Church of the Black Widow Pt. 01

Octavania

Midnight

Church of Our Lady of Mercy

The young man shivered in his thick coat watching the empty street. The old church dreamed in the autumn wind. That's how it felt to the young man. The church dreamed of its glory days when it was filled to bursting with parishioners. These parishioners raised their voices in worship, their voices shaking the rafters with their devotion to the Lord. But that was long ago before the young man was even born. Now it lay empty, its pews rotting into dust, the stained glass caked over with filth letting only inky shafts of light fall on to warped floorboards.

The hard-faced, devout man drew his face into an even deeper frown as he saw five figures approaching. Their boots scuffed against the cobble as they skulked closer to the church. They were all men. Three were much like the one at the door: young, hard-faced, and strong. The other two were much older. One had long graying hair and a thick mustache, the other had his hair clipped short and was smoothly shaved. They stepped through the crumbling doors of the narthex. They made the sign to the young man at the door who nodded and released his grip on the pistol he held in his coat.

"Finally you are here, we can start the meeting." The young man waved them in.

"How are you feeling tonight my son?" The gray old man asked.

"I am worried, Father Andrescu. The power of the evil one is strong and we are but men! How are we to free our city from her power?"

"With faith Sebastian," Father Andrescu said.

"With science, pal, with science," the other older man said. Father Andrescu's warm smile was strained as he looked at his companion.

"Yes with science as well, but without faith in the Lord we cannot succeed!"

"Just let me see what I have to work with, Padre, and we'll see how much 'faith' I have in your little gang of fanatics."

"How dare you!" Sebastian stepped forward with his thickly callused hands balled in meaty fists.

"Back off kid, lest you get hurt." His eyes glowed with a cruel light. He was amused by the punk's outburst of pious outrage.

"Sebastian, that's enough! We need to begin," Father Andrescu said.

The gray haired old man put a hand on the young man's shoulder and guided him into the nave. The young man's eyes bore into the other man's cynical eyes. The floorboards creaked as the six made their way to the altar where the rest of the men were gathered.

"Let's hope that spirit keeps you alive, punk," the man muttered to himself.

"Everyone! Gather around please, our ally from the United States of America has arrived!"

Father Andrescu clapped his hands to get his "congregation's" attention. With the men who accompanied him, plus Sebastian, there were a dozen loitering about the ruined church. They were all young, between 18 and 25, and all had a hard look in their eyes. Adolf Andrescu, priest of the Church of Our Lady of Mercy for these last forty years, felt uneasy looking at these young men. Despite their devotion to returning the city to the true faith, they were not what he would have considered "good Christians."

He had taken confessions from these young men, the sons of farmers and laborers and some of their acts had left him shaken and left Andrescu uncertain if it was wise to recruit them to the cause. But Andrescu reasoned that the crusaders who retook Jerusalem from the Muslims were not all saints and angels either and the infinite love of the Son forgives all sins; excepting those that turned away from the mother church. Blasphemy could never be forgiven.

The man that had come all the way from New York (by way of Rikers Island, Alcatraz, and an undisclosed prison in the United Kingdom) stepped forward. He had dark hair and blue eyes and his nose was crooked and his lips seemed to have a permanent sneer.

"Alright boys, listen up! I'm Doctor Wesley Hughes, distant and disreputable relative of the late Howard Hughes. I'm here at your padre's request to help you bunch make the powers that be in your fair city quake in their boots!"

Doctor Hughes looked at the rough group of country bumpkins that Father Andrescu had gathered. It was poor pickings. But they looked tough so maybe they'd survive the process. Maybe.

"Well, I'm about to give you a leg up on the competition. I led a group who were trying to recreate the famous 'Super-Soldier Serum'. We had some successful results. But our lily-livered government stopped us and sent a bunch of gaudily clad goons to stop our pioneering work. I'll make you more than men here in Octavania! You will be like the heroes of legend, strong, fast, virtually indestructible!"

Father Andrescu held his hands high. "My brethren, we have a tremendous opportunity to bring our city back from the brink of damnation. The disgusting thing that calls herself Countess DeVoyant, has announced the date she will open the doors to her vile temple to the Father of Lies! In three weeks time she will lure thousands into the gaping maw of Hell itself to please her dark Lord! She has even given an open invitation to those damned ones, those demons made flesh, the world ignorantly calls 'Mutants'. Let us pray for strength and courage to face this terrible foe!"

Hughes rolled his eyes and folded his hands. That about two-thirds of these idiots would be dead, or wishing they were dead, in two weeks was no skin off his nose. But if he could transform at least two of the assembled men into something more than mortal, it would all be worth it. He'd be a few steps closer to perfecting his process and then the real money would start coming in. And maybe just maybe he could raise himself above the common lot of mankind and become a superman himself.

But he was bothered by the gene freaks that had been coming into the city. They could mess things up badly for Hughes. Apparently the Countess, a ravishing blonde who reminded him of the old starlet Veronica Lake, was friendly to the Mutants and had been making laws to protect them from discrimination or persecution. He had seen some of them on the streets, walking, talking, doing business and not being chased by a mob with torches and pitchforks.

He looked at the men in the room and he looked again counting heads.

"Where's that Sebastian kid?" He grabbed Andrescu's shoulder abruptly, ending the old man's rambling prayer. The old man looked around at his small flock and let out a cry of surprise.

"He's gone!" Andrescu shouted.

"I can see that you old fool! Where could he have gotten off to?"

The old man looked around confused and blinked his rheumy eyes. Hughes started blinking because tears were burning his eyes. Then the smell hit him and his heart started pounding in panic.

"Everybody out! Now! The place is on fire!"

Hughes shoved the old priest and Andrescu and shouted to his men to flee out the door. They stampeded and bashed themselves against the crumbling but still very solid oak doors.

"The doors are chained shut!" One of the men shouted.

"Out through the cellar passage! It's the only way!" Father Andrescu led the way as flames started to lick up the sides of the wood and stone church.

They rushed toward the cellar door and one of the young men, a stout lad named Nicolae, kicked the door off its rusted hinges with one blow. They stumbled down the old stone stairs and out into a shadowy room, covered in cobwebs and dust. Another man, a thin hatchet-faced boy called Sorin, produced a flashlight and gave it to Father Andrescu.

"Show us the way Father, as you always have," Sorin said.

Hughes wanted to spit at the sycophant's obsequious tone. But he was saving it for when he would be spitting in the face of Sebastian once he found him. He would beat that young punk to an inch of his life and then he'd get creative. A shout brought them to a halt and Andrescu's flashlight beam lay across a body crumpled on the floor. He rushed over and he almost shrieked in shock.

"It's Sebastian! He has been struck in the head and is bleeding but he still lives. Help me pick him up!"

The priest passed the flashlight over to Hughes who looked at the boy who lay moaning on the floor. It was Sebastian, same stupid look on his mean face, but his clothes were different. If Sebastian was down here, lights out, then who the hell met them upstairs?

Father Andrescu handed the boy over to one of the others and led them all to a stone wall. He pushed a stone three times and a section swung back. They dashed into a low tunnel, carrying Sebastian along. After a few hundred feet they came upon another stairway and they carefully made their way up. They came to a locked oak door at which Andrescu knocked in a particular pattern. Hughes heard a latch and then a bolt being thrown open and warm yellow light pouring down the steps. At the door was a huge man with a red beard and a nasty scar on one eye.

"In." The big man said and they pushed past him. 

They emerged into a wine cellar, racks of wine and spirits reaching to the wooden ceiling. The huge man, Hughes would learn that his name was Theodor, took Sebastian in his arms and brought him to a cot in the corner of the room. Andrescu quickly instructed the other men, save for Nicolae and Sorin, to leave through the other door in the wine cellar and to return to their homes. Nicolae was to get medical supplies and Sorin was to accompany the priest to observe the efforts to put out the blaze at the church.

"What the blazes happened, Andrescu?" Hughes demanded grabbing the priest by the collar. The massive paw of Theodor clasped around his wrist and Hughes could feel the bones in his arm creak in his grip.

"Let him go, Theodor," Father Andrescu said and Hughes got his arm back though bruised.

"I believe that we met a demon tonight, Mister Hughes."

"Don't give me your superstitious nonsense, Padre! I'm a scientist!"

Hughes watched the old man's face twist with emotion. There was something very sinister in his face that was so unlike the humble and disheveled man of God who met him at the port. Hughes thought he was looking at a different man entirely.

"Alright. A mutant if you will," Andrescu said. "A mutant who can change his face to look like others."

Theodor grunted and crossed himself.

"Sebastian is badly hurt. Do you have any medical training, Mister Hughes?" The priest had regained his composure and his tone of humility and piety had returned.

"I'll see what I can do for him. You should tighten up your security for now. Ask all of your men carefully where they have been and check up on them. If there's a freak who can make himself look like anyone, we should be even more suspicious than ever before," Hughes said.

About a kilometer away a woman with red hair, fair skin and blazing green eyes sipped on a fluted glass. The local wines were excellent and Raven had been mixing her business in Octavania with pleasure at her leisure. The sirens were causing a commotion in the small city as firefighters raced to put out the fire in the church. Raven licked her lips, looked out the window as a fire truck raced by and nearly spit out the fifty year old red.

The stooped frame of Father Adolf Andrescu and another of the men from the church skulked by the window. The thin ugly looking young man kept swinging his head around to check if they were being followed. Raven thought he looked like chicken with a broken neck.

"If they escaped..." Raven muttered under her breath.

Taking the place of the stupid, awkward looking youth and slipping away before her incendiary device went off was easy. But she had obviously missed some secret exit hidden within the walls of the church. And so her work was not done and her bottle of wine she had been drinking in celebration was now to be drunk to assuage her pride.

The clipped walk of a woman in expensive high heels brought Raven's green eyes away from the window and the shambling figure of Father Andrescu. Taking the empty seat across the table from her sat a very prim and efficient looking woman. Her short brown hair was pinned with a silver clip bearing a device looking something like two triangles crossed over each other; it was the seal of the Countess Claire DeVoyant. Her tweed coat, corduroys and horn-rimmed spectacles gave the woman the look of a knowledgeable college professor. The slight swell of her breasts in her warm turtleneck and the shiny black stilettos were her only concessions to femininity.

"You can show your true face here you know," the woman said. "No one will bother you."

Raven swallowed a long sip from her glass and the other woman filled it back up from the bottle that sat at the table.

"My current looks compliment my dress, Miss Allen," she said, motioning to her form-fitting silk dress.

It was sleeveless and a dark forest green with black lace at the hem and ended at mid-thigh, revealing her long, shapely legs. She'd chosen black strappy stilettos to complement the lace on her dress and highlight her curves. Miss Allen gave an appreciative look, and Raven noticed her quickly lick her lips, and she saw her eyes focus on her cleavage, which the dress expertly showcased.

"Indeed it does. The countess is worried, Raven. She has read the signs after the burning of the church and they portend doom for all of her plans," Miss Allen said.

"Bah. Let her fret about her crystal balls and Tarot cards. I deal with concrete facts. Hughes and Father Andrescu have escaped the trap, along with others from the Three Crosses gang. I will find their hideout and I will deal with them once and for all!"

"The countess has made a forecast and she believes you will find more success with an ally. She has sent for assistance."

Raven looked at the other woman with a brief flash of gold in her eyes. "Who?"

Miss Allen said a name and Raven cursed.

"That's ridiculous! Why would he help me? No, I know what your countess will say. Something about mystical connections and fate and other nonsense," Raven stood balling her fists and glaring at Miss Allen. "It won't work, Reeta. It will never work. We're too different. Hell, he might actually approve of the Three Crosses goals."

"That's unfair, Raven. He is a mutant, and they have made no secret of their anti-mutant prejudice. He may share their religious ideals, but their animosity toward mutants will offend him. Despite his beliefs, he will help you," Reeta Allen said. "Aside from that, the Countess has made additional predictions about the future of both of you and..."

"And what?"

"Well. She sees significant success in your future if you two were to join forces. Calm yourself Raven. All will be revealed if you follow your True Will. Now," Reeta Allen poured another drink into Raven's empty glass and sipped. "Why don't we take this excellent bottle upstairs to your room where we can enjoy it and each other in comfort?"

Raven smirked. "On one condition, Reeta."

The brunette arched an eyebrow. As the red-head bent over and kissed Reeta on her full lips, her fair skin faded to a rich blue and her eyes to molten gold. Reeta hummed as she tasted the wine and the woman at the same time. Both were exquisite.

"You must call me Mystique."

Mystique's hands were all over Reeta's hot flesh as she kissed and nibbled at her neck from behind. They were both naked, their bottle of wine lying empty on the night table, the bed slightly rocking with their love making. Mystique held the brunette woman in her arms as they lay side by side. She pinched and caressed Reeta's nipples making the woman squeal and gasp. Mystique's other hand pressed against her lover's mound gently caressing her folds.

Reeta twisted her lithe body around so she was face to face with her blue skinned lover gazing into those strange gold eyes.

"You're magnificent Mystique," Reeta gasped as she kissed the hollow of Mystique's neck.

They braided their legs together with a smooth blue skinned pussy pushing against a creamy thigh. Reeta pressed her cunny against the muscular thigh that was wrapped in azure and gasped. They writhed in tandem, their lips and tongues dancing together as their legs flexed and slipped against each other. Each felt her clit pressing and sliding against the other woman's thigh. The electrifying sensation made them gasp and moan and in a single heartbeat the two women so different yet so essentially the same cried out simultaneously in the bliss of their mutual orgasm. Mystique almost let a name pass her lips that would have spoiled her enjoyment of the moment, instead she clamped her lips harder on Reeta's mouth as she moaned and rode out her sweet release.

Mystique licked at Reeta's skin, tasting her sweat as she twisted her body around. She now faced her lover's sex and inhaled her aroma. With a trick of shape-shifting Mystique extended a long forked tongue and began to lick at the slick folds of Reeta's cunt. She teased her clitoris until the brunette hummed with her sexual excitement. Mystique's serpent-like tongue slipped inside as Reeta began to shriek and buck as she came over and over again. Reeta's body quivered uncontrollably as her orgasm reached its peak. She grabbed a handful of Mystique's crimson hair, pushing her face against her pussy as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

Reeta's free hand grabbed Mystique's firm ass and pulled the mutant's cunt over her own mouth. With her tongue and a crooked finger she began to massage the inner walls of the blue woman's pussy. Mystique let out a loud moan as Reeta found her G-spot, her wetness dripping down Reeta's hand and onto the sheets. Mystique threw her head back and groaned. Reeta felt Mystique's walls clench around her fingers as the blue woman reached her climax.

"That was incredible. Bless you Mystique," the brunette whispered breathlessly. She was curled in the crook of Mystique's arm, her sweaty brow lying against the mutant woman's shoulder.

"Bless me?" Mystique laughed. "I don't think I'll ever understand you or your queer religious cult, Reeta."

"It's my faith, Mystique. I know that in your experience, religions frown on two women fornicating with each other, but sex is a gift in our religion. We believe that the human soul's dark impulses are just as holy as love and compassion."

"Hmm," Mystique's fingers ran through Reeta's hair.

Somehow the silver hair pin had remained fixed in Reeta's brown locks all through their love making. She looked at the odd double wedge shape and felt a strange tingling in her body when the tips of her fingers touched it. Was there some electronic device hidden within it? A tracking or listening device?

Mystique's mind drifted to America over a hundred miles of ocean. Specifically a stately manor house in upstate New York. And her thoughts focused on the man who lived there. A man whose body was covered in indigo color fuzz, whose limbs bore three digits, and whose tail had a spade-shaped tip. A man whose golden eyes mirrored her own.

Her son. Kurt Wagner. Nightcrawler. X-Man.

Upstate New York

Morning

Xavier Institute for Gifted Children

Danger Room

Nightcrawler ducked away from the flailing arms that emerged from the wall on his right. They looked like octopus arms but were made of steel and ended in sharp tips rather than suckers, which would have left a nasty gash on his blue pelt.

"Mein Gott, der zu nah war!"

The mutant acrobat evaded the swinging arms that protruded from the left wall. He was standing cautiously between the two walls, contemplating his next move, when a pair of manacles emerged from concealed recesses in the floor. They had an unbreakable grip on his ankles.

"Zur Hölle mit diesen Dingen!"

BAMF!

A puff of blue and black smoke remained where Nightcrawler had been imprisoned. A dozen feet away, a second cloud appeared almost simultaneously with the first. The smoke blew away from the wind of the hidden ventilation system revealing the eerie figure it had obscured. Kurt Wagner felt as if he had blinked and the world around him had shifted. He'd grown accustomed to these shifts in perspective, but it still jarred.