Spiderman Fan Fiction / X-Men Fan Fiction ❯ Tangled Shadows ❯ The Story Begins ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: ColdBlackFox 
An introduction into the life of our hero and his constant struggles with morality.
Non Anime: Spiderman Fan Fiction / X-Men Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.11.2006 | Updated On: 11.11.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.2K | Visits: 948 | Status: Completed
An introduction into the life of our hero and his constant struggles with morality.
Non Anime: Spiderman Fan Fiction / X-Men Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.11.2006 | Updated On: 11.11.2006 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.2K | Visits: 948 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: A small tribute to Frank Miller in this chapter, but aside from that everything in here is owned by Marvel.
AN: For no confusion the story will alternate between Nightcrawler and third person. I'm using the concept from X-Men: Evolution where at times he has a human appearance.
AND PLEASE, DO NOT flame me about Nightcrawler being OOC, remember that this is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fanfic, I love Nightcrawler and I'm a big fan, but for this story I wanted him not to be so devoted to church life.
(Nightcrawler)
My name is Kurt Wagner. I am a mutant. Since the day I was born, I bore marks of unique heredity; things that aren't tolerated by a world typically filled with humans. At the time I was oblivious to thinking that there could ever be others like me; but eventually I would discover otherwise.
My tale begins many years ago, when I was still a child... My periodic transformations between my fabricated and actual form had disturbed many individuals, and for the most part I was rejected from general society. Nobody had dared raise me until I was taken into the custody of a Christian orphanage.
When I had been treated respectfully long enough to calm down, I learned to gain control of my transformation. Still, no matter how long I would surpress my mutant form, it would resurface in the night... That hideous demonic appearance... Those fangs, that tail, that blue skin, those gleaming yellow eyes... I can't stand it. I felt so ugly, so embarrassed, so ashamed to be me.
People who worked with my caretakers knew what kind of issue I had, and assumed that I was damned from birth. Apparently, my being a mutant wasn't enough; not even the supposedly kindhearted church folk would accept me. It felt as if I had nowhere to go. The only reason I still lived there was because I was considered a child of very good behavior. Due to my heavy German accent and shy nature, I wasn't exactly a social icon amongst my peers.
Adolascence hit me and I managed to emigrate to public schools. I didn't exactly have many close friends; just names and faces, and who was around during that fateful day...
"Kurt! Hey, Kurt! What're you doing?"
I jumped at the sudden calling of my name and peered behind me to find Harry Osborn motioning to his left.
"The tour's this way, buddy!"
I just grinned sheepishly. Harry may have addressed me as a friend at the moment, but I never really knew him that well. Just another face in the crowd as always.
So there I go, following him and the big herd of people on our school field trip. Needless to say I'm nervous in crowds. Not just in social situations, as my life ended up in due time.
Harry's close friends with this guy named Peter Parker. In some ways he reminds me of myself. He's a social outcast for the most part; not the most handsome, as said by some of the girls at school, and very nerdy, but certainly smarter than a lot of us. I have to give him credit; Peter is very generous, and doesn't mean any harm, doesn't try to stirr up any trouble. I can't help but feel a little sympathetic, even though I've barely talked to him, but in comparison he doesn't suffer anything near what I have to put up with.
A little ahead of me Harry and Peter are walking together, talking about something. They're smiling and looking like they're enjoying themselves... That is, until Flash Thompson sticks his foot out and trips Peter. Poor guy.
Flash is a Grade A jerk for the most part. A school jock, notably proficient as captain of Midtown High's football team. If there's anything he can do better it's ruining someone's day for sure. He's very popular, and will beat the snot out of anyone who denies it.
Harry helps Peter back up as Flash's cronies burst out laughing and share some high fives with their idol. Off to the right Mary Jane Watson rolls her eyes. If her being a girl doesn't already make it obvious, she doesn't care much for the immature conduct of these guys.
Mary Jane is beautiful, and with but a glance you don't really need to spell it out, that is if you can find the words to say anything at all. Her deep, red hair has this majestic air to it that blends in with her creamy, soft-looking skin so perfectly... But I'm getting ahead of myself. Mary Jane's out of my league, and could handpick about anyone out of Midtown she wanted to take to a movie. Something tells me she's better than to pick whoever "about anyone" could be without proper judgment, though.
I won't deny it, every heterosexual guy at Midtown swoons over her. Flash has even gone as far with his grotesque nature by attempting to compliment her in saying that she's the ideal wet dream. Not the most polite thing to say.
I don't really know what it is, there's something about her that intimidates me. Mary Jane is so beautiful, so perfect, so smart, so kind... But it's like I'm invisible to her. Funny, how so long ago there's nothing more I'd want than to just disappear, but I guess it's things like Mary Jane that make showing your face worthwhile. There's always a chance, and sooner or later someone will try and encourage you to give it a shot and invite your dream girl to go out for a bite. Too bad I didn't follow through with that, but it did spare me the embarrassment of the attempt.
I'm shirking in a corner behind the majority of the crowd. I'd dare not try and enmesh myself in that big swarm of jammering teens; it's a lot safer for me back here. The tour guide is explaining some inconceivable stuff while laying his arm out towards all these glass panels separating us from radioactive, mutated insects of kinds. The booming voice of the crowd's sum overwhelms his inaudible speech, but unlike most of the Midtown teachers he keeps his cool and doesn't yell.
Five minutes of walking past more cases of special insects and suddenly the tour person stops, and one of the lab people tell him something. He has this bewildered look on his face and rallies us all up against the wall. The head count starts when I manage to find what's going on; out the corner of my eye the cage labeled "spider" is empty of life.
I nervously peer around a little, thinking maybe Flash took it out to mess with it and show it off to his friends, but it's nowhere to be found. Peter seems kind of concerned too; he's looking a little tense. Harry's trying to talk him out of it, but I can't tell what they're saying. Suddenly I feel this shocking prick on my hand, and flinch; I look down to see that a rather large spider sank it's fangs into my skin and then leapt off. One of the tour person's assistants manages to catch it and place it back into it's spot.
I ended up feeling very sick. Later on I really couldn't bear it, and went AWOL. How, you say? Well, my mutant ability is to teleport. Yes, I can vanish on a whim, and no one will ever know I was even gone. That is, if I play it right.
Walking around the city and figuring out that weird things are happening to me... Some tangible grey goo has developed on my wrists, my body can cling to solid surfaces upon a willing, pressed touch... I start to freak out, thinking maybe this will turn me into some kind of spider monster. I've already got mutant genes in me; I don't need this radioactive arachnid stuff screwing up my life any further.
(AN: Since this is Nightcrawler and he's had his original powers that he was born with before the bite, there will be some added powers rather than JUST what Peter gained. There's the stuff he always had, like teleporting, a completely vertasile spine allowing him contortionist movements, and a tail that can support his body weight, but all of 616 Spidey's powers of recent date. If you don't know or can't remember, this includes all his original powers I.E. wallcrawling and spider sense plus organic webbing, night vision, sensing vibrations in webs, but do NOT count the things Tony put in his new suit!!!)
(Earlier That Day, Fisk Industries)
The man sighed as he slammed the folder down on the desk.
Wilson Fisk, whose titanic girth and solid muscles boasted the ferocity of an ape, was casually smoking his cigar as his eyes roved along the desk.
"What is it this time?" he asked in a smug manner, looking at the man who brought the folder to him.
"That Roark guy," the man replied plainly. "He's done it again."
"I guess it's true, what some women say... Give men an inch and they take a mile... Roark knows better than to tresspass on what I've allowed him to have..."
"Well, I guess he doesn't know better, does he?" the man said.
Fisk opened the folder and inspected the information inside. He wrinkled his brow and wore a spiteful sulk as he read on and found the pictures.
"He's out tonight. He and everyone else he's associated with," Fisk said.
"But... No one has ever been able to hit someone's whole family in a night..."
Fisk was upset by this fact, but then beamed in a delighted manner at the hatching of an idea.
"Maybe we can and can't... Get me Raven Darkholme..."
(Back to Nightcrawler, after ditching the field trip...)
This discovery... It was so strange... I had been mutated further from what I was already born as. Thankfully there was no disturbance in my appearance, but the spider biting me left some kind of dreadful nausea... Still, I was curious, I wanted to kind of test this new transformation to make sure it was safe.
I gently placed my fingertips against the wall, just as easily lifting them off. I tried again, pressing harder, then flattening my hand against it and my forearm. It stuck to the surface like it was made that way. I was kind of worried it would be difficult or impossible to separate, but my fears vanished when, once again, I removed my limb with ease.
After a while I musted up the courage to press my knee against the wall. I felt that sticky sensation again, and as I had done earlier placed my arm back on up ahead. Soon, I was literally crawling the wall... I was still in awe when I managed to reach the rooftop. Had it not been for my teleporting powers I would stop while halfway up, fearful I could fall or something.
I had discovered earlier in my life that I had peak acrobatic potential, what with supple joints and an uncanny, flexible spine... But now I felt stronger, faster... Almost effortlessly I could do what I had entertained myself with as a child by testing out which ways I could bend and stretch. It was incredible.
I could see and hear everything better... Smells and tastes from all different directions were in the air, I could sense them so much more vividly than I ever could before... My sense of touch was heightened to where ultimate physical security and top-notch balance were in place. Even upon spreading my fingers in a way the webbing from my wrist would extract itself, and I could feel the vibrations of it's impact on the floor... Something's definitely changed in me. I just hope that it brings nothing undesirable.
For a long time I was lost in the revolution of my bodily functions... Hours, I think? But when I decided to go back home, I found something terrible. The church was nothing more than crumbling, burning rumble. I could tell, by the way the stone was scattered across the street, the glass of the windows spilled onto the sidewalk, that not some ordinary fire or accident had happened. Somebody bombed it.
Most people, I suppose, upon seeing their home being devoured by an act of violence, would either feel the chill of despair or a hunger for vengeance. But for me... I don't know exactly what I felt, or if I could name it with a word, but it was definitely different... In some ways I was gravely hurt, but in others I felt a sense of liberation. My whole life, I had been following the life of a follower of God, but it was never truly of great importance to me. There was always something else on my mind that I was eager to find out... Who were my parents?
(The Night After)
Whenever I was walking home I'd hear rumors on the darker streets of several underground assassins plaguing New York. Supposedly there was a secretive organization of ninjas going by the Hand; as well as the Red Mafia, led by a figure called the Kingpin, who is said to run all the crime in the state.
I'd managed to find the right people to listen in on and learn that the Kingpin's hired guns were usually at this place called the Hellhouse. As I had hoped, the place was nearly empty; some potbelly thug drunk off his mind was the only soul present, but I made short work of him. The Hellhouse was now my temporary base of operations. There, I managed to find suitable weapons to defend myself in my quest for the truth - twin scimitar swords - and invented a dark, skin-tight suit fitted in a way that it could contain both of my forms.
(AN: The costume he is talking about is Dusk, a stealthy alternative that was one of four alter egos Spider-Man developed a long time ago in Identity Crisis)
I probably had no idea as to how to make it work, but if the Kingpin truly existed and controlled as much as he did, he could certainly have the answers. I wasn't out for revenge, but finding whoever destroyed my home was the necessary first step to getting closer to the Kingpin. When I was all set, I teleported out of the Hellhouse and began combing the urban streets for the assassins I've heard of.
It was very cold and dark outside, but it didn't matter, if not give me an advantage. My costume significantly blended in with the shade. I fired a webline from my wrist onto the wall of a rather tall building and leapt from the rooftop I stood upon, swinging into the air and around the corner. I looked up to the edge of the roof next to this building, and after a brief moment of concentration managed to teleport to it. There I sprinted across the rooftop, leapt into something of a somersault as I landed on my hands, pushing with my arms to propel myself high into the air and release another stream of web against a wall up ahead. I yanked on the web with all my might, and was pulled further up ahead where I soared over the roof and landed on a nearby warehouse with a loud thud.
My acute sense of hearing and a strange prickle on my neck told me something was going on in a darkened alleyway up ahead... I silently jumped across the street and scaled a wall towards it. Upon peering around the edge, I saw through the dark to reveal a seemingly bald man wearing a beanie and leather vest shooting an innocent old man. I gasped; I've never witnessed death and bloodshed firsthand, but here it was, and it was real. After three shots were fired, the old man slunk to the ground lifelessly as his blood poured onto the floor, his sheer look of horror still on his face. Some other thugs were behind the killer, and he turned around and began shouting at them.
"C'mon! We need to get outta here! Back to Yancy Street!"
The man took a brief moment to run up to the old man's corpse and hurriedly tossed a rose onto his chest before attempting to take off. Almost instinctively I teleported in front of the group of thugs. They were startled by my sudden appearance, but not really intimidated any more than that.
"Hey, who the hell are you?" the killer asked me, threatening to shoot.
"Your worst nightmare if you don't answer me..."
"Pfft! What a joke! Go home, kid!"
He turned around to walk away and I teleported in front of him, kicking the gun out of his hand and grabbing him by the collar as I stared him in the face.
"Yesterday, a church exploded... Who bombed it?!?" I demanded as I shook his collar.
"I-I dunno what you're talking about..." the thug replied, and his cronies turned around to look at him in awe. Suddenly he shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts and pulled out another gun. I grabbed the arm with the gun and quickly twisted it around before slamming his elbow joint over my shoulder. He released a cry of pain before I delivered a strong backfist to his jaw, knocking him out cold as blood spilled out his mouth. In reaction to this, the remaining thugs all pulled out their guns and began firing. I vanished once again, reappeared behind the two thugs just outside the alley and stabbed them through the backs with my swords, the bloody blades jutting out of their guts. They looked down at their wounds and promptly fainted as their bodies slid off.
I quickly sheathed the swords as the two remaining thugs turned around to fire at me, but I pounced at them before they ever had the chance, knocking them both down. I wrenched the hand of the thug I landed on, causing him to drop his gun before I punched him in the face twice, his expression twisted into pain as the back of his head slammed against the concrete. The other thug was trying to get up and pointed his gun at me, but my tail swiped at his hand, swatting it with the force of a whip. He yelled at the sting of the blow as he clutched his hand after dropping his gun. I hopped to my feet and delivered a spinning kick across his face, sending him twirling in mid-air before slamming against the wall and becoming unconcious.
The other thug on the ground was trembling and groaning, desperately trying to crawl away. I casually walked aside him and pinned him helplessly in place under my shoe before pulling him up with the effort I'd previously needed to break a toothpick.
"You know something, don't you?!?" I barked as he winced at my voice, squirming in my grasp.
"I-I swear, I know almost nothing!... Kingpin ordered someone to do it, I think they call her Mystique or something..."
I was starting to get impatient, and real steamed up by the thug's leader killing that harmless old man a minute ago. I wasn't really thinking about it and dragged the thug out the alley before webbing a ring around his neck and jumping over a street light pole, threatening to pull on the webline and hang him. I tugged a little to tighten the ring and raise him a little, and he kicked around and flailed his arms, uttering choking noises.
"Who's Mystique?!?" I demanded, my grip still tight on the web.
"I... I don't know... She's supposed to be top class, a temporary hired by the Kingpin..." the thug answered between coughing and sputtering.
"Where's the Kingpin?" I asked as I pulled a little harder.
"I think... I think he's at Fisk Towers... Down at the Bronx..." by now his fingers were clawing at the air in futility, his dangling feet shivering in horror, his skin a grim pale.
I was satisfied by the information, but a little caught up in what I was doing. I was shocked to realize that the man was on the brink of death. Quickly I teleported to the top of the webline around the pole, swiped it with one of my swords, causing the man to fall. I teleported to the street and caught him. He was limp, but something told me he had merely passed out.
And so I headed off to Fisk Towers. Finally, the answers would be laid before me...
(Meanwhile, Fisk Towers)
"You did a splendid job punishing those traitors, Raven," Fisk said with a smile. He was talking to a slender woman in a white body suit with blue skin, red hair similar to that of Mary Jane's and illuminated neon eyes.
"This is the last time. I want out, Fisk," she said coldly in a husk voice as she turned and started walking away, her high heeled boots clacking against the floor.
"What are you doing? You have to fill the last part of the bargain!" Fisk exclaimed, shocked and flustered at Raven's defiant act.
"I don't work with scum like you," Raven answered as she approached the door.
"How dare you talk that way to the Kingpin!" he bellowed as he slammed his fists down on his desk, shattering it in two.
"I talk that way to a human... The filth that roam this earth, so inferior to mutants... So cruel, so monstrous... And it's bastards like you that represent them," Raven said as she opened the door.
Fisk retrieved a small remote from his back pocket and pushed a button. Soon, alarms blared throughout the building, and every security guard branded their gun.
Alaistair Smythe of the security center then turned on the intercom and spoke into it.
"Attention! Rogue assassin on top floor! Codename Mystique! Consider her armed and dangerous, and shoot on sight!"
Raven merely smirked deviously at this. She knew the petty humans would attempt to kill her for her transgression. But she was ready, and armed to the teeth; though she knew that it too was a human invention, she retrieved the pistol from her belt and cocked it to ready a lethal dose of lead into the chamber. No more than two minutes later did a barrage of security guards scurry around the corner of the hall where Raven was going. She heard them from behind, and dashed down her path as fast as she could, bullets zipping by just inches away from her skin. One guard had a lock on her when Raven tossed a flash grenade over her shoulder, causing the men to skid to a hault. Some of them were blown back by the impact of the explosion, but the others managed to run through the smoke to continue chasing their target.
Upon making their way around the corner, they found three other guards, two of them looking baffled.
"Which way?" the captain of the chase group asked.
"She went through there!" a guard said while pointing to a door at the end of the hall. The guard nodded, and ran towards the door with the others at his heels save for the three that they had found around the corner.
The two confused guards shrugged to each other as the one that diverted the chase to the door morphed back into Raven. She quickly whipped out her pistols and shot the guards through the back of their heads before running down the hall and around the corner.
(Nightcrawler, Entering Fisk Towers)
I easily teleported through the front doors. Apparently a lot of armed men were on post around it - it doesn't seem useful for a corporal building to be so heavily defended like that, and these men were definitely not from NYPD or SWAT.
Each one instantaneously pointed their guns at me, but right before they could pull their triggers the prickling on my neck returned and as if by reflex I ducked and spread my limbs out on the floor. They had all ended up shooting each other - about three or four were killed from hitting somewhere around their head or vital unprotected spots, but the others were protected by bulletproof material. I sprung into a front flip, dropkicking someone to my right and jumping off their chest to somersault over one of his comrades who had tried to smack me with the butt of his gun. I unsheathed my swords and carved a deep X into his back by a crossing slash. He briefly cried out in agony before stumbling to his knees and falling face down, bleeding wildly.
I stabbed another one in the shin before sheathing the sword in my free hand and shooting a webline at one of the men's feet. As he tripped, he shot at the floor and it ricocheted off of the ceiling and a wall. My danger sense and reflexes allowed me to teleport before it could hit me, chipping into the throat of a man who would have shot the back of my neck anyways. I reappeared in front of two of the men. They started to point their guns at me, but my tail retrieved one of my swords and slashed across their shins. They clenched their teeth and released muffled groans of pain as I grabbed their guns by the front, pulling them down and thus knocking their heads together. This made them drop the guns, and I jumped up and kicked the faces of them both before looking at someone who was about to shoot me and firing a ball of web onto their gun, covering the hole and preventing it from shooting.
He just had this bewildered look on his face staring at his gun like it was unreal. I took advantage of this and teleported in front of him before doing a solid uppercut, knocking him into the air. I caught him with webs as he fell, yanked him back towards me and lifted my knee, smacking it into his forehead with extreme force. Blood poured out his mouth and nose as he uttered a chilling groan, falling to the floor and becoming motionless. With that I rolled my head to the side, relieving my neck in stretching with the small cracks and kinks. I released a long sigh. I wasn't exactly sure how I ever would have been able to do this before, but here I was, fighting with deadly talent. Death inducing talent. The thoughts of taking lives the same way the old man had died caused sad thoughts to start to filter into my mind, but that was broken into by my sensitive hearing and prickling neck telling me that danger was nearby. I shot a stream of web at the ceiling and zipped up to it, clinging upside down as I looked onto the carnage.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
Into the midst of the bloody room, a lady whose skin was blue and had yellow eyes just like mine walked in, guns ready, surveying the corpses. She had an expression of surprise and fortune before taking off out the front door. Something told me I may have been closer to the answers sooner than I thought.
Shortly afterwards I managed to teleport into the ventilation system. I crawled my way to the top floor until I looked through the grated part of the shaft into a room with a man in some wheelchair-ish vehicle and a very large, round, bald man in a white suit.
(In The Room)
"I can't believe it! She escaped! The rat escaped!" Fisk roared as he beheld the security footage.
"An unfortunate loss, Mr. Fisk," Smythe told him.
"No worries... We will blackmail this whore who has denied service to the Kingpin... Hack into the confidentials and get me her records," Fisk demanded.
Smythe confirmed this with a nod and the machine he was sitting in hovered to the computers. He typed in some things for around two minutes until a profile picture of Raven appeared with lots of text displayed next to it.
"It says here that she has a son named Kurt Wagner... She abandoned him at birth, but he was identified not only by DNA, but their hereditary blue skin and yellow eyes due to their mutated genetics..."
Fisk grinned in pure malice. "Perhaps we can kill off Mr. Wagner to deal back what she has done to me..."
"We may already have, sir."
"Oh?"
"Kurt was brought into the United States and adopted by a local church. The same one you ordered her to destroy two days ago, sir."
"Excellent," Fisk slowly replied in a pleased tone.
(Nightcrawler)
How could this be... My mother, an assassin? Whose life revolves around killing for money?
I couldn't believe it. I just could not believe it. My whole life the disgusting ravages of violence have always struck fear into my heart; it truly brought nothing but misery, nothing but pain and suffering. I may have spilled blood earlier, but they were from the lives of cruel and evil men, performing wicked deeds to get by, sabotaging the lives of others like parasites. But this experience wouldn't be forgotten either. I would use these abilities to protect poor, helpless people like the old man who was shot earlier. And I would confront my mother... I need to know why she abandoned me. I won't allow it to go unpunished.
To Be Continued...
AN: Soon I'm going to explore the development of the Marvel Universe all-around now that Nightcrawler is pretty much Spider-Man. Who will come to battle Spidey's villains? How will Kurt fare with meeting people like Daredevil, Punisher, the Avengers and Fantastic Four? And how will things change when he meets the X-Men? All of this will be revealed soon...
AN: For no confusion the story will alternate between Nightcrawler and third person. I'm using the concept from X-Men: Evolution where at times he has a human appearance.
AND PLEASE, DO NOT flame me about Nightcrawler being OOC, remember that this is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fanfic, I love Nightcrawler and I'm a big fan, but for this story I wanted him not to be so devoted to church life.
(Nightcrawler)
My name is Kurt Wagner. I am a mutant. Since the day I was born, I bore marks of unique heredity; things that aren't tolerated by a world typically filled with humans. At the time I was oblivious to thinking that there could ever be others like me; but eventually I would discover otherwise.
My tale begins many years ago, when I was still a child... My periodic transformations between my fabricated and actual form had disturbed many individuals, and for the most part I was rejected from general society. Nobody had dared raise me until I was taken into the custody of a Christian orphanage.
When I had been treated respectfully long enough to calm down, I learned to gain control of my transformation. Still, no matter how long I would surpress my mutant form, it would resurface in the night... That hideous demonic appearance... Those fangs, that tail, that blue skin, those gleaming yellow eyes... I can't stand it. I felt so ugly, so embarrassed, so ashamed to be me.
People who worked with my caretakers knew what kind of issue I had, and assumed that I was damned from birth. Apparently, my being a mutant wasn't enough; not even the supposedly kindhearted church folk would accept me. It felt as if I had nowhere to go. The only reason I still lived there was because I was considered a child of very good behavior. Due to my heavy German accent and shy nature, I wasn't exactly a social icon amongst my peers.
Adolascence hit me and I managed to emigrate to public schools. I didn't exactly have many close friends; just names and faces, and who was around during that fateful day...
"Kurt! Hey, Kurt! What're you doing?"
I jumped at the sudden calling of my name and peered behind me to find Harry Osborn motioning to his left.
"The tour's this way, buddy!"
I just grinned sheepishly. Harry may have addressed me as a friend at the moment, but I never really knew him that well. Just another face in the crowd as always.
So there I go, following him and the big herd of people on our school field trip. Needless to say I'm nervous in crowds. Not just in social situations, as my life ended up in due time.
Harry's close friends with this guy named Peter Parker. In some ways he reminds me of myself. He's a social outcast for the most part; not the most handsome, as said by some of the girls at school, and very nerdy, but certainly smarter than a lot of us. I have to give him credit; Peter is very generous, and doesn't mean any harm, doesn't try to stirr up any trouble. I can't help but feel a little sympathetic, even though I've barely talked to him, but in comparison he doesn't suffer anything near what I have to put up with.
A little ahead of me Harry and Peter are walking together, talking about something. They're smiling and looking like they're enjoying themselves... That is, until Flash Thompson sticks his foot out and trips Peter. Poor guy.
Flash is a Grade A jerk for the most part. A school jock, notably proficient as captain of Midtown High's football team. If there's anything he can do better it's ruining someone's day for sure. He's very popular, and will beat the snot out of anyone who denies it.
Harry helps Peter back up as Flash's cronies burst out laughing and share some high fives with their idol. Off to the right Mary Jane Watson rolls her eyes. If her being a girl doesn't already make it obvious, she doesn't care much for the immature conduct of these guys.
Mary Jane is beautiful, and with but a glance you don't really need to spell it out, that is if you can find the words to say anything at all. Her deep, red hair has this majestic air to it that blends in with her creamy, soft-looking skin so perfectly... But I'm getting ahead of myself. Mary Jane's out of my league, and could handpick about anyone out of Midtown she wanted to take to a movie. Something tells me she's better than to pick whoever "about anyone" could be without proper judgment, though.
I won't deny it, every heterosexual guy at Midtown swoons over her. Flash has even gone as far with his grotesque nature by attempting to compliment her in saying that she's the ideal wet dream. Not the most polite thing to say.
I don't really know what it is, there's something about her that intimidates me. Mary Jane is so beautiful, so perfect, so smart, so kind... But it's like I'm invisible to her. Funny, how so long ago there's nothing more I'd want than to just disappear, but I guess it's things like Mary Jane that make showing your face worthwhile. There's always a chance, and sooner or later someone will try and encourage you to give it a shot and invite your dream girl to go out for a bite. Too bad I didn't follow through with that, but it did spare me the embarrassment of the attempt.
I'm shirking in a corner behind the majority of the crowd. I'd dare not try and enmesh myself in that big swarm of jammering teens; it's a lot safer for me back here. The tour guide is explaining some inconceivable stuff while laying his arm out towards all these glass panels separating us from radioactive, mutated insects of kinds. The booming voice of the crowd's sum overwhelms his inaudible speech, but unlike most of the Midtown teachers he keeps his cool and doesn't yell.
Five minutes of walking past more cases of special insects and suddenly the tour person stops, and one of the lab people tell him something. He has this bewildered look on his face and rallies us all up against the wall. The head count starts when I manage to find what's going on; out the corner of my eye the cage labeled "spider" is empty of life.
I nervously peer around a little, thinking maybe Flash took it out to mess with it and show it off to his friends, but it's nowhere to be found. Peter seems kind of concerned too; he's looking a little tense. Harry's trying to talk him out of it, but I can't tell what they're saying. Suddenly I feel this shocking prick on my hand, and flinch; I look down to see that a rather large spider sank it's fangs into my skin and then leapt off. One of the tour person's assistants manages to catch it and place it back into it's spot.
I ended up feeling very sick. Later on I really couldn't bear it, and went AWOL. How, you say? Well, my mutant ability is to teleport. Yes, I can vanish on a whim, and no one will ever know I was even gone. That is, if I play it right.
Walking around the city and figuring out that weird things are happening to me... Some tangible grey goo has developed on my wrists, my body can cling to solid surfaces upon a willing, pressed touch... I start to freak out, thinking maybe this will turn me into some kind of spider monster. I've already got mutant genes in me; I don't need this radioactive arachnid stuff screwing up my life any further.
(AN: Since this is Nightcrawler and he's had his original powers that he was born with before the bite, there will be some added powers rather than JUST what Peter gained. There's the stuff he always had, like teleporting, a completely vertasile spine allowing him contortionist movements, and a tail that can support his body weight, but all of 616 Spidey's powers of recent date. If you don't know or can't remember, this includes all his original powers I.E. wallcrawling and spider sense plus organic webbing, night vision, sensing vibrations in webs, but do NOT count the things Tony put in his new suit!!!)
(Earlier That Day, Fisk Industries)
The man sighed as he slammed the folder down on the desk.
Wilson Fisk, whose titanic girth and solid muscles boasted the ferocity of an ape, was casually smoking his cigar as his eyes roved along the desk.
"What is it this time?" he asked in a smug manner, looking at the man who brought the folder to him.
"That Roark guy," the man replied plainly. "He's done it again."
"I guess it's true, what some women say... Give men an inch and they take a mile... Roark knows better than to tresspass on what I've allowed him to have..."
"Well, I guess he doesn't know better, does he?" the man said.
Fisk opened the folder and inspected the information inside. He wrinkled his brow and wore a spiteful sulk as he read on and found the pictures.
"He's out tonight. He and everyone else he's associated with," Fisk said.
"But... No one has ever been able to hit someone's whole family in a night..."
Fisk was upset by this fact, but then beamed in a delighted manner at the hatching of an idea.
"Maybe we can and can't... Get me Raven Darkholme..."
(Back to Nightcrawler, after ditching the field trip...)
This discovery... It was so strange... I had been mutated further from what I was already born as. Thankfully there was no disturbance in my appearance, but the spider biting me left some kind of dreadful nausea... Still, I was curious, I wanted to kind of test this new transformation to make sure it was safe.
I gently placed my fingertips against the wall, just as easily lifting them off. I tried again, pressing harder, then flattening my hand against it and my forearm. It stuck to the surface like it was made that way. I was kind of worried it would be difficult or impossible to separate, but my fears vanished when, once again, I removed my limb with ease.
After a while I musted up the courage to press my knee against the wall. I felt that sticky sensation again, and as I had done earlier placed my arm back on up ahead. Soon, I was literally crawling the wall... I was still in awe when I managed to reach the rooftop. Had it not been for my teleporting powers I would stop while halfway up, fearful I could fall or something.
I had discovered earlier in my life that I had peak acrobatic potential, what with supple joints and an uncanny, flexible spine... But now I felt stronger, faster... Almost effortlessly I could do what I had entertained myself with as a child by testing out which ways I could bend and stretch. It was incredible.
I could see and hear everything better... Smells and tastes from all different directions were in the air, I could sense them so much more vividly than I ever could before... My sense of touch was heightened to where ultimate physical security and top-notch balance were in place. Even upon spreading my fingers in a way the webbing from my wrist would extract itself, and I could feel the vibrations of it's impact on the floor... Something's definitely changed in me. I just hope that it brings nothing undesirable.
For a long time I was lost in the revolution of my bodily functions... Hours, I think? But when I decided to go back home, I found something terrible. The church was nothing more than crumbling, burning rumble. I could tell, by the way the stone was scattered across the street, the glass of the windows spilled onto the sidewalk, that not some ordinary fire or accident had happened. Somebody bombed it.
Most people, I suppose, upon seeing their home being devoured by an act of violence, would either feel the chill of despair or a hunger for vengeance. But for me... I don't know exactly what I felt, or if I could name it with a word, but it was definitely different... In some ways I was gravely hurt, but in others I felt a sense of liberation. My whole life, I had been following the life of a follower of God, but it was never truly of great importance to me. There was always something else on my mind that I was eager to find out... Who were my parents?
(The Night After)
Whenever I was walking home I'd hear rumors on the darker streets of several underground assassins plaguing New York. Supposedly there was a secretive organization of ninjas going by the Hand; as well as the Red Mafia, led by a figure called the Kingpin, who is said to run all the crime in the state.
I'd managed to find the right people to listen in on and learn that the Kingpin's hired guns were usually at this place called the Hellhouse. As I had hoped, the place was nearly empty; some potbelly thug drunk off his mind was the only soul present, but I made short work of him. The Hellhouse was now my temporary base of operations. There, I managed to find suitable weapons to defend myself in my quest for the truth - twin scimitar swords - and invented a dark, skin-tight suit fitted in a way that it could contain both of my forms.
(AN: The costume he is talking about is Dusk, a stealthy alternative that was one of four alter egos Spider-Man developed a long time ago in Identity Crisis)
I probably had no idea as to how to make it work, but if the Kingpin truly existed and controlled as much as he did, he could certainly have the answers. I wasn't out for revenge, but finding whoever destroyed my home was the necessary first step to getting closer to the Kingpin. When I was all set, I teleported out of the Hellhouse and began combing the urban streets for the assassins I've heard of.
It was very cold and dark outside, but it didn't matter, if not give me an advantage. My costume significantly blended in with the shade. I fired a webline from my wrist onto the wall of a rather tall building and leapt from the rooftop I stood upon, swinging into the air and around the corner. I looked up to the edge of the roof next to this building, and after a brief moment of concentration managed to teleport to it. There I sprinted across the rooftop, leapt into something of a somersault as I landed on my hands, pushing with my arms to propel myself high into the air and release another stream of web against a wall up ahead. I yanked on the web with all my might, and was pulled further up ahead where I soared over the roof and landed on a nearby warehouse with a loud thud.
My acute sense of hearing and a strange prickle on my neck told me something was going on in a darkened alleyway up ahead... I silently jumped across the street and scaled a wall towards it. Upon peering around the edge, I saw through the dark to reveal a seemingly bald man wearing a beanie and leather vest shooting an innocent old man. I gasped; I've never witnessed death and bloodshed firsthand, but here it was, and it was real. After three shots were fired, the old man slunk to the ground lifelessly as his blood poured onto the floor, his sheer look of horror still on his face. Some other thugs were behind the killer, and he turned around and began shouting at them.
"C'mon! We need to get outta here! Back to Yancy Street!"
The man took a brief moment to run up to the old man's corpse and hurriedly tossed a rose onto his chest before attempting to take off. Almost instinctively I teleported in front of the group of thugs. They were startled by my sudden appearance, but not really intimidated any more than that.
"Hey, who the hell are you?" the killer asked me, threatening to shoot.
"Your worst nightmare if you don't answer me..."
"Pfft! What a joke! Go home, kid!"
He turned around to walk away and I teleported in front of him, kicking the gun out of his hand and grabbing him by the collar as I stared him in the face.
"Yesterday, a church exploded... Who bombed it?!?" I demanded as I shook his collar.
"I-I dunno what you're talking about..." the thug replied, and his cronies turned around to look at him in awe. Suddenly he shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts and pulled out another gun. I grabbed the arm with the gun and quickly twisted it around before slamming his elbow joint over my shoulder. He released a cry of pain before I delivered a strong backfist to his jaw, knocking him out cold as blood spilled out his mouth. In reaction to this, the remaining thugs all pulled out their guns and began firing. I vanished once again, reappeared behind the two thugs just outside the alley and stabbed them through the backs with my swords, the bloody blades jutting out of their guts. They looked down at their wounds and promptly fainted as their bodies slid off.
I quickly sheathed the swords as the two remaining thugs turned around to fire at me, but I pounced at them before they ever had the chance, knocking them both down. I wrenched the hand of the thug I landed on, causing him to drop his gun before I punched him in the face twice, his expression twisted into pain as the back of his head slammed against the concrete. The other thug was trying to get up and pointed his gun at me, but my tail swiped at his hand, swatting it with the force of a whip. He yelled at the sting of the blow as he clutched his hand after dropping his gun. I hopped to my feet and delivered a spinning kick across his face, sending him twirling in mid-air before slamming against the wall and becoming unconcious.
The other thug on the ground was trembling and groaning, desperately trying to crawl away. I casually walked aside him and pinned him helplessly in place under my shoe before pulling him up with the effort I'd previously needed to break a toothpick.
"You know something, don't you?!?" I barked as he winced at my voice, squirming in my grasp.
"I-I swear, I know almost nothing!... Kingpin ordered someone to do it, I think they call her Mystique or something..."
I was starting to get impatient, and real steamed up by the thug's leader killing that harmless old man a minute ago. I wasn't really thinking about it and dragged the thug out the alley before webbing a ring around his neck and jumping over a street light pole, threatening to pull on the webline and hang him. I tugged a little to tighten the ring and raise him a little, and he kicked around and flailed his arms, uttering choking noises.
"Who's Mystique?!?" I demanded, my grip still tight on the web.
"I... I don't know... She's supposed to be top class, a temporary hired by the Kingpin..." the thug answered between coughing and sputtering.
"Where's the Kingpin?" I asked as I pulled a little harder.
"I think... I think he's at Fisk Towers... Down at the Bronx..." by now his fingers were clawing at the air in futility, his dangling feet shivering in horror, his skin a grim pale.
I was satisfied by the information, but a little caught up in what I was doing. I was shocked to realize that the man was on the brink of death. Quickly I teleported to the top of the webline around the pole, swiped it with one of my swords, causing the man to fall. I teleported to the street and caught him. He was limp, but something told me he had merely passed out.
And so I headed off to Fisk Towers. Finally, the answers would be laid before me...
(Meanwhile, Fisk Towers)
"You did a splendid job punishing those traitors, Raven," Fisk said with a smile. He was talking to a slender woman in a white body suit with blue skin, red hair similar to that of Mary Jane's and illuminated neon eyes.
"This is the last time. I want out, Fisk," she said coldly in a husk voice as she turned and started walking away, her high heeled boots clacking against the floor.
"What are you doing? You have to fill the last part of the bargain!" Fisk exclaimed, shocked and flustered at Raven's defiant act.
"I don't work with scum like you," Raven answered as she approached the door.
"How dare you talk that way to the Kingpin!" he bellowed as he slammed his fists down on his desk, shattering it in two.
"I talk that way to a human... The filth that roam this earth, so inferior to mutants... So cruel, so monstrous... And it's bastards like you that represent them," Raven said as she opened the door.
Fisk retrieved a small remote from his back pocket and pushed a button. Soon, alarms blared throughout the building, and every security guard branded their gun.
Alaistair Smythe of the security center then turned on the intercom and spoke into it.
"Attention! Rogue assassin on top floor! Codename Mystique! Consider her armed and dangerous, and shoot on sight!"
Raven merely smirked deviously at this. She knew the petty humans would attempt to kill her for her transgression. But she was ready, and armed to the teeth; though she knew that it too was a human invention, she retrieved the pistol from her belt and cocked it to ready a lethal dose of lead into the chamber. No more than two minutes later did a barrage of security guards scurry around the corner of the hall where Raven was going. She heard them from behind, and dashed down her path as fast as she could, bullets zipping by just inches away from her skin. One guard had a lock on her when Raven tossed a flash grenade over her shoulder, causing the men to skid to a hault. Some of them were blown back by the impact of the explosion, but the others managed to run through the smoke to continue chasing their target.
Upon making their way around the corner, they found three other guards, two of them looking baffled.
"Which way?" the captain of the chase group asked.
"She went through there!" a guard said while pointing to a door at the end of the hall. The guard nodded, and ran towards the door with the others at his heels save for the three that they had found around the corner.
The two confused guards shrugged to each other as the one that diverted the chase to the door morphed back into Raven. She quickly whipped out her pistols and shot the guards through the back of their heads before running down the hall and around the corner.
(Nightcrawler, Entering Fisk Towers)
I easily teleported through the front doors. Apparently a lot of armed men were on post around it - it doesn't seem useful for a corporal building to be so heavily defended like that, and these men were definitely not from NYPD or SWAT.
Each one instantaneously pointed their guns at me, but right before they could pull their triggers the prickling on my neck returned and as if by reflex I ducked and spread my limbs out on the floor. They had all ended up shooting each other - about three or four were killed from hitting somewhere around their head or vital unprotected spots, but the others were protected by bulletproof material. I sprung into a front flip, dropkicking someone to my right and jumping off their chest to somersault over one of his comrades who had tried to smack me with the butt of his gun. I unsheathed my swords and carved a deep X into his back by a crossing slash. He briefly cried out in agony before stumbling to his knees and falling face down, bleeding wildly.
I stabbed another one in the shin before sheathing the sword in my free hand and shooting a webline at one of the men's feet. As he tripped, he shot at the floor and it ricocheted off of the ceiling and a wall. My danger sense and reflexes allowed me to teleport before it could hit me, chipping into the throat of a man who would have shot the back of my neck anyways. I reappeared in front of two of the men. They started to point their guns at me, but my tail retrieved one of my swords and slashed across their shins. They clenched their teeth and released muffled groans of pain as I grabbed their guns by the front, pulling them down and thus knocking their heads together. This made them drop the guns, and I jumped up and kicked the faces of them both before looking at someone who was about to shoot me and firing a ball of web onto their gun, covering the hole and preventing it from shooting.
He just had this bewildered look on his face staring at his gun like it was unreal. I took advantage of this and teleported in front of him before doing a solid uppercut, knocking him into the air. I caught him with webs as he fell, yanked him back towards me and lifted my knee, smacking it into his forehead with extreme force. Blood poured out his mouth and nose as he uttered a chilling groan, falling to the floor and becoming motionless. With that I rolled my head to the side, relieving my neck in stretching with the small cracks and kinks. I released a long sigh. I wasn't exactly sure how I ever would have been able to do this before, but here I was, fighting with deadly talent. Death inducing talent. The thoughts of taking lives the same way the old man had died caused sad thoughts to start to filter into my mind, but that was broken into by my sensitive hearing and prickling neck telling me that danger was nearby. I shot a stream of web at the ceiling and zipped up to it, clinging upside down as I looked onto the carnage.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
Into the midst of the bloody room, a lady whose skin was blue and had yellow eyes just like mine walked in, guns ready, surveying the corpses. She had an expression of surprise and fortune before taking off out the front door. Something told me I may have been closer to the answers sooner than I thought.
Shortly afterwards I managed to teleport into the ventilation system. I crawled my way to the top floor until I looked through the grated part of the shaft into a room with a man in some wheelchair-ish vehicle and a very large, round, bald man in a white suit.
(In The Room)
"I can't believe it! She escaped! The rat escaped!" Fisk roared as he beheld the security footage.
"An unfortunate loss, Mr. Fisk," Smythe told him.
"No worries... We will blackmail this whore who has denied service to the Kingpin... Hack into the confidentials and get me her records," Fisk demanded.
Smythe confirmed this with a nod and the machine he was sitting in hovered to the computers. He typed in some things for around two minutes until a profile picture of Raven appeared with lots of text displayed next to it.
"It says here that she has a son named Kurt Wagner... She abandoned him at birth, but he was identified not only by DNA, but their hereditary blue skin and yellow eyes due to their mutated genetics..."
Fisk grinned in pure malice. "Perhaps we can kill off Mr. Wagner to deal back what she has done to me..."
"We may already have, sir."
"Oh?"
"Kurt was brought into the United States and adopted by a local church. The same one you ordered her to destroy two days ago, sir."
"Excellent," Fisk slowly replied in a pleased tone.
(Nightcrawler)
How could this be... My mother, an assassin? Whose life revolves around killing for money?
I couldn't believe it. I just could not believe it. My whole life the disgusting ravages of violence have always struck fear into my heart; it truly brought nothing but misery, nothing but pain and suffering. I may have spilled blood earlier, but they were from the lives of cruel and evil men, performing wicked deeds to get by, sabotaging the lives of others like parasites. But this experience wouldn't be forgotten either. I would use these abilities to protect poor, helpless people like the old man who was shot earlier. And I would confront my mother... I need to know why she abandoned me. I won't allow it to go unpunished.
To Be Continued...
AN: Soon I'm going to explore the development of the Marvel Universe all-around now that Nightcrawler is pretty much Spider-Man. Who will come to battle Spidey's villains? How will Kurt fare with meeting people like Daredevil, Punisher, the Avengers and Fantastic Four? And how will things change when he meets the X-Men? All of this will be revealed soon...