It was early on Monday evening when Alma had realized that she’d forgotten her own birthday. A teenaged high-schooler at the Sanctuary had casually asked another resident near him what date it was, to which they’d frankly recited that it was the fifteenth. Alma had paused, feeling as though she’d missed something important, but she couldn’t put her finger on what—it was only after a few moments reflection that she realized, five days ago, she’d turned twenty.

Huh. She was first struck by the inclination to ignore it—though she’d become acquainted with a few of the residents, she’d yet to make any real “friends”, so there wasn’t really any to celebrate with—her family didn’t even know that was in the City, and unless Alma settled, she’d keep her presence quiet. She wanted to keep a low profile, and should her relatives learn of her presence, they’d sic bodyguards and babysitters on her—that was the last thing she needed. Thus, going out to dinner, to the movies, or clubbing was out-of-the-question. It was no fun on your own, so why bother?

Yet, even if celebrations were a week late, the twentieth birthday was not one that should pass unceremoniously—she was graduating from the teens into a new level of existence, and was one year shy of being legally permitted to drink and to attend over-21 clubs. After a short contemplation over her options, Alma determined that her best option would be to hoof-it over to the nearest supermarket, get a personal-sized cake, then return to the Sanctuary for a one-woman celebration. It wasn’t much, but it was acknowledging a milestone.

Thus, Alma donned a coat in preparation for the nighttime drop in temperature, and trotted off on her quest. Beyond that, she wore cropped jean shorts, a t-shirt, and flat-soled black boots. Her hair was tied up into a messy bun, her eyes quick and bright. Nighttime was her time—she much preferred the cool darkness of it over the glaring, humid day. She glanced over shoulder.

Behind her, the smaller bodachs trailed like ducklings, tripping over one another, chirping amongst themselves, and following their master closely. Farther back, the larger ones lingered at a much more casual pace, lingering in alleys, looking at pedestrians inquisitively, before continuing onward. They were invisible and intangible to the naked eye, but that didn’t mean that they bothered Alma any less. Perhaps she’d buy food for them as well, while she was at it—it felt unjust to feed the bodachs with cereal meant for Sanctuary residents.

The walk to the supermarket was a short one, and upon strolling in, Alma was greeted by a blast of air conditioning and the warm-yellow glow of lights.

“Good evening, ma’am,” a male attendant greeted her from the register nearest door.

“Good evening,” Alma echoed. She’d been to the supermarket a handful of times, so knew the basic layout of the store. She veered to the left, towards the bakery, where individual pieces of cake would usually rest on refrigerated shelves. She strode towards the display, and paused, staring speculatively.

James patrolled the streets. His streets. He'd been earning off these streets for years. He'd decided to take a break from his usual walking route to walk new passages. He walked past a supermarket of some kind. His eyes turned to the lights inside and he had a slight tinge. James knew if he entered, he'd get the worst looks. He wasn't going to let them have that kind of satisfaction.

James noticed a few looks he gained from the humans, it was then that he noticed her. A figure in the corner of his eye. She just appeared like some sort of mirage, against the bright lights of the supermarket, there she was. She walked with such grace. James had never been with any girls...ever. No girl he'd ever met had taken a romantic interest in him and he didn't see why he'd want them too.

Monstrosity watched her enter the store and he was tempted to enter as well but his earlier thoughts entered his mind and he backed off.
James turned away from the store, all but ready to forget about the girl who caught his attention.

There was too much damn cake. All sorts of it—cheese cake, a sundry of your run-of-the-mill cake in such a variety of flavors. Cake—cake everywhere. Alma hummed, picking up a container with a very chocolate-y slab of cake. I looked absolutely unhealthy, the kind of cake that would, with one bite, add five pounds. She was usually a healthy eater, but a birthday was a day upon which to make an exception. Alma surveyed the price, and winced. Dear god! These people robbed you for individual pieces of cake. She looked at a single cheesecake slice, then at an eight-serving cheesecake, and grabbed that instead. It was a lot cheaper. She balanced the cake on an arm, ventured towards cereal, and retrieved a box of brightly-colored Fruit Hoops. That should feed the shades for about a week.

Armed with food, Alma ventured back towards the front, where the lone cashier stood. She was wholly preoccupied with her task, and had not been paying heed to her shadowy followers. In her inattentiveness, the bodachs had found a candy display at the front of the store, and were surveying the enticing metallic wrappers. Slowly, they were slipping into view, one-by-one. The one closest to the shelf grabbed a chocolate-covered marshmallow off of the bottom shelf, sniffing the package. It trilled at its brothers, who soon began to flock towards the shelf.

“Find everything you were looking for, ma’am?” the man inquired.

“Yes, sir,” Alma replied fluidly, giving him a smile as she deposited the goods, “How are you this evening?”

The small talk persisted all throughout the transaction. The smaller bodachs were steadily depleting the shelf of marshmallow-chocolates and small chocolate bites, and other such things, attempting to cram two, or three, or even four things into their arms all at once. The big ones, drawn by the excitement of the smaller ones, drifted closer. And, when they realized what was happening, they too became visible.

That was when the clerk became aware of them.

“Oh sh**! Monsters! Monsters!” he shouted. Almas’ gaze flicked over her shoulder, expecting the worst. The big guys were scooping candy into their arms, and getting ready to leave.

“H-hey, what are you doing with that candy?!” Alma snapped, “Drop it, now!”

The big ones stared, and one began to reach for another bar to add to its armful.

“Ahora!” Alma snapped, annoyance flying out in a fury. The big ones dissipated, and the candy bars cascaded to the floor. Alma grabbed her grocery bag, having paid for the food, and stalked past the large bodachs (having walked the wrong direction towards the candy display) to spy the little ones. She chastised them in furious, fluid Spanish, demanding that they drop the candy now. But, rather than obey, they bolted towards the door. Alma made the mistake of chasing after them, her approach triggered the sliding door, and they were free—the alarm sounded.

"Thieves! THIEVES! I'm being robbed by a mutant!"

And, as Alma was already running, she just ran through the door.

She’d been found-out. God knew how mutants were treated by the cops—how her family was treated by them. Alma broken into a run, her attention over her shoulder. She ran head-long into a wall of solid muscle, and stumbled back with a yelp. She couldn’t turn back. And now, a seven-foot, four-armed thing was in her way. Her eyes widened, the larger bodachs coming into fruition behind her while the little ones rippled past, still toting their boon. She didn’t have time to freak-out. She had to run.

“You’d better make haste, friend,” Alma said sharply, “There’s going to be trouble. Of a legal persuasion.”

That was all the explanation she offered. Alma stepped around him, then veered down an alley with her shadowy entourage. If she didn’t get going now she’d have explaining to do.

James went back to his 'patrol' which could easily be translated to 'Looking for a victim.' He walked the streets close to the store and saw nothing. He then scouted the houses and the skies. His natural alertness and paranoia, fixed him on the alley, however he somehow managed to miss the girl running towards him head first.

He looked down to her and recognised who it was. It was the girl from the store. She barely spoke to him before she got back up and sped down the alley, he's just been looking at. Legal trouble? He could do legal trouble.

Monstrosity marched down the street back towards the direction the girl came in. In the distance he saw some figures that seemed like they were running. Monstrosity stood his ground and watched as the figure slowed down. They only seemed like Security guards. They eventually stopped, quite far away. A smirk played on his lips.

James walked back down the street. He didn't see the girl anywhere. He marched down the alley. He eventually saw her once more and began to run towards her. "Hey girl! I dealt with your legal problem."

Alma’s brow furrowed as the mountain of a man shouted after , running to catch-up. He claimed to have dealt with her legal problem, and Almas’ eyebrows leapt skeptically. The cops had really arrived that quickly? Probably not. He probably meant some privately-owned company utilized for basic security. His “dealing with” them had probably only pissed them off more.

“There will be more of them,” Alma retorted, “They don’t just send guards when a mutant unintentionally robs a store. They send police officers, and they’ll accuse anything that doesn’t fit the “human” description.”

“So, don’t get too big-headed before we’re in the clear. Capisce?” she gave the guy a smirk as she cautioned him. Even with four arms, he struck her as the full-of-himself, muscle-headed jock type, for which Alma had little patience. But as he was mutant, and as she was, she couldn’t leave him to take the brunt of the police attention—besides which, if he could “handle” the cops for her, he’d be of use. Alma could ditch him later.

“Let’s get out of here,” Alma said assuredly, “I know a safe place to go, but it’s a good many blocks from here. Do you have any hideouts closer-by?”

The bodachs were rippling back, their master having slowed her pace to address the muscle-head. The little ones seemed politely curious, but the larger ones crackled as they moved, flickering into view. They weren’t certain of him, and ready to make an offensive move if he did.

“I’m Alma, by the way.”

Monstrosity smiled as his lifted all four of his arms slightly. He wasn't exactly of the 'human' description himself was he? She seemed a little....hostile towards him. Not in the way people were usually hostile towards him but in a way that made him think she was judging him harshly already before she'd even heard his name.

It was then she mentioned him getting bug-headed. Big headed? Was that a joke? Was she making fun of him? She best not be and then she had the cheek to ask about if he had any hideouts. What kind of man has a hideout but no clothes?

"Do I have a hideout? What do you think I am? A supervillain? No I don't have a hideout...but I do have a pretty sweet place to stay for a while."

James watched as the shadow creatures slowly rippled into view. James was a little...disturbed by the fact he was being watched without him knowing. It was then the attractive girl introduced herself.

"Hi...I'm Monstrosity...Come with me if you want to see my 'hideout'."

Monstrosity laughed as motioned towards his place where he stayed.

Alma grimaced as he took offense to the term "hideout". Okay, so not every mutated individual she ran into on the street was of a criminal persuasion, her mistake. It was easy to forget that some mutants, even the visibly mutated, were A-OK with people, and not all of them hid away and lived reclusive lives. Alma was getting defeated by the school of thought with which she held so many problems.

"Sorry," she groaned apologetically, upon this realization.

The man replied that, no, he had no hideout, but rather had a place close by.

"Monstrosity?" Alma echoed. As in, a monster? Well, that was endearing. He offered to let her sit at his house until this blew over, and Alma nodded.

"That'd be nice," she replied, "Thank you."

She cast an uncertain glance around.

"Please, lead the way," Alma requested.

Monstrosity began to walk to his 'place'. "I wouldn't say thanks just yet, you don't know where I'm staying."

He walked through some back alleys, some side streets. He pushed his way passed some citizens with Alma following. He eventually turned into a small alley and they both saw a small run-down old house, windows broken and boarded up, the door was rusted and broken. Monstrosity walked up to the door and pushed it, it opened without a problem and James walked in.

Inside was an old couch, chair and in the middle of the floor was an old mattress. A box with a padlock was pushed under the chair, quite visibly.

Alma shrugged, “If it’s off the street, it’s fine by me.”

She lived in a shelter for wayward mutants, so she didn’t really have any room to be picky. It was a halfway house for the mutated, so no matter the form of residence, if it was a one-person place, it was a step above her. The two of them ducked down an alley, arriving at an old, ramshackle house.

Looked like a hideaway to her. Derelict, creepy. Perfect for a big, old creepy guy like him. Alma followed the guy into his residence, her hands wedged into her pocket. The bodachs surged around her uncertainly, whispering and muttering to themselves. It wasn’t much, but they wouldn’t find her there.

“Thank you, for this,” Alma murmured, “I will not outstay my welcome. Just a few hours until I’m sure it’s clear, if that’s alright.”