Police Sergeant Ronald James MacReady was standing in front of the door when the MRC arrived. He breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted one that he recognized; finally, someone equipped to handle to situation. This wasn't the first time that Mac had ran afoul of a mutant, but just as each mutant was different, so too were their crimes. Each body run through with bone spikes, each torched building with still-running rivers of molten lava, each adult male bludgeoned to death by fists of stone reminded Mac of the horrors that mutants could bring to the world; scenes beyond the capability of the most sadistic of human monsters. Still, Mac was old, and Mac was a professional.

“Glad I am that ye all made it so quick. We still ain't sure if it's called fer, but signs point to Mutant. At 9:15 this mornin, a sewer maintenance worker employed by the city made a call; said he found this 'ere door sealed shut. Said that weren't nothin special, since it was old wood, and water damage sometimes gets em swelled to where they won't open, but when he started to remove it...”

To explain, the Sergeant gestured toward the door. All along its rim, a thick, grey crust had formed, sealing it completely save for one small portion. Some sort of chemical, likely applied by that sewer worker, had burned part of it away, and through it, as one leaned down, a terrible stink was blowing. To say the smell was indescribable would be cheating, so it was best compared to rotten meat, mixed with a wet compost pile, and sprinkled with pungent, rotten milk that's been left out in a hot room.

“He got ahold of that smell. Granted, the man worked in sewers, but that... that ain't normal, an neither is that gunk. There's somethin dead in there. We've got some breathmasks ah course, cleans the air, an we got the chemical that can get that stuff out of the door too. As far as I'm concerned, this is yer department now, folks.”

Ugh, this had to be a joke…a crime scene in a sewer? How…Gothic Horror story of it all!

Jorge had been having a pretty good day. He was not so tired today, his work load had been small and most of the day all he really had to do was paperwork. Though the thought of that rarely made him smile, what did make it good was that most of the cases were solved and just needed a final write up to bury the case. All in all, it was going to be a good day…that was until he got the latest call out.

Apparently sewer workers found something strange, a sealed down that, when opened, stank of death and decay. Granted, it was a sewer and more than likely smells like that were always around, but be that as it may, sewer workers would know smells like that. If they were calling the cops to report it, it must have been something big.

The water-bending detective sighed his whole way over to the crime scene. He really did not feel like a trek to the sewers would be a good experience, but he did not choose his destinations. A cop went where a cop was needed…

The street had been blocked off, Jorge exited his car and arrived to where his fellow officers were pointing him down the underbelly of the city. The darkness, the closed quarters, the smell…all of it did not bode well for Jorge. It was not that the man was claustrophobic…well…not entirely…it was more of the fact that it was not something that he looked forward too. With a groan the man descended into the depths and followed the markers leading him to the door where another officer was already waiting.

“Sergeant MacReady? Jorge Cervantes, MRC division.”

>> “Glad I am that ye all made it so quick. We still ain't sure if it's called fer, but signs point to Mutant. At 9:15 this mornin, a sewer maintenance worker employed by the city made a call; said he found this 'ere door sealed shut. Said that weren't nothin special, since it was old wood, and water damage sometimes gets em swelled to where they won't open, but when he started to remove it...”

Jorge winced as he nodded. Already he could taste the smell in the back of his throat. That definitely smelled like the smell of death…or was that whatever was floating in the water nearby? Whatever the case, he knew that something did smell off about this place and if a mutant was involved then it was a good thing he was here. He only hoped that the MRC at least decided to send more than just him…

>> “He got ahold of that smell. Granted, the man worked in sewers, but that... that ain't normal, an neither is that gunk. There's somethin dead in there. We've got some breathmasks ah course, cleans the air, an we got the chemical that can get that stuff out of the door too. As far as I'm concerned, this is yer department now, folks.”

“Thanks,” he said as he took one of the offered breathing masks and immediately slipped it on over his nose and mouth. That definitely killed the smell some, but he knew it was lingering on just the opposite in of the hot, flimsy material. “Alright, yeah, it is a good thing you called us in.”

As he said this snagged a flashlight from a passing officer that ran to hurl his lunch into the nearest drain, and took a close look at the door. It was odd, it was so out of place. Who would seal up a wood door in the sewers? It could have been something simply remaining from the olden days when most of these sewers were first built…then again where was some ominous from it. With a shake of his head he nodded to the crew that was standing around.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s see what Mother Hubbard packed in her Cupboard. “ He then nodded for them started getting that door open…

If only his power was the kind of mass area of effect thing that could blanket a whole sewer in cinnamon-fresh scent. The place wouldn't have stunk as bad as it did.

A sewer. A door. A maintenance worker. A terrible odor that just couldn't be made by humans. At least not living ones. All the signs pointed to a hell of a pain in his neck.

Worst of all, he'd had a date planned for later that night, before this joke of an assignment. He'd had to cancel. Some stink didn't get cured by a single shower and prayers.

He'd arrived at the scene early, but finding parking just hadn't been easy. By the time he'd arrived down below, Cervantes was already present.

Hopefully, Cervantes wouldn't be forced to pull a sewage water bubble out of thin air. He recalled the man's story. Ashton just didn't want to see it, no matter how touted the guy's power was.

He closed the gap between them, then announced his presence. "Cervantes. Guess we're both stuck on this case. Hey, can I get one of those masks now?"

He got one. He slipped it on thankfully, then got down to business. "What did I miss?"

The officers around the door, numbering five in total and assisted by the sewer worker and his tools, swarm over the door. Each one had a mask, but by the grimaces on their faces, it wasn't helping. With each scrape of a crowbar and poke with a chisel, yet more of the foul air in that room escaped, squelching into the tunnel as though it was escaping a prison. One of the officers had appropriated some cleaning chemicals from a convenience store topside. Windex, Bleach, Detergent, even a bottle of coca cola; one of the officers already had a bottle, and remembered that it could clean off blood.

Shortly, most of it seemed to be clear. The officers back away, further up the utility tunnel, sidearms ready at their sides. With a powerful jerk, the door could be opened, and the tiny wisps of air would become a torrent of gut-wrenching stink... Not to mention whatever else was within.

A keen ear can hear something else inside the room... a humanoid grunt, perhaps. It seemed that the room might be occupied...

>> "Cervantes.”[/i]

The mention of his name made the detective turn a little in surprise. It was only then that he caught sight of Ashton Drake and a look on his face that could only be translated as “does anyone have a pair of scissors to snip off my nose, please?” Well, Jorge was definitely glad that he was not the only one who had to do a trek into the sewers for this case. Apparently the MRC felt that more than just himself was going to be needed for this. There was no hurt pride in that. At least he would not return to the precinct smelling of gunk alone.

>> “Guess we're both stuck on this case. Hey, can I get one of those masks now? What did I miss?" [/i]

“Not much…” Jorge muttered through his mask. He watched as Ashton gratefully slipped one over his nose as mouth as well. “Dark, dank sewers, the smell of death and disgust in the air, something that looks questionably like a old burrito floating in that water directly next to your shoe…” his eyes twinkled with a bit of humor, but all that quickly disappeared as work began on opening the door. “Just another glamorous day for the MRC.”

The work was slow at first as the sewer worker began to have at the door with a combination of hammer, chisel and chemicals. The other officers who were around all stood back, none wanting to get too close to the source of that odor. Jorge could not blame them in the least. It was truly a disgusting smell and even the masks did little to fight it off. That was definitely the smell of death and as much as he wanted to believe that they were going to find little more than a dead dog or a rat graveyard, the stronger the smell got as the opened, the more he doubted that would be the case.

“Alright,” the sewer worker said. “Just one more tug outta get this thing open. Phew!” he retched as he tried to fan the smell away from his nose.

“I got that,” Jorge said as he stepped forward and allowed the sewer worker to gratefully move back.

The last thing he needed was for the man to get sick and keel over in all this mess. The detective tried to breathe through his mouth as he moved forward, and holstered his gun. The other officers with him began to pull up and aim their own side arms. Jorge glanced at them, momentarily blinded by their flashlights before he saw that they were all at the ready. With a deep breath, the man turned back, took firm grip of the door and…pulled back.

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeak!

Within seconds Jorge had success in opening the door…and immediately after he felt a sickness swell up in his stomach. It was like opening the mouth of the devil himself. The fine, sicky mist that wafted out carried with it a stench that was so foul that it could peel paper from wall and curdle milk within seconds. The water bender had to turn his face away from the opening, closed his eyes tight and prayed he could keep his lunch down. Whatever was in there, it sure as hell was no dead rat. Whatever it was…well…it pretty much had to be a sin against nature and mankind…

“Holy hell...” the detective groaned as he turned to look at the officers who were shining their flashlights into the room, as well as Drake. “What do you see?” he asked as he began to recover.

Before a knew it, though, a deep, human-like groan floated out of the room. That was would certainly be a wake-up call.

The eyes of the policemen and the detectives fell upon the horrific sight; heaving, living mounds of fungi. The floor and the walls were covered with the stuff, all of it seeming to breathe heavily like a dying man. The flashlights quested into the room shakily, as if the light itself was unwilling to peer too deeply.

"My God..." Sergeant MacReady muttered, remaining where he was. All present could see that the smell wasn't coming only from the fungi... Human hands and limbs were visible underneath the mounds, the flesh in varying states of rot and decay. Clusters of lumpy, globular molds were fruiting happily on the ends of fingers, and thick carpets were spilling out of the open mouths of corpses. A creative mind might think of a freezeframe of a cherub statue, water spilling from its mouth... Though in this case, it was a mixture of gore and the strange, vibrant growths.

It would be impossible to assess the number of bodies in the room from outside, and it was doubtful any where alive. The air didn't seem to be toxic, but it would certainly choke anything that was alive. The floor inside the doorway was particularly colorful, being an artistic mixture between brown and green. Its surface was glistening and slick. Careful steps would be needed there.

There was no sound following the human-like groan. Perhaps it was a trick of the ear.

As everyone worked at opening the sewer door and the stench grew progressively worse, Ashton had to wonder... 'What died?'

Apparently, people had died. Plural. More than one. Surrounded by plant matter. This job never stopped throwing wildcards. Someone needed to teach the criminals some better party tricks. It was getting old.

It was times like this he wished he'd become a card dealer, rather than the guy getting dealt the bad hand.