Lets close with affirmations. Everyone, please repeat after me: "When I look to humans to dictate who I should be or how I should look, I reject who I am. I deserve to be alive. I look exactly the way I'm supposed to."
To be honest, Fräulein Locke, I don't usually make a habit of striking the beautiful women I meet -- but I've a need for your souped-up shotgun. I hope you don't mind me using it to blast this place to smithereens.
You said that the Legacy Virus has been infecting humans rather than the mutants it was designed to kill. That information was generated here on Muir Island. There are only two humans here. Rory has spent no time around infected mutants. It's you, isn't it, Moira? You have the legacy virus.
Being a team leader in these times has not been conducive to mindless joy... I used to have a lot less responsibility. I've had to preside over such horror... ... Genosha, Black Air, the verdammte X-Man, the devil under London. The Soulsword trouble...
He said that my coming there had compromised them. It had become too dangerous. These people were no longer worth the risk. He was going to kill them. That was when it started. His callousness, his disregard. I snapped. I had the power. I had the ability. So I used it.
Like it or not, wearen't ordinary people. We don't live ordinary lives. To pretend otherwise puts innocents at risk. Great power doesn't just mandate responsibility. It arouses equally great passion, and not always for good. That's why we embrace Xavier's dream -- because it speaks to a day and a future where we don't have to worry about that. The passions, and the hatred, will have been cooled by acceptance. We won't be mutants anymore, just... people.
It will all just cease to exist. Unless... unless I open one last door. The one he's buried deepest underground, the one he hoped never to open again. I'm sorry, Logan. This is for your own good. This is the only way to save you from hell, mein freund. We've got to burn these demons out... with some fire of our own.
My name is Kurt Wagner. Better known as Nightcrawler. I fought the good fight, on this world and many others. I help saved the universe. And then I died. But that isn't the end of the story. Fate, it seemed, had other plans... ...and brought me back to life.
Here I can breathe. Here I can think. Which is good, because Krakoa asks hard questions of me. Every day there's some new, amazing something to believe in... and all it costs is the suspension of everything I used to believe... Speaking of... Crucible is today.
There is wonder and hope... ja... But also there is vice and violence and death. Cheap death. They cannot all be off playing the hero. And they cannot all be down here, being indispensable. The problem is, I can give no good reason why mutants shouldn't behave as they do. Even at their most savage, I can find no moral flaw in these... emerging cultures. But I feel it. Something terrible, just out of sight. Waiting for the cracks to appear.
The spark is creative. The spark is patient. The spark is bright and beautiful, despite having no form or mind. In truth, the spark is barely real at all. The spark is just an idea. And yet? The spark will burn to ash anyone who █████ with the right of mutants to pursue happiness.