Okay, this chapter the nasty stuff starts. Be forewarned. Plus, after this, it'll probably get worse, so if this is too much for you, don't keep reading. Anyway, you've been warned...

A grin slowly spread across Scratch's face. The smile only served to make him look more cruel, more evil, than he had before. Kitty shivered slightly in her bonds. She was glad, all of a sudden, that she wasn't in the tight-fitting Excalibur uniform of Shadowcat, but in the bulkier sweatshirt and jeans of Kitty Pryde. Although her jacket, belt, and shoes were missing, she still felt like there were more, thicker layers between her and Scratch than the thin "colors", and that made her feel better. It was something about his eyes, running over her like that, that made her feel like she'd taken a bath in oil...

She glared at her captor. "Where's Pete?"

Scratch sat calmly next to her, apparently at ease and disinterested with the whole affair. He smiled slightly, and glanced at her casually out of the corner of his eyes as he answered. "Oh, old bleeding heart isn't here now. But don't worry yerself, pretty little kitty-cat. I'll keep you company." He slid a finger along the edge of her chin. Kitty tried to bite him, but he moved too quickly. "Ooh, feisty," Scratch purred. "Makes it much more fun to break 'em," he leaned in very close until Kitty could feel his breath on her face, "when they put up a fight..." He sneered at her and someone played a tap-dance on her spine. She tried to jerk away from his touch as he slid a hand up her side, underneath her sweatshirt, but the tight bonds wouldn't let her move far enough away. She settled for directing a glob of spittle onto his cheek. Scratch chuckled, low in his throat. "Already, my, pretty little Kitty, you move fast," he leered at her, casually wiping the saliva from his face, eyes locked with hers. Then he leaned in and kissed her, forcing her mouth open with his own. She was so shocked at the sudden contact that by the time she tried to bites him, he'd removed his tongue and sat back from her.

"You—you—you—" she couldn't come up with the word, even after her long association with Logan and Pete. "How dare—bub, just wait 'til I get my hands free, I'll—"

"Ah, but pretty little Kitty," he cut her off, smiling coldly. "You won't."

Shadowcat did her best to ignore the ice that slowly wound itself around her spinal column...

Kurt Wagner had never seen Pete Wisdom like this. The man looked like he was on the verge of falling to pieces. It unsettled the blue furred German more than he would have admitted. For the short time that he had known Pete, Kurt had found himself—surprisingly at first—liking the man. With that went the fact that Kurt knew him. Albeit very little about him, he still knew the man. He knew as team leader that he could count on him in battle and any other tense situations to do whatever was necessary. (That was a bit unsettling itself—hard truths didn't seem to phase the Englishman a bit; not the traditional attitude of Kurt's team, but he'd known Logan for years, and managed to cope.) He also knew that Pete had more secrets than he had hair follicles, but few "superheroes" were devoid of skeletons—and, again, he'd known Logan for years. He also knew that Wisdom was someone who could cope with pressure, and who wouldn't loose it in the middle of a hairy situation. In fact, Nightcrawler knew that he'd be more likely to be shaken by something than the Brit. A comforting thought for a team leader—there was someone who could stay in control no matter how bad the situation got. Like he said, comforting.

There was anything but comforting in the man staring at him from the comm screen. Paler than usual, eyes wide and horrified, drenched to the bone, face haggard and thin like he'd been on the run for a week, hands on the limp cigarette twitching slightly. Chain smoking, too, Kurt noticed, and badly. Underneath his fur, Kurt blanched as well as he regarded his teammate and, surprisingly, man he'd begun to call friend. "Mein Gott, Pete—get a hold of yourself, man. You're no good to anyone right now."

Kurt wasn't sure if it was comforting or the opposite to watch the training Wisdom had had drilled into him partially overcome the shaken, emotional reaction with a colder, more logical one. He decided he didn't need to figure it out now, if ever, and thanked god for small favors. "Right." Pete took a deep breath and drag on the cigarette, quickly calming himself.

"Now," Nightcrawler continued, "what do you mean?"

Pete's blue eyes hardened to steel. "I mean that the most sadistic piece of Black Air, and that's including Scicluna, has Kitty. And since he left his 'signature' and paraded around today, he obviously wants me to know he has her, which means he's just using her. And 'shit' is an understatement that deserves an award for stupidity." Pete paused a moment, icy eyes boring into Kurt's glowing yellow ones.

"That bad?" Kurt asked quietly, six blue furred fingers tightening on the chair's armrest. Kitty Pryde was one of his best friends, might as well be family. He's known her, fought with her, from the time she'd joined the X-Men at the age of thirteen and a half. She was like his little sister. He didn't like hearing this.

"Worse, Wagner. Lots worse." Pete's voice was a harsh, ragged whisper.

"Alright, let me get everyone up. Tell me what you know," Kurt began, as he directed Douglock to use the computers to wake the rest of the team.

"No."
"Vas?"

"Query?"

The blue German and the techno-organic boy both swung around to stare at Pete.

"No. This ain't yer type of caper, Wagner. All you lot'll do is get yerselves—or worse, her—killed." Pete shook his head, droplets of water flying from his ragged black hair.

Kurt realized his mouth was hanging somewhere around the level of his knees, and clicked it shut, managing through long practice more than conscious effort to avoid biting his tongue with his fangs. He dimly heard a very confused sounding Douglock whispering "query?" more to himself than anyone else behind him but it didn't register. He was still trying to comprehend Wisdom's words.

"You—vas?" Kurt's voice dropped an octave, into a sibilant hiss. This man was not trying to tell him that he couldn't help save Katzchen. He wasn't.

"I said you can't help with this. Dammit, Wagner, I want Kit out of his clutches more'n anyone, take all the help I can, but you'll get her killed!" Pete paused a moment, staring at Kurt sadly, before continuing quietly. "I can't let that happen. I won't, Wagner. I won't. He isn't gonna get her. I swear, he won't." Pete was talking more to himself and whatever deity might be listening than Kurt, but the point got across anyway. "Don't get involved. Call if you hear anything, but stay out of it. Safer that way. Trust me. I know the bastard. Just...don't touch it, Wagner. You just have to trust me—or at least trust that I'll get her out of this shite." The cold blue eyes narrowed to slits, red tingeing them around the edges. His voice dropped to a dark, deadly certainty, sepulchral and fatal. "And I will."

Kitty woke up, dazed and disoriented. Her heart dropped into her gut when she realized she was also naked. She tried to do a breathing exercise Logan had taught her, but was interrupted by the door opening. Icy goosebumps ran up and down her arms and legs. She determined not to show fear, embarrassment, discomfort, or any other reaction to the man who walked into the room, slowly and menacing. He was doing it deliberately to scare her, she was sure of it. Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that it was working.

"What's wrong, Scratch, somebody beat you up again? You're slow," she tossed at him sarcastically, using a biting comment to cover up the tensing of her gut as his cruel eyes slipped over her naked body like oily tentacles.

Scratch only smiled, but didn't bother with a retort. He could probably see the slight desperation behind it. "So this is old bleeding heart's pretty little Kitty, hmm?" he leered at her and ran a hand up her right side appraisingly.

"Go to Hell," Kitty snapped at him.

His reaction scared her. He chuckled, deep and low in his throat, like it was the funniest thing he'd heard in years. "Oh, yes," he grinned at her, voice low and dark, "that I am, pretty Kitty-cat, that I am..." He chuckled again, louder, and ran his tongue over her lips. Kitty's heart turned into a chunk of ice and slowly moved up into her throat...

Scratch slid cold hands up her sides, chuckling quietly when she tried to wrench herself away from him. She said something that sounded nasty, but he ignored it in favor of sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh and running it across her. She gasped and spat something at him, but he ignored it as well. He caught her clitoris between two knuckles and twisted, delighting in the gasp of pain it brought to his ears. That was what he loved, the gasps and cries of pain. The curses and threats he ignored; that was just background noise to let him know that he was making an impression. He slid onto the bed, straddling her bound form now, thrilled as she tried to flinch away from him but couldn't due to the expert bonds he'd tied her in. His lips curled into a cruel smile as he stared at the fear that wasn't hidden under the rage and anger in her eyes and longer.

Scratch was good at finding the fear. It was what he lived for.

Kitty Pryde was feeling that fear now. It was right there in her eyes, in the way she swallowed, in the tensed muscles, in the teeth worrying the lower lip, in the hands clenched tightly into fists, in the slight, almost unnoticed, semi-panicked tugging at the bonds. It was absolutely beautiful. This one wasn't used to fear, to being afraid—especially not this kind of fear. Oh, yes, this was beautiful. Scratch was going to enjoy this...

Scratch casually sat up on his knees, which were spread around Kitty, and shrugged out of his black suit jacket. He grinned nastily at the girl and slowly took off his tie. He ran the end up and down her a few times, then tossed it aside offhandedly, still smiling at her. He went slowly, giving her time to get herself more worried than he could—well, without some work on his part, anyway. The battered white shirt followed the sickly looking tie. His grin widened when she shivered slightly as he unzipped his trousers. Oh, yes, this was going to be fun...

Alone in the darkness, Kitty Pryde fought against the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her. Still tied in the unyielding bonds, she couldn't even curl up around herself and sob herself into oblivion. That was what she wanted to do right now. She was so hurt right now, she wasn't even thinking of hurting, killing the monster who had done this to her. She just wanted to cry, and cry, and cry forever.

Although she ached physically from Scratch's sadism, the pain went deeper. It was the mental pain that hurt so much, the brutal knife in her soul that came from what he'd done to her, what he'd taken from her. It was a raw, open, bleeding wound. It hurt so much...

That all she wanted to do was cry, and cry, and cry...