MUSES: Mikhail, Lenny, and Nate. TOPIC: The Devil in the White City. DATE/TIME: Monday, 4-16-18 @ 5:46am. LOCATION: Chicago, Mutant Underground. RATING: M for Mikhail.
Bertrand Goldberg's Prentice Hospital: Once the premier Women's Hospital in the Windy City, the architectural wonder had been vacated nearly a decade ago. The city tried to demolish it, the citizens protested. A wealthy third party swooped in and saved the day. Outside the building remained a tourist attraction and a source of pride for the city. Inside the former hospital served as an entrance to Chicago's sprawling Mutant Underground.
"One second." Mikhail excused himself, then drove the hatchet he'd held into the chair beside him. Center of the large underground chamber, the pistol in his left hand was only partially visible - the barrel almost entirely lost in the mouth of the mutant he stood before. "Sorry," he apologized and his free hand reached for the cell phone in the jacket pocket. A smirk appeared on his face when he read Eva's message and Cosmo responded quickly. "Alright." The device disappeared into his pocket again, then he snatched the handle of his axe and freed the blade from the chair's arm. "Now, where was I?" His eyes connected with the fat blob who was currently eating his gun. "You disgusting piece of shit, come out here or I start your new diet program." He tightened the grip on his hatchet and eyed the Jaba the Hutt looking mutant's shin. "Start with a leg, before the diabetes gets it." Be grinned and started his swing, only to hear a pissed off female voice behind him.
"What the fuck... do you want?" she said, and Mikhail turned just enough to see the fury in the brunette's dark eyes. Her stance adorably annoyed, not unlike how his sister might look.
"Fiiiinally. Hello, Mr... Mrs... Shadowking." The Russian greeted the woman he knew to simply be an astral projection. "Why do you always make them so fat when you inhabit them?" he asked, gun still lodged in the poor bastard's mouth, the one this astral parasite had been living in.
"Fuck you," she retorted. "What the fuck do you want? I wasn't bothering you." But Mikhail scoffed, this wasn't the first time the Shadowking had set up shop somewhere, infested a mutant, then ran an entire criminal empire from underneath everyone's noses.
"Of course you have," he countered. "You think we haven't noticed your disruptions in New York?" he challenged, sure he'd gotten to the root of their problems. A corrupt little bitch clogging up the second largest home for mutants in the country. "What happens if I pull this trigger?" he asked, though he knew. Shadowking was so rooted in this man's mind if he were to die, he'd be sent back to the astral plane until he could weasel himself out again.
"Hey, listen... we can talk about this," she started, but Mikhail was already bored.
"Goodbye, until next time." He bid the female face of the telepathic mutant a fond farewell then pulled the trigger.
"No!" She yelled, then vanished.
The gore on Mikhail's left arm now matched the blood on his right. He retrieved his gun while the few mutants scattered about the great camber came to a swift realization of what had just happened. They'd all been under the Shadowking's spell in one way or another. Mikhail walked down the steps that had led to this leader's throne, no doubt added by the Shadowking, and past the bodies of mutants who had tried to stop him on the way.
The woman he assumed was second in command looked effected, especially when she glanced at the dead man on the throne. "He was already gone; his mind was destroyed long before his body," he assured her, uncaring that it probably would not help much. "A group from New York will be by to.... assist you," he informed her, then stepped over a body so he could head for the exit. This place had become a downer.
When Mikhail passed a certain corpse, he noticed something on man's inner arm. He stopped and examined the symbol tattooed on the man's skin. The marking was familiar... but he could not place it. The Russian brought his hatchet down onto the arm and severed it from the body, a muffled scream from someone else in the chamber echoed. "Sorry," Mikhail added, then snatched the arm by the wrist.
Cosmo vanished from the chamber, only to reappear in Nate's darkened room - deep within New York's underground headquarters. The tall, pale man was shirtless but not surprised by Mikhail's appearance. Though his back was turned.
"You could just knock," Nathaniel told Mikhail, while he casually grabbed a grey t-shirt and slipped it over his head. "It's just after six in the morning," he commented because he knew full well the teleporter rarely remembered the time of day when he traveled long distances. Nate turned and was mildly put off by the sight of blood-spattered Cosmo, who held a dismembered arm. "I don't know why I was expecting anything else."
Mikhail smiled, glad to see Nathaniel would be a sport today. "Here," he tossed the arm onto Nate's table with the tattoo facing the ceiling. "Recognize it?" he asked, as though they were flipping through an old picture album.
"You have a camera phone..." Nate started when he crept closer to the arm, though his sass was dialed back a bit as he saw the marking up close. "Yes... but..." The mutant expert knew he'd seen this marking before and somehow understood it was important... but he just couldn't place it. "I need to..." Caltrops started only to trail off when he walked toward his bookshelf.
"You are welcome," Mikhail told Nate, because the Russian knew he'd just given the other man something to obsess over for a while. And though Cosmo hoped it kept the bookworm busy, he also wanted some answers. Because despite the under-covering of the devil in the white city, Mikhail still had more questions than answers for Eva. "I will leave you two alone," Mikhail told him and only received a grunt in return.
After all, he needed to be in Eva's office at 6:49am and Mikhail's Friday night clothes were past done. Also, he sort of needed a shower.