Starting Off With A Bang

The day had been profitable enough. With the most recent set of repairs paid for and everything working flawlessly, Boss Cade still considered Coney Island a worthwhile investment.
Now, the actual fair itself was also doing pretty well as he understood. He didn't really pay it much mind from his vast bunker underneath the boardwalk. But those repairs up above didn't concern him as much as the ones in his more immediate vicinity. After all, the long hall that connected up underneath his club not but a few miles from the shore came in handy. No cars or garages. Usually no screams. Well, not that were heard anyway.
Inside what Artie called the Rabbit Hole, his personal tormenting vicinity, he sat in his office going over the books for the month to make sure everyone who needed bribing had been tended to.
And that's when he heard it.
The overall unfamiliar bleeping of his alert beacon. It had never actually been set off before...
With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Artie picked up his phone and listened for the update.
He listened and his expression behind his spectacles became more severe.....
....mass panic on his property. Destruction. Most likely a good chunk of death.
And none of it his doing? That was annoying. Swiftly he hung up the phone and straightened his suit, adjusting the mask attached to his spectacles which hid his scars. Whoever did this wouldn't be leaving the boardwalk with his police en route.

The crowd ran from the destruction, the destroyed section of the boardwalk that the wheel had left in its wake. 
The freight elevator could also use some music, Artie mused as he examined his hat, dusting it off slightly. Should be that same pristine white as the rest of his ensemble until he decided it shouldn't be. Red might do tonight. 
Leaning on his cane, he limped out of the elevator with the ten of his men behind him armed to the teeth. The elevator let out at the "under construction" end of the amusement park, through the grinning jaws of an old funhouse. 
Tang. Tang. Tang. Tang. 
The sound of his cane's steel tip made that ringing sound on the planks as he and his men came out into the chaos. Artie adjusted his spectacle mask as the remaining fire from the explosion was being put out feebly by the local retained firemen. The rest were trying to bring survivors in on boats. Good luck with that. 
"Gentlemen, I'd like a perimeter set up," Artie hissed as he looked over his shoulder and pulled his overcoat closer around him, "It looks like George and Brisco are up to their eyeballs in a chase..."
His eyes had fallen on his two uniformed security men in mad and seemingly confused pursuit of someone...something? He couldn't tell amid the chaos.
But he moved forward to follow them anyway as the crowd began to disperse and his men tried to corral those who remained. 
Tang. Tang. Tang. Tang. 
He idly wondered who had done this. Fisk? Seemed a bit brash for him. But it was certainly an impressive effort.
It was successful. 

True Artie was lost amid the crowd of much higher heads than his, but when they had all gone in their rush toward the exits, he stood leaning on his cane gazing at his security boys bringing...a woman toward him? Withdrawing a cigarette from his golden case he kept in the pocket of the long white overcoat draped over his shoulders, he packed it idly on the smooth surface of the shining gold and eyed his two men.
"And...this is?" he asked as he popped the cigarette into his mouth and struck a match to light it, "Other than seemingly the only one fleeing the opposite direction from the exit. Gave yourself away a bit, I'm afraid, my dear." 
He flashed his wide grin at the captive, half of it disrupted by the partial side of the mask attached to his spectacles. 
"No answers yet, Mr. Cade," George replied as he shook his head, "Want we should put her in cement shoes?" 
"George, George, George," Artie said as he shook his head, "We can't without answers first, you know thaaaaaat."
He looked up at the woman and exhaled smoke into her face. 
"And with one as pretty as this, I'm sure we-"
"Mr. Cade." came the voice of an approaching police sergeant, leading uniformed men toward the group.
Artie turned to acknowledge them and gave a slight bow. 
"Sergeant Tidbit," he said in mock surprise, "Running out before the good captain could are we?"
"Tipton. And I'll handle real police work with my boys before the captain and your other pocket men get here, thank you."
"Oh no, thank you. See, we were all just leaving." 
"And who's your guest?" 
Artie ashed his cigarette and limped closer to Sergeant Tipton, looking him up and down. 
"A close, personal friend of course." he replied innocently as he signaled for the two brutes to bring the woman and follow, "And I'd hate for us to be late, we have so verrrrry much to discuss, she and I. Catch up and all that. It's been an exciting night for us all, as you can see."
Artie permitted himself a chuckle as he led them all, sans the coppers, toward the hidden freight elevator before Tipton stopped the two goons and looked the woman over. 
"Do you know this man?" he asked her. 

Artie spun on his heel and let smoke escape from his nostrils as he looked back at the woman. A grin spread across his face, like a crack in an egg shell.
Tang. Tang. Tang.
He moved toward her and nodded to the sergeant.
"Mmmmmmhm," he said in a lower voice, "We have soooo much...catching up to do. Besides, Sergeant, I wager you'll have your hands full trying to sort out the real problem here which is bigger than whatever personal vendetta you've got with me, hm?"
He pointed his cane toward the smoldering half of the boardwalk and adopted a mocking sorrowful face.
"So very many bodies to fetch out of the drink...poor souls."
Tipton glowered and nodded to his men who headed toward the firemen to question them. The sergeant gave one last sneering look up and down Artie's person before he followed. 
"NOW then, where were we?" Artie said as he looked up at the woman, "Oh, that's right!" 
The metal head of his cane struck the woman across the face and, as was customary, George withdrew a black bag and thrust it over the woman's head. 
Rhythmically, Artie's cane struck the ground as he moved and whistled 'Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Wolf' in the slowed, eerie tempo he had set as they moved toward the old hidden freight elevator. 
Tang. Tang. Tang. Tang. Tang along the boards. 
"I hope you understand you can't see where exactly we're taking you, my dear," Artie said as the elevator arrived and wrenched its creaking iron cage open, "But I do certainly hope you'll like it. And since you seem to have heard of me, well...you might have some idea already." 
The doors closed and the elevator descended, down into what he liked to call the Rabbit Hole. 

Artie let out a cackle as the lowest level was reached. It echoed off of the vast walls of the room in a loud ring, which when mixed with the creaking of the sliding freight door was a considerable racket. 
Tang. Tang. Tang. Tang. 
"Just prop her in a chair, boys. I'm sure our little pussycat can't do much good for herself from here." Artie said as he hopped onto one of the chairs near his work bench. His goons forced the woman down into a similar stool opposite. 
The room was large and had many doors along the walls, steel lined the floor, sides and ceiling. Work lights were overhead, all blaring brightly and purring with their faint electric hum. The far wall had upon it long rows of many shelving units, all with rack upon rack of curious firearms.
Artie spun in his seat and held up a pistol, heavily modified and including a scope and a larger chamber and barrel, and spun it idly on the table as he signaled for the bag to be removed from his captive's head. 
"Oh flattery, how predictably charming. First things first, dear..." he purred, "Was it Fisk who sent you? Seems a clumsy job if it was. Hell I didn't even know for sure if it was you who did the damage, I was ready to pull you apart for no particular reason at all other than it's five o'clock SOMEwhere."
Another cackle escaped his mouth as Artie leaned his cane casually against the work bench and palmed the oversized pistol. 
"And if it wasn't Fisk..." he continued as he opened the large pistol's chamber and loaded a thick bullet into it, "...then who indeed...if you know about me, then I'd say you should know better than to go toppling pieces of my property. People tend to get...lost that way."

Barbara had been meaning to ask Mr. Cade just exactly how much property he owned in New York, but as of yet, the moment to do such a thing had eluded her. And frankly, to be honest, she hadn’t expected it to be so expansive. There was the night club in the city, Coney Island, the underground hideout and tunnels, god only knew how many of those he had in total and how many interconnected, and now she could add a handful of waterfront warehouses to that list. Common sense would also give him a living space, perhaps on for legal and one for illegal operations, even perhaps a third household outside of the city that no one truly knew about just incase he needed some place to hide should the need arise. That, along with any sort of buffer or palm-greasing that was required with the local authorities, just proved that Barbara’s diminutive partner was full of surprises. So yes, at some point soon, she would need to ask him just how much of New York City he owned.

But back to the matter at hand. Barbara was currently inspecting those dockside warehouses, trying to assess just how useful they would be for her… their operations. Being right along the water helped out immensely, as did the fact that the waterways were very wide at this point, but not unnecessarily congested with boats and traffic. The warehouses themselves were large, with windows high up to keep out any unwanted visitors. Secure, but with multiple access points for coming and going with ease and, something she noticed as she walked across the wood plank flooring, the echo of her heels changed every so slightly, indicating that there were probably tunnels underneath. Barbara smirked at that. Mr. Cade was a clever little man.

The sound of a nearby explosion dashed any remaining thought of business from her head. Curiosity mixed with a brief bit of dread as memories of London being bombed bubbled up. Thankfully, those thoughts were quickly put to rest as Barbara heard no plane engines nor were there air raid sirens, not that she had any clue if New York had such things, but no power would be stupid enough to attack America so soon after the war. Perhaps it had been an accident. Exiting the warehouse, Barbara looked in the direction the explosion came from and saw, or rather didn’t see, the now-familiar ferris wheel the helped mark where Coney Island was. What the bloody hell happened? Had there been an accident or had someone decided to try and ruin Artie, his business, and Barbara’s own potential partnership with him?

By the time she reached the amusement park, the British woman knew better than to try and entire in through the normal way. Police were there blocking the way as they investigated whatever it was that had caused the chaos. Thankfully, shortly after their partnership began, Artie had shown Barbara a more discreet way of entering the funhouse which hid his base of operations there. Entering his lair, her keen hearing could already pick up bits of the conversation being had between Artie and the person she could only assume was behind all of this. Oddly enough, the second voice sounded feminine. That was quite unusual, but it wasn’t to be the most unusual thing, not by a long shot. As she opened the door to the Rabbit Hole, Barbara stopped in her tracks. Not much tended to shock the woman, especially not after what she had encountered in Africa, but she was made speechless as the red haired woman sitting in the interrogation chair suddenly became blue. Barbara actually had to blink a few times to make sure her eyes were not playing tricks on her. But, no, when she looked again, the woman’s skin still remained blue. Stunned, all Barbara could do was look at Artie in disbelief, as if asking if he was seeing this too.

Well, this got more and more interesting. Humans usually stared, at the very least, when they came face to face with a human. Cade was less staring at her and more staring her down. He cited his interrogation as justification for the damages she'd caused, not for what she was. This was getting interesting. Interesting enough that she leaned closer toward the gun, just to see which of the two of them would blink.

Her eyes darted very briefly to see who the newcomer was, but it was hard to tell that her eyes had even moved. A woman. Not a human, if the eyes had anything to say about it, but she didn't seem like a mutant either. Curious.

She turned her attention back to Cade and smirked. "Oh, darling. You say it like I was directly attacking you and yours. Trust me. If I was, we wouldn't be having this charming conversation." Sarcasm dripped from her voice, but she meant what she said. Veiled threat or not, she continued to smile. She'd stick with the status quo until it was necessary to break it, so for now she decided to share her mutant name.

"My name is Mystique."