'Donnel preached peace and tolerance for all races and beings and he claimed that his one wish was for humans and mutants to live together in harmony.
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Kurt remembered the first time he had heard Father Francise. He wanted to know if the Father truly believed what he preached, or if he said one thing and did another. After the mass, Kurt had gone to confession. The confessional was divided in such a matter that the confessor could either kneel behind a screen and remain anonymous, or sit in front of the father and converse face to face with him. Kurt had entered the room and knelt behind the screen. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession."
"Bring your sins to light, my son, that they may be absolved and forgiven by God," the priest's voice was kindly.
"I ask forgiveness for something that humanity calls a crime and a sin, but that which I cannot either control or deny."
"The Lord died for us so that all sins would be forgiven. If you take Him fully into your life and heart, then you shall be forgiven."
Kurt took a deep breath. "Father, I am a mutant." He braced himself, expecting a cry of disgust or hatred from the man. Other priests had withdrawn from him, either physically, or emotionally. Some asking him politely to leave, others driving him forth with blows. Still others had riled up the remaining congregation who had gone after him in mobs, calling him demon-spawn and the devil's own.
To his surprise, all the father did was sigh and say, "I see. What exactly is the extent of your mutation, if I may ask? You don't have to answer."
Kurt was still on guard, but hopeful, this had been the farthest he'd gotten with most priests. "I can stick to walls and ceilings with my hands and feet and I'm a teleporter."
The old man chuckled, "That last sure would come in handy if I was ever running late for a mass." Kurt relaxed even more. "There's something else, as well, isn't there?"
"My physical appearance is such that I must take special precautions so as not to frighten other people."
Father Francise sounded thoughtful, "Would plastic surgery be of any benefit, my son?"
"No, father. I'm afraid it wouldn't."
A pause. "Would you mind showing yourself? If you'd prefer not to, I would understand."
Kurt smiled to himself, "You know, father, I believe you would at that." Kurt stood and took off his hat, coat, scarf, and sunglasses. He placed them carefully on the floor, aware that he was stalling. Underneath, he wore grey dress slacks, a white button down shirt, a grey jacket and tie. The tie had been a gift from Kitty. It was blue, with darker blue x's all over it, and he wore it whenever he could. He knew that no one would know how he was dressed, and he could have worn more comfortable clothing to church, but he would have known, as would God, so he always dressed very nicely when going to church.
His brow creased in trepidation as he slowly made his way around the screen and finally faced the priest.
The father looked to be in his mid-fifties, his hair a steel grey. Kindly blue eyes peered from behind bifocal glasses. The man's face was seamed with lines, most of them gained from a life-time of laughing and looking for the good in people. As Kurt came into view, his eyes widened a bit in shock and understanding. "Yes, I can see why you would have some problems. Not many are able to look beyond the exterior to what lies within."
Kurt nodded gratefully and seated himself. "You are very correct, father."
"What is your name, my son."
"Kurt Wagner."
"I am Father Francise O'Donnal." He extended his hand and, after a slight hesitation, Kurt shook it. The priest's grip was firm and strong. "I try to keep abreast of all the mutants in the community. You're new here, are you not?"
"Yes, I've only been here a few weeks."
"And I'll bet that in all that time, you haven't particularly enjoyed proper Christian hospitality from the other churches."
"How..?"
"How do I know that? Simple, if you had, you wouldn't be here, obviously still looking for a place. I believe that everyone should be given the chance to prove themselves, without fear or prejudice."
"May I ask a question, father?"
"Of course."
"Why do you preach tolerance? It's not very popular, and it could get you into some real trouble, either with your superiors or within the community."
Father Francise leaned back in his chair for a moment, thinking. "It may not be popular, but it's the right thing to do. I'm too old to worry what others think of my methods, and I know too much about both my superiors and members in this community for them to really do anything to me. Anyway, one of my great-nephews is a mutant. He's an empath and one hell of a listener. He's in school now learning to be a psychiatrist for troubled children. I tell you, he's going to go far in that field. Bright kid, he is."
Kurt finally let all his defenses down and relaxed completely in the old priest's presence. "Thank you."
"For what?" The priest looked a bit confused.
"For being honest with me. For allowing me a chance. Not many do."
Father Francise nodded, "I know. It's not always easy, is it?" Kurt shook his head. "Do you have anyone to talk to, my son? Someone who may understand what you're going through?"
"I moved here with a few other mutants. They aren't very religious, so I don't expect that you'll see them around."
"Are any of them...?"
"As easy to spot as me?" Kurt smiled. "No, they all look like normal humans."
The priest placed a gentle hand on Kurt's arm. "If you ever need someone to talk to, about anything at all, even if they're not religious matters, my door is always open to you, my son."
Kurt felt his eyes tear up, "You are truly a special man, Father Francise O'Donnal. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
The old man patted his arm again, then reached into a pocket. He handed Kurt a business card. "Here. This top one's the chapel's number, and my home number is on the bottom. Day or night, you need to talk, give me a call."
"I will, father. Danke."
That had been two and a half years ago. In that time, Kurt and Father Francise had become close friends. They had gotten together many times just to talk about what was going on in the world and in each other's lives.
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