Color - Mutant Mafia -The New Recruit (Patreon)

Story by:  Leena

So you wanna join the family, eh kid? Wanna be a made mutant?

Hah, don’t make me laugh. I get a bunch of bright eyed street punks like you coming around here thinkin they’re tough stuff. Act like the mob is their ticket to easy street. Rough up a few guys and they never have to work a day in their life. What a joke…

Pass me that pack of cigarettes would ya?

Thanks.

Seriously kid, what brings ya here? You probably got friends, family, a mom that loves ya. You don’t want none of this.

Oh? So a couple of punks made fun of you for being a mutant.

Yeah, life’s tough like that, but we ain’t heroes. I don’t know what yer friends told ya but the hundred hands of Port Solei don’t travel the world getting cats outta trees and giving sad mutants pats on the back. We’re the brides of the undercity, the two headed statue of justice, always looking the other way. Those names aren’t some slogan we ripped off a cereal box kid. We got them, because we get into some real shit down here.

Oh you’ve seen some shit too? Let me ask you then. Ever beat someone up? Oh you have? What about stabbed em? Shot em? Killed em? What about your scars? Wanna see mine? This one I got when I got captured by a rival family. Tied me to a chair. Cut up my face real good. This one? Got shot by a cop fleeing a scene. All cops are pigs, but it goes double when it comes to mutant. You end up in the wrong city, it’s just shoot first ask questions later.

I’m gonna make something clear to you kid. You know why you ain’t gettin in? You know why you ain’t getting past me, let alone talking to one of the bosses, and certainly not getting to see Mama? It’s cause you wanna. The mob don’t take no job applications. None of the gals here are here cause they wanna be. They’re here cause they gotta be.

Bein a mutant’s tough in this world. You know that. Maybe you get lucky and you buy yourself a fancy plane ticket and book a flight to Port Solei and make yourself a happy life. Feh… yeah in a dream world. All of that? Costs money, and money makes the world go round. Gotta pay to renounce your citizenship form lots of the big countries out there, and even then they will try and chase ya down if you do anything big down in old PS. And that’s just if you are tryin to get outta one of the good ones. End up in the bad ones and you’ll get stopped at the airport and shoved back home by armed guards. Ya already gotta have it made to get the opportunity to head down to sunny Port Solei. Everyone else is stuck playin the hand they were dealt when they were born.

That’s where we come in. If the rules don’t protect mutants then we make new rules, better rules. But ya can’t make the rules if you can’t enforce em, which means ya need power, which means ya need money, which means ya have to do some shady shit. Shit you probably don’t wanna be a part of. If they disrespect you, they get a beat down. If they don’t pay up, they get the bat. If they try to pull some shit under your nose, they get worse. Are you ready to do worse, kid?

This ain’t the golden days. You probably saw all those mafia movies about crime families with a heart of gold that wouldn’t deal drugs. Screw that. We deal. Black market mutagens. Human girls coming to pay hundreds of dollars to feel the rush of a transformation, to fuck someone like a mutant for a night. Mutant girls paying thousands to spend one day “normal.” They might give that shit out for free on the streets of Port Solei, but not here. Mutant medicine is hard to come by, mutant drugs even harder. Find the right group-a junkies and you’ll make a year’s take in a day. Then ya come back to find someone overdosed, and their mutation went all outta whack. Now they are some weird gibbering flesh pile straight out of an 80s horror film, and it’s your fault. You want that on your conscience? Can you see that and feel nothing?

What if we made ya take the stuff? What if we made you inject this little red vial into your veins, put on your nicest human act, waltz into a government office, and hold this knife to the throat of a shithole police commissioner that thinks us mutants are dirt? Can ya do that?

What’s the matter? Is the knife scarin, ya?

Am I… scarin ya, kid?

That’s what I thought. Do yourself a favor, go home and forget ya ever came here, and I won’t let the ladies know you came by. And I don’t know who told you about this place, but tell them that if we ever catch them blabbing about how to find us again, they’re gonna have trouble.

Oh, and about those bullies. Human’s think us mutants are monsters. My advice? Prove em right. You look like a pretty strong kid. Not a lot of punks will screw with someone who has more fists to punch with than they do, let alone a tail to do some strangling. Act like a good little girl and call for help any time they come to you in daylight, and when they try to corner you when no one’s lookin, show them what a monster you really are.

But ya didn’t hear that from me.