| It was worth getting up early to see the look on her face when he told her they could take some 'personal time' this morning before work. If there was nothing keeping them from being together, he meant to seize any opportunity to hold her. Making love to his Katzchen was something he would get tired of. Cheerfully he ate the breakfast she prepared, and kissed her goodbye at the door. A tremor went through him as he heard the elevator door close. Once out of his sight, anything at all might happen to her. They probably wouldn't injure or kill her, not with all the expense of training invested in her, but anything short of that was entirely possible. He arrived at the garbage room, and checked in, getting to work. He hummed along with the music they played over the speakers. Some sort of news talk-radio program was playing in Joe's office, and it provided a low-level counter noise he couldn't quite understand. Near noon, Joe gestured at him to come up to his office. As he neared, he finally picked out some of the broadcast. "...ther news, the Chairman of the Senate again questioned Director Murray of Shield about the lack of progress against the mutant raiders. The..." He heard Joe curse, as he scrambled to turn it off. He kept any reaction off his face. Mutant raiders? That's why Joe would never give him a radio. "You asked to see me, sir?" he said, ignoring the nervous look on Joe's face as he moved away from the radio. "Yeah." Joe shut the door. "I wanted to hear from you just what happened this weekend. First you don't show up, and then you come in this morning like nothing happened. No one tells me anything about it, of course. So, spill." "Remember the girl I met?" Joe nodded. "She was down here again Friday, and we... fell asleep on the couch together. She missed work, too. "Oh boy. Bet they put your asses to the fire for that." "Ja. They were not happy with us. They questioned us and put us in the brig for hours. Then they directed us to entertain them... by making love where they could watch us." "Yer shittin' me. They did what?" "Nein, they did. Our first times, too." He shrugged. "Then they moved her in with me, and gave us Sunday off together. She still has to work upstairs, but she spends her nights with me." "And I bet you're just all upset about that." Joe grinned at him. Kurt returned his own smile, and then he affected a saddened expression. "We are just terribly heartbroken by it." "So that's why you had such a happy tail today, huh?" "Was? Uh, what do you mean?" Kurt tilted his head, confused. "That tail of yours tells the world how yer feelin', if they care to look. If you're mopey, it hangs down, and if you're happy it bounces around and shit. Happy tail; happy you. Get it? "Ja. I get it. Excuse me if I don't tell her that one." "Bet she's already figured it out. Girls are like that." "Probably. Is that all, sir? I'd like to get my lunch?" "Yeah, get on outta here, and don't have too much fun, 'kay?" Kurt laughed. "Is there such a thing?" Joe just shook his head as he left. * * * He washed up and ate lunch. He kept watching the door, but she didn't show up. It would be silly for her to come down, only to leave again, but it didn't stop him from wishing she would. He left only when he had to and not be late for training. Kneeling, he paid his respects to Shield with his lips, while praying to God in his heart. He feared this practice stretched the promise he'd made to renew his commitment to his training, but he didn't think that it broke it. It was a promise made under duress, after all. Agent Brestin wasn't there; instead it was Kitty's lady trainer, and another female agent, in addition to Combs. He started his day by picking a series of progressively harder locks, followed by a very tough safe with a strict time limit. He managed to open it with a half minute to spare. Then he went through his acrobatics series on the special equipment that very few used beside himself. All three of them pocked at him with the paint guns. He had a feeling it was a kind of entertainment for them to try to shoot him. His innate sense of showmanship urged him to play with the exercise; to tease them by almost letting them hit him, but his common sense talked him out of it. Combs called him over by the table. "You've graduated to the point that you can't be challenged in combat by any but the best trainers. As of today, you'll be sparring with other Hounds. Today, and for a while, your opponent will be Stalker. I believe you may be acquainted with him..." "Hey, altar boy," a familiar voice drawled behind him. Kurt's tail thrashed once, and then he clenched his jaws to prevent baring his fangs. If it wasn't his 'old friend', Brad. For a second, a thrill of fear went through him, as he remembered the late night get-togethers the man used to arrange for him. But only for a moment. He wasn't the same boy now who had shivered in fear of the man. Brad had done a lot to make his and Katzchen's life here miserable. Perhaps it was time to return the favor... He turned around, and gave him a bare nod. The man looked almost impressive in his fighting gear. He was a good head taller than Kurt, and much more massively built. He carried his bulk fairly well, but there was a hint of plodding to his step. Kurt noticed a slight thickening of his neck that told him much. He was worked hard, they all were, but they didn't keep Brad on as fine an edge as he was. Too little adrenaline, and too much good food. All of that noted, this would not be easy. Brad was a lot bigger than Kurt, obviously stronger, and a seasoned fighter. This would be interesting, and it was time to get started. He went to the table and put on his metal gauntlets, flexing his blunt fingers within the intricate jointings. Brad rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. "Nice mittens, boy. Your little hands not tough enough to do the job?" Kurt ignored the jibe. "Nightcrawler, huh?" Brad continued. "Named you after your tail?" "Very funny. What about you, oh Stalker after parked cars?" "I'm a hunter. I track down runaway mutants." He tapped his head. "I can sense 'em wherever they go, and I can subdue 'em when I find 'em." Combs chuckled, and both Hounds looked at him. He just gestured for them to take the start places they were already approaching. "Seems you two are ready for this little encounter. So start already." "Jawohl, Herr Combs." Brad was a mutant hunter, the traitorous scum. "My pleasure, Agent Combs." Brad grinned evilly. Kurt stood loose, ready to move. He whispered so only Brad could hear him. "You'll find I'm not so easy a target when I'm not trapped in bed sheets." "We'll see about that, runt. I've missed your cute little cries of pain." Kurt ported behind and above him and clouted him the back of the head with his gauntlet, at the same time he kneed Brad in the back with his full falling weight. Then he ported in front of his opponent again, as Brad started to turn to his back, and punched him in his deceptively large gut. Kurt almost dodged the reflexive backhand from Brad. It clipped him a little, but not enough to daze him. He danced backwards, and Brad charged, a huge fist coming in an undercut blow that would crush ribs if it connected. It didn't. Kurt flipped into a handstand and launched both his heels in a slam to the solar plexus, jolting Brad backwards. So the pattern of battle formed. Kurt couldn't stand toe to toe with the big man, no more than Kitty could with Ox, but he could hit and run, and try to stay out of reach. But the more they fought, the faster Brad became. The frustration of not being able to lay his hands on Kurt was inspiring him to reach levels of effort that he didn't think Brad had reached in a while. Big hands caught him around a muscled thigh, and Kurt was swung by it to the floor, hard. He panted as Brad smirked, drawing back a fist. Kurt ported to the top of the gym equipment, and watched as Brad punched the floor with a barely pulled blow. The big man growled, and turned unerringly to his foe. Kurt ported to one of the top corners of the room, and Brad turned to him again. He couldn't runaway forever, but Brad couldn't get to him here, either. Stalker loped over to the corner, and pulled something from his belt. He activated it and threw it up at Kurt. It expanded into a net, crackling with energy. Kurt ported back to the gym equipment. "So that's where you get your habit of beating up people who can't fight back. I should have known." The red flush of anger on Brad's face was reaching comic proportions. Brad growled again and moved to the equipment. "When I get my hands on your, little monkey, I'll pull that tail out by the roots and tear off your dick. Then we'll see how much the little Jew censored slur likes you." "Only if you can catch me, oh hunter of snails." Kurt's voice was light and mocking, but he felt as winded as Brad looked. He wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to avoid the man. At close range, Kurt would be a world trouble. They played a little hide and seek among the bars and rings. Kurt used his speed and agility, conserving his energy to teleport. His caution paid off. In a canny move, Stalker cornered him, out of sight of the trainers. "This is it, runt," he whispered. "A little training 'accident'... and your Kitten's up for grabs, and I mean to do the grabbing." Kurt narrowed his eyes, and tried to find a space in this nook of bars and wood that he could port to, and escape. The fur on his neck stood up as he realized he couldn't see around Brad, and the man's hand was closing over his face. He ported blind, several yards out and a few feet up, his facing to the equipment. He landed lightly, as Brad screamed in frustration, fighting his way out of the press of equipment. Kurt closed his eyes and thought about what he'd just felt. He could tell exactly where he was porting in relation to where he started from, his head mapped the exact distances in three dimensions. The only thing he couldn't tell was if there was an obstacle in his way. But if he was in an open space like he was now, he could pin point port locations much faster than he could mark them with his eyes. Brad broke out of the equipment and closed in on him. Kurt kept his eyes on him, and spread out his spatial senses. Brad slowed, confused by the sight of Kurt just crouching there, waiting for him. Then he lunged at the boy. Bamf. A kick to the back of the neck... Bamf. An elbow slammed squarely in the whorl of his left ear... Bamf. A metal gauntlet to the side of the nose... Bamf... Bamf... Bamf... Each port marked a blossom of pain in Brad's body, from a wildly different direction and orientation. Brad's hunter senses weren't working at all. They only told him Kurt was near and close to hand, and he already knew that. The tang of blood scented the air, some from Brad, some from Kurt. Unable to lay a hand on the dervish whirling around him, Brad tried to back up to a corner of the room. "Hold!" Combs shouted. Brad huddled on the floor, hands clasped over his bruising head and face. Kurt appeared panting a few yards away, fangs bared and his nostrils red with seeping blood. "Both of you, approach the table." Brad was treated for minor skin tears and scrapes. Kurt only needed a cloth pressed to his nose until it stopped bleeding. "Stalker, you need to work on your speed," Combs said. "I'll note that in your file." "Yes, sir," Brad said, glaring at Kurt. "Nice work, Nightcrawler. That multiple porting routine will be a nice addition to your combat skills. Do a half set of weights, and shower up." "Yes, sir," Kurt said. He ignored Brad. The fear had been cleansed from him. Bigger the man might be, but he wasn't tougher than Kurt was. His weights set didn't take long. Vaile supervised him, and talked quietly to her companion. He took a long hot shower, soaking the bruises out of his muscles. He came into the dressing room with a towel wrapped around his middle, and started the long process of drying off enough to get dressed. He was mostly done when they approached him. Vaile and her friend observed him with little smiles on their faces, smiles that he didn't like. He froze, sitting on the bench, a towel over his hair, his hands simply holding it here, now that he wasn't rubbing it anymore. Vaile plucked the towel from his hands, and her friend came in on his other side. He stiffened when he felt exploring hands touching his back. Soon two pairs of hands were... petting him. It was the only way he could describe it. He clutched his left hand into a fist and remembered Katzchen. They scratched through the nap of his fur and smoothed it back down, all the while never a saying a word to him, only exclaiming at the softness of him to each other. He might as well have been a plush toy, and they didn't bother to ask him, of course. He fought against enjoying the experience, but it wasn't hard to do. The humiliation of being petting like an animal, without his consent, did much to stifle his reaction to being stroked. He made an unconscious sound of annoyance when the woman from the Pysch department started toying with his tail. She raised an eyebrow at him. "So, what sort of things did you say he was doing with this?" Vaile laughed. "It's like another hand, or a tongue, and he can send it anywhere while the rest of him is busy..." Kurt closed his eyes and made himself sit quietly, enduring their attentions in stoic silence. Except he couldn't help but to squirm when the woman breathed hotly on the end of his tail. They laughed at his reaction. Patting him condescendingly on the head, they turned and left the dressing room. Kurt shuddered in revulsion and rage, then got himself under control and dressed. He didn't want to be late for dinner with Katzchen. He went to the mission dining hall, taking his time, and thinking. The... incident that had just happened disturbed him. It bothered him that the petting might lead to... another kind of petting. One that he would be equally unable to decline. He didn't like the idea. His personal space had been pretty much respected, except by Brad and his friends. It was hard to train a fighter when they didn't have any sense of worth or self-dignity left. It was these thoughts that led him to Katzchen, leaning on the wall outside the dining room. Her eyes had much the same distress that had to be visible in his. He said her name softly, but she deflected his question. She didn't want to talk about what was bothering her, and in truth, neither did he. He ignored the glares from Brad's table, as they ate together. They bully was saying something disparaging about Kitty to his friends, just loudly enough for Kurt to hear. He didn't give Brad the satisfaction of seeing his annoyance, and he kept his tail wrapped around his lady's leg. As they went back to their quarters, he gave her his arm. "You're limping again." She blamed the extra weights, reassuring him that otherwise she was fine. "It didn't seem to be a problem this morning, liebe. I'm very glad." "I bet..." she said. "I told Karla what a randy blue goat you are." "Goat?" Did she have any idea how much they smelled? "I thought I was an elf, mein Katzchen." That too, apparently. She was eager for a soak, and he resigned himself for an early bedtime. She reassured him of that, too, with loving words and a kiss that warmed him all through. She held him tightly, with a hint of desperation, but he was willing to wait until she was ready to talk about it, and he told her so. After her bath, they made love, slowly and deliberately. He brought her to satisfaction, but he felt that something was bothering her, even as he loved her. He fell asleep holding her, worry making his sleep restless. Chapter Seventeen Back to Main Page Back to Fanfics Back to Series Index |