It was morning in Mutant Town. An area of New York known for its high crime rates and low employment. A place which made Hell’s Kitchen or Harlem look like posh suburbs by comparison. For Detective Ismael Ortega, though, it had become just another day on the job. And lately, finding young mutants lying dead on the sidewalks outside clubs like the X-Factory had become a common occurence.

“Guess that’s one less freak.”

Ismael cringed at the remark from his partner, Detective Gus Kucharsky. Gus had been working this area before it became known as Mutant Town and for Kucharsky, watching the neighborhood he grew up in turn into this had been a horrible experience. One which he held mutants personally accountable for.

“Christ Gus, can’t you put a lid on it?” asked Ismael.

“What’s wrong, Izzy—I offend your sensitive nature?” asked Gus. “Since when did you become a goddamn tree-hugger?”

“Just cool it,” said Ismael.

“Fine, fine,” said Gus. “So what is this, another overdose?”

“Yeah, looks like fever, but no one will know for sure until the autopsy,” said Ismael.

“Mutant kids looking for kicks on a Saturday night.” Gus knelt down by the boy’s body and looked at the victim’s face. The boy’s eyes were open, but they had no pupils and were just a light green color as opposed to white. His skin was pale and he had small tentacles protruding from his face without one spec of hair on his entire head. The boy’s mouth was open and a bit of foam was dried on his mouth and down his cheek.

“That’s one ugly sumbitch,” he said. “Maybe they should have a closed casket just on general principle.”

“We should have a word with Carnation,” said Ismael.

Gus looked up at his partner. “Now why the hell would you even wanna be in the same room with that fat fuck?”

“He owns the X-Factory and since there have been a number of fever-related deaths in there, we should talk to him about it. It’s procedure, that’s all.”

“Way I see it, this whole thing is kinda like Darwin, y’know?” said Gus. “Those muties are always talkin’ about how they’re the next step on the evolutionary ladder. Well maybe this is nature’s way of saying, ‘hey, guess what? You’re not as special as you think.'”

“Eddie! Eddie!”

“Hey, you can’t go throu—”

Ismael and Gus’ attention was brought to the two voices they heard. A middle-aged woman, no visible mutation, pushed her way through the crowd, trying to get past the uniformed officers and the crime scene tape.

“That’s my son! Let me through, you bastards, that’s my son!”

“Officer, let her through.”

Gus looked at his partner in shock. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Izzy? The hell you think you’re doing?”

“It’s her son, have a heart,” said Ismael. The woman rushed towards them, but Ismael stopped her from getting any closer to her son.

“What happened to him?” she asked, looking up at Ismael with pleading eyes.

“We won’t know for sure until we’ve performed an autopsy, but it looks like a drug overdose,” said Ismael. “There’s a new drug on the streets that’s being directed specifically towards mutan—”

“Fever, I know,” she said.

“Listen, Miss…”

“It’s Mrs., actually. Gloria Marchek. Eddie was my son.”

“Could you step over here for a moment?” asked Ismael. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Gloria nodded and Ismael led her inside the X-Factory. He pulled out a chair at one of the empty tables for her to sit in and he took his seat across from her. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small notepad with a pen.

“We’re going to do everything we can to try and figure out what happened, but I’d like to get some information from you,” said Ismael. “How old was Eddie?”

“Nineteen, he was going to be twenty next month.”

“Was he in school?”

“He tried to get into ESU, but we couldn’t afford it and he wasn’t able to get any scholarships. He tried community college, but not all schools have gotten rid of genetic discrimination. He was saving up money to go to college and my husband and I… we’ve been trying to save some here and there, too, but…” Her eyes began to well up in tears and she turned away. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” said Ismael. “Listen, Mrs. Marchek… I think I have all the information I need. Once the autopsy is completed, I’ll contact you with the results.”

“Who?” asked Gloria.

“I’m sorry?”

“I want to know who did this to my boy, I want to know who sold him that shit,” said Gloria.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Marchek, but that kind of information is virtually impossible to come by,” said Ismael. “There are a number of fever dealers in clubs like the X-Factory and although we may be able to nab some of them, there’s no way we could find the specific one who sold fever to your son.”

“But that’s your job.”

“We’ll do everything we can, but I can’t make any promises,” said Ismael.

“Right, sure,” said Gloria. She stood from her chair and walked towards the door. “I bet you’d be able to do something about it if Eddie was a flatscan from Bay Ridge…”

DOWN AND OUT IN MUTANT TOWN

Part I: Grand Reopening

By Dino Pollard

Harlem

The young, blond man entered the small bar located in the middle of Harlem without a worry. Dressed in a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a pair of jeans and a blazer, complete with well-groomed hair made him look particularly out of place in this location. Many men like him would think twice before coming into this neighborhood, but he had no such worries.

The bar was somewhat crowded, but nothing too hectic. He moved towards the counter and slid onto a stool. A young, Korean woman stood behind the bar and walked over to the man.

“What would you like?”

“A word with your boss,” he said.

“Boss ain’t in right now,” she said.

“Tell him it’s an old friend, I’m sure he’ll be much more accomdating.”

“I said he’s—”

“Hey cracka.”

The young man looked over his shoulder to see three tall, muscular black men standing behind him. One of them had his arms crossed over his chest and the other two stood to his sides. “You get lost?” he asked.

“No, I was just looking for an old friend.”

“Guy like you, he don’t got no friends out here. Maybe you should head back to your ritzy uptown bars, leave places like this alone.”

“Listen guys…” The blond man lifted his arms up in a gesture of peace. “I really don’t want any trouble. I’m just looking for a friend of mine.”

“Then maybe you got a hearin’ problem, ’cause I already said you don’t got no friends. Not in here.”

“Leave him alone, Gibs,” said the bartender. “He’s not bothering anyone. Let me get you a beer and you can go back and watch the game.”

“Oh, but he’s botherin’ me,” said Gibs. “I don’t like seein’ no yuppie bastards like him comin’ out to my bars. Actin’ like he a friend of the people.”

“That’s really not why I’m here,” said the man.

“You got ’til the count of ten to get the fuck outta here,” said Gibs.

“Look, let me just buy you a be—”

“One.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Two.”

“I didn’t come down here for a fi—”

“Ten!” With that, Gibs’ right fist shot out and struck the blond man across the jaw. The man recoiled from the blow and his face hit the counter, knocking over his neighbor’s drink.

“Tommy, grab him,” said Gibs. “Hold him down for Fred.”

One of Gibs’ friends grabbed the man and pulled him away from the bar. The other friend stepped up and was about to pound on the poor guy. What none of the three realized was that he was far from defenseless. The man’s legs shot up and struck Fred in the face. He threw his head back and it slammed against Tommy’s nose.

The man was free. Fred lunged forward, but he leapt over the bigger man and slammed his feet down on Fred’s head. He bounced slightly then landed, before pivoting with a roundhouse kick to the back of Fred’s skull. Tommy came at him next, but the man crouched low and thrusted with his elbow, jamming it against Tommy’s chest. While Tommy gasped for breath, the man kicked his legs out from under him and he hit the ground hard.

“You sonnuva bitch…” said Gibs. He stepped forward and cracked his knuckles and the man pulled himself into a fighting stance. Gibs threw several punches, but the man blocked each of them with a kick. Gibs was beginning to get irritated, but the man simply smiled. He seemed to be enjoying this little square off.

Before Gibs could throw another punch, a large hand grabbed his shoulder. The next thing he knew, Gibs was thrown onto the bar and then shoved all the way down it, until his head struck the wall. His assailant picked him up and threw him on the ground hard. Gibs tried to get up, but his attacker put his booted foot firmly on his chest, keeping him pinned.

He was larger than Gibs, wearing a pair of loose jeans and a tight black shirt that clung to his bulging muscles. He had a black goatee and his bald head was covered with a beanie. He also wore a pair of sunglasses, but took them off, revealing a pair of brown eyes that glared angrily down at Gibs.

“How many times have I told you not to start any shit in my place, Gibs?” he asked.

“I didn’t start shit, nigga,” said Gibs. “That white trash over there started it all.”

“That true?” he asked, looking at the blond man.

“C’mon, do I look like the kind who’d go around asking for trouble?”

“Nah, that’s my job. Well, guess we’ll just have t’ ask Dixie what she saw. Dix?”

He cast his eyes to the bartender. She simply pointed at Gibs.

“That settles it,” he said. He picked Gibs off the floor and threw him over his shoulder, effortlessly. One of the patrons held open the door for him as he threw Gibs out onto the street. Cheers erupted from the bar. He walked over to Fred and Tommy, who were beginning to get to their feet.

“You two, out. Before I get pissed.”

Fred and Tommy didn’t waste another second in making a beeline for the door. The owner then walked over to the blond man. The two simply stared at each other for a few moments, but then they smiled and hugged each other.

“Danny Rand!” he said. “Been a long time.”

“I’ll say, Luke,” said Danny.

The two broke their embrace and Luke looked around the bar. “The hell you lookin’ at? Mind your business!” Everyone in the bar resumed their own conversations or drank in silence. Luke turned back to Danny.

“So what brings you out here?” he asked.

“Can we talk somewhere private?” asked Danny.

Luke pointed towards the back with his thumb. “My office. C’mon.”

Danny followed Luke past the bar and into the back room. There was an office back there with a desk and it was just large enough for the two of them to fit inside. Luke took a seat in the chair and leaned back in it and Danny simply rested his back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest.

“So what’s up?”

“I’ve got a case,” said Danny. “And I’d like you to come on it with me.”

“So yer back to private investigatin’, huh?” asked Luke.

“Yeah, it pays the bills,” said Danny. “Right now I’m working a case in Mutant Town.”

“Tough area.”

“I know. These parents, their son overdosed on some drug called fever. Cops aren’t gonna do anything to get to the bottom of it—too much corruption in Mutant Town for them to even make a dent. So they came to me.”

“If they can afford a private investigator, why are they livin’ in Mutant Town?” asked Luke.

“Kid was saving money for college and they were doing the same, so now they’re using it to find out why he died,” said Danny. “I took on the case, but I’d like your help.”

“Sorry man, I’m retired,” said Luke.

“C’mon, who are you kidding?” asked Danny. “Running a bar in Harlem? You’re not cut out for that kind of work. You’ve got all this strength and that steel-hard skin and you used to put it to good use, beyond throwing deadbeats out of a bar. You can’t tell me you’re enjoying this life.”

“Pays the bills,” said Luke. “Those days are over for us, man.”

Danny sighed. “I need your help, Luke. I need that old Power Man and Iron Fist magic.”

“I ain’t called myself Power Man in years. These days it’s just Luke Cage. Why don’t you look up some of the old team? Scott or Dane or Jen? Hell, even Hammond.”

“I think we both know that we worked best when it was just the two of us,” said Danny. “Just help me out on this one case and if you don’t like the way things are going, you can leave.”

Luke rubbed his chin and considered the words of his old friend. It had been a long time since he had a chance to really get out there as a private investigator and he had to admit that a part of him did miss it. He shook his head and chuckled a bit.

“Alright man, I’m in.” He extended his hand. Danny smiled and gripped it with his own.

“Power Man and Iron Fist, back together.”

“Heroes For Hire, brother.”