WHAT IF...: Marvel OC One Shots

| Mimesis |

< TW: contains graphic violence, gore and murder >

•••

Mimesis
       /mi•me•sis/
1. Formal • Technical;
              representation or imitation of the real
       world in art or literature.

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"The Overture"

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{ Museum of Modern Art | Manhattan, New York City, New York }

       The small pools of rain water that had gathered on the edges of the damp and dark Manhattan streets made loud, sharp splatters when police cars drove through them. The hiss it made, thin streams of liquid spraying the unfortunate passersby that walked along the street, was accompanied by the blaring police sirens that echoed through the night. They served as an introductory timbre for the symphony of the city, and at that hour, on that night, the city sang a song of bidden, sneaking terror so eerily reminiscent of one that had been heard before.

       The police cars streamed through midtown Manhattan, one after the other like links on a chain. Their horns not syncopated, filling the air with shrilling alarm— one that often colored the air sharp and biting, contrasting the thicker feel of post-rain humidity. The air stuck to things, hung in the air, clung to the streets, made an impact, as all things did.  The only rarity was that the police units did not travel en mass without need, even less so did they swarm around MOMA like they were doing. In the leftover sprinklings of a storm recently passed, reporters and a few wide-eyed civilians stood on adjacent blocks in the hopes to see what exactly had caused the disruption. The general chatter of the bustling city seemed to thicken into a hanging silence around the museum, like even sound, life, held its breath.

       A burly police officer exited his car with a heavy sigh. Police Detective Miguel Diaz's boot sank into a particularly deep rain puddle as he did so, earning a low grumble about the damned weather as he moved onto the damp payment where his lankier, taller partner joined him with an awaiting edge of an amused grin.

       "What do you think it is this time? Tree huggers part two?" Detective Ryan Clark, the lankier officer, snorted silently as he turned to walk in front of Detective Diaz. He slipped his hands into his pockets to avoid the drizzle, turning his head briefly to murmur a 'evening, Sam' to the officer that stood in wait by the back entrance of the museum.

       Detective Diaz clicked his tongue in something like dismissal at Detective Clark's question, "either that or another dumb ass kid setting off the alarms," he gave a nod to Sam as well as they approached the entrance, "last week, Benny got bumped for not arriving in time during an alleged emergency. Turns out it was just some punk who pulled the alarm and ran off." He shook his head slowly as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his black raincoat. "Waste of damn time if you ask me— how are you, Sammy. Say hi to those kids you got, alright?"

       Officer Sam Montgomery gave a tip of his head to the detectives as he shifted his stance, moving to open the door for the two. "I will— and for what it's worth boys, this one doesn't look like another kid playing ding-dong ditch," he clicked his tongue lightly, thankful his poker face was paying off and didn't give off how cold he'd become.

       Detective Diaz paused in the threshold of the museum entrance, his head cocked to the side slightly, eyes narrowed at Sam in question. "You're fucking with me."