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"Pretty damn cool," Kayla agreed with a laugh, 

She listened to his story quietly, occasionally sipping her beer. She'd first assumed that learning of a mutation later would be the worse end of the deal. As an adult with a job and responsibilities, a sudden mutation could turn somebody's entire life upside down. As a child at least Kayla had had time to explore her abilities in her own time with no risk of losing a job or having to rewrite her entire life. She hadn't had to wipe a slate clean in order to come to terms with her ability. But the truth was, she didn't know if it was worse to be born a mutant or to become one later in life.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," she said finally, swirling her beer slowly. "I found out when I was a kid, with my brother. I don't know where I'd be now if I'd been.. y'know, normal while I was growing up." She wondered if her brother would still be alive in that scenario. "Aren't you worried that the biologist'll tell people that you're a mutant?" Kayla asked, suddenly concerned. It seemed like Ash was putting a lot of faith in the loyalty of one person. If she decided to sell her story Ash's entire career would be ruined.

Ash gave an amused laugh at Kayla’s reaction and, though one might think his grin could not possibly get any wider, turned up the corners of his mouth to further his childlike cheshire smile. “It’s cool, right?” He mused, and proceeded to flaunt his abilities like a kid on the playground with a brand-new toy.

"I um…I didn’t figure out I could do this - any of this - until about a little over a year ago." Ash paused, his smile fading ever so slightly. "It wasn’t nearly this cool back then. It all started on the field - which sucked, I’ll tell you - and I started to get these hallucinations. I mean, that’s what I thought they were at first. The world would start spinning and I started to see different colors, I began to have issues judging distances and there were times when I’d get these headaches that just made me want to lay down and die…I thought I was losing my freakin’ mind." He chuckled, but it was sadder now. "I hit a batter with a pitch a few times, and then once when I really hurt the guy. I didn’t know him too well, but even players on rival teams are like my family. We all play the same sport, and we’ve got the same passion, so yeah, I felt awful. After that I got benched. My contract came up at the end of the season and I was scared I wasn’t gonna get resigned if I didn’t get back on my feet. I go from rookie of the year one year to benched and hardly able to see straight - let alone pitch - two years later? Something was wrong, and everybody saw it." Ash’s eyes faded back to normal, and his grin, while ever-present, was forlorn and distant. "I guess I thought that was it. I didn’t want to give up, but doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with me and I was close to just accepting my fate. It wasn’t until I saw my best friend Emmett’s camera that I thought about it…I guess it just clicked somehow that it was really all about my eyes. He likes to laugh about how I saw thirteen optometrists…I really only saw about four, but it doesn’t matter. None of them knew what to do with me."

Ash took a breath and scanned Kayla’s features. He hoped he wasn’t boring her. “It ended up that there was this biologist who saw my troubles on TV. I had done an interview briefly explaining my condition…and she wanted to see me privately. Long story short, she dealt with genetics, and her specialty was mutation.” He shrugged. “And that’s how I found out I’m a mutant.”

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What did come after that? Kayla's jaw was clenched angrily. She didn't usually get annoyed by things like this, but there was something about the teasing smirk of the man on the bench that rubbed her the wrong way. He was clearly messing with her, and she didn't like the thought of being branded a thief. Even though, in reality, that was what she was. She kept telling herself it was for the right reasons, that it kept a roof over her head and the stuff was always abandoned, but that didn't help the guilt. "Let me guess, stabbing annoying pricks in bus shelters?" The emptiness of the threat was obvious, but she stood her ground nevertheless.

At the mention of bank robberies Kayla scoffed, laughing despite her attempt to look annoyed with the entire conversation. The image of her in a black ski mask pointing a gun at a terrified bank clerk who was fighting tears long enough to fill a bag with wads of cash was hilarious. Sure, she could protect herself, and sure, she'd had to do some pretty shitty things in order to get her own place, but Kayla robbing a bank was akin to a particularly feisty kitten attacking a Great Dane.

As the ugh continued talking Kayla shook her head, eyeing him with noticeably less irritation than a few moments ago. "I don't have a family to ruin," she shrugged, before wondering how the guy knew so much about the consequences of particular criminal activities. "Had a lot of experience with that kinda stuff? If you act like a dick to the cops too, I don't really blame them for shoving your head against the car."

A raised eyebrow showed him what she thought of his next question. "That's definitely not pot-kettle-black territory. I steal from places people have abandoned. Nobody knows or cares that I've taken some old stuff. But sneaking into somebody's head? Seems like a shitty thing to do." Despite the annoyance lacing her voice she wasn't nearly as vexed as she had been. His smirk seemed more playful than mocking now. With a resigned sigh she slung the bag off her shoulder and sat on the bench next to him before unzipping to reveal the contents. "Phones, wires.. a toaster," she pointed to each of them as she listed the contents, suddenly feeling embarrassed that she had to areal and sell items like a busted toaster just to get by.

Shit Listed

“Doesn’t really matter know, sure,” he shrugged, eyes moving between the backpack and the woman carrying it. “But looting is a gateway crime. First it’s abandoned buildings, casually slipping in and taking things the previous owner obviously didn’t need or care about, right?” Ty’s eyes narrowed but his grin stretched wider across his face as he felt her trying to figure out just how he knew what she’d gotten up to. X-Ray vision would have been pretty useful, he thought. Ty figured there were definitely fewer headaches involved. “Then, next thing you know you’re picking pockets and swiping candy from children. Wanna guess what comes after that?”

He paused for a fraction of a second. Dramatic effect. If he was going to tease her, Ty was going to have as much fun with it as possible. “Bank robbery, probably,” he said. His hand waved dismissively in the air around him as he lounged back on the bench, slipping low into his seat. No one would accuse him of having anything but terrible posture. “Take it from a guy who knows, okay? Looting destroys families. Maybe not today. But you always end up in the back of a cop car. And cops are assholes. In the movies they always kinda shove your head down, right? In real life you’re lucky if they don’t slam it into something on purpose.”

Ty’s smirk was bear mirthful by now, enjoying the game he’d set up for himself. “Oh, and, maybe I’m wrong, but,” he continued seamlessly, “pretty sure the thief lecturing the nosy telepath on right and wrong falls into pot-kettle-black territory, right?” Not that he had any real control over the voices that invaded his thoughts, but she didn’t need to know that. “So what’s in the bag?”

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Kayla noticed the subtle nod to her backpack, her grip tightening just enough on the strap that he'd have a hard time yanking it out of her hand. Did she really look that suspicious? Why else would he be talking about getting caught? She'd heard of mutants having x-ray vision, could he see inside the bag? She cursed to herself, already regretting stopping to talk. Should've just gone home. 

"I don't think it is," she replied, getting ready to haul ass at a moment's notice if the guy tried to make a grab for her bag. "First sign is talking to yourself, second sign is answering yourself." She'd heard that phrase somewhere a long time ago, but didn't believe a word. Didn't everybody talk to themselves? "And I'm not making bad decisions." Lie. Looting wasn't exactly a good decision.. or maybe it was, when the other choice was actually stealing from people, rather than abandoned buildings. 

She probably should have felt threatened by this random guy who seemed to know what she'd been up to, but his grin suggested he wasn't particularly dangerous. Just a jackass. A jackass she could definitely take if the situation called for it. "Yeah, in like, Dubai or somewhere. Hardly matters to us, we're not in Dubai." 

Kayla shouldn't have felt offended that he'd called her an amateur, she didn't want to be a professional looter, after all, but she couldn't help frowning slightly. "If I was an amateur I'd be in the back of a cop car by now." Why was he asking what she had if he had x-ray vision? The penny dropped as he mentioned her nervousness, and she stared at him, not amused in the slightest. "You're telepathic?" Fantastic. "Isn't it a bit of a dick move to listen to people's thoughts without actually asking them?"

Shit Listed

Ty had seen her coming, struggling with the heavy load slung on her back. Not physically, of course. She seemed more than capable of handling the weight of the random assortment of items she’d scavenged. But he’d heard the moral debate in her head, well before he’d heard the anxious footsteps on the pavement not far behind him.

In that sense, it was probably mre accurate to say that Ty had heard her coming.

Her presence was anything but a surprise to him as he watched the blurry figure come slowly into focus. He just hadn’t been prepared for her to slow to a pause directly in front of him to make idle chit-chat. “Stopping to make conversation?” he replied, mimicking her tone as he nodded his head towards the goods on her back. “That’s the easiest way to get caught. Bad decision making is the second sign of madness…” he paused, teeth baring down on his bottom lip and brow furrowing as he considered what he just said, “…you know, probably.”

The telepath leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. This beat the hell out of standing down scary cashiers who wanted to snap him in half any day. Few things were more amusing than people who played in the crafts he’d learned from his parents. Stealing was the only thing they’d ever taught him but damn if they weren’t good at it until they weren’t anymore.

“Looting,” he said, following the word with a disapproving tsk, “the most heinous of all crimes. Punishable by death in some places, I hear. Not here, but around. Other places.” Ty shook his head dramatically, though any factor of intimidation he might have had were eliminated by the sly, almost childish grin he sported.

Well, that. And the one-hundred-pounds-soaking-wet look wasn’t doing him an favors.

“Amature,” he sighed, letting his head fall forward, eyes still aimed towards the woman in front of him. “Did you at least get anything good? Sounded awful nervous to be coming away with a junk haul.”

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The last thing Kayla had expected to happen when she'd woken up that morning was to be cornered by a pretty big dog looking like it was about to devour her. Okay, that was a slight exaggeration. It looked more likely to hump her leg or play tug-of-war with her backpack. But it had taken her by surprise.

Being a young homeless girl in America had led to more than a couple of people thinking they could attack her, or steal her backpack with no retaliation, and Kayla had learned to always be alert for anybody making a grab for her. So when she heard something running behind her she'd instinctively tensed her body, walking just a little faster. She'd expected a mutant, not a dog. When was the last time she'd even seen a dog? She'd always wanted one as a kid, but her mom had instantly refused.

"We can't afford a dog," she'd repeat, exasperated. Already working two jobs and still barely able to afford to put food on the table, it was no wonder she said no. But at the time Kayla and her brother had been devastated. They'd spend their weekends down the local park, playing fetch with strays... until Sam accidentally lit a branch on fire and they were told never to go back. 

As the weight landed on the small of Kayla's back she spun around, her hand immediately tensing, a dim blue light illuminating her veins as she prepared to give her attacker a reason not to fuck with her. The dog was a surprise. "What the f-" Its owner wasn't far behind, pulling the animal away with a handful of apologies. Kayla breathlessly wiped the mud from her shirt, not that it made much difference considering how dirty it was, and watched as the owner managed to clip the leash back on. 

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," she nodded, allowing her hand to relax. "But your dog almost wasn't.. It could've been killed." It was no exaggeration either. Kayla's powers were weak, but they could still hurt a human pretty bad, god knows what damage they could do to a dog.

No Harm Done ||

It would, under almost any other circumstances, have been easy to keep up with and catch Huckster when she’d slipped her collar and bolted. It was the downside to her egg-shaped head: a little too loose and it was simple to slide out of. Normally, her black and white pattern would have been a thing to follow, but the involuntary trigger for Iggy’s mutation, as he’d learned years ago, was adrenaline—like the burst his brain released when he’d gone sprinting down the sidewalk after his escapee of a dog.

It became a matter of following one small bundle of muscle and blood vessels through scattered, larger bundles of muscles and blood vessels, not colliding with them even as they moved in the opposite direction and blocked his path. Not as disorienting as it could be, thanks to his experience with his own eyes, but blood vessels and muscle fibers and bones provided a complex sort of optical illusion that made everything blend and blur. “Damned, stupid—” At least he hadn’t brought Bandit, was the one consolation. Trying to catch two dogs sounded infinitely less fun, as hard to imagine as that sounded.

Iggy collided with a woman who shoved him off and, in the hastily-delivered wave of apologies that followed as he practically danced around her, he completely lost sight of the little beast. He skidded to a halt, leash in hand, face flushed, eyes trying to discern the difference between stripped-down person and— There.

She’d gotten her front paws braced against some poor bystander’s stomach, trapping them there, and while a part of him half-wanted to stop and watch (because okay, the pull of muscles as she wagged her tail was actually oddly interesting, even if seeing her without her fur was still disconcerting) bully breeds generally didn’t have the best reception when it came to people who didn’t know them well. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

Long strides had him up behind Huckster in a matter of seconds, and hauling her back with both arms wrapped around her ribs was no great feat of strength. At least not physical strength. Emotional, maybe, considering the heartbroken whine she let out as she was pulled off. “Believe it or not,” Iggy continued breathlessly, struggling briefly to reclip the collar around the dog’s neck, “she’s usually the good one. No idea what’s gotten into her, I’m really sorry.” Rewards for bad behavior was a terrible training tip, but he couldn’t begrudge her a scratch behind the ear before releasing her and glancing sheepishly up at her victim. “You, uhm. You alright?”

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Kayla listened with rapt curiosity, wondering where on earth Ash's little anecdote could be leading. Did snakes have telescopic vision? She didn't know. Maybe he could talk to snakes too. That'd be pretty cool. She smiled to herself, imagining some kind of Harry Potter snake conversation between Ash and his pet. Noticing a slight change in the colour of the pitcher's eyes she squinted, leaving her spot by the television and moving closer.

"Holy shit," she whispered in awe, a grin forming on her face. It looked like he had expensive contact lenses in, the type that people wore at Halloween parties. She'd lived in mutant town for almost eight months, but was still amazed by the mutations that people had. Growing up Kayla had been surrounded by, for lack of a better term, normal people. Now she couldn't walk down the street without seeing somebody with horns growing out of their head or purple skin. And now pink eyes. She was fascinated. "That's awesome," the brunette grinned, moving a little closer to get a good look at the changing colour of his pupils.

Perching on the edge of the coffee table she sipped her beer, not taking her eyes off Ash's pupils. "When did you first learn how to do it?" Kayla herself had first discovered her powers when she was five, too young to understand what they meant for her and her brother, Sam. Hopefully Ash had learned when he was older and could actually come to terms with his abilities.

Ash smiled slyly and tossed back a handful of popcorn. Swallowing, the pitcher leaned forward on the couch and rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes catching the light in a way that made him appear for a moment boyish and intensely ornery. “When I was a kid, I used to have a pet snake. He was an albino corn snake, and I thought he was coolest thing in the world - we called him Lightning.”

Pausing for effect, Ash took another handful of popcorn. “I learned a lot about snakes. Most of it I’ve forgotten now, but I do remember that snakes don’t see so well. They see better at night than they do during the day, and see color in hues rather than the high-definition displays that humans do.” Not breaking his level gaze in Kayla’s direction, Ash’s eyes started to look as if they were going bloodshot, a thin layer of a Pepto-Bismol pink flooding the whites around his pupils. “Lightning had these great eyes…they were pink, with a spot of red in the center. Sometimes, if you looked closely, you could actually see them telescoping. See, snakes do this thing where they can move the lenses in their eyes in and out with contraction and relaxation of their muscles.” He explained, a pool of red-orange liquid pooling up and settling in the center of each of his eyes, obscuring his pupils. He blinked, and adjusted to his new vision. “Apparently, I kind of absorbed all of that as a kid. Now, I can too.”

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#3

Leaving home in the middle of the night with one bag of belongings meant Kayla only had very limited funds to get to mutant town. After running out of money in Pennsylvania she spent months taking waitressing jobs in order to raise enough cash to make it the rest of the way. When waitressing wasn't available she pick pocketed and stole whatever she could find that could be sold at a pawn shop. Despite hating people who stole directly from others she knew it was necessary to survive. Now in mutant town she does whatever she has to in order to keep herself out of that situation again, including stealing but only strictly from places that have been abandoned.

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Kayla kept most of her focus on the television, wiggling the knife back and forth as she attempted to push the port into an acceptable position, but her gaze kept switching back to Ash. His situation was obviously distressing him, and Kayla didn't know how to help. Usually she helped in the only way she knew how; fixing people's broken appliances. It made people's lives a little easier to know they wouldn't have to fork out a fortune for a new oven or tv. It was what she was good at, after all. But a working television wouldn't exactly make Ash's problems go away. He'd still face the fear of being discovered everywhere he went.

"Well, look on the bright side," Kayla said with a small smile, "It's a pretty easy mutation to hide." It was a small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless. They shouldn't have to hide who they are, and they certainly shouldn't feel forced to move to a shitty town with a crime rate as high as the damn Chrysler building just because people didn't like living in the same apartment block as a mutant. Kayla had faced that all of her life, the hatred and abuse. It was little wonder that Ash didn't want people to know the truth.

She took another long swig of beer, pushing the angry thoughts out of her head. She spent enough time hating people for how they treated mutants, she didn't need to spend any more time on it. "Something cool? Do you even have to ask?" she grinned, placing the knife on the side for the time being and waiting to see what he could mean.

Ash sighed and downed the last of his beer. “Worried?” He repeated, ambling back towards the couch with his empty glass. “Every damned day.” Giving a sad smile, Ash shook his head. “I almost lost everything when my mutation showed up, and now, I panic before every press conference.”

Resting his glass on the coffee table, Ash kicked off his cleats and propped his feet, dirty socks and all, on the arm of the sofa. “I don’t know…I guess I’ve got to just keep my trap shut and keep doctor visits to a minimum.” He chuckled dryly, visibly distraught with the whole situation. He didn’t even address Kayla’s woodworking comment.

It was so rare for Ash to be disturbed by anything, but after grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl going untouched next to his empty beer, he seemed to lighten up a little. “Hey, you want to see something cool?”

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Kayla's mother used to say she had one of the shortest fuses in the world, and that was still true to this day. As she stared into her coffee she could feel her anger boiling beneath the surface. It wasn't really their fault that a few flyers had gotten lost, but she still hated spending time on something fruitless. She could've been looking for more work, or more things to sell, or something useful, rather than this. God, she didn't even like coffee.

It was probably for the best. Waitressing usually brought with it a huge range of disrespectful customers, and Kayla definitely wasn't somebody to stick with the 'customer is always right' mantra. If somebody barked an order at her or grabbed her ass she'd send a few bolts straight through them in response. It had happened before, after she'd left Chicago and before she'd made it to New York. She'd hitchhiked and spent her savings on travelling to mutant town, but by the time she reached Pennsylvania she was well and truly broke. After that she'd had to resort to stealing the odd iPod from public buses, or taking waitressing jobs whenever they popped up.

It was only through hard work and determination that she'd managed to make it to New York. No, waitressing wasn't her favourite job in the world. So this was for the best. She'd find another way to make money, and to pay her rent next month... somehow. A sniffling from the back of the cafe brought Kayla back to reality, and she glanced towards the blonde curiously. Are they crying? It certainly seemed like they were. The atmosphere of mutant town alone was enough to drive people to tears, but it was still a shock to see somebody upset in the open like that.

Grabbing her coffee Kayla headed towards the blonde's table. "This seat taken?" she asked, gesturing to the seat opposite. "Figured you could use some company or something. If you want?" Trying to make somebody feel better was definitely a better use of Kayla's time than moping over her cup of coffee all day.

Electromagnetism | Kayla & Cecil

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ELECTROKINESIS - 

Electrokinesis is the psychic power to manipulate energies, electrical currents, and generate electricity with the mind. Users are able to absorb, conduct, generate and manipulate a form of energy resulting from the existence of charged particles which give the user control over electric fields, electric charges, electric currents, electronics, and electromagnetism.

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#2

Kayla tends to act distant when talking to most people in mutant town. Familiarity is not something she's comfortable with, particularly after the death of her brother. She can start arguments for no reason and push people away but, despite all of that, she's actually a big softie at heart. She knows how tough life can be as a mutant, and will do whatever she can to help those in the town. Other than taking care of her basic need like food and shelter, she'd give up everything she had to make sure other people have it easy.

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Kayla hummed in response to Ash's admission, but internally her thoughts were on overdrive. How the hell could somebody, especially somebody famous, hide a mutation from the world? Granted, ocular manipulation would be easier to hide than, say, lizard skin or extra feet, but it still seemed amazing. "Aren't you worried that they'll find out?" she asked, a little cautiously. Once again she sensed that she was asking questions that were too personal, but she was curious beyond belief, and could only imagine the kind of media storm that would be created if a Yankees player was revealed to be a mutant.

"It sounds like a cool mutation. I mean, you're right, it's definitely cheating if you use it during games and stuff but.. well, to each their own, I guess." After all, how many other famous people could be hiding mutations? She was positive that Ash wasn't the only one. "Thanks," she grinned, taking the knife and heading back over to the tv. Not bothering to turn it off at the main (a perk of her mutation) she stuck the knife in the gap around the port, using it as a lever to push the port back into place. "Woodworking sounds good," she said as she worked. "I met someone once who did woodworking, they'd built their own boat. Pretty awesome."

   Ash shook his head almost absentmindedly, his hands busy scouring a junk-drawer wasteland for a thinner blade. “No, see, that’s just it…nobody knows…” He explained, chewing his lip. His eyes has scanned the drawer before his hands even touched it, but maybe it was worth a double-check. He didn’t find anything. 

  Giving a frustrated sigh, Ash looked up. “You see, I see…I mean, that’s my mutation: Ocular Manipulation. My eyes are like cameras: I zoom, I see in the dark, I’ve got wide lenses, color filters…the whole nine yards.” He offered a cockeyed grin. “And all that’s kind of considered cheating…but I worked hard to get where I am. The game of baseball is all I have, and I’ll be damned if I’m to lose everything just because of this…mutation.” Opening another drawer, his eyes landed on the exacto blade. He handed it to Kayla. “But as far as measurements go…I used to do some woodworking.”

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The sun was barely visible over the horizon when Kayla set out for the day. Her sleep schedule had always been erratic, and it was no exception even now she lived in mutant town. Most mornings found Kayla wandering the streets, enjoying the peace and quiet that accompanied such an early start. It wasn't barren, of course. There were always one or two criminals lurking the streets, or those few mutants who were well and truly nocturnal, but they mostly kept to themselves. Kayla liked the hustle and bustle that developed later on in the day, but there was something quite nice about early mornings; it seemed like an entirely different town.

Not to mention Kayla fucking hated her apartment. She liked it in a I-like-having-a-roof-over-my-head kind of way, but the place was a dump. She didn't like staying home if she could help it, so here she was at 5AM, with her backpack slung over one shoulder (something she rarely left home without), wandering down a random avenue in search of something to do. The mutant had taken to using an old building, apparently it had once been a bookstore, to work on her control. It was there that she was headed when she spotted the man across the street.

Now, in mutant town there was always some whack job doing something strange, but they usually had some kind of goal. By the look of it, the man was standing with his eyes closed for no apparent reason. Maybe he had the same idea as Kayla and was using the time to practise. Maybe he had some kind of mutation where he could summon things by concentrating really hard. She waited for something to appear, a bike, or a pile of cash, or a freaking marching band, but there was nothing. The brunette was so lost in her musings that she didn't realise the man had opened his eyes and was talking to her. "What?" she asked, confused. "Oh, uh.. no. You just- it looked kinda weird, y'know, just standing there like that. Are you okay?"

Graveyard Shifts | Open

Endless nights of cramped spaces and hourly checks: Jason’s life had become a routine. He’d gone from SEAL to security guard in a move that still made his head spin whenever he thought about it. One day he’d had purpose, been a part of something; the next, he’d found himself the night guard at a local bank miles away from his hometown of Pensacola. He missed the atmosphere of home, the sense of self, but most of all, he missed the freedom. Now, he spent his nights ensconced behind a desk with senses on alert in the case that something happened. Nothing ever did, and last night had been no different.  Boring. Pointless. A waste. 

The former SEAL rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relax tensed muscles. It was early, the sun still struggling to rise fully over the horizon as he made his way from the bank to his shabby excuse for an apartment. He’d moved to Mutant Town a few months back, but had yet had the opportunity to purchase a car or seen a need to for that matter. While being locked away in a car for any period of time sounded like torture to him, walking afforded him the opportunity to take in his surroundings without hindering his senses. He paused mid-step, eyes closed, and listened. Perhaps, if he concentrated hard enough, he’d be able to hear the ocean or at least something outside of the noise of this city. 

The air was thick, even for such an early hour and Jason found himself once again missing the salty ocean air of his childhood. City life did not suit him, he thought. With eyes still tightly shut, he shifted his weight from foot to foot. I should be getting back, he thought and reluctantly opened his eyes just in time to catch the glance of the person standing across the street from him. “See something you like,” he called when the stranger continued to hold his glare. 

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Electromagnetism | Kayla & Cecil

Kayla's name and number was posted on every available surface in mutant town. In subways and bus shelters, bars and alleyways. It was almost sad, but without proper employment the inky way she could advertise her services, such as they were, was by throwing her number out there and hoping for the best. More than several calls turned out to be no-shows or hoaxes, or even people looking for a hooker. After the fifth time of explaining that the phrase "Can fix any malfunction" did not extend to blue balls, Kayla had started hanging up if she so much as sensed heavy breathing on the other end.

She needed a real job. Or, more precisely, she wanted a real job. It would be stable, and it would involve significant less hooker-related mistaken identities. So here she was, sat at a window table of a small, greasy cafe on the edge of town. She'd spotted a flyer earlier that day advertising for a full-time waitress and had decided to give it a shot. Who the waitress was expected to serve she had no idea, considering the only customers were herself and a blonde by the far wall, but a job was a job.

"Uh, there must've been some wires crossed," a young man claimed as he made his way back towards Kayla from the back kitchen. "That position was filled weeks ago." Kayla stared at him. "The fu- are you kidding me? If it was filled weeks ago why the hell do you guys still have flyers all over the damn place?" The man shrugged, making it clear that his pitiful salary did not cover explaining crossed wires to angry mutants. She glared, before deciding that it was pointless to start a shouting match in the middle of an almost empty diner. There was no job, which meant she'd wasted her time. "Yeah. Fine, thanks for telling me. Brilliant communication you've all got here. Really top class." The man retreated back to the kitchen, leaving Kayla to fume over her coffee in silence.