It was a pleasant enough day. There was a chill in the air, but she had a scarf, and a hot coffee. She had left the nursing home behind and was headed home. Nothing more than a nap and a good book planned for the afternoon. She sipped her coffee and navigated the bustle of people on the street. It was New York, there was always a bustle of people on the street.

Today there seemed to be an excessive bustle though, the closer she got to the police station. Perhaps there had been a shoot-up. Or the team had nabbed a high-profile rabble-rouser. Either way, it seemed like people were in equal measures heading to and from that street, so there couldn't have been anything dangerous going on at that particular moment. Plus, there would have been more sirens.

She turned the corner and was surprised to lay eyes on a slightly raised stage with a massive robot atop it. She had heard about the METAs on the news, but hadn't expected to see one in person so soon. A banner hung above the stage, ruffling in the slight breeze. “Meet and greet a META” it proclaimed, and as she drew closer she realised there were people going on to the stage to touch and admire the robot, and talk to the police officer standing near it.

She was fixed in place, just watching, when the robot seemed to look straight at her.

“Mutant detected. 75% certainty.”

She felt a little uncomfortable, and a few people in the crowd chuckled, but it was just showing off really, just doing its job. She shrugged her shoulders inside her light jacket and lifted the cup to her mouth to take a sip of the coffee. It was right.

“Mutation active. Mutant armed. Stand down mutant. Intercepting to arrest. Do not resist.”

Wait, what?

The robot drove itself off the platform, coming straight towards her. The human officers were reaching for their belts. She did the only sensible thing a person in her position could do, she turned and bolted. Her mutation was active, she could feel that the air puffing from her lungs was oxygen. But it wasn't an offensive power. She wasn't armed.

Fall was a good season. The chilly crisp air, the color in the leaves, pumpkin spiced everything... literally everything. None of that interested Randy though, especially the inedible pumpkin spice everything. No, today was about hitting the shooting range. It was a good stress reliever. It actually kept the guns in better condition that leaving them under the counter as well.

The range itself was just down from one of the local precincts. Not a bad idea from a safety perspective. Trying to get to the range from that direction was a bad idea though. “Meet and greet a META” the banner read. Randy had seen the news conference. Most of it seemed a load of political bull. The METAs themselves apparently where already being passed around the stations though. He didn't care either way. New things like this happeened, they drew crowds for a while and made gossip more interesting for a few weeks. Three months tops, then another celebrity would have a rehab melt down and it would all get swept under the rug. He was more concerned with getting through the throng of people blocking the sidewalk. Spotting a break in the crowd he ported behind a young woman staring at the bot.

>> “Mutant detected. 75% certainty.”

Randy turned to the META, it was apparently staring at him. He had just ported thirty feet and it wasn't sure if he was a mutant? That was almost laughable if they weren't suppose to be protecting the streets.

“Mutation active. Mutant armed. Stand down mutant. Intercepting to arrest. Do not resist.”

Active? Check. Armed? Check. Stand down, arrest, do not resist? "The hell? I have a permit d****!" Neither the META nor its officer handler seemed to hear, or care as they moved off the stage towards him. Before Randy could think of the best choice the woman in front of him turned around and ran right into him. This sent them both to the ground, soaked in the lady's pumpkin spiced Latte. Fan-f***ing-tastic.

The person standing behind her had a permit. Her brain moved fast, ticking away at what type of mutation he could possibly have that required a permit. Her body was slower to catch on to the fact that there was a person behind her and slammed into his as her brain helpfully supplied a myriad of terrifying options. Shotgun hands? Exotic animal generator? Street-vendor powers? None of these things were things she wanted to be slamming bodily into. Much less knocking to the ground and spilling hot coffee all over.

“Sorry,sorry,sorry. My bad.”

The giant robot bearing down on them through the crowd was momentarily forgotten as she frantically dabbed at the widening stain on the man’s shirt with the solitary napkin she had. The napkin was soaked in an instant and her eyes fell on the gun at his hip. Oh. Probably what the permit was for. Probably don’t want to knock someone over and spill coffee on them when they’re carrying a gun! Not least of all because that was not a tool you really want soaked with a hot, (and in this case) sweet, liquid. It didn’t look like she had got any on the gun itself though, mostly on his jacket, but then again, the metal and the leather holding it tight against him were very dark.

“Remain calm. I will detain you. Remain where you are and prepare to be subdued.”

She didn’t want to be subdued. She had seen the shock-cuffs on the news. Specially designed to zap mutants trying to use their powers while restrained. She couldn’t turn hers off, she needed to breathe. She didn’t want to get zapped!

“Turn it off! Stand it down! Something!” She struggled to her feet from the tangle of coffeestained gent and her own (slightly skinned) limbs. The police officer seemed to be trying, shouting something into his shoulder-radio and frantically pressing buttons on a remote. The robot seemed to take that as encouragement.

“Mutants hostile, armed, mutations active. Permission to use lethal force? Granted.”

It could give itself permission?! Well, that was just a poor design choice, asking for trouble. Zinn felt like there was a massive delay between the moment she decided to sprint, and when her legs started moving. In realtime it was just enough time for her to squeak “run!”

>> “Sorry,sorry,sorry. My bad.”

The woman was frantically trying to dry Randy off with a wet napkin. The mix of shock fear and confusion he felt seemed to be mirrored on her face. "I'm fine, I'm fine." Poor girl was probably terrified. A random coffee soaked stranger with a gun on one side and a police robot threatening to arrest him on the other, with her caught in the middle.

>> “Remain calm. I will detain you. Remain where you are and prepare to be subdued.”

Randy and the woman untangled themselves and stood facing the META. Subdued and detained. that sounded like a great way to run his week. He hadn't paid much attention before but now with a close up, and getting closer view, Randy noticed the META was rather well equipped. Riot shield on its back and a shotgun in its hands. He was honestly considering resisting arrest right now. That's a though he never expected to have in his life.

>> “Turn it off! Stand it down! Something!”

The officer was attempting something at least. Randy started to raise his hands. If the officer could turn the thing off everything could end out fine. No arrest, no ruined week, no annoying meetings with the staff at his bar after not paying them.

>> “Mutants hostile, armed, mutations active. Permission to use lethal force? Granted.”

"Mutants?" He glanced at the woman he was just tackled by. "Both of us?" Well that just made things complicated. Two mutants, one armed and the police couldn't get their new toys to work right. The META dropped the magazine from its shotgun and loaded a fresh one. Why? the thing hadn't fired a single shot. It just accused them of being hostile... and granted itself lethal force. "S***! Buckshot!"

>> "RUN!"

The woman made a yelping squeak as she bolted. Randy followed suite with a teleport eight feet in her direction as the first burst of pellets peppered the ground they had just been lying on.

Subdued apparently meant dead. The massive robot gave her enough time to start her scramble before the bullets started perforating the pavement. She felt like a cartoon character, that her legs were spinning and spinning and she was making no progress. She must have been, though, because she couldn’t feel any bullets hitting her legs. For now. She had lost sight of the coffee stain man, and then suddenly he blinked into appearance just ahead of her.

She had enough brain left over that was not screaming ‘run’ for another word.

“Cheater!”

He was using his mutation to pop out of the line of fire and she was impressed, and a little jealous. Stupid breathing power, getting her in trouble with the bots and providing no advantage against them. It felt like the bot was getting closer, the shots fired at an oddly rhythmic beat.

Shoot shoot shuck. Shoot shoot shuck. Shoot shoot shuck.

Was it shooting them to we will rock you? The absurdity would be amusing, except for the fact they could well and truly die here. Who would tell her parents? Her brothers? She was determined not to die today. She tried to keep up somewhat with the popper mutant, having two targets it was trying to get a bead on meant it was half as likely to hit either.

“You zig, I’ll zag!”

There was a black trash bin on wheels coming up on the side, and Zinn fully intended to knock-throw it down in the path of the bot. Perhaps with its clearly malfunctioning bot-brain it would get confused and stop shooting at them. She snagged the bin’s handle and yanked, hard, as she passed it. It tipped and trash spilled out across the street.

“Littering is a crime. Criminals need to be served justice.”

Oh brilliant. She didn’t want anything this bot was serving. At least it had momentarily stopped shooting to scold her for the trash. The ominous ‘shuck-shuck’ suggested the reprieve was short-lived, however. She was frantically searching for an alley entrance, like a feeder mouse desperately scurrying along the transparent wall of her brother’s snake tank. A seemingly never ending wall of glass blocked her path too, but on the other side were well dressed mannequins, not kids peering in to watch nature at work.

“Alley?”

She gasped out the word. Carbon dioxide to oxygen wasn’t a good one for sprints. Could he pop ahead and find one? Would they be safer there? The bot seemed either to have trouble aiming, or wanted simply to watch them dance. She had no delusions that she could outrun bullets. This bot was clearly broken.

>> “Cheater!”

It wasn't cheating, it was using his natural abilities to his advantage. Randy could hear the shots continue behind him as he took off running. With a glance behind he saw the woman just a pace or two behind. The officer had given up running after The META and screamed orders into his radio, apparently mashing random buttons on the control. The META apparently wasn't listening as it ran after them rhythmically firing the shotgun.

>> “You zig, I’ll zag!”

Randy wasn't even paying attention at that point. Thinking clearly was easy enough in a fist fight, or even a bar brawl. Not so much with a crazy robot trying to pump you full of lead. He ported again, mid stride and barely thinking. Left? Up? Thirty feet?

CRASH

He landed behind an office chair and toppled over it smacking his head on the floor hard. Good he wasn't on the street. Wherever he was Randy could still hear the shotgun through the ringing in his ears. Safe for the moment but probably not out of the woods yet. Pushing himself off the floor he looked around attempting to get his bearings. Just some office above the street. As soon as his head stopped pounding he made a b-line to the window to see where he landed compared to where he had started. It had been years since he ported completely blind like this.

To his surprise Randy was just above the META, who was currently maneuvering around a spilled trash can. It had stopped firing for a moment but he caught a glimpse of the coffee woman still clearly under threat. "Dammit Randy... leaving a girl like that. You are really pathetic." He had clearly abandoned her. Not exactly on purpose , he panicked. She probably realized he was gone by now and hated him. On top of that the META was trying to kill her again. Luckily for her the bot was a terrible shot. Luck didn't last forever though and Randy needed to help her. He did cause part of the problem after all.

Randy watched the scene carefully and shifted his posture. He needed to be in the right position immediately after he ported. Shooting the bot was likely the dumbest idea he would have all year but it was all he could come up with. On the positive side he had a .44 auto pistol, the thing had some kick to it. Shooting it in the "eyes" was probably the best. Even the best camera in the world was useless with a shattered lens but there was no way to do that with the shot gun in his way. Randy decided on the knees. Going from the back he could possibly break the joints or slow them down. Anything that gave coffee girl time to put some distance between them. He could catch up and apologize for leaving afterwards.

With one hand on the gun ready to draw Randy thumbed the safety off and ported. He was three feet behind the META when he landed. Ignoring every safe gun handling rule he knew Randy dropped to one knee, pulled his gun and aimed for the back of the META's knees and fired off six rounds. Four of them hit staggering the bot.  

The blam-ing of the botgun was joined by another sound of shots fired, and she risked a glance backwards. Pops was behind the advancing machine and presumably he had a gun. The first two shots seemed to hit their mark, and the knee of the right leg seized up. The robot continued to try and drag itself forward by its other leg, but things weren’t going so well for it, and it seemed to be recreating a common dance move of the same name as it tried to reload. One of the next bullets whizzed dangerously close to her foot, and she flattened herself against the shopfront window.

The bot made grinding sounds, but seemed to not be shooting anymore, and it turned its attention to trying to move. A few more choice shots from Pops and it gave up the shooting entirely. It reached down and lifted its’ gammy leg, moved it forwards, and promptly fell over. It hit hard.

“Zzzt will await reinforcements. Remain where you are- are- are- are.”

Zinnia spent what felt like an age pressed against the glass, waiting for the bot to take up the gun again. It did not. In fact it did little of anything except grind its hidden gears and make the occasional threats of incarceration. She could almost hear the boots of the human officers sprinting towards them and to the piles of paperwork they would have caused. Part of her, the childish, rebellious part wanted to keep running. The adult part knew that paperwork was a necessary evil. Besides without it, who knew what others might come under fire from the rampant bot.

“I’ve got nothing to hide. But if you do and you want to leave I’ll say I never saw your face.”

It was true in both cases. She suspected the bots had sophisticated recording devices, and if she ran it was only a matter of time before her face would be splashed across the news, wanted for questioning. Pops’ too.