The Office of Paragon Services,
Lower East Side, Manhattan
The other renters of the building had not been pleased one bit the day the strange man moved into the office on the third floor, though they did not know at the time how much worse it would become than the stairwell banister that somehow became broken in three places as he moved things in. It was about a week later that the smell began to set in, something caught between stale and rotten. The week after that it became clear that the man lived in the office, despite strict rules against such a thing, given the amount of food that was delivered to the door. Occasionally those who worked back late at night would report sounds of gunshots.
The most infuriating part of it all was that no matter how many issues they put forward there seemed to be no way to have him or his business removed from the building, almost as if the building owner was afraid to do so. The only saving grace seemed to be that his business, whatever it may be as nobody had a clue what it was he did (the general rumour was it was simply some poorly set-up criminal front), never seemed to have a single client or visitor to block the stairwell for the actual legitimate businesses.
Or at least there were no clients until the day the woman appeared. Her blonde hair cut short and small, pale frame cloaked in a grey hooded jacket only seemed to confirm the theories of a drug dealer front, and she certainly earned herself no friends as she shoved past reputable people on her way up the stairs with a smile so bright it could only have been built upon a base of illicit substances.
She stopped before the door that had 'Paragon Services' scribbled onto the lid of a pizza box in Sharpie nailed to the door and rapped briskly with her knuckles upon the wood. Her blue eyes turned toward a balding head that poked out from 'West and West', the small law firm the next door down. She flashed a white smile and the head disappeared like a prairie dog down its hole.
She gave a small snort as her attention turned back toward the door. She knocked again, loud enough that the sound carried down the corridor. This time she waited a single beat and once there was again no answer from within she grasped and twisted the handle, and the door swung open before her.
The smell hit her like a wall. It was noticeable outside, the scent of something gone terribly wrong, but it turned out that door did a damn fine job of containment. It seemed most likely that the smell originated with the piles of fast food containers that littered the office in small mountains of excessive consumerism, though she still did not dismiss the idea that she would discover a bloated corpse beneath the buckets that had once held fried chicken. She was curious to know what creatures had taken up residence in the unique ecosystem; a colony of rats within the largest pile of trash and a legion of roaches that would march across every surface once the sun had set.
She was rather disappointed in herself that she had made it almost halfway across the fast-food graveyard before she had noticed the figure slumped over the desk piled with envelopes and paper; it seemed to her that every piece of paper was torn or ruined in some fashion while every envelope was still sealed. Amidst all the paper sat a two-slice toaster, it's metal body suspiciously shiny.
She contemplated her options if that did turn out to be a corpse before her, chief among her plans was to simply set the entire building ablaze and act as though she had never set foot there, only to dismiss those thoughts as she found the body rose and fell with each breath it took.
Her eyes moved over the pale form of the man as he slumbered, now that she was but a few feet away. It was clear that he had not set foot into sunlight in some time, nor had he done much to care for the beard that had grown wild yet inconsistently across his face. It seemed that the only thing that had been well kept in the entire place was his head, which appeared to have been shaved within the past day or so. A long brown duster jacket was draped across his back like a cheap blanket, and she found that his head rested upon a black cowboy hat, now crushed beneath the weight of his cranium.
Before she could even think about the best way to awaken him the man suddenly jerked upwards with a groan, a trail of spittle stretched from the corner of his mouth to the puddle of drool that now rested upon the hat. Now that he had moved she could just make out a mark that revealed the spot where once something 'X' shaped had been affixed.
His grey eyes blinked wildly as his head jerked about before he finally settled his gaze upon the toaster beside him. "Now why the fuck are you screaming?" he stretched his eyes wide as he smacked his lips. "Intruder?" Then his head turned towards her, and he skidded backward upon his seat as the duster fell to the floor and stopped his move away from her. "Fark!"
"Good night?" she smiled at him with a glint of knowing in her eye. "I knocked, but your door was unlocked."
"I have a lock? Nobody told me that. Since when did I have a lock? Is that why I keep losing stuff?" He sat himself up straight as he cleared his throat and pointed a finger in her direction. "And just so you know I would have totally shot you by now, if somebody hadn't stolen my gun, like, two days ago. So... you should thank that person. Saved your life."
She nodded. "I'll do that. So you're Mitchell Blake right? This is your place? Paragon Services?"
"Huh? Yeah," he muttered as he continued to wipe the drool from his mouth that seemed determined to not go away. "But it's Darktruth. Not... the other name. Also technically it's Tapster's place. He also owns the business, just leaves all the doing to me. Pretty sure people are just trying to keep me busy. Also, think he's still kinda mad I set his bar on fire, but that was technically not my fault. Except for the petrol. I did bring that."
The woman licked her lower lip, only to realise he'd finished talking. "Well, Darktruth, I'm Dr. Yuri Anderson and... Can I get you anything? You don't look like a coke or weed kind of guy, but I could get you some meth or maybe heroin."
"I'm okay," he muttered with a raised eyebrow to the toaster.
"Sure, anyway, I'm Dr. Anderson and I'm here from Maven Pharmaceuticals and we would like to hire you for your unique skill-set, and, by skill-set, I really just mean that you're a mutant not living on Krakoa that fancies themself some kind of merc. That particular blend actually makes you quite valuable to my boss." She crossed her arms. "Why aren't you on Krakoa? Have you even been?"
"I've been busy," he replied and gestured broadly to the piles of trash that filled his office. "Obviously." Another side look to the toaster. "You shush."
Dr. Anderson reached into the pocket of her hoodie and retrieved a thick envelope she dropped upon the desk with a heavy thud. "Whatever. Don't really care. But there's half your pay for the job, other half on completion, yadda yadda yadda. You gonna do it?"
There was a moment of silence as his eyes glanced over the rather plain, white envelope. "What am I doing? Who am I killing?"
She chuckled. "No killing, unless you really want to. I don't give a shit what you do on the way. We just want some of those pretty flowers they have. As many as you can get."
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Darktruth
Look, I dunno if you even read but I'm still going to write you this and hope you don't just toss it into a pile of garbage, though I don't expect much.
It's no secret that you've been in a bit of a foul mood lately, and it's less of a secret why. And I get it. I've seen you this way enough times I couldn't not get it. But I also can't put up with this shit. Especially not after you set my bar on fire, whether it was 'infested with Skrulls' or not. The company is still technically mine, but you run it. By yourself. Just try to do something bloody constructive with it.
I dunno why you wanted it named 'Paragon Services', but if I was a betting man I'd say it had to do with her. If it does then take your own bloody hint and go talk to her, otherwise stop with your crap.
-Ron
PS- That office is a gift, from a friend of yours no less. Don't burn it down. No matter how many Skrulls are in it.
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Later, Central Park
Darktruth had only been to the Krakoan gate in Central Park once before, probably a week or so after it had first appeared. Back then it was just a strange plant-portal that all the humans were too afraid to go near, now it was surrounded by a fancy military outpost to try and keep the extra curious away.
The last time he'd seen it there was a small line of mutants who wanted to join this new nation that had practically popped up overnight, and thrown the world into a bit of a spin when it did. Some of the mutants even decided to enter their new life entirely fresh and dropped all their human clothes before they raced into the gate entirely naked (which caused a bit of a stir). Darktruth hadn't thought once about stripping down, but he was there to find out if he dared take the portal where it led
He didn't go through with it, obviously, and had slinked back off to his putrid office, which had only just begun to build a collection of fast food containers at that point. If anyone had asked him why he didn't he doubted he could give an answer that made even a lick of sense, and when he stood before it again he still wasn't quite sure if his answer was the truth or just an excuse. The only thing he was certain of was that he was glad that he hadn't seen one particular face that day, because he knew if he had he would have walked on through without a question or a doubt.
Doubt, he had learned, could be painful. The complete absence of doubt was most often deadly.
Perhaps he should have taken those steps, joined a new society, and established himself a life amongst his own people. He could have found himself a job there, something to do that actually involved doing something rather than just sitting amongst his own filth. It was even possible that he would have found her there, they would have talked, gotten back together, got a house, maybe talked about a family. It might have been nice if he'd made that choice.
He sucked in a slow breath as he glanced about the park around him, hands stuffed into the pockets of the duster he wore over the green shirt and purple jeans beneath. He would often wonder if he would feel different if he wore a costume like the X-Men, or the Avengers, or any of the other thousand r so superheroes out there. If people asked him directly he would tell them that what he wore was his costume, but he knew those words were empty and didn't at all cover the fact that what he wore, right down to the cowboy hat he had haphazardly beaten back into shape to sit upon his head, had been nothing more than something he wore once because he was too nervous to just talk to a girl and had refused to give up since then. At least he'd dropped the terrible accent he'd put on along with it, as he wasn't sure he could have kept it up very long at all if he'd tried.
Of course, his attire did draw him some glances from those in the area, soldier and civilian alike. Some were of curiosity, some of concern. It was easy to determine those who had lived in New York for more than a couple months; they were the ones who would look his way and then continue on without another glance, people who were too busy to be distracted by the stupid shit they saw in that city every other day.
As he moved forward he half-expected the soldiers to stop him, to demand he pass through some kind of customs or stop him entirely. They didn't. It seemed they didn't much care about any mutants that went into the portal, though he had no doubt they would make careful note of any that came the other way. He only hoped that didn't prove a problem for him later; it would be quite a pain to be stopped by soldiers with guns while running from mutants with laser eyes because he stole a bunch of their special marigolds or whatever they called their stupid flowers.
Before he knew it the portal was before him, towered over him. An almost solid surface that seemed to reflect the blue of the sky above, framed by a circle of twisted, thick branches that anchored itself to the ground. His grey eyes passed over the thing with the wariness of an animal offered some unknown cuisine. If any had been close enough they also would have seen a fear within.
He contemplated why it was the gate was simply allowed to exist as it did; if it was permitted out a show of good faith, or if it was simply that the humans feared what they would face if they refused it. He suspected, so strongly he would say he knew, that it was the latter. He had once been fined fifty bucks for an apple core in that very park, he couldn't imagine what it would cost if he'd tossed some plant-based-portal-to-an-island-nation instead. This was the first time humans had seen mutants, the very mutants they had considered a threat to their future while scatted, united like they were now. Almost every mutant, certainly the most powerful among them, had taken up citizenship upon Krakoa and Xavier had been very open about that fact to the world. It was a power-play, and so far it seemed as though it worked.
Darktruth pushed aside the butterflies in his stomach, ignored the fact his throat had turned into a desert and took one long step forward as he shut his eyes. He didn't open them all until he felt a light humid warmth wash over him as the sound of murmurs reached his ears, and once he did he found himself surrounded by lush vegetation and a crowd of people who all erupted into cheers and applause as his gaze moved over them. His first thought at the sight of them was of a commune, the kind one would see on the nightly news after they'd all taken a big swig of Cool-Aid and gone to see the sex aliens or whatever special brand of crazy they'd been sold on.
His body tensed as a soft voice drifted from the side of him. "They like to camp out here, greet the new arrivals. Honestly, I can think of far better ways to spend a life in paradise but it isn't for me to shame them for their peculiar kinks."
His head turned to the fair-skinned, blonde-haired woman dressed in an immaculate white suit that still managed to heavily accentuate her cleavage. He felt a twinge of worry in his gut at the sight of her. "Miss Frost. You knew I was coming?"
A smirk danced upon her lips. "Of course not darling. I was awaiting an associate, this is just pure coincidence, although a good one. And it's just 'Emma' for you." She strode around before him as a single finger traced along his chest. "Still looking as garish as ever. I suppose you'll be wanting to see her then?
He cracked his jaw. "No, I just... Grah!"
His hands suddenly snapped to his face as he clawed at the sides of his head and dropped with a thud onto his knees. His scream, and it could be described no other way, continued until it gave way to a fit of coughs that put him down onto his side.
Emma's head tilted to the side as she stared down at him, her gaze torn between concern and curiosity. "Are you alright Darktruth? Do you require some water?"
"What... the fuck... was that?" he snarled as he wiped the spittle from his mouth as he snatched up his cowboy hat from where it had fallen upon the ground. He stood up on shaky legs. "What did you do to my head?"
"That wasn't me," she replied softly, as her eyes looked over his face carefully. "I presume that must have been your welcome package. The language of Krakoa downloaded directly into your mind. Makes getting around a bit easier, with the nice addition of cultural unity."
"I find Google Translate works fine. Hurts less too."
"You won't find Krakoa in any human app," she replied with a hint of smugness. "And that doesn't usually happen. Is everything alright?"
There was a moment of pause before he pushed out "I'm fine."
She gave a small nod. "Well, I imagine your mind is just as much of a mess as it was when I last delved into it, it was certainly its own defence against telepathic intrusion. Perhaps it simply didn't appreciate the sudden download. Would you mind if we met some time and I take a look around inside? I'd hate to discover later that we'd broken something."
"Sure."
She smiled. "Excellent. Well, I'm sure you're eager to see the wonder that has been built here. I'm sure sooner or later somebody will find you to set you up with somewhere to live and something to do."
Darktruth only nodded in response as he took a deep breath and started to make his way out into the island, desperate to calm his heart as it thundered in his chest. He hadn't expected to be greeted by a damnable telepath, particularly not Emma Frost. Though he preferred her to the greeting party he still had to pass by, at least she still seemed like the Emma he remembered while the crowd looked like the sorts that would call each other 'brother' and 'sister' with complete sincerity before they locked a heathen into a box of bees.
"I do have a question," Emma's voice floated in his head, and he did his best to ignore the throb of pain that followed it. "What took you so long?"
Darktruth stopped and turned, eyes upon the ground beneath him. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and brushed his teeth across the hairs that came with it as he thought for a moment. "I was busy," he said at last as his eyes rose to meet hers. He just hoped it was enough for her to believe it.
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Within his first hour upon Krakoa Darktruth found himself lost five different times, though he would have argued the specifics of whether he was in fact 'lost' as it was not the most reliably signed place he had ever been. Much of the island was covered in greenery that, at least to his eyes, made one part of the island look very much like any other part of the island. Certainly there were landmarks, where homes or important structures had been constructed, but even those all looked much the same to him. He would also refute the usage of the term 'lost' as that would imply he had the slightest idea where he was headed, which he most certainly did not.
He was to look for the Krakoan flowers, something he had thought a relatively easy task before he had stepped through the gate. In any other place it may have been. If he'd gone to any city in the world he simply would seek out the only plants around, or failing that the most secured location given the value they seemed to have. Krakoa was almost all plants, and he had seen a few flowers but had no clue whether they were truly those that he had been tasked to seek.
He did, however, find plenty of mutants across the island as he travelled. Mutants of all kinds, of every power-set, of every shape, from every place across the globe. Whether they played, talked, worked, or simply relaxed he noted one thing that united them all, they were happy. Content. They all looked like people who had spent their lives filled with anxiety and fear only to have it all lifted from them, replaced by only euphoria. They genuinely seemed happy to be there. He only wished that throb in the back of his head would go away.
It was after some time walking, how long he wasn't sure, that he found himself upon a clearing filled with dome structures, like those he had seen elsewhere upon the island. As he moved further towards the centre he found that the mutants here seemed to be younger; kids, teenagers, and even some young adults. He was certain there was at least a face or two he should remember, though no names came to his mind easily. He should really remember who they were. He was pretty sure at least one or two of them were friends with...
His chest suddenly tightened and a chill ran through his body. If the mutants in this area were all younger there was a good chance that she was there, and he wasn't ready for that.
He turned on his heels, ready to head back the way he came as quickly as he was able only to find his way blocked by a figure that caused his stomach to drop. "H-hey..."
The petite girl before him crossed her arms as her black eyes surveyed him from beneath a cascade of pink-and-black hair. Two dragonfly-like wings flittered anxiously behind her. He found himself torn at the sight of her, part of him wanted to run as fast as he could in any direction away from her while another just wanted to take her into his arms and breath in her scent once more. Instead he simply stood frozen to the spot.
Pixie took a long, careful breath as she examined him. "So... took you long enough."
To Be Continued