Disclaimer: I don't own Ultimate X-men or anything else which has big corporate lawyers.

Kurt stared blankly at the greyish blue plain tiled walls, in all honestly, they were the direst things he had ever seen. All sechs tausend, drei hundert und Zwanzig zwei, six thousand, three hundred and twenty two, tiles in his cell, and that wasn't including the columns that held up the force field. Still, they were slightly more attractive than that boorish brute, Sabertooth.

He had to laugh; genetics had been unlawfully cruel with Creed, that horrid and foul smelling idiot. Not only was he ugly, stupid and in permanent need of a bath, he didn't even have fur! What a poor, sad man.

The laughter slowly died before it had even reached his lips. What was the use in being upbeat when he couldn't talk to anyone? Not that he exactly wanted to talk to some people mind.

What he needed was one little taste of freedom again. Just a little, enough to have one laugh and to enjoy its sweetness. Then he'd die a happy mutant, not a caged creature that was barely a step above laboratory rats.

That was it. He'd escape.


Why not now?

Why not now?

Slowly, a fanged smile crossed his cobalt blue furred face. Why not?

The landscape seemed both familiar and strange; it was endless and covered in snow. Snow? How long had he been cooped up for? Days drifted into weeks which dragged into months. A few months sounded about right.

Kurt blinked the thoughts away as the wailing screech of the alarms sounded the snarling barking of dogs that tore the air.

He ran.

There was a series of whistles, the snow burning in the air as bullets smashed into its serene surface. With renewed haste, he spotted snow mobiles and a plan instantly formulated in his mind, the training already proving to have a curious edge that saw the pet biting his master.

The man was startled, Kurt could see that when he teleported behind him on the snowmobile. It was a crude catch, the speed having been badly judged and a sickening crack indicated that the mans neck had snapped.

Strangely, he didn't feel any grief at this.

Before his thoughts could catch up, he had the dead mans heavy gun in his hands and the automatic was going at full speed.

As the bodies crumpled and fell, giving him precious seconds, he again felt that his actions had been justified. That taste of freedom was getting so close now that he...

Kurt stopped dwelling on tasting hot chocolate with marshmallows and having a warm fleecy blanket, perhaps some cinnamon biscuits too in front of a roaring fire. An Errol Flynn movie on the television only half being watched as he just relaxed.

With this image warming his cold limbs, he leapt onto the snowmobile and revved it forward at full speed, flying right over the cliff.

He laughed and teleported.

Reappearing, he felt sure that his hot chocolate was just that little closer before the clack clack clack of a helicopters rotor reached his blue pointy ears.


He didn't even hear or see the shot until it had buried itself deep in his shoulder.

The mutant gazed at the sky, his thoughts slowing, only dimly aware of the icy snow and bruised muscles. He had fallen off the snowmobile and now all he could see was the gloating face of Colonel Wraith.

He was getting in the road for his last taste of hot chocolate, that Errol Flynn movie and the cinnamon biscuits. The plane glittered alluringly overhead as he heard the devils speaking in their odd language.

How he wished they'd bothered to teach him English, but that was wrong, he knew enough from the girl in the cell next to his, who sang to him. They were gloating, taunting him not being able to reach the plane.

Then they kicked his head and the world turned a starless night.

Coming to, Kurt winced as every limb of his was screaming in anguish. He slowly looked around, noticing the lovely and most beautifully designed, highly original and utterly fascinating wall of plain tiles.

Faszinieren. Fascinating.

Then Sabretooths sneer ripped through the air, twisting sharp shards of glass in Kurt's rather fragile skull. He made a mental note to indulge in seeing how much voice box removal would be, oh yes, that would be oh so nice.

A sabre tooth tiger with no roar.

Vollkommen. Perfect.

Now, how was he going to set about hiring a voice box removal specialist? A call to the vet or just a drop in clinic vet? Perhaps castration could also be seen to. The thought made him smile wryly, a hint of fang. He was promptly booted, the one doing the beating having absolutely no clue about the tortures being thought up for him.

That prat was rattling on, and on, and on about how he was a blue freak who had a hamster for a mother. Was that right? Hamster? He'd have to check up on that when he was watching Errol Flynn with his hot chocolate and marshmallows. Even now, he could taste the hot melting texture, the heat becoming more exaggerated as his feet were suddenly burning.


The smell of burning fur reached his nose.

Oh great, they burn a teleporters feet. That was real smart. Why not brush a lions teeth? Or perhaps groom the grizzly bears hair? Finally, no amount of fantastic death sequences could hold back the pain.

Kurt closed his yellow eyes and gritted his fanged teeth. He would not give in, he couldn't, if he did he'd be just like them. Without hope. Without care. Without cinnamon cookies and marshmallows. Damn it! He was not going to give in – life without cookies, and of course things like hope he guessed, wasn't worth living!

Sabretooth was looking at his tortured victim suspiciously; he was positive that he'd heard a muffled snigger. Maybe that meant that he could go now, burning fur was just awful – and people had the ordacity to say that he smelled bad?

Kurt was dimly aware that the burning had been replaced with a dull throb and so he slowly opened up his startling yellow eyes. Yes, Creed appeared to be choking on a hairball. Chuckling, the blue mutant let the darkness come.

The pain was worth that brief glimmer of freedom.

Footsteps clapped along the tiles, pausing outside his lovely and glamorous little cell. Oh yes, all the Hollywood stars were in utter jealousy over it, the grey tiles and the lack of amenities were all the rage. Kurt finally forced himself to open his eyes and he looked at the grotesque face of the colonel.

Why was everything upside down? Chuckling, he remembered that he was using his tail, his feet completely free of pressure as he hung upside down. The foreign devils were talking together, discussing his transfer with the new team.

A new team? This was interesting.

Though he wondered how he was going to get anywhere with burned feet.

The beauty of irony was hitting the men in full. Beautiful.

Verdamment. The solution was a trip to the butchers, or the doctor as very few called the man with the evil smile. Kurt half wished that lightning would strike, causing some monster to rise and kill the man with a glorious array of blood and guts.

Or possibly just give him say, three swords and let him do the job?

His ruined feet were lifted with the grace reserved for the foulest of dead rats and subsequently poked. A needle was waved about as the doctor spoke to the colonel, saying that Creeds quality wasn't as high as Logan's.

Logan, he'd heard that name too many times. His latest escape attempt also brought that name into question. Knowing that they were about to inject him with a lovely substance created to cause rapid healing, Kurt safely presumed that this 'icon' Logan was of the same breed as Creed. Perhaps less ugly.

Nothing could possibly be as ugly as Sabretooth. Smirking, the teleporter attempted to think of something that came into the ranks of how low he thought of Creed and his appearance. Dead rats? No, they smelled better. Cockroaches? No, they were much cuter. Perhaps...

It was over. Kurt was hauled to his feet and shown in the crudest of sign languages that he was going back to his cell. His oh so glamorous cell. He could barely contain himself.

Something interesting happened; he was getting to go out. Kurt weighed the pros and cons of this. They wanted him to no doubt do some nasty horrible task but he got to go out and leave his utterly fantastic home.

The decision? Anything was better than here.

As it turned out, he found himself squatting behind some bushes, his cobalt fur blending into the shadows as some boring military prattle was snarled via walkie talkie between several units and intelligence.

How fascinating.

Suddenly the power was cut and there was a flurry of movement, a bomb exploding. Half the kitchen went and before the smoke even began to clear, Juggernaut was out and he came back holding a black haired man.

Then it was Sabertooths turn, he took down the most exotic woman Kurt had ever seen, white hair and cocoa skin. He also came out with a man with blue hair.

This made Kurt wonder idly if blue was coming in season – if so then he would definitely be the ladies first choice what with his natural blue fur coat. Maybe that lovely goddess liked fur?

His turn. How fun. One teleport and a frying pan later and he had dealt with his intended victim of a brown haired man wearing funny red glasses which his tail had removed.

Now it was Rogue. She was a mutant with the ability to absorb another mutant's power. He liked her, when her prat of a room mate was gone, she'd talk mindlessly to him and she had a very dark sense of humour. Shame she couldn't touch. Would fur act as a barrier?

She took down some scrawny kid who dealt with ice and the mutant decided not to dwell on what she was doing to the boy mentally after touching a telepath.

A joke was dragged out of the mansion next. Why else was their a crash test dummy? It took a moment to realise that this was an actual person with a number eight drawn on the side of his head.

He stifled a snort.

Ah, his favourite part of the day. Introductions. These 'superheroes' had just come round and they were all gathered in a holding room. Everyone. The good, the bad, the ugly and Sabertooth who was in a category all of his own.

After the initial shock from the new members of the team, the shock generally included crying and screams of frustration, they actually bothered to look about themselves. Kurt was proud of that small fact, he looked first and then freaked.

Thinking of the word freak, that was the initial reaction after the others being shouted at by the new recruits and him being spotted tucked into the darkest corner. Damn that tail, it could be a real pest at times. As if sensing sport, Creed dragged him out and into the centre of the room.

Kurt took a nice long moment to glower at everyone in the room apart from the exotic goddess and his little favourite death-by-touch girl. Smirking, the blue mutant twisted and broke free from the grasp, landing easily on his feet before nimbly springing back to his nice dark corner.

The silence broke with a huge amount of arguing which neatly didn't include anything at all to do with blue furry freaks. Sighing, Kurt leant against the wall and listened with half an ear, already conjuring the deaths of these people, each on getting slightly more bizarre.

How to purchase a chain saw, toothpaste and a bungee rope?

His thoughts were disturbed when an exasperated Rogue sat down next to him. She was completely covered except for her face and hands. These were kept well away from him. Briefly, he glanced at her, the black Lycra hiding nothing about her physique. Why was it all the women were so well shaped?

And the men? Did all of them bench-press? Except the boy. Kurt snorted, that boy was possibly older than him. He felt too old for his years suddenly. A slow weariness began to descend and he felt himself slouch against the wall. Why bother?

Rogue glanced at the mutant next to her and with a small smile, patted his combat covered leg in the most comforting manner she could. The small smile it raised was worth everything.

The blue mutant wondered if in his freedom, a certain Southern Belle might enjoy eating cinnamon biscuits, complete with a dash of icing, hot chocolate and melting marshmallows, all topped off with a classic film by the one and only Errol Flynn. And there would be a roaring fire, definitely. He chuckled lightly, tapping her leg with a three fingered hand.

The smile that touched her face was worth it all.

Could it be worse? After the new recruits had been tested, he got to find out who his new roommates were. Oh joy; they could have a slumber party. Kurt looked on in shock as the anally retentive Cyclops and the red head shaking leaf were both put into his cell.

Things got a bit better when he saw his view, one southern belle and one exotic goddess, side by side. Even their roommates didn't dampen his mood, Juggernaut and the blue haired guy could be ignored.

Things went down hill again when he was spotted. Apparently Scott had something against three fingered, blue furred, fanged, earring wearing, and pointy eared and tailed mutants. Chuckling to himself, Kurt started to plot all his favourite little tricks that had seen to him having his own cell these last few months.

Shedding or moulting? Hairballs definitely in the gruel and toothpaste. And maybe a light sprinkling of fur on the actual poor sods?

Definitely going to be fun for a bit. Kurt dropped onto the nearest bed – a pull down platform really – and watched them for a few moments with yellow eyed disinterest.

Scott was snarling away under his breath and Jean was still acting all weepy and distressed. Lord, that act could get so annoying. Kurt was sick of it already.

Sabertooth coming along happily changed that perspective.

It wasn't that bad a beating really, he'd had worse by the other guards and Creeds mind seemed to be wandering rather than being on him. It still didn't make the pain hurt any less or the blows be off their marks.

The furry mutant resulted into curling up into a tiny ball which included his tail wrapping around himself, covering any vital areas. He was picked up by the scruff and dropped instantly, that little surprise having just been discovered.

A few minutes later and Creed was enjoying his new game of tossing-the-blue-furry-mutant-by-the-actual-scruff. How fun.

Perhaps he could get that castration done with absolutely no anaesthetic and with blunt, rusty tools. That was a thing. Would it all grow back? If that was the case, make him a eunuch and have fun again and again!

It was odd to see genuinely shocked faces again after he received a beating. It had been a while really since the last time it had shocked anyone, usually all he got was sympathetic winces.

At least it really annoyed Cyclops when he realised that the blue furry mutant had choice position on the lowest bed with his furry head on Jeans lap.

Justice had been served at last.

Though all this talk of Magneto and escape plans was really annoying him, especially as that idiot kept rising to the bait. Kurt was pleased when the red head firmly told the man off. Then she started to talk about him and his 'German language problem'. Oh so it was his fault he was raised in a different country?

Then he found himself back on the Bavarian Alps. Wow. Stunned, he looked over to see the red head in her underwear. He was so excited about all of his surroundings that he was probably sounding like an idiot.

Ja, he did.

Solution? Turn on the charm and he had to silently admit, the view in his cell definitely had improved. Perhaps only Scott would be plagued by blue fur...

A mission again. This time he was with the exotic goddess, the idiot and the red haired beauty. Interesting, he thought not. Though he did get to use a hover pack.

He had to admit though that the Lycra uniform was a nightmare with the fur, but the gloves where cool, being ordered by Scott was not.

After doing his little bit, the operation went successfully, including the destruction of some monster thing and being insulted by that idiot again for not being able to speak English. There was of course some angst and dramatics in it all involving the red beauty in killing off some doctor.

She should have been delighted that it was just that – that it was so clean and swift. Whilst the telepath sniffled in their cell, Kurt cast his thoughts back to the first person he'd killed. What a mess that had been. You never realised how much blood there was in someone until you'd stabbed them to death.

Involuntarily, he shivered. So he still had some humanity, ok, it was what made him want those damn cinnamon biscuits, complete with icing and sprinkles too. And hot chocolate with blue marshmallows, he'd have to find somewhere that sold some. And that roaring fire.

What he wouldn't give to feel safe and warm and not like some third wheel, an unwanted blue furry mutant. He glanced down and noted that after nearly two hours, Scott was still comforting Jean with a bit too much relish than he should have. He also noted the other blue furry guy who was seriously cramping his style.

At least his was the original idea. Kurt smiled at the thought then froze, picking up commotion. Someone was dragged in. So this was the infamous Wolverine? A guy who was burned and still had steam coming off the bullet holes?

How lovely and fetching.

Great, now they were definitely doomed.

Yawning, he tried to get to sleep and stop eavesdropping on Jean. She was talking to Logan about how she was sorry, that she just wanted to say that before she had her mind wiped out. Blah, blah, blah. Sentimental rubbish, the lot of it.

Didn't she realise that being emotionally attached just meant that they had more control over you?

Like how the girl next to him had stopped singing after she was tortured because of him escaping. Never again would someone pay the price for him.

She shouldn't get attached, no one should. It just gave them

Very quietly, Kurt rolled over to stare at the glorious grey tiles and to let his mind go blank. Caring made his sore heart grow more painful.

Kurt frowned, the healer had been taken away by the sorry pus bag a while ago and he could sense that something was about to go wrong. His nervousness was affecting the others too as they watched him jump from one top bunk to the next, using the wall at times too.

His bizarre pacing finally stopped as an explosion was heard, the electricity cutting out completely. He was the first to jump out into the hall, shocked at his new found freedom. The guards were shaking in fear, their worst nightmares having become true.

A scarlet minx smiled, holding the chips in her hands that controlled him so.

Freedom was going to taste ever so pleasant. Somewhat like cinnamon.

Teleporting freely, Kurt saw to as many soldiers as he could, punching as fast as he could teleport. The men dropped to the ground and he wiped his hands on the irritating uniform. A clap form a silver haired man made him smile, as did the comment about a race some day.

They had all split up, seeing to as many threats as they could and generally causing a riot. It was good fun in all honestly. And he got the chance to eye up that red minx little more, chuckling sweet nothings into her ear.

Everything finally came to a climax and he watched curiously as Jean went against Wanda. There was a lot of arguing and Rogue had her hand frozen. Annoyed, he was about to intervene when the exotic goddess blew her top over a stupid comment by Cyclops. The idiot.

How could he even insult such a wonderful looking woman? And say that blue fur, which Kurt adorned so proudly, was inhuman and unattractive? The devil.

No wonder Storm went into a full blown rage, lighting splitting the sky, dancing closer to the helicopter.

A small part of the caring and hope that was left in Kurt suddenly flared into an inferno as everyone stood around gawping. The idiots! Why was he the only one who thought of anything? Jean could have over rode Storms thoughts. Peter...well, maybe Juggernaut since he was a little less metal, could have caught her, restrained her. But oh no, he was the idiot to risk his life. His chance of freedom. To eat biscuits and drink hot chocolate.

The mutant teleported in a fiery cloud of brimstone, appearing inside the helicopter, grabbed the man responsible for so much pain and hurt. Then he teleported back out, he was so fast that he knew no one screamed for him, no one said anything about how brave or stupid he was. No, they just watched as he reappeared and skidded to a halt in the snow.

After garbling the first words that came to mind, about how he wasn't going to let that monster, the one in human skin, turn the goddess into a murderer, he realised that he was going to get shot. Well, that was a smart move.

A man in a white suit shot the colonel and Kurt got to his feet, unsure of what to do about all the soldiers. In amazement, he watched as Logan came forward and explained it all. How sweet, he did care.

They all started to rejoice, the X-men and the brotherhood. Cheering and talking all at once about how horrible it had all been.

Kurt turned and left.

The fire crackled, its roaring flames licking up the chimney. He was back home, happy again and he snuggled under the thick fleecy blankets. A plate piled high of cinnamon biscuits partially obscured his view of the flickering screen, pirates and damsels running across it.

Sipping his hot chocolate, the blue marshmallows floating on the surface, he reached over to the remote and turned the Errol Flynn film off. Letting the darkness seep back in, he smiled, snuggling down.

It was good to be home, to be safe eating biscuits and drinking hot chocolate, to be free. And yet...it didn't feel quite whole.

He was definitely lacking in the southern belle, exotic goddess or red minx department.

And also the idea that he could go through the whole torturous imprisonment thing again wasn't much help at all.

But that could wait for later. Right now he had his hot chocolate and biscuits to consume, a roaring fire to watch and the creeping darkness of his home filling the living room.

It was indeed good to be home.