Just Outside Central Park

The Mandrill has had a rough couple of years. He has been shot, imprisoned, hunted, and assaulted by basically every superhero you can name. Currently, he is nursing his wounds in a beautiful New York apartment owned by Meredith, a beautiful young woman who's name he has forgotten. He grunted awake at 2:14 PM, with a headache from his most recent escapade, a jailbreak where a guard was rather excessive with his stun gun. His recollections were interrupted by the owner of the couch he was slumped on, "Um, sir?" Meredith squeaked out, "would you like some coffee? Or- or tea or water or-"
"Hrm. Oh, uh, no, I think I'll be fine." Jerome grunted, his furry brow scrunched in thought as he devoted all of his brainpower to a futile attempt to remember the woman who was standing before him. He groaned and rose, shedding the blankets he had covered himself with during the night, all taken from Meredith's bed. "How old are you..." Mandrill trailed off, hoping she'd finish his sentence. "Oh, I'm turning 38 this year!' Meredith chirped helpfully, oblivious to the Mandrill's complete lack of recognition. Mandrill shuffled away, "38 and unmarried, huh? Well let me give you some advice-"
"Oh no thank you sir!"
Mandrill stopped as she spoke, fridge door hanging open as he was searching for some type of juice. He couldn't recall the last time a woman interrupted him. They usually hang on his every word, **** to please him in any way. If he had spent the night and part of the day sleeping in this woman's apartment, his pheromones should have had a potent enough effect to render her completely submissive. He stared into her expectant face, scanning for any sign of resistance. "...the fuck?" He mumbled to himself, to which Meredith simply tilted her head in confusion. "Nah, sorry, you're uh," he gestured with his hand, trying again to remember her name, "you're fine. Don't worry." He took a long chug from a container of orange juice, before belching loudly and putting it back in the fridge. He moved to the door, checking for his personal effects. As expected, there were none. "Oh sir are you leaving?" Meredith called from the hall. "Yeah," he grumbled, "thank you for all your help... ma'am." He cringed at himself as he finished the sentence, stumbling into the hallway.

The Mandrill shuddered as he walked into the cold of New York City. He had spent most of his life in deserts and more arid environments. Maybe he needed to sweat more for his pheromones to have a more potent effect, maybe the chill was negating his powers to some extent. His thought process was interrupted by a citizen hurling an empty can at the back of his head, shouting something about him being a "mutie" which wasn't particularly the kind of attention he wanted. Still, hard to avoid stares, hateful or otherwise, when you have the visage of an ape. He made his way across the street as quickly as possible, in an attempt to escape to Central Park, the only place in this godforsaken city with any level of nature. Upon arrival, he hid himself as best he could and began plotting by drawing in the dirt with a stick. Any schemes he managed to come up with were rudimentary at best, but he didn't manage to get far past the phase where he gets his newly acquired slaves to give him a blowjob before he was interrupted by a voice,
"I know you."