It had been a long time since Darkshift had sat in the park just playing music for the sake of playing music.  She loved it and, despite what judgement certain others might pass based on how she looked, she had a voice and a talent to match her love.  Back before coming under the employ of The Order, regular busking had been a matter of necessity and survival.  Now days that wasn't so much the case but today she felt the urge to return to her roots for a few hours.

There was a little park near her apartment that she regularly trained in late at night.  Now it was late afternoon, just coming on evening and there were many more people milling about.  It was a beautiful, clear day and, for once, her usual cynicism didn't mark her good mood.  Some days it just felt good to be alive and sometimes it took music and people, mutants and humans alike, appreciating music.  It was a powerful force and the reminder of its strength this day was a poignant one that she took to heart.

Sitting under a large tree with battered guitar case beside her, change littering the bottom, she held her guitar lovingly.  Next to her laptop, it was the most expensive thing she owned and by far the most precious.  Her voice was strong and emotive as she sang out acoustic folk punk songs.  Even in the most frugal of times, this would have been considered a good day as people were, evidently feeling generous with their coins.  Her claws, which had become her nearly constant mark of being a mutant since she had vowed always to have something out in the open, were gone today as they interfered her her playing.  Instead, black scales covered the backs of her fingers and hands.  Always she would display her mutant pride because, damn it, others had to know that being mutant was nothing to be ashamed of!

"Pasta. Wine. Cheese. Olive oil. Chicken. Pasta. Wine. Cheese. Olive oil. Chicken," Alva muttered the food mantra over and over to herself, lest she forget anything on her list as she walked through the park. She had just concluded a meeting with some Chinese businessmen on this side of town, and right across the park was a fabulous little shop with the best fresh pasta she had ever tasted. Since she was hosting a dinner party for friends that weekend, it was the perfect opportunity to purchase the ingredients required for her pasta dish.


Alva noticed a number of people out and about this late afternoon enjoying the beauty of this little park: dog walkers to mothers with strollers to the afternoon jogger.


Further into the park, she noticed a woman donning a black mohawk playing the guitar underneath a tree's large branches. The guitar case nestled on the ground beside her was covered in a layer of change.


Alva leaned against a nearby tree to listen to the woman's music for a bit. Although this style of music wasn't in her usual repertoire, Alva could appreciate the stranger's talent. This woman clearly had a gift. And since Alva was feeling in a generous mood today, she approached the guitar case, took out her wallet, and placed two twenty dollar bills in the case.


Glancing up at the musician, Alva noticed that what she thought were some kind of black gloves from afar and didn't give a second thought to were actually what looked to be scales. Scales!


Alva was in the presence of a fellow mutant.


She felt herself staring at the singer, but it still wasn't something she was used to so out in the open. Although Alva was bound to run in the same circles as other mutants, it wasn't something that came up in casual conversation, especially since Alva's ability wasn't a visible one.

If anyone noticed Darkshift's unusual hands, they made no comment.  Either it meant they weren't paying much attention (not uncommon when it came to buskers) or they didn't care enough to make a big deal of it.  Either way, it was just another positive mark in a beautiful day.  Maybe people getting more tolerant.  Unlikely but maybe.  Pipe dreams and all that.

One song ended and another began.  This was to be her last of the evening, a Gypsy punk song withe a Russian chorus.  Have no experience with Russian, it had taken some doing to learn to pronounce the foreign syllables properly and, as such, this was one she was especially proud of.  Apparently another appreciated it as well as a blond woman tossed a $20 into her case.  She nodded her appreciation and finished the last few chords.

As she began to put her collected earnings into her bag and put her guitar back into its case, she realized the woman who had given her the $20 was still nearby.  "I appreciate your generosity.  I hope you enjoyed it."  She really must have been in an unusually good mood, being so polite and positive.  It had been a while.

The guitarist finished her song and began to pack up. Noticing Alva was still nearby, she thanked her for her generosity, but Alva was still preoccupied by the the scales covering her hands. The stranger's words dragged Alva out of the gaze, and she refocused her attention on the woman's eyes, rather than her hands.

"Mutant," Alva commented. She did not mean to sound condescending; she was merely making an observation on the woman's appearance. Both women were in the mutant club after all, even if to the naked eye were complete opposites.

"Yours is a bit," Alva paused to search for the right word. "...flashier than mine."

Once again, Alva thanked the Maker she did not have to deal with a visible mutation. It was one thing being a know-it-all linguist, and easy enough to fly under the radar. But having to deal with fur or scales or the stories Alva heard of shifting into giant animals? It never would fly in Alva's circles, and much harder to cover up.

Perhaps one day Alva could prove to them that once and for all that true power resided with mutants, but that was not today.

A single word spoke indicated that at least one other person had noticed her unusual hands.  The word didn't sound judgmental and with a few more words spoken by the woman, it became clear that Darkshift wasn't the only mutant around.  Of course, her choice to be display her status openly was just that: a choice.  The motivations for such a choice may not have been completely obvious to others, but it was one of the small ways she felt she was helping her kind.  To display her status as a mutant openly and thereby show that there was no shame, hopefully, would help those who didn't have as much of a choice as her.

"Do you mind if I ask what yours is," she asked with genuine curiosity.  It was one of the amazing things about mutants, the fact that none of them seemed to have exactly the same gifts.  While there had been gifts of others she'd been a little bit envious of, she'd never really felt dissatisfied with her own.

Now that her gear was packed and her guitar case slung over her should, she got to her feet in order to be on the same level as the blond mutant.  "I'm Darkshift, by the way."

A flash of a smile appeared across Alva's face as the stranger inquired as to what her gift was. "Oh it's nothing really. I'm just an omnilingual," said Alva. "I can speak and understand any language fluently." It felt good to humble brag every once in a while... especially around other mutants.

Guitar now strapped across her shoulder, the woman introduced herself as Darkshift. "Interesting name. I'm Alva. Alva Zimmer." She extended her hand to Darkshift, but as soon as she raised her hand, a nearby commotion distracted Alva from the present conversation.

About 20 yards out, she noticed a tiny old woman pleading with one of those META bots, crying about not meaning to litter. The Knight Bot loomed over the woman as it took out a pair of handcuffs. "Are they really arresting an old lady for littering now?" asked Alva, nodding to the poor woman.

See, this is why she wasn't a fan of the addition to the police force. They say these METAs are for the good of the city... yet here Alva finds one arresting someone for littering. Littering. Next thing you know they'll be taking Alva in for... for walking on the grass or jaywalking!