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Posted: Mar 26 2018, 08:58 PM
Feral & Sabretooth
Another Shot of Amber.
New York has a smell. It is a combination of a lot of things. Urine, trash, food, and whatever else was steaming up from the pipes in the middle of the streets. They say smell can be the most powerful trigger for memory and the endearing scent of this town reminds people of the fondness so many have for New York. There really was only one way to sum it up; New York City smells alive. And Maria drank in its scent, the smell of it making her feel one thing; home. This city was her home.
It was late. Very late. And yet Harry’s Hideaway was always open, always available to any weary mutant traveler, the bar a well-known haven for mutant runaways. No wonder Maria came here often. The owner, the four-armed former Morlock, Harry Lomis, was an old friend of hers. He was like a father to her… Which was probably why her tolerated her presence in the first place. Because most? Couldn’t stand her.
Maria was in the back of the bar, playing pool at her usual table, a half empty bottle of bourbon and a jar of ice at a table she’d occupied, her brown leather jacket pulled off and set aside. The bar was mostly empty, mainly due to the hour. Maria knew that Harry would be closing up soon, so she relished the time she was able to spend here with him, the two talking quietly as she played and he cleaned mugs, his four arms working together in perfect unison.
“So what’s the job?” Harry asked, his voice like gravel.
Standing at nearly seven feet, Harry Lomis was a monster of a man, his massive size and girth deceiving. In reality Harry was a pacifist, and would only use his powers of creating force fields and superhuman strength to subdue the random bar goer that was foolish enough to get too rowdy, something that didn’t happen often. Not with Maria there. She wasn’t gentle with stupid people, and while Harry might be a pacifist, she most definitely wasn’t.
“Anonymous client.” Maria replied, pausing in her game to take the time to grab her shot glass, the feral mutant easily knocking back the shot, then refilling her glass. “Wants me to steal some files. The target is a Wakandan UN rep. Apparently he’s selling files on the side, and the client wants ‘em.”
Harry looked up at that, his four arms pausing midair. “Wakandan? As is in from Wakanda?” he asked, Harry then shaking his head when Maria nodded. “That’s bad Maria. You know what they say about that country. They take care of their own. I don’t like it.”
Maria sighed. “I know. I don’t like it either. But you heard what Calisto said. Artie needs a liver transplant, and you know how much that’ll cost on the underground. The job is an easy half a mil. I got to do it. For Artie.”
Harry sighed, still shaking his head. “I still don’t like it.” he said gruffly before going back to washing mugs.
Maria nodded and went back to her game, her amber, cat-like eyes glowing in as they narrowed in thought. As much as she hated to admit it, she had to agree with Harry. She didn’t like it. At all. But what choice did they have? Artie was dying. It they didn’t get the money for the kid’s liver transplant, he was looking at a few short, agonizing months.
For the last ten years, Maria had been working as a mercenary, always one step ahead of the law, always doing her best to survive in a world that both feared and hated her. And in that time, she had only one allegiance; the Morlocks. Although technically no longer a member, Maria always made sure to take care of the only group that had ever showed her any love. They’d been there for her when no one else was. Calisto was an adept leader, but she had her limitations. Maria had left the underground tunnels in order to live life on the surface… at a cost. Maria glanced down at the necklace that hung from her neck, Maria’s eyes narrowing, memories welling up… The necklace. It’d been her sisters. The last thing she had of hers. Maria still didn’t know what had happened to her sister. She’d disappeared several years ago… after the raid.
Rain… She’d been standing in the rain…
Maria closed her eyes. Hard. No. No. NO. She would NOT think about him. Not now. Not ever. Snarling a curse, Maria poured herself another shot of bourbon. If she never thought about it, then it’d be too soon. Right? Right.