MUSES: Mostly Mikhail. TOPIC: "An investment in knowledge pays the best interest." DATE/TIME: Tuesday, April 10th, 2018. LOCATION: NYC. RATING: R... for Rasputins.
The Morlock Tunnels: Despite the massive amount of mutant infrastructure, some people will always choose to remain outcasts. These abandoned sewer tunnels, deep below Manhattan's busy streets, serve as home to the largest group of mutant outsiders. These social rejects have chosen dingy and dangerous surroundings instead of corporate overlords - to the admiration of some, but the ire of most.
Beneath one of the few bulbs that still burned, Mikhail carefully watched the eyes of the reluctant Morlock. The inspection proved too intense for the scaly-skinned mutant, who chose to avert his eyes uncomfortably. Mikhail, however, was extremely comfortable despite the dampness that permeated everything throughout the tunnels. The Russian's gloved palm landed on the other man's shoulder, an incentive for him to keep his eyes on the prize. "Jonesy... I thought we had an understanding." Mikhail explained, "You tell me what all your little friends inside the other districts were whispering about and I would give you things to help distract you from the fact you live... in... literal shit-hole." Mikhail's peepers went wide to put a finer point on his statement, while Jonesy continued to squirm. "I know I have lived up to my end, so why has my little bird not sung?"
The very bald, very green Morlock paused before he answered, something that annoyed Mikhail to no end. "I got nothing, Mikhail." The sewer-dweller swore. "Nobody's talkin' anymore, I mean... nobody."
Mikhail sighed, the first honest expression of annoyance on his face. "If you did something Jonesy..." Cosmo's free hand balled into a fist, but then his first finger pointed toward the Morlock's face.
"No! No... nothing like that." Jonesy insisted. "They ain't talkin' because they're all scared. Districts aren't lettin' people or information get out quite as easy. The districts have been changing ever since..."
"I swear to Catherine the Great if you do not get to the point..." Mikhail's accent sharpened, the Russian already aware of what his informant was slowly insinuating.
"Ever since Xavier and Magneto left... nobody much cares about New York anymore..." His tone was nearly defiant, too defiant for Mikhail's liking. "Gettin' more independent, be my guess. Tired of living under your thumb..." He added.
"I did not ask for your guess." Cosmo shared with Jonesy, while the Russian's nostrils flared. Mikhail took a second to let the stupidity of the moment pass. Of course, Professor Xavier and Magneto hadn't gone anywhere, but when the two stepped down from the government they'd founded... Mikhail had worried about turmoil. The pair had made many enemies within the mutant population. Those enemies might see now as the time to strike. Not to mention the growing segment of mutants that wanted to reveal themselves to the rest of humanity. But these were certainly not issues Jonesy was going to help Mikhail answer.
"It is a shame." Mikhail's head swayed back and forth. "I liked our little chats." Cosmo smiled, which should have been the Morlock's first warning. "But I believe you."
"Yeah." Jonesy said, with more confidence than he'd shown the entire conversation. "Wish I could do more for you..."
"Da. I know," Mikhail reassured the mutant, then finally released the other man's shoulder. "Let me ask you one more thing." He'd begun, smirk still on his lips. "Do you think I am that stupid, Jonesy?" The other man's face sunk and almost immediately he'd begun to deny the accusation. "Did you think I would believe you and your little filthy friends would stop talking?" Mikhail had a chuckle. "Who is paying for your silence?" He asked, then pulled the pistol from behind his back.
"No one!" The reptilian mutant yelled, arms outstretched toward Mikhail. "I'm tellin' the tru-."
The end of his last word was muffled by the echoes of Mikhail's first shot, a bulls-eye directly between the Morlock's red-tinted eyes. Mikhail's arms hung heavy at the sides of his body while he watched one of his formerly best informants slump onto the ground. "Such a waste," he mused with regret, then allowed his anger to boil over again. Cosmo fired his pistol four more times into the freshly dead body, then sighed. "Well, come on." He gestured toward the Morlock, as though he'd merely been sleeping. Mikhail was hardly one to let a life be completely wasted. The little weasel could still help the Russian, but mostly by sending a message to the rest of Mikhail's little birds - proof of what treachery earned you.