The sun was slowly setting descending straight to the horizon. It was like a giant turtle, swimming in blue-and-pink sea of sky and clouds, hiding somewhere behind the sight in this water turbidity.
Nightcrawler loved nights. He hasn’t been seen in the darkness – only those two shiny white eyes, two small lights that were distinguished in whole this nightly blackness. He didn’t knew, that this sunset will be the last in his, - yet relatively, - normal life. But if he knew he wouldn’t really draw much attention to this fact. Twiddling an old silver dagger in his fingers,- just not to be as a stone statue,- he looked at this decline. Admired it. The last one.
“Nightcrawler” - he heard from the back.
He looked at her reflection in the window. Swarthy woman, white hair and those cats’ eyes… my God, she was beautiful! But why, why he asked himself they all can’t be like she is? Why among such fine and excellent like she, or Logan, or Rouge are… there are some unbelievably scary and odd Things as he or Mystic?
“Nightcrawler…”
Yeah, right, he is “Nightcrawler” for so many years. Why? If he was invisible or even dead maybe then it would be easier for him to live? After all, he didn’t know what the City Center is, he didn’t know what the date is, he didn’t know, how to be a “no stranger” on a party, didn’t know, how not to hide in a club, had never seen these eyes… he had never seen not-frightened-eyes of a human, when he is seen for the first time.
“Nightcrawler, come on! I know you can hear me. Let’s go, there’re waiting for us”
He never played deaf. He just was waiting for orders. “Let’s go”? Sure, let’s go. Teleport us? OK, grab my hand. In a blink they both were in an office of their leader, between him and his protégé. Oh, yes, there… in a corner… Rouge is hiding in a corner. She’s like Nightcrawler even considering that in a different way. She is as unique, as lonely. She’s the same outcast, whom he was, just a small misunderstanding… yes, a unique misunderstanding, still – a misunderstanding.
Professor starts to talk. Nightcrawler and Rouge both understand the general sense, but they don’t hear the words. They always were quite close friends, if this term can be used for these two, who were provoking just a mutual patience to others. Another mutant must be recruited. It seems Xavier becomes fanatical in his ideas of preventing his enemies to dominate over another weapon. Weapon - not more, but he’s forgetting sometimes, that it is, - this weapon is firstly a human. A living being, who requires water and food, which needs attention, compassion, love, friendship, joy, laugh, tears, adoration, hatred…
“Whom will we face?– Storms’ voice that sounded just over Nightcrawlers ear returned him to reality, - What this mutant can do to us, if you send four people?”
“The right question will be what can’t this mutant do? I don’t know. But think about that – her alias was “Deuce”.”
“An alias? - Scott asked, - You mean, she was already on?”
“Yes, - Xavier nodded gently, - She worked with Magneto in the beginning of his path. But suddenly she turned her back to him and ran away destroying his laboratory. No one knows why, I’ve alighted her just today, - he grinned, - Saw through “Cerebra” briefly.”
“Briefly?”– Storm asked.
“She has some kind of a barrier, - he answered, - I couldn’t pass through it, but it seems like she’d lost her vigilance for a moment. Be careful. Try not to come up against her. If something’s wrong, let Nightcrawler teleport you back or Rouge enfeeble her powers. But it would be better if she’ll agree to work with us. 13 Elm Street, apartment 232. That’s all. For now.”
“A nightmare on Elm Street”- hemmed Scott and stood up.

It was an old house. Its plaster peeled off and uncovered those thin red bricks. None of all windows had lights in it like if the entire street was dead, only silent snoring with notes of roaring of two sleeping dogs on a cracked concrete porch made this area at least look like residential.
“Is she a hypnotist? – Rouge asked with a trembling voice, - Everyone’s sleeping.”
“I don’t really think that someone lives here, - Storm whispered, - Maybe, she’d dispersed everyone.”
The lucky 13 house. Second floor. The door into apartment 232 was the safest among all the other. The two things, which were making it non-ideal, were nail marks, like someone was bursting inside and a tooth bite in a corner… who would ever think of biting wood?
“At a venture?”- Rouge tried to calm down by smiling, it just her smile was a bit nervous.
There was no bell-push, so they opened the door and barge into the room.
“No, it can’t be…”
Storm turned back, but the door disappeared, like there never was such a thing. A long, - about 100 yards, - corridor was in front of them, stretching forward to the stone throne, which was between two braziers with glowing fire in them. It was like a chair of a Satan himself with red velvet and grey, ash-grey stone that was bending in upper part in some kind of hones – three pairs. And the doors. Dozens of doors, that were at both sides of this corridor. A door – a sconce – a door – a sconce… those lamps in paper plafonds, that were casting flower shadows on both walls.
“Jesus God…”
Someone was sitting at the throne.
“Ah… - the shadow sight and its moan resounded with echo around the room, - Another mortals come to adore me ‘n ’m already fuckin’ bored.”
All four oppress with atmosphere slowly went forward.
“We’ve came with peace” - Storm said loudly in vain, cause this words made walls with good acoustic tremble.
““We’ve came with peace”… so what? Why do I care? The-One-Who-Gives-Madness? I could turn you into goats. Or… a puddle. Or even in some rally obscene thoughts. I could make you eat your own fingers, - its voice became dramatically inspired, - Or fall in love into a cloud. Oh, why don’t I turn you into something useful?”
“We don’t want to fight, - Storm continued, - We’re here to ask for help.”
“Dull, dull, dull… it would be more interesting to see you in THINGS roles. Ooh, I’ve always dreamed about a dog!”
“We can help you too, - said Rouge hesitating, - They helped me…”
“Dull…”
“Why you need to turn us into something? Why don’t you listen to us?” – Storm asked.
“I am listening, - it said, - What other choice do I have? And what about you – choose meanwhile, how you would like me to kill you. You’re not the first one, who came here to destroy me…”
“We don’t want to kill you! – Scott said, - We’re only here to ask you for something. You know like they say: one good turn deserves another.”
Silence.
“Well? What you’ll say, Deuce?”
“Hmm… ‘m listening” – it hummed.
“We’re here from professors Xavier’s school. We teach mutants there to handle with their powers…”
“Never heard.”
“At the same time, - continued Scott with patience, - We have a special “section” of mutants, which is fighting with terror of our kind.”
“Isn’t that sad? You can turn around ‘n go. ’m not a terrorist.”
“Didn’t you work with Magneto?” –Nightcrawler asked and paid for it.
Like possessed, he seized himself, closing his fingers around his neck.
“Don’t you EVER call his name! Damned murderer!!!”
Curt returned his control and almost felled down on the floor, coughing and trying to restore oxygen in his blood.
“Well?”– roared Deuce.
Meanwhile all four has already reached the throne, but it was empty.
“But… but… - Storm looked around, - I never reared my eyes of this place… I can swear there was someone in here!”
“Arrh! It’s just an illusion!”- the inpatient voice of Deuce sounded very close.