Disclaimer: If you dislike gratuitous violence, discussion of racial issues, portrayals of severe mental illness, existentialism, and OC-centric fics, this isn't for you. Insert Witty I Don't Own the Property Spiel Here.

A New Mutant

Chapter 3: Abstract Waking

A black void. That is what Kojo found himself in. He could go an infinite distance in any direction and still be in the same place. Space and time, inexorably connected, was twisted. For a reason unknown, he could discern that.

"This place is…familiar," he said, his voice echoing through the nothingness. "At least it's not a we-"

"I am too late. You are already awakening."

Kojo didn't bother looking around. "Come out. I remember now."

A woman snapped into existence in front of him, clothed in an ornate black two-piece with a matching cloak.

"Same outfit five years ago, same outfit now." He raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think you should have more dignity? I know I grew up seeing nearly naked women at every corner, but you didn't need to make yourself look like a whore to make me comfortable the first time around."

She rolled her manifestation of eyes. "Charming. I came to tell you several things, but I am not sure if I need to anymore."

"I don't think I need to hear it either. Later, bitch."

The woman poked him, forcing his existence to writhe for a moment.

Kojo stepped back. "D-don't be sore; there's nothing you can say I don't already know…somehow."

She stared at him.

"What?"

"Do not listen to it."

"…You're going to have to not play the vague game with me if you want me to understand."

"You will not as it will not. Do. Not. Listen. To. It."

"Can you just slip out of my consciousness already? Kojo sighed. "I've got a lot of people to send your way."

The woman in black smirked as she narrowed her pink eyes. "The last words your mother said before dying were, 'I love you.'"

Kojo froze as the void unmade itself.

Waking up, the ache in his skull grew into agony he couldn't stand. He stood up, hopped over and down the ladder opening, grunted, hopped to the gate, opened it, hopped forward into the street, and back flipped on to the roof. It was as if someone was scraping his bone marrow and flaying his skin as he burned alive, all of which he subjected himself to at one point or another for science.

Then his forehead burst.

He clutched his head before collapsing to his knees. Something like blood but not blood oozed out and began sealing the wound. He endured it for several minutes until the pain began to fade. The injury that was not an injury festered into a bulbous, tumor-like protrusion and shut.

The pain disappeared.

Kojo opened his eyes and saw the world for what it truly was.

Motes of light, various forms of energy, danced around him as well as everything else. A shade emerging from and encompassing the earth ensured everything flowed smoothly. The air was sweet, everything sang a tune, and all his senses were further improved.

"Beautiful." He blinked all three of his eyes. "Oh fuck." He poked his forehead, passing right through the vertical eye of flesh that was not flesh. "Right, my soul needs to be… How the fuck do I know this? That bitch is one thing but…"

"I love you."

Kojo fell back and stared up at the glittering early day sky. "Death, you petty whore."

That was something he did not need to hear.

"Oh well, not like I knew her anyway." He scoffed. "Thanks for the powers, mother… And life too, I guess." His fingers dug into his palms. "How the fuck do I remember that from before, which is also after?"

Something in the depths of his being comforted his thoughts.

Kojo shrugged. "The Serpent eats Itself by the Tail."

In Death, You and I were born.

"Time is a flat circle."

Space and Time are meaningless to me, neither seconds and inches nor millennia and lightyears.

"Same shit, different sequence."

Precisely, Puny Mind.

He looked to Soundview and pulled his bloodied fingers free. There was something he vaguely remembered. It happened the other day too, but there was something strange. Once again, he shrugged.

Some things are best left forgotten.

Kojo kip-upped to his feet.

There was much that needed doing.

He walked over the rooftop side and fell to the ground before returning to where he woke up.

Jesús drew an engraved, gold-plated M1911 nicknamed 'El Papa' when Kojo neared. "Patrón." He stowed the .45.

"You and Alex need to stop doing that. I mean, you're both worth a dozen stabbed and shot guys, but someone's going to try killing you sooner or later and try to frame it as an accident." He gestured him to rise. "The key to maintaining power is making sure you're feared but not hated. Now take your place at the roundtable."

"Sí, patrón."

"Our talks are nice." He hopped over to Ren's slumbering form, squatted, and took hold of her chin. "Wake up, princess."

The Japanese girl's eyes fluttered open and glared at him.

Kojo raised an eyebrow.

She blinked before blushing. "Reyes-sama."

"Ren… Roundtable meeting. Me, you, Jesús, and Marcus."

Nodding, she rose.

He hopped over to his open-eyed partner. "Did you sleep at all?"

"I wasn't drunk so yeah," Marcus said as he rose. "Why'd you hop like a rabbit out of hell?"

"Complicated. I'll explain later."

"Just like your eyes?"

Kojo laughed, wrapping an arm around his figurative right hand. "More exactly but yeah."

They hopped over the sea of slumbering gangsters to the ladders and fell to the ground. Jesús waved at them as they approached, a gesture they returned with varying enthusiasm. Ren did so as well when she slid down.

"Okay." Kojo cleared his throat. "We're going to… We're going to…"

All present roundtable members, with the exception of Jesús, shot him looks.

"We're going…"

"Are we going anywhere here, Kojo?" Marcus asked.

His head dropped to the table. "This is hard for me, man."

"…Oh! I can't tell if you're smart or stupid."

"Bitch, shut up. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Marcus scoffed. "Then say it, motherfucker."

"Fuck you." Kojo lifted his head and groaned. "We're going to buy gear from the Bratva and then I'm going to have a talk with Silvio about his future as my vassal."

"I expected one of those things, not both. While I can't knock you down for setting aside your pride, I don't think you can do either without fucking things up with one of them."

"Neither can I, but I have this itch in my brains telling me I can pull through."

"Sure it's not just a leftover bullet fragment from the time Jesús here scattered them?" Marcus asked, pointing his thumb at the sharpshooter in question.

"Those were my first thoughts too." Kojo clucked his tongue. "But I have to at least try… And the brain itself can't feel anything: I know from experience."

Ren cringed.

"Oh come on, it wasn't any of you that had to dig through your own skull for pieces of that round. Brain matter is basically jelly, bloody spinal fluid soaked jelly; it was honestly kind of fun."

"Kojo, while we love listening to you go on about how great it is to mutilate yourself without consequences, there is only so much time in a day."

He scoffed. "It's barely 6AM."

"Yeah…" Marcus scoffed back. "And we're hungry."

"Riiight. Hunger. My bad. Still, I'm going to need you to get some of our boys and dig up the cash while I place an order with the Ruskies after."

Marcus looked at the two other roundtable members. "You're bringing them with you in case it goes to shit with either."

"Don't tell Alex I followed her plan in my own way."

"She's going to find out when she sees the gear."

"I know, I don't want to hear it for as long as I can."

Marcus chuckled as he rose from his seat. "Suit yourself. I'll get started on the moving crew. Bond with your other lieutenants."

"Promise you won't get jealous?" Kojo smirked.

"Hey, nigga, fuck you!"

"…I'm not a nigger." He shook his head and turned to his remaining roundtable members. "Diner past the street?"

They glanced at each other before nodding.

"Good. We won't waste time." He walked over to the gate controls "If the old lady asks me for money, I want one of you to stop me from killing her on reflex." He pressed the icon with an opening door. "It doesn't happen, but I have the weirdest feeling it might."

Ren averted her eyes. "Neither of us could stop you, Reyes-sama."

"I know." He stepped out and beckoned them. "I forgive you for your possible impending failure."

They exited together, shut the warehouse gate, went down the street, and entered the diner.

A middle-aged white woman behind the counter huffed. "Been a long time since the big boss himself came in." She squinted. "What happened to your eyes?"

"Rare steak, a side of salad, and black coffee."

Ren blushed. "Waffles and bacon please."

"Scrambled eggs, sausage, and black coffee as well," Jesús said.

"…You want anything to drink, girl?"

"Tea, Lipton is fine."

She took out a notepad and pen.

The three sat down on the counter stools.

Kojo closed all his eyes as they waited.

Each member of the roundtable was hiding something from him. Marcus had more he wanted to say, Jesús' demeanor came from somewhere, Alex was fucking with him, and Ren's obedience spawned from one of his cruelest punishments. He knew from his spotty precognition. Just how bad they were eluded him though.

He opened his third eye and his darkened red soul poured out, enveloping everything and everyone in a sphere spanning a city block's radius. It reached, began, and ended in the sky, beneath the earth, and the ground. That which was Kojo saw, tasted, smelled, heard, and felt all within down to the last grain of sand in an instant.

Kojo's third eye closed. "Was it my brain or was it my soul that wasn't enough?" He whispered. "It's my brain that exploded…or will so… Fucking timeline."

Time is an illusion supported by the flawed acceptance that the sequence of events mortals occupy occur in a linear fashion.

'I thought time didn't matter to you.'

It does not for it is an illusion.

'That sounds circular in logic.'

Logic is flawed and devoid of meaning.

'One day, you and I will have a meaningful conversation where you make sense.'

In another instance, perhaps.

Ceramic clinked against ceramic before setting before him.

Kojo opened his eyes, moved a mug over to Jesús, and took hold of his own. "No sugar or milk robusta: perfection." He sipped the black brew. It was as bitter as it was when he experienced the drink several seconds ago.

Several minutes passed until Ren received her tea, fifteen in total when their meals came.

Kojo ripped apart, mashed, and swallowed the bloody roasted meat. He soaked the greens in the leftover mix of grease and blood before scarfing their energy mote richness down. Meal done, he downed the rest of his coffee.

The staff alongside Ren stared while Jesús got started on his eggs.

In six more minutes, they were done and out the front door.

"Reyes-sama, your eyes?"

"Nothing to be concerned about," he said as he glanced at hers. "Why do you care?"

Ren looked away.

Kojo sniffed and shrugged. He couldn't smell fear or arousal, so it was nothing more than curiosity. "We're going to the Brooklyn docks. Carrying you two isn't optimal, and there's not a lot of traffic at this time." He turned to Jesús. "You can drive, right?"

He nodded.

"Fast?"

"Sí, patrón."

"…I feel like you're not telling me something." He shook his head. "Never mind, feel like I'm going to find out." Wrapping his arms around his lieutenants, Kojo leapt to the roof of the diner before taking off.

They touch downed near a parked family car a minute of light hopping away.

"You can work with this, right?" He asked, letting them go.

Jesús nodded. "The door lo-"

Kojo crunched the driver's seat door open. "Put on your seat-belt."

Jesús sat himself behind the wheel and flipped the other doors' locks off. Kojo circled around to the passenger seat while Ren opted for a middle seat. They shut their doors, fastened their belts, and turned to their designated driver.

"No tiene ll-"

Kojo tore the steering column open to reveal the vehicle's wire components.

Jesús didn't waste any time fiddling with the hazardous parts, igniting the engine within a minute.

"One of these days, you're going to teach Marcus that."

"¿El no sé?" He asked before pulling out of parking.

"He likes memorizing streets, and there's always traffic in this city." Kojo blinked as Jesús stomped on the pedal. "Oh fuck, I remember."

They picked up speed through the street, drift-turned at a corner, and continued rocketing through the rest of Hunts Point.

"¡Jesús, hijo de tu puta madre! ¡Lento, pendejo, lento! ¡No voy a morir porque no sabes cómo manejar! ¡Yo voy a matar en tres segundos si no!"

"Lo siento, patrón."

Kojo groaned as they slowed down to a reasonable speed. He blinked and glanced back at a pale-faced Ren. "Oh right, you get motion sickness real easy."

"Indeed, Reyes-sama…. You speak really fast in Spanish."

"That's just Spanish." He glared at their driver. "But I was pissed."

"Lo siento, patrón," Jesús said again in his monotone.

"Well, when you say it like that, I can't stay mad at you."

"Gracias, patrón."

Ren glanced at the backs of their seats but stayed silent.

The rest of the drive was uneventful with the exception of Jesús sharp, drift race-oriented turns. He followed his leader's directions to the Bratva base of operations in Brooklyn: the southern marine terminal. Parking was plentiful and away from the prying eyes of potential law enforcement.

Kojo closed his physical eyes and experienced his surroundings with his third.

Six snipers watched the terminal grounds from skyscraper roofs, a hundred and thirty-seven staff were already on grounds, fourteen were armed Bratva in disguise, there were cargo containers holding weapons and suspicious goods of all varieties among legitimate transport, there were two obvious strike teams on standby in buildings neighboring the main office, and the coffee supply was eighty percent robusta.

Returning to his mortal coil, Kojo exited the vehicle with his lieutenants. "Be on your best behavior; these guys aren't that bad." He frowned as he took the lead. "Twenty percent are little pussies though."

It took five minutes for them to get enough inside the main building for a squad of Bratva men to stop them.

"You are either foolish or brave to come back here after what you did," the apparent superior officer said, stepping forward.

Kojo sized the man up. "Artyom, right? Don't ask how I know: I have no fucking idea. You're a reasonable man, so I'm going to ask you to lead me to the Brigadier. Let's kill this grudge in its crib before it becomes a fully grown bitch."

The man stared for a full minute before sighing and gesturing him to follow.

Four more minutes passed until they reached the office at the top-most floor.

Kojo walked in and turned to the poster wall he knew was there from beyond just his third eye.

A mockery of his magnificence was pinned to the notice board. It had jagged teeth, red eyes, incorrectly placed horns, a negro's nose, a darker shade of brown skin, and worst of all an ugly face. Not even his most hated enemy could conjure such blasphemy.

"Ah, the Prince of the Bronx graces me with his… What are you doing?"

Kojo walked to the drawing, his every step cracking and shaking the building, ripped the insult off, spit in its foulness, rolled the scrap into a ball, crushed the crumpled paper back into thinness, tore the trash apart, and cast the forsaken remains into the nearby trashcan.

It could hurt him no longer.

"…May I have your attention now?"

He turned to the rugged brigadier, a happy smile on his face. "You have it."

"What brings you here?"

"Guns, bullets, and body armor. I want your best of all three."

"After what you did?"

Kojo walked forward and stopped in front of the brigadier's desk. "After what you did, yeah. We both left wounds on each other. I killed some of your best, and you killed some of mine. Let's not act like victims. We're not women who sell themselves and get surprised when they're beaten, are we?"

"No, no we are not." The Bratva middleman folded his hands. "I still can't offer you what you ask without incurring suspicion from my superiors, so you must sweeten our relations or give a damn good reason for why I should."

"Wilson Fisk."

"He doesn't threaten us, and his men buy from us when they have money regardless of what he commands."

"For now: Silvio is old, Hammerhead is a retard, and the Yaks are in over their heads. It's only a matter of time before one of us moves, and the scales tip. If Fisk wins, which he's most likely to if I'm being honest, he won't have any need or want from you. He's a proud sonofabitch who can't take anything laying down. Relations get crossed once when he has full power and you can kiss the sweet deal you have here goodbye, which naturally includes your life."

"All the more reason why I shouldn't sell you weapons then: you'll only accelerate things."

Kojo grinned. "Yeah, about that, I may have killed Woo-Jin and setup his number two as my proxy in Queens.

The Brigadier stared him down.

He held back maniacal laughter.

"…I didn't think you had anything like that in you." The Bratva officer looked down at his desk. "That complicates things."

"I'm your last chance for a profit before shit goes down. I've got the powers, the mind, and the men; I just need the gear, and I'm the new Kingpin."

"Optimistic of you."

Kojo scoffed. "Silvio's too oldschool to use supers, and the last open war he took part of ended with almost his entire family dying. Hammerhead is too stingy to use supers and would lead his men to a slaughter. Fisk was the only one with a decent shot at me, and he missed years ago. I killed every mutant that came out of hiding in the Bronx, I killed assassins from all over the world, and I nearly wiped you off the face of this city for coming after me. So what if there's new mutants and supers with their shitty little gimmicks they can't even use right? I still haven't thrown a punch in over five years. My rise is inevitable. You can help me and earn my gratitude or stand back and watch.

"…And what if you do win?" The brigadier asked, staring into his eyes. "Where will that leave us?"

"At my mercy. I don't really give a shit what you do here. You can smuggle drugs, people, weapons, and gear like you've been doing. Just don't deal with hajis, and we'll be fine."

The Brigadier scoffed back. "We hate those boy-rapers as much as you do, American."

"Good." Kojo smiled. "I also want a 30% discount for my first bulk order. I'm going to almost exclusively buy from you, so it'll more than even out as our relationship progresses."

"It can be done, but you'll have to move fast or else this won't look good for either of us."

"Alright, get a pen and notepad out because this is gonna be big."

He complied, taking out a calculator as well. "Do you even know what we sell?"

"I want a hundred AK-103s and AK-104s, two mags for every AK with black-tipped rounds, two hundred ka-bar knives, two hundred mil-spec combat vests, and an OSV-96 with a single black-tipped bullet filled mag. With the discount, It'll cost me about five million, which I have."

"How did you..." The brigadier began jotting the order down and calculating the prices. He stopped two minutes later. "…Almost five million."

Kojo turned around to Ren's surprised face and Jesús' still one. "Have it all together. I'll send someone to drop off the cash and take it." He walked out of the office with his lieutenants in tow.

Another domino fell, leaving three yet standing.

They made their way out of the main building, through the stretch of the docks, and reentered their stolen vehicle with a broken driver's seat door.

"Patrón?"

"Yeah, Jesús?"

"Silvermane, Fisk, or Hammerhead?"

"Silvio." Kojo kicked his feet up on the glove box compartment. "The old man is still the next one on my list. Fallout of Kingpin's death will be severe, and we'll need to be united for the consolidation of New York. I don't want stragglers, out-of-towners, or any fucking vultures taking a single piece of what's mine."

"Where to then?"

"The Fazioli is the one place I know. Everyone there is Maggia, and it's in Silvermane territory. Step on it, Colombian."

Jesús foot stomped on the reverse.

"…Wait."

They zipped out of their parking spot before speeding through the streets of Brooklyn.

"Where is it, patrón?"

"Are you fucking serious?!"

"Sí." Jesús shifted his foot on the pedals as he whirled the steering wheel to drift them into the next street over.

Kojo glanced back at a limp Ren. "Oh for… Stop the car!"

They skidded to a halt in the middle of the road.

"Park, dumbass."

"Lo siento, patrón." He followed his orders.

"Just… Don't…" Kojo sighed and slumped in his seat. "I am never getting on another car with you again…except I probably will because none of us know how to fucking drive."

"I can teach."

"Not on your life."

They sat still for several minutes, mostly for Ren's benefit. Jesús was Jesús and Kojo ran over the potential scenarios in his head.

"It just occurred to me it's 7AM and people are going to notice the fucked up door," Kojo said.

Ren hummed, glancing at the loose excuse for security. "We should leave before an officer notices."

"Yeah, let's go." Kojo opened his door and stepped out.

The other two followed his lead, joining him on the sidewalk.

He wrapped his arms around them and hopped to the nearest rooftop. "The Fazioli's not that far from here. Just hold on, don't make noise, and try not to hurt anyone on reflex when we get there: I need Silvio to make this plan work."

"Sí, patrón."

"I'm proud you know I mean you when I mention us collectively fucking up."

Kojo began hopping.

They arrived on the piano club's street in fifteen minutes.

Letting go, Kojo closed his physical eyes, enveloping the block in his existence

No one was inside the Maggia hangout.

Kojo closed his third eye and clucked his tongue. "It's one of those afternoon places it seems. We'll have to wait. Silvio's important men are likely too smart to be doing street shit so not much choice." He grabbed hold of his lieutenants again and leapt to the roof of the fancy building. "Let's rest here."

Jesús walked to a distant part of the roof and looked around.

Ren kept close to Kojo, who let himself fall to the ground. "Reyes-sama?"

"Hmm?"

She sat down and stared into his eyes. "You look like a demon cat."

"…What?"

"Neko oni." She patted his head. "You have cat eyes now."

Kojo raised an eyebrow. "They always do that when I jump." He looked past her to the cloudy sky above. "It's another mutant thing: helps me gauge distance but blurs my vision a bit. More complex than the other bits, but it's not much."

They sat in silence for a minute.

Ren glanced at his horn tips pressed against the roof granite. "…Do you want to lay your head on my lap?"

He blinked, shrugged, and moved into position.

A smile formed on the girl's lips.

Kojo rolled his eyes as an odd nostalgic feeling sprung from the depths of his being.

"I know you won't remember this… But… I love you."

Ren's lips parted. "Reyes-sama?"

He did not understand.

"Love. What does that even mean?" Kojo glared at the heavens. "Does it mean you like something, care about someone, appreciate things, or value them? Have you ever loved?" His fingers dug into his palms. "I hate that word."

"…I loved my sister."

"And you killed her." He blinked. "Well, I made you but still." A grin spread across his face. "So much for love."

Ren stared down into his eyes for a good minute before she noticed the growing red at Kojo's sides. "You're bleeding."

"It'll heal."

"Your hands?"

"Uh-huh." Kojo lifted them into the air. His skin was peeled back, muscles were exposed, sinew was torn or snapped, and blood flowed out of his palms. "Always do."

"Doesn't… Doesn't it hurt?"

"I can feel it, but I wouldn't call it painful." He dug his fingers into the unaffected sides of his and pulled back, making his flesh squelch. "See? It's nothing. Perfectly fine."

"Is it?"

Kojo scowled. "Why do you care so much? You shredded the skin off me before. It's one of the reasons why you're still alive." He sighed. "…I don't understand you fucking people."

"Marcus doesn't like it when you get hurt or when you hurt yourself. He's been worried about you, actually."

"He's been worried since the day we met. I'm not surprised at all. Probably still wondering if I'm going to kill him in his sleep like I told him I used to think of doing."

"…He loves you."

"…"

"Reyes-sama?"

Kojo laughed. "Love isn't real. Something like that can't exist in this world. It's too abstract, too meaningless. If you really did love Run, why didn't you die in her place?" He cupped her chin. "Sometimes I feel like I should've kept you both, but this is fine. I don't regret it at all: she served her purpose."

The surviving twin glared down at him.

He blinked. "Ren?"

Her gaze softened as she tilted her head.

Kojo glanced away before patting her cheek.

He had an awful feeling of déjà vu, but couldn't remember precisely what it was.

The three waited for another fated meeting, together and alone.

I hope the random Spanish isn't too disruptive. I was tempted to add a lot of Russian that'd go over most people's heads but I'm not as much of a dick as our protagonist currently is.

If you want a clearer picture on events that happened in Kojo's past, A New Mutant's Boyhood exists. It's mostly snippets of things that'll be summarized here. The actual assassination attempts have yet to be written but it'll happen sooner or later when I'm feeling it.

The cat eye thing is real too, look it up. A very interesting biology fact I ran across.