Fan Fiction » New Mutants Unlimited » New Mutants Unlimited #67
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New Mutants Unlimited #67
Post by Risk on Sept 12, 2007, 3:28pm
New Mutants Unlimited #67
Cover Description: Damien standing in front of the viewer, looking out of the cover and covering his ears, a tall building collapsing in a very cartoon-like fashion.
Title: Faster falling.
Note: I actually did write this before Proto posted his last fic, as Chris (and maybe Mike and Dean; I forget) can attest to- I just lost this part of it :D! I gave up on looking for it and quickly through this together haphazardly >_>.
Oh! And it's a retcon fiction from before moving to space.
***
It's a slow night.
It's a lie. A façade that looms as a fine mist covering the true nature of the city, a placid surface hiding the murky depths beneath; the filth that always lies there blow, crawling along the ground on its stomach, thinking itself untouchable. Convinced that no-one's watching.
I'm watching.
There's never an actual slow night in New York. The slime on the streets make sure of that. People go missing every day without as much as a bat of an eye from all of the oblivious self centred people ambling past them every moment. In every one day, children are stolen. Women are raped. People are murdered. No-one even flinches. The majority of the time, no-one even notices. The forgettable faces that wander the streets mask so many people going through a daily hell, stumbling with every step, no-one there to offer them a hand. No-one there to pull them back to their feet. Those forgettable faces mask victims.
The only people who ever notice them are the people who are looking specifically for them; all too often the people who are looking to use them. To wreck them, destroy their lives for a quick thrill or easy money. All too often, anyone else who notices them just doesn't care. Doesn't care what they're going through, doesn't care what they will go through. The constant apathy that meets them day to day is astounding.
I care.
That's why I've been doing this. Wilson Fisk is the most disgusting of all of them, and I've been attacking him for a while now. Taking down Wilson Fisk would do unbelievable good in relation to some of the horror that runs on the street. Someone would always be ready to step up into his place, but the sucking void that he would leave would, at the least, minimise activity for a time.
The Kingpin of Crime has his fat fingers in every situation of this city; running a part of every racket. He's the central point of all of the drugs that run out in this city, spiralling out from him. He's a central point of the gangs, the murders, the individually solicited actions… the moniker is apt. He's the Kingpin of Crime.
And he makes me sick to my stomach.
For the last couple of months, I've been trying to draw his attention to me. Draw him into some action against me; to make things easier on me directly. It's definitely simpler than just bursting into whatever place he's holed up in at any one time, trying to take him down directly. Then there's the fact that that course of action would be close to a suicide run.
Breaking down drug runs didn't work. Breaking his men didn't work. He's smart; playing from up in his ivory tower, staying hidden from all prying eyes. Staying free. He hasn't taken any of the bait… which makes me think that a suicide run might be what I need to fall back on.
Ghost buzzes in my head, rants at me a little. She's angry, but I blank her out, only catching a few words. Something about me being nuts and getting hurt again. Pain's fine. I can deal with pain. Failure's what doesn't work for me.
After months of working around him, trying to get to him, and breaking his men into obedience to me, I've found that his little throne to his empire is probably a little less secure than he thinks. Arrogance does that. I mean, he only had half a dozen people guarding the foundation of the building, and they only took four minutes to take out without alerting anyone. Lax, maybe even sloppy for the self-proclaimed Kingpin of Crime.
My business at the foundation of this tower he's constructed in his name doesn't take long. After ten minutes I'm back out of it again, and into the building. The security's a little more there than at the foundation; about twenty guards, twelve of them heavily armed and ten minutes to drop between them. I slink in past them, heading straight to the basement; the building's power my target. A single motion cuts it, wiping out the lights and all other power running through the building. It should be a little while before the backup generator kicks in- there's no way Fisk's got this building set without it. That gives me some time to finish up here, but not a lot.
That means it's time to find Fisk.
I tap the side of my glasses, switching them to night vision and then duck back out of the out the basement, hurtling up the stairs as silently as possible. Literally- I just stand on the banister and jump straight up, making it to the top immediately. I take a moment to check my gear, make sure that I'm ready for this. I know he's in here somewhere… but somewhere is a bit vague, and I want to be prepared whenever I run into him.
I slide the large double doors in front of the stairs open, and find a behemoth of a man standing in my path. Fisk.
Somewhere was vaguer than I thought.
"The welcoming committee's a little larger here than in most places…." I muse instinctively.
Even Ghost's fallen silent.
