Bowery King

Kurt certainly did not believe Ororo had set him up and sold him to a place like this. But cautious by nature—or cowardly, to put it bluntly—he found the stench of the gutter deeply repulsive.

In contrast, Ororo had wandered Egypt since childhood, surviving on the skills of a thief and pickpocket. She was no stranger to such an environment. While she was not exactly at home here, she knew very well how to deal with this sort of world.

Walking along the abandoned subway line, following the dim lights powered by electricity stolen from who knew where, Ororo quickly spotted the graffiti she was looking for and turned into an open space.

This place looked as though it had once been intended as a subway station, only to be abandoned for some reason. Now it had formed into something like a settlement, with many bright, watchful eyes lurking in the dark corners beyond the lights.

"I'm here to see Bowery King," Ororo said loudly.

A raspy old voice came from the darkness nearby. "There's no one here by that name."

"Then what about the King of New York's beggars? Does that person not exist either?" Ororo looked toward the source of the voice. "Come on, this isn't my first time dealing with him. There's no need to guard against me like this."

"Storm of the X-Men, you're so dazzling, so radiant. You don't look like someone who needs to deal with sewer rats like us."

"There are things those gentlemen in suits cannot do. Help me, and I'll help you. I understand how this works," Ororo said.

Whispers and chattering came from the darkness. Before long, an old beggar leaning on an iron crutch emerged.

It looked as though he had suffered a facial stroke. Half his face was