Call this world Ishmael. Here, the Turkic, Afroasian, and Austronesian nations are superpowers...as is the Allah that most of them worship.
This is Podrinje. There are many small towns here. They all have Bosnian populations...and at least one mosque. And most, if not all of them, are on the Drina River.
On Ishmael, the Drina River is much longer. And there are more Bosnians. There just...aren't as many Bosnians as there are Turks, Arabs, and Malays.
One of these towns is Goražde. They've got the biggest mosque in Podrinje. Alas, this is hard to tell...considering all of the crime that infests this town.
In a police station in town, a mutant named Ash sits in a chair near a detective's desk, cuffed to it. Alas, the cuffs are power-dampening. As a mutant, Ash has a unique appearance. There's no hiding his mutant status from the world.
As a mutant, he has exposed teeth. His skin is shriveled in several places. His face is almost skull-like in appearance. He's mostly red; Azazel-red.
Azazel's been a Morlock a few times. Frankly, Ash doesn't miss him.
Ash's hair keeps itching. He uses his other hand to scratch his scalp. Living underground can be hard; down there, anything can infest your hair. And every now and then, you've got to fight a foe whose power is deploying pesky nanites. At least THOSE don't fall out of Ash's hair, each time he scratches.
At last, the hot Bosnian she-detective returns to her desk, and releases Ash from the chair. "Sorry for the trouble, Mr. Ash," she tells him. "We've been unable to dig up any evidence that connects you to the dual murders of Remy LeBeau and Nathaniel Essex."
Ash can't say he's sorry that they're dead. LeBeau, maybe, but... If only it wasn't SO easy for a Morlock to be jealous of the suave, Cajun, women's panties-hijacking Remy LeBeau.
Ash stands, turns, and starts to leave. He's SO relieved he's not going to jail for being a mutant...
"O, Mr. Ash? One more thing..."
Ash freezes. His heart thunders. From some angles, you can actually see his heart beat in his chest. Ash dreads what follows...
"I recommend that you get a haircut. As much as I dig men with long hair, that look does NOT look good on you...as don't a lot of looks...including your default one. But then, of course, I imagine you get that all the time."
Ash heaves a sigh. "You have NO idea," he mutters. With that, he takes his leave.
Ray Stevens, he's going to hate this...
Somehow, Ash ends up at a barber shop in Kuching. It's just outside an emir's estate.
The barber sure owns a lot of stuffed panda dolls. And to think that she's a hardened luck-controlling mutant assassin, when she's not cutting hair...
Ash has his doubts, but he nonetheless takes his seat in the barber chair, and waits. He can't help but admire a lot of this barber shop...
On a wall, two paintings hang. One's of a "3" side of a die, and the other's of a "4." On another wall, there's a "6" and "1" duo. On yet another wall, there's a "5" and "2" duo.
Downstairs, the barber struggles to finish playing a round of a video game, where the player gets to gamble in a casino. Yeah, it's like playing in a real casino...only without all of the self-destructive consequences of losing too many bets.
Alas, she swears when she loses to the wrong number on a roulette wheel. Not to over-procrastinate this, but she takes up a pair of barber's pistols, and goes upstairs to greet her latest client.
She cuffs him to the barber chair. She tries not to pay attention to how hideous he looks. Alas, if only her mutant power of luck control could make him look more like Zac Efron...
Before she starts, she puts golden rings on all of her fingers. Ash is a bit confused, as to how she's a barber...when that fro of hers looks like it could use some maintenance.
She takes her shirt off. With a small ebony body, she looks like dynamite in that bra. Ash may have distorted vision as a Morlock, but some things he can still see.
Alas, she's got a tattoo on her midriff. It says, in big bold all-caps, REAL HE-MUTANTS DON'T LIVE UNDERGROUND.
Ash, of course, is a Morlock. And most times, all Morlocks live underground; not that they often have a choice.
Ms. Thurman cranks back the chair, with Ash in it. She takes off her shoe, and places her ebony foot in the seat, just between Ash's legs.
She flaps her fro, and seems to flirt with him. "So, Morlock," she partly-smiles, "what can I drop in your lap? And just to set things damn-straight, a footjob is off-limits."
Ash doesn't doubt. Even so, he's not sure what to do. This basic black bitch has got his back against a wall. She'd hate his life story if he told her his real one. Still, Ash has got nothing to be ashamed of. He's just a simple little mutant. He just flaunts his little appearance, and protects his little homefolk. And he lives to serve Callisto, the leader of the Morlocks; Ms. Thurman would remind Ash more of her...if she didn't so boldly hate Morlocks.
So, unable to confess the truth, or even sing an emo song, Ash improvises a lie. "I'm the bouncer at a pool hall. I arrange entire designs of dominoes, moments before the clients come to knock the first one down. I arrange all of the billiards balls in their triangles, before the first customers can break them. I accommodate for really long lines of clientele at the front door...where I tell most of them to go back home and suckle from their own tits."
Ms. Thurman smiles, does gymnastics, and starts shooting all around Ash's head with her lucky pistols. Ash doesn't stop screaming throughout the experience...
In the end, Ash's hair looks like Swiss cheese. Alas, it also looks like a premium haircut...in its own special way. Alas, with Morlocks, it's hard to tell. There's no such thing, after all, as a fashionable one. Allah-forbid of a Morlock ever wins the Eurovision Song Contest.