Own Worst Enemy, July 4-Evening

[Nightcrawler]

(continued from Distract and Attack )

Kurt was literally dragging his heels and leaning against Hank- not that the strong guy would have probably felt the waif-like elf on him- as they entered the med-lab finally.

He pulled himself up on to a gurney, his legs dangling over the side, practically looking 100 times worse in the clear light. Not just because of the bleeding, but because of his serious mental funk. His eyes were dimmer, his tail lay flat on the gurney he sat on, he was slouching and his clothes had dried blood caked down one side- altogether making him look similar to a victim of war (which techinically wasn't too far from the truth).

Right now he looked like what he was, a frazzled 16-year-old, but usually he looked alot more mature for his age. However he was still a teenager and his body still hadn't fully developed into the man he was meant to become. Those months of torture and experimentation had set him back a few years internally- they had wanted him to use his powers and become a living weapon, but he had needed to be kept on a short leash.

The sad thing was, because of this Kurt really was his own enemy. He needed to eat alot of high energy foods if he was to do a huge workout like he had done tonight, and all he had really had was some chocolate dessert which he hadn't even had time to process. Recently, with cramming school work and movie nights with the rest of the gang, he hadn't exactly been eating regularly or healthily- he had been completely unprepared for tonight.

Because of this Kurt now had the shakes, his seratonin levels had dropped making him feel depressed and he physically felt cold. He hugged himself as best he could with his arm being the way it was.

As soon as he was put straight by Hank, and got some food down his throat he would be fine- and then they could start the search for Bobby.

Bobby!

"Hank... Hank where's Bobby?" Asked Kurt, alarm rising. "We've left him outside! We have to go back ou-" Kurt made to get off the gurney but felt a wave of dizziness roll over him. Kurt's eyes widened a little; clapping a hand over his mouth as he felt nausea strike.

[Beast]

//Likewise continued from Distract and Attack//

Though he did his best to contain himself--and thus avoid causing Kurt any greater consternation that that which he was presently experiencing,--Hank's concerns for the younger man had mounted steadily as the two had made their way down to the MedLabs. Or, more precisely, as he had half-carried, half-dragged the elfin adolescent into the sub-basements. Not that this was any particular burden, given the vast disparity in size between the two of them, but to Hank's way of thinking it was natural to be worried when a teammate gave every appearance of having lost his capacity for independent locomotion.

Given what he knew of Kurt's unconventional physiology, Hank speculated that the loss of blood he had suffered was likely only part of explanation for his present state of enervation. The teleporting youth's metabolic requirements were far in excess of that which would be typical for a postpubescent male of his height, weight, and usual level of activity. Lack of adequate nutrition, therefore, could be a very real concern.

As the Institute's other blue-furred resident hoisted himself wearily onto a gurney--with only a small boost required to help him on his way--Hank retrieved an emergency medical kit. It was one that he had put together himself, and contained the necessary supplies to deal with the most common forms of field injuries, including nasty forearm lacerations, as well as whatever other odds and ends he imagined might potentially come in handy. As he returned to Kurt's side, his patient began exhibiting definite signs of agitation, feeble as they were given the recent drain on the elf's physical resources.

"Hank... Hank where's Bobby?" Asked Kurt, alarm rising. "We've left him outside! We have to go back ou-" He moved to hop off the gurney once more, but was brought up short by what was obviously a most unpleasant case of vertigo. Hank eased him back into place carefully, waiting until the nausea had evidently passed before he began gently unwrapping the makeshift bandage around Kurt's arm.

"We have to do nothing," Hank admonished firmly, "other than attend to your wounds in as expedient a manner as possible." Not that he did not wish he were above, doing exactly what Kurt had been about to propose. Bobby was his closest friend, and Hank was on the verge of becoming sick with worry himself. "Logan and the others will locate him in short order, I'm sure," he went on, applying a pungent antiseptic cream to Kurt's injury. "If it should happen that he, too, requires such limited medical assistance as I am able to provide, I'm sure they will be more than capable of getting Bobby here on their own."

As he prepared to stitch the nasty gash in his teammate's arm closed, he fished around in the kit until he produced a pair of cellophane-wrapped Twinkies--one never could tell when one's blood sugar levels would require reajustment, after all. He dropped these unceremoniously into Kurt's lap.

"You may eat these, once your nausea subsides. I'm afraid it's the only fare these austere subterranean confines are stocked to provide, at the moment. But they should do for the time being. I have more stashed in various locations throughout these labs, should you feel up to seconds."

[Nightcrawler]

(OOC: I'm assuming this is just a thread with me and Beast until the Bobby thing is resolved T_T )

Kurt wasn't exactly in the right state of mind to persist in his pleas about bobby, and let Hank help him back on to the gurney, leaning heavily on his good arm while Hank set about tending to his wounded one.

"We have to do nothing," Hank admonished firmly, "other than attend to your wounds in as expedient a manner as possible."

...And even if he had been in the right state of mind, he would probably still have stayed quiet! Kurt figured that Hank wasn't the kind of person to be easily swayed and seemed to stick firm to his plans- especially when it came to the well being of his friends and team mates.

"Thanks, Hank... for helping me." He gave a lopsided smile, trying to be a little more like himself.

"Logan and the others will locate him in short order, I'm sure," he went on, applying a pungent antiseptic cream to Kurt's injury.

Kurt sucked in his breath through his teeth, flinching slightly as a stinging sensation shot up hia arm. Well that woke him up atleast.

"If it should happen that he, too, requires such limited medical assistance as I am able to provide, I'm sure they will be more than capable of getting Bobby here on their own."

"I have no idea what happened... one minute I was like.... 'me and Katzen will go forward, you bring up the rear.' " He looked down, figiting uncomfortably. "Then... I got into a tussle with one of those guys- and one of the guns went off... " He coughed, the action of which lead him to feel every painful bruise in his body. "When i got up, and you guys came... I realised he was gone." He sighed, now that he had somethng to focus on he couldn't help but feel frustrated.

"I shouldn't have left him behind... we should have stuck together... do you really think he'll be injured?" From the way Kurt was talking, no one would be able to believe how young he really was. But growing up before your time was one of the few prices you automatically paid by being a mutant, and he wasn't going to gripe about it.

However, not even a herd of stampeding wilderbeasts pounding his fragile body into the ground could stop his inner teen freak screaming: TWINKIES!

With the little energy he could muster he smiled and thanked Hank profusely, and using his good hand and his teeth to tear open the packet, shoved as much of it as possible into his mouth.

Seconds, thirds, fourths.....

[Beast]

With an absent nod of acknowledgement for Kurt's expression of gratitude, Hank continued about the business of tending to his medical needs. With the present whereabouts of Jean and the Professor unknown, it was a duty which naturally fell to the hirsute academician, and one which he would have readily taken upon himself in any case. To his way of thinking, there was no real need for thanks.

The reaction to his application of the stinging topical antibiotic was more or less what Hank had been anticipating, and Kurt used his pain-induced lucidity to recount the series of events that had led to his becoming separated from Bobby during the recent armed incursion onto the Institute grounds. It was not a completely unalloyed relief, given that his frosty friend's current disposition remained a mystery, but at least it was something.

"I have no idea what happened... one minute I was like.... 'me and Katzen will go forward, you bring up the rear.' " [Kurt] looked down, figiting uncomfortably. "Then... I got into a tussle with one of those guys- and one of the guns went off... " He coughed, the action of which lead him to feel every painful bruise in his body.

Hank said nothing, only listened as the fuzz-covered adolescent explained what had happened. He could definitely understand how easily Kurt could have lost track of his teammates when people had been shooting at him. Given his relative lack of anything that Hank would have considered halfway decent training, it was a wonder that he had acquitted himself as well as he had against the unanticipated onslaught. Of greater concern, however, was the plain discomfort that twisted Kurt's lean features as he coughed. Clearly, he would require time to heal properly from his encounter with the Hellfire Club militia.

"When i got up, and you guys came... I realised he was gone." He sighed, now that he had somethng to focus on he couldn't help but feel frustrated.

"It's all right, Kurt," Hank soothed. "No one doubts that you did the best you could, under extraordinarily trying circumstances. At least you and Kitty were able to keep each other safe." That was, perhaps, more than they had any reasonable justification to expect, given just how young they were. He would just have to hope that Bobby had been able to look out for himself. Keeping a tight rein upon his thoughts, Hank went about numbing the skin around Kurt's wound, in preparation to begin stitching it closed. "This should only prick slightly," he advised as he set to work.

"I shouldn't have left him behind... we should have stuck together... do you really think he'll be injured?"

When he replied, his tone was distracted, but light. "Bobby? Injured? Only if he slipped on one of his own ice slicks and hit his head--and even then, I'd be more concerned for the state of the floorboards than our dear Master Drake's adamantine cranium. He'll come away from this latest misadventure in better condition than any of us, I'm sure." He deftly bound the gash in Kurt's forearm with tight, even stitching; though his fine coat of indigo fur would conceal any resulting scar, this was no excuse, in Hank's opinion, to compromise his exacting (semi-)professional standards.

Chuckling at the excited reaction his offering of Twinkies had elicited, Hank added, "Have as many as you like. It would take some doing to put any significant dent in my supply, I assure you. All I ask is that you make certain you are capable of keeping it all down before you begin gorging on my supply of emergency rations."

[Nightcrawler]

(OOC: oh crud, sorry for the late reply! Things have been...hectic... shall we say :/ Again uber sorry)

"It's all right, Kurt. No one doubts that you did the best you could, under extraordinarily trying circumstances. At least you and Kitty were able to keep each other safe."

Kurt nodded, he had to be grateful for that atleast right? It could have been a lot worse, and the saying was true: what doesn't kill you will make you stronger.

"This should only prick slightly." Kurt balked a little, but just looked away, trying to concentrate on one of the many shiney things in the room. As a rule he generally disliked needles/stitching etc but atleast this was out of kindness, rather than what he usually experienced.

"Bobby? Injured? Only if he slipped on one of his own ice slicks and hit his head--and even then, I'd be more concerned for the state of the floorboards than our dear Master Drake's adamantine cranium. He'll come away from this latest misadventure in better condition than any of us, I'm sure." Kurt couldn't help but laugh. Even though Beast was more eloquent than him, he was still such a humble and humourous guy, you couldn't help but smile when he tried to make light of a situation.

He looked down at the handy-work before it was wrapped, breathing in a little sigh of awe. "Hey... that's a really good job! Thanks!" Obviously Hank would be good at that sort of thing, well-educated, efficient, ofcourse he would know the skills, but still... it was very good.

"Have as many as you like. It would take some doing to put any significant dent in my supply, I assure you. All I ask is that you make certain you are capable of keeping it all down before you begin gorging on my supply of emergency rations."

Kurt grinned sheepishly. "I would like another one if that's okay..." His eyes were brighter now although he still looked a little drawn in the face. He slid off the gurney and began walking around just to get his bearings. It seemed the worst was now over, but he couldn't just sit around and kick back. He was part of the team, and they all had to stick together. The tightness in his chest was disappearing but he knew that until he had a good few meals down him, teleporting was going to be out of the question.

He shivered as he remembered the time that he had tried to teleport while on a snowmobile. Hm. Not one of his better plans.

"We should probably regroup soon..." He muttered. Actually what he was thinking about was Kitty, after this whole ordeal he didn't like the fact that Bobby had disappeared and left them two by themselves. It made him want to find Kitty and stay with her. "Hank do you know what any of this was really about? And where are all those men going to be kept?" He frowned. "Seriously...what are we going to do?"

[Iceman]

Crawling, crawling was ok.

Crawling did not upset the fire. The fire that ate through his innards and into his soul.

Oh God, he was dying. Foreign bacterias were dissolving his internal organs. He could tell. He'd lost so much water ...and everything else he'd eaten in the past many, many moons. But, yeah, water. No water, no ice.

Or something.

Or maybe the diseases of the Queso El Diablo had reached his brain!

Maybe the mystery cheeses on the sample platter at Big Hakeem's Mexican & Pakistani Buffet were RIGHT NOW destroying his ...synapses and something-otrins and his powers were just pouring out along with his Taquito Number Five.

Bobby rolled onto his back, clutching the soft comforting goodness of his half-roll of Charmin Ultra to his chest. It was all he had left, besides The Burning. And the Burbling.

And the general feelin' of impending death. Death by funky cheese.

Ooo, head swimmy!

Everything went a little white and wonky until the back of his head whapped against a handy door-frame.

Ow.

Man, he couldn't even do anything to help anyone during the Badness. He couldn't ice a freakin' cupcake right then. The only thing he managed to ice was the outlet of his suffering. For the journey. He really didn't to die with a trail of his lost dignity leading from Warren's bathroom to the med-lab.

Uuuuugh, cuuuuupcaaaake.

Internal things burbled ominously.

Bobby crawled faster, dragging himself into the elevator and slapping at the buttons with his Charmin.

Hank. Hank would know what to do. Hank could save him.

Somehow, someway, he found his crawly way to the med-lab, oh good, doors were open and--

Was that blood?

Guilt would have bitten at his guts, but he'd lost them about three hours ago.

They had swirled out of his life along with his powers, and ability to stand.

Warren's bathroom would probably never be the same.

"Hank?" Bobby struggled to his knees, as pale as his beloved Charmin. "I...I had an incident."

[Beast]

Though it was clear that Kurt was by no means enthusiastic about the necessity of stitching his indigo, velveteen hide back together, he tolerated the procedure quite well. Certainly better than some X-Men that he could name. Nonetheless, it obviously went without saying that the sooner the procedure was completed, the happier his elfin comrade was likely to be. If Hank were being perfectly candid, he would have acknowledged that Kurt did not appear to be at all well; the amount of energy he'd expended in helping repel the Hellfire Club's recent attack seemed to have left him even more drained than having been shot. Decent nutrition and a little rest would likely go far in helping him bounce back from his weakened condition--and a good thing, too, since bedrest and diet were about the only things that Hank could ethically prescribe, given his incomplete formal training in the world of medicine.

In what Hank was prepared to consider a reasonably good confirmation of his prognosis, Kurt laughed appreciatively at his little joke at the expense of the absentee Iceman. It might have been among the tritest of platitudes, but laughter really was the best medicine. Or at least, Hank would certainly have placed it on a par with such favored standbys as Vicodin or Percocet--but with the added advantage of being much easier on a patient's digestive system.

Kurt looked down at his bandaged arm with something rather like wonder, and Hank couldn't help but feel some measure of satisfaction at that. Pride might not have been among the most attracive of personal traits, but Henry McCoy was a man who owned his vices as well as his virtues--though the latter could occasionally be more difficult to discern. Besides, a certain sense of accomplishment was unlikely to do any harm. No more than he had already managed to do through insecurity and mistrust, at any rate.

[Kurt] looked down at the handy-work before it was wrapped, breathing in a little sigh of awe. "Hey... that's a really good job! Thanks!"

"You're quite welcome," Hank acknowledged with a grin and a nod. Though given that Kurt's experiences with the world of modern health care services were probably limited to his own efforts and the minimal treatment the Weapon X project had afforded its mutant operatives, that may not have been so flattering an assertion as it appeared at first glance. Hank would still take it, though. "While your praise falls as sweet music upon my adorable blue ears, I do hope that this is the last time that I will be called upon to demonstrate my abilities as a paramedic to you. Some accomplishments, after all, would be rendered utterly nugatory in a perfect world, and that perfect world is, in theory, what we are trying to build here."

Sliding off the gurney, Kurt traced an idle, aimless path around the MedLab, evidently attempting to shake off whatever remained of the fatigue and disorientation he had experienced earlier. When he asked for more Twinkies, Hank was only too happy to oblige; who could deny the inestimable healing qualities of the golden, cellophane-wrapped treasures?

"We should probably regroup soon..." [Kurt] muttered. Actually what he was thinking about was Kitty, after this whole ordeal he didn't like the fact that Bobby had disappeared and left them two by themselves. It made him want to find Kitty and stay with her. "Hank do you know what any of this was really about? And where are all those men going to be kept?" He frowned. "Seriously...what are we going to do?"

He had barely sufficient time to process Kurt's questions when another voice called out weakly from the entrance to the lab. "Hank?" Bobby struggled to his knees, as pale as his beloved Charmin. "I...I had an incident."

Rarely had he ever seen his young cohort looking quite so . . . wan. So much for Bobby's ability to pass through any crisis unscathed. What would the people at Ripley's say?

Loping over to the incapacitated ice cube, Hank carefully scooped him up, toilet paper and all, and placed him upon the gurney that Kurt had recently vacated. He then retrieved a bottle of Gatorade--the blue kind, actual flavoring unknown--and offered it to his stricken companion. "An incident, you say? I'm afraid I'll need you to be a little more specific. Mortifyingly specific, even. So specific that, should the details of your condition ever go beyond the sacrosanct confines of this lab, the shame would force you into a life of total isolation somewhere in the wild expanses of Canada's Yukon territory. That's the sort of specificity I require if I'm to do anything for you."

Cruel? Perhaps. But Bobby should have known better than to trifle with unpasteurized foreign cheeses in the first place.

[Nightcrawler]

Kurt was just trying to act like he hadn't nearly just fallen over while Hank's back was turned when suddenly a familiar face appeared.

"Hank?" Bobby struggled to his knees, as pale as his beloved Charmin. "I...I had an incident."

Kurt had been half hidden from view by Hank's frame so that he hadn't been able to get a good look, however, as Kurt practically screamed: "Bobby!" he couldn't help but bring attention to himself. He tottered over to the middle of the room and stopped, scrunching up his face in bewilderment.

Kurt had been about to yell at Bobby and ask him where in Gott's name he had been, but the Charmin Ultra totally threw him. "Is that... toilet paper?" His thick accent making the question sound even more ludicrous than it already was.

"An incident, you say? I'm afraid I'll need you to be a little more specific. Mortifyingly specific, even. So specific that, should the details of your condition ever go beyond the sacrosanct confines of this lab, the shame would force you into a life of total isolation somewhere in the wild expanses of Canada's Yukon territory. That's the sort of specificity I require if I'm to do anything for you."

Huh?? Damn Kurt's lack of focus, and inability to understand the more complicated words Hank used! He leant against a side table as he stared at Bobby on the gurney, steadying himself and completely forgetting to eat the new twinkies. He didn't *look* injured. In fact he looked perfectly fine- apart from the strange curled up position and the funky smell. Kurt persed his lips together and looked away, suddenly really pissed off with himself for having worried about Bobby.

[Beast]

//Bobby passed over with player and moderator permission.//

It was a matter of no small concern to Hank that Kurt appeared to be far more perplexed by his latest venture into the field of competitive verbal gymnastics than Bobby, who had been more directly in the line of fire, so to speak. Those misgivings were soon born out, when no sooner had the the blue-furred junior biochemist turned to explain himself more thoroughly to their Teutonic onlooker than Bobby crumpled, toilet paper and all. This immediately seized the whole of Hank's attention, as he immediately began attempting to ascertain the nature and severity of his ailing young friend's condition. Of course, he had already formulated a few likely theories that would, if fortune favored them in the manner to which they had become accustomed, expedite the diagnostic process at somewhat.

A hasty but relatively thorough exam reassured Hank that Bobby was in no immediate danger, though he was reasonably certain that his newest patient would have begged to differ. Had he been conscious and not so enfeebled from dehydration and cramping of his lower digestive tract that a good, stiff breeze was likely to capsize the poor boy.

"It appears our dear Bobby had become host to some manner of bug," Hank declared at last, as much to himself as for Kurt's benefit. Of course, it was quite likely that the other X-Man could have deduced as much for himself. But it was possible that he would appreciate Hank's confirmation of the probability of that prognosis being substantiated by further testing. Besides, he liked to talk. "It's a pity his microscopic guest has already left him in such appalling straits; I should have been very curious to learn whether or not adopting his ice-sheath would have impaired or even destroyed the pathogen. Ah, well, c'est la vie."

In any event, even if he had not yet precisely defined the cause of Bobby's unfortunate predicament, he could at least begin treating the symptoms. Rehydration was Hank's primary concern at the moment, and with his charge no longer capable of injesting fluids voluntarily, he was left with only one alternative.

"Would you be so good as to wait with our inert colleague for a moment while I prepare an intravenous solution for him, Kurt? Bobby will be needing a great deal of fluids, electrolytes, and miscellaneous other nutrients if he is to recuperate speedily from his present affliction. I'll only be a moment!" Hank promised, as he loped deeper into the MedLab without actually waiting for a response. Time was of the essence, true, but if he were being honest with himself he'd admit to being a little excited. He had some experience with setting up I.V. treatments, but not very much, and he was always eager for opportunities to practice the procedure. Callous as he recognized this enthusiasm to be, he was sure that Bobby would not begrudge him the opportunity to polish his burgeoning medical skills. Probably.

[Nightcrawler]

"Would you be so good as to wait with our inert colleague for a moment while I prepare an intravenous solution for him, Kurt? Bobby will be needing a great deal of fluids, electrolytes, and miscellaneous other nutrients if he is to recuperate speedily from his present affliction. I'll only be a moment!"

No sooner had Kurt nodded and said "sure" had Hank practically run out of the room with an excited look on his face. Kurt didn't know whether to laugh or start praying for his friend. The friend who disappeared quite literally in the thick of things because he had... well... he had the shits.

"Dummkopf...!" Kurt muttered, with more than a little irritation. Even though Bobby looked like he was unconscious it didn't stop him from voicing his thoughts. "You had me thinking I'd left you behind! I wanted to go back and search for you and you were in the blutig toilet!"

Well at the end of the day Bobby was still in one piece, and he had to be greatful it hadn't been worse. In just a few hours he felt as if he'd aged years over night. But he was no different than anyone else. Everyone had it just as bad.

Kurt was feeling more alert and began to itch to get out of the infirmary- for obvious reasons he'd never liked such clinical surroundings. He found himself thinking about Kitty and he half smiled- she'd been pretty dependable, he'd have to make sure to thank her when he next saw her. If Hank ever came back and gave him the OK to leave that was.

[Beast]

It was only a matter of a few minutes between the moment Hank bustled off in search of the various pointed implements, tubes, and bags of slightly-yellowish fluid he would require in order to inflict his craft upon Bobby and the time he returned. With a broad, enthusiastic grin, the hirsute (almost-)pre-medical student began setting up the drip, broad, pawlike hands working with remarkable dexterity and speed. Once that was finished, he located a blood vessel suitably close to the surface of the skin on the inert Iceman's forearm. Patting his friend solicitously on the shoulder, Hank muttered, "It's probably a good thing you're unconscious at the moment, Bobbo. This is probably going to hurt." Without further preamble, the needle was slipped under the unconscious teen's skin and adeptly taped into place.

After a brief consideration, Hank rearranged things on the gurney so that Bobby's head was pillowed upon the roll of ultra-soft toilet tissue he had brought with him into the MedLab. Perhaps he would derive some small comfort from its proximity, as he had appeared to do during his rather spectacularly inglorious arrival. Or maybe when he returned to his senses he would realize just how peculiar it was to cling to a common bathroom necessity as though it were some sort of lifeline. Either way, Hank was fairly certain he'd be amused.

Dusting off his oversized palms jovially in congratulation for a job well done, his attention turned to his other patient, so recently drafted into nursing duty. "I greatly appreciate your assistance in monitoring Bobby's condition during my absence, Kurt. Now, however--unless you wish to continue eating your way through my emergency Twinkie rations--I believe I can pronounce you officially discharged. Just make certain you keep careful watch over the condition of your arm, and report any suspicious smells, colors, or growths immediately. I'll want you to return tomorrow, of course, just so I can check and make certain nothing has gotten infected. Until then, I recommend lots of food, and lots of rest. I shouldn't think you will have any trouble managing that?"

[Nightcrawler]

"It's probably a good thing you're unconscious at the moment, Bobbo. This is probably going to hurt."


Kurt looked away as Beast jabbed the needle in, focusing on the twinkie flavour in his mouth. Today had been... extremely scary, and odd. You hope the past never catches up with you, yet you know it will. It never failed to surprise him.

"I greatly appreciate your assistance in monitoring Bobby's condition during my absence, Kurt. Now, however--unless you wish to continue eating your way through my emergency Twinkie rations--I believe I can pronounce you officially discharged. Just make certain you keep careful watch over the condition of your arm, and report any suspicious smells, colors, or growths immediately. I'll want you to return tomorrow, of course, just so I can check and make certain nothing has gotten infected. Until then, I recommend lots of food, and lots of rest. I shouldn't think you will have any trouble managing that?"

Kurt smiled broadly. Lots of food, yes! Lots of rest, yes! Coming back here with the needles and the medicines and that terrible clean smell, um....

"Sure thing, Hank!" He coughed slightly and made his way to the door. "Hey thanks for everything... And when Bobby wakes up, tell him-" Kurt paused, what was there to say. "Tell him he didn't miss anything important."

With a nodd of his head and a slight wave with his good hand, Kurt slowly traipsed out of the room, wondering what food he had stashed up in his room.

((Exit Kurt to... (tba) ))