A simple meal for a simple day. He was planning to make his life more complicated, but for now a traditional American diner breakfast was his speed. He entered the diner, green skin gleaming slightly in the morning sun. He wore a pair of blue jeans, a black pixies band t-shirt, and a light jacket that was a hair lighter than the blue of his jeans.

A woman showed him where to sit, and he seated himself. Patiently, he waited for his waitress.

People reacted differently to his appearance, depending on their upbringing as well as how he portrayed himself. He looked alien. He felt alien. He still wasn't sure of the truth there. But, for the sake of simplicity he comported himself professionally, and didn't make himself look anymore threatening than he already was. With green skin, red eyes, and antennae, that was kind of hard. He looked threatening enough when he was just minding his own business. And he was threatening. At least, his plan for the future was.

He had something of a power. He'd made mistakes. The negative karma left bad vibes. These vibes, Elliott thought, needed to be addressed... and... counterbalanced. Positive things, positive karma to balance out the negative. His plans....

How easy would it be to make a costume that disguised his identity? First, breakfast. Then, the world.

Celeste was busy. The diner had been busy. Not to mention, her little diner had a great idea of opening 24 hours on certain days of the week, and this was one of them.  It wasn't uncomfortably busy but one or two big families would make it seem a lot worse. Celeste came in around 4am, which she learned pretty quickly is prime time for drunk people who've made some pretty bad decisions that night.

She was just waiting for Ms. Johnson, the owner of the diner, to tell her she could go home. Celeste didn't mind too much her little job, but her outfit felt tacky to her. Red and white tiled flooring. Maybe it was really the whole 1950s feeling she got from the place that made her a little uneasy. 

Celeste poured some coffee into two mugs for an elderly couple. The couple seemed to come in every morning, precisely at the same time. It was cute to watch. Celeste began to move towards the kitchen to see if any of her orders were ready when she watched the hostess move a... green man with antennae? into a seat in one of her tables.

Celeste scanned to see how the crowd reacted to his presence. Surprisingly well, it looked like. The elderly couple looked a little terrified, a couple kids seemed a bit afraid, but most of the adults kept their heads in their food. She waved to the elderly couple as they bolted out the door. 

She automatically presumed he must have been a mutant, and as such, felt some connection to him. She had been ostracized by her parents for her mutations - and no one could even see them unless she turned them on. She wondered what his story was. He probably had no choice but to be green all the time. Maybe he had hulk like strength? Celeste shook the thoughts out of her mind. That was pretty rude to be presuming this guys history like that. Maybe no one even really cared about him being green. She didn't, at least not if he was a good person. She chuckled at herself and realized she probably would only talk to him a few times and then probably wouldn't even see him ever again - that's how most people in the diner are. They come, they go. You might see them a few times again, but it's a bit rare. 

With that, she went over to take his order.

"Good morning! It is a beautiful morning, isn't it?" Man, what she would give to be hiking or going for a jog right now instead, "What would you like to drink today? We have water, coffee, or any coca-cola products." She smiled, and pulled her small notepad out of her pocket, ready to jot down what he would like. After he informed her of his choice for beverage, she'd ask, "Do you know what you would like or do you need some more time?" 

A good morning? Beautiful? "Yeah, I suppose it is," Elliott admitted thoughtfully. She'd paused his thoughts. Probably for the best. He tended to dwell and overthink. The last thing he needed was to get spacey or moody.

He shot a quick glance outside. Early morning sun was out in full force and not a cloud in the sky.

He shot a friendly smile at her, one that showed his zipper-like set of teeth. "Tea sounds fantastic. Green, if you have it. Otherwise, black is fine." He replied. Green was more an Asian kick. This was an American breakfast. He revised himself after a moment. "Scratch that. Black coffee please. Sorry. A lot on my mind lately," he admitted sheepishly.

"Bacon and eggs, please. Over easy, with sourdough toast, hash browns, and a sausage link. Thank you." Elliott told her. Traditional American breakfast. All it was missing was pancakes to gum up the works.

She nodded, a warm smile across her lips, "It really is. But hey, this place smells delicious so it's a fair enough trade off." Celeste was in a little bit of a joking mood this morning, it seemed like. Granted, it was probably because she was pretty tired.

>>  "Tea sounds fantastic. Green, if you have it. Otherwise, black is fine. Scratch that. Black coffee please. Sorry. A lot on my mind lately.  Bacon and eggs, please. Over easy, with sourdough toast, hash browns, and a sausage link. Thank you."

She began to write down green tea but quickly scratched it out once he decided on black coffee. She quickly wrote down his order, nodding, "Good choices. This place has some mean hash browns!" The rest was pretty good too, but Celeste had found herself addicted to the diner's hashbrowns. So good. 

She went and got his coffee, pouring it delicately. She placed some creamers and milk cups next to it in case he wanted to use it. She swang by a few times to refill his coffee and to check to see if he needed anything. Presuming everything was good, she came back out with his food about 30 minutes later. She carefully sat it down, "Careful now, it's a bit hot. Mainly the plates." She delicately put the food down on the table in front of him, careful to make sure he didn't touch any of it.

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

Mean hash browns? It took resolve not to crack a joke about hopin they were nice hash browns instead. Thankfully, they were both strong enough to avoid such puns, and everyone was happier for it. He got his coffee, and she got a polite smile and a thanks.

Good food takes time. This wasn't McDonald's breakfast. It couldn't be rushed. So he waited his thirty minutes. And it was worth the wait.

"Everything looks phenomenal," Elliott smiled at her. "Thank you. I don't need anything else."

Careful of the hot plate, Elliott dug in. It tasted as good as it looked.

As he ate, his mind wandered. Secret identities. He'd been keeping low on the criminal side of things since he'd helped that cop, and got on the rat mutant's bad side. It had been worth it. Probably he first step towards making right on what he'd done for Ragnarok. His costume would have to be clever, to conceal his identity, because green skin and antennae stand out. Five-fingered gloves, maybe? With two flopping uselessly, it'd still conceal his three-fingered hands. A helmet. Shoes. Of course gloves and shoes would get in the way of the climbing tricks he had, but... he could handle himself without it. And he could always take those off in a pinch. Yeah...

Time drifted on as he pondered and finished his meal. He paid, and stepped out to kill some time vefore the bus. Bought a motorcycle helmet with a goofy grin painted on its face at a nearby shop, then hit the bus stop. Shopping took five, maybe ten minutes? Helmet purchased, he popped off to the bus.

He was a pretty easy, typical customer - it made Celeste happy. He didn't have any complaints, he enjoyed his food, it was a great experience for the both of them. Well, at least for her. She could only presume he enjoyed it.

In a turn of fate, Celeste actually shift ended when he paid. So, she went into the back and picked up her purse & book bag and clocked out. It was time to hit the bus to go home. Or somewhere. She had all day, after all. She definitely wasn't in the mood for sleeping. She had been having worse than usual nightmares, so it wasn't something she was even remotely interested in doing even though the little bags under her eyes were getting a little bigger.

With that, she was at the bus stop about to board the bus - but then she saw that customer at the diner walking up to hop on. Huh. Looked like he was going to get on the bus too. She gave a small wave, "Oh hey! I'm the waitress, from the diner." She smiled, seeing if he remembered her or not. It wasn't common for her to run into her customers on the street. She swiped her bus card and began looking for a seat. Maybe he'd want to sit with her? 

Elliott arched a not-quite eyebrow, and then smiled a friendly smile at her. "From fifteen minutes ago?" He said, then tilted his head and tapped it like he was trying desperately to recall. He made a production out of it. "Yeah. I remember. Small world." Or small ten block radius. Whatever.

Old Elliott would have wondered if she were following him. What the game was. But he was trying to be a new and improved more outgoing Elliott. He'd seen his wolf friend Tyson lose his mind to his mutation, and life was simply too short to live with all the paranoia and fear. It certainly hadn't made the lead up to Tyson's feral fight with a polar bear any better.

Elliott followed her onto the bus, and paid with his handy dandy bus card - a tool no New Yorker should be without, then found a seat... which just so happened to be next to her. No other seats were free.

"Guess you'll get to enjoy that sun and beautiful day you were talking about," he said to her, politely seating himself. "I, personally, plan to go get a tan." He smiled. A joke. An in joke, really, with himself, as he did not tan. But a joke all the same.

She nodded, "Yep, that's me. My shift ended pretty much when you left." Thankfully, Celeste was ready to get out and be out of that little diner for a while. It had been a long few hours. Most of the time her customers don't really remember her - they usually are much more focused on their drinks and their food to be bothered to remember a waitresses face. It was something Celeste was fine with - she didn't remember most of them, either. It was just her job.

>>  "Yeah. I remember. Small world."

She chuckled and nodded. Well, they weren't very far from the diner and it was New York City, but he was right. It was a small world in their inter-connected lives they lived now.

>> "Guess you'll get to enjoy that sun and beautiful day you were talking about, I, personally, plan to go get a tan." 

She nodded, "I just might." Unless she ended up just staying in her apartment. Maybe she'll bake some. Or practice her Latvian. Or do something else. Who knew? She had a whole day ahead of her. At his joke, Celeste wasn't entirely sure to laugh. Did he tan? He was green. Maybe a darker shade of green? She gave a small giggle after a second of processing, "Well, sunbathing can be a pretty relaxing activity." Just laying, some sunglasses on, feeling the warmth of the sun over the body. It wasn't something Celeste was particularly prone to do - it made her sleepy. She needed to be doing something and laying on the ground, relaxing wasn't something in her books. She gave him a smile, "Where are you off to?"

Her response was thoughtful and polite. Seemed like that was her default setting, then, and not the Waitress mode most people wore like armor when they took up their mantle of the job.

She asked him where he was off to, and he had a good answer. It wasn't even a lie. Why would one lie about it?

"Costume shopping." Elliott nodded at the bag next to him. "October is nearly here. I was going to get something good together."

She couldn't quite see the helmet's design from where it was inside the plastic bag, but she'd be able to see its shape. A rounded, very noticeable motorcycle helmet-type shape. What sort of costume Elliott could put together with that, it wasn't quite clear. Motorcycle racer, perhaps? Some sort of fiery motorbiker from Hell? He didn't even have the entire costume planned out, himself. Maybe she'd be able to help him solidify his ideas?

"Not quite sure what I'm going with yet." He's smile turned crooked. "I saw the helmet and I thought 'Gee, that's cool-looking.' I mean--" He pulled it out, and showed it to her, since they were sharing. It was a dark black motorcycle helmet with an interesting paint job. Lighter gray outlined a shape like a skull within the darkness, dark visor almost looking like a set of shades. There was a nose shape just beneath it (real, not a skeletal hole), and someone had painted a vicious sideways toothy grin across the lower jaw of the helmet. All in all, it looked badass. "Maybe some sort of skeletal biker theme? I gotta find someone who sells three-fingered biker gloves, if I do that..." Or regular ones, if he decided to pretend to have human hands. But he didn't need help finding those, in that case. "What do you think?" Elliott looked to her.

Celeste smiled towards him as they sat together for the bus ride. Maybe she'd have another surprise friend.

">> "Costume shopping. October is nearly here. I was going to get something good together. I saw the helmet and I thought 'Gee, that's cool-looking.' I mean--"

Halloween was coming up in a bit. Celeste had completely forgotten about it - she was so busy dealing with this, doing that, she had completely forgot about the holiday coming up. She had stopped dressing up after her 11th Halloween, mainly because her parents refused to purchase anything extra like that for her. Which was fine, at least now. Celeste was mostly over it. She nodded and took a look at the helmet, nodding slowly. If he hadn't mentioned Halloween beforehand, she totally would be a bit freaked out by it. But it worked, at least for Halloween.

>> "Maybe some sort of skeletal biker theme? I gotta find someone who sells three-fingered biker gloves, if I do that... What do you think?"

Celeste nodded, "That would actually be pretty cool. The helmet matches pretty well. Well.. Maybe you could hire someone to make special gloves for you? I mean, three-fingered biker gloves would be awesome."

And with that, it was their spot to get off the bus. Coincidentally, they both were getting off at the same spot. Kinda funny. She stepped off and chuckled, maybe they had a similar destination in mind. In either case, that came to a close due to some anti-mutant humans who began to scream something about 'freak aliens' and 'freak alien lover'.' Celeste rolled her eyes and sighed, "People are so dumb..." They were dumb, but they were coming to them in a sprint. That wasn't a good sign, nope. 

Hire someone to--- well, that was borderline genius. Money didn't grow on trees, of course, but it wouldn't be too hard to pick up further funds to add to whatever he'd saved from working for Jaager. He really needed to look into getting a 9-5 job, Or maybe something as simple as dishwashing. How he was getting money now really wouldn't fit with what he was planning to do soon. Maybe... maybe the Mansion might have an opening?

He smiled at her, as he thought those thoughts. "That's not a bad idea at all." He said.

The bus made the sounds of brakes and stopping. He glanced at the street sign outside, and realized it was his stop. He'd lost track of time. Elliott hardly noticed as she got ready to leave while he was busy stuffing his helmet back into the plastic bag. When he did, the humor of the situation struck him. She was getting off on his stop, too?

He stepped off the bus a heartbeat or two after the waitress, and would have made some joke about his not being 'a stalker, I swear!' But he noticed the people shouting, and his mind diverted towards potential danger quick as you can say Jack Robinson.

There were five of them. Two had signs. One read God hates mutants, and bore some imagery that reminded him of various hate groups he'd seen on television. The other said The Church of Humanity Lives. Well, ^*@t!

"Get behind me," Elliott aid quickly. Without waiting for her approval, or any sign she'd heard him at all, he slid in front of her and swept a hand behind him to make sure she was firmly in his shadow. His body slipped into a fighting stance that was casual, but balanced, feet and legs spread and poised for motion. As the bus, their one possible retreat option, pulled away from the bus stop, Elliott stood his ground and addressed the group.

"Gentlemen," he said calmly. "In a situation like this one, with people shouting epithets and rushing towards a man like they're about to get violent, it's a stunning wonder I haven't laid you all out on the ground." He smiled, and realized that had been the exact opposite of the calm tact he'd been going for. Ah well. Who cared? "What, pray tell, do you want?"

One of them sneered at him, and he was missing teeth. "Man?" He said. "I don't see any men in front of me. Just a freak."

It'd be easy as breathing to swing that bag with its helmet right in his face like a mace, but he didn't escalate. That just would have been silly. Sillier than his initial jibes. "Oh yeah? If I'm not a man, maybe we can just all go on our way. A huge waste of time, beating up someone who isn't even man enough to deserve your respect."

She nodded. She didn't think it was a bad idea, either. Not if he was serious about a costume, anyways. Plus, people ordered custom made costumes all the time - not just for Halloween, but for cosplay, their kids school plays, etc. It was just a matter of finding a good tailor, which Celeste had no idea about. If she had a smart phone, she would have looked it up and find some suggestions for him. Her little flip phone, however, was not made for internet surfing. 

Celeste had learned about anti-mutant bigotry first hand - through her parents. It wasn't something that surprised her, but in Regina, it didn't escalate like this. It seemed like there were very real people who were looking to hurt mutants here. That terrified her. But, it seemed to create a great deal of comradely between mutants and their human allies, too. 

In either case, this didn't look good. She was pushed behind Elliott and she was smart enough to stay behind him. She didn't have a lot of fighting experience - except for splashing people in radiation. It worked good, but it wasn't good for a quick fight or if there were not something to hide behind to aim it. Her powers were like a gun or a bow - it took a second to aim it, fire it, and then reload. 

But, as she was pushed behind him, she began to charge her powers - just in case. She needed to be prepared. She could at least take one or two down in 2 or so minutes. 

>>"In a situation like this one, with people shouting epithets and rushing towards a man like they're about to get violent, it's a stunning wonder I haven't laid you all out on the ground. What, pray tell, do you want?"

For some reason, she was reminded of the scene from V for Vendetta when guy fawkes rescues the girl from those creepers. Funny.

>> "Oh yeah? If I'm not a man, maybe we can just all go on our way. A huge waste of time, beating up someone who isn't even man enough to deserve your respect."

She grumbled at the insults they threw towards Elliott and she quickly interjected, albeit not entirely wisely, "He is way more of a man than you, the real monsters, are!" Apparently, none of them appreciated that response. 4 of the 5 *ssholes pulled out knives and Celeste looked over to the side of Elliott to watch what was going on, ready to sling her flare towards whoever got closest. "Um... Sorry..." She whispered to Elliott. The men started closing in, slowly and cautiously. 

The girl behind him tried helping. He winced. "Quit helping..." Elliott whispered under his breath. Her words hadn't made the men reexamine their lives. They hadn't taken what she'd said and realized their horrible racist ways were wrong. It had just made them mad. And he'd been so close to making himself seem pathetic and harmless enough to not be worth their troubles, too!

Nice of her to think of him as a man. Not so nice that it meant that, as a man, he deserved several inches of steel stuck in him haphazardly. That hadn't been his intended day plan at all.

One man stepped forward, knife out for all the world to see. Then another. Utterly sloppy, in his mind. This was broad daylight. Anyone could see. If they killed someone, it wouldn't be hard to find witnesses. So long as it was a pretty blond girl, that was. For a strange person like him, there'd probably be few who would step out of their comfortable lives to play some sort of decent human hero role. They wouldn't call the police. They probably wouldn't even notice the body when it was done. Speed bump. Step over. Move along. He'd lived in the bad part of life long enough to see what happens when people stop caring about anything but themselves. He'd been one of those people. Still was, spiritually. Sometimes.

Five men, four with knives.

"Hey listen. Guys." He held up his hands palm outwards, towards them. The bag dangled from one wrist. "This is broad daylight in the middle of the city. Maybe we can go to some alley where you murder me? Might be better for you, in the long run? Whaddya say?"

The first knife thrust was a not-so-subtle answer to the question. No? Great! The helmet clattered into the side of the man's arm as he came at them. Plastic tore with hardly a sound as the blade sheared through, and the helmet went tumbling through the air, freed. Normally, he would have dodged and grabbed the arm, moving in a circular motion to use the man's own force and weight against him in a throw. But then, normally he wouldn't have a young waitress standing helpfully behind him. That was two strikes against her and no amount of blonde and cuteness would counteract the three strike baseball rule.

He grimaced as he snapped his focus to the tumbling helmet, and moved quicker than most people could react. The man's knife was falling end over end at the same time as the helmet was falling, and he wanted to get it before it hit the ground and got scuffed. Hence, when the mouth on the palm of his right hand opened, and a rogue tongue shot out to snag the helmet before it fell, it really wasn't some clever work of a battle master, or some sort of super speed response. It had been the knee jerk reaction of a man child who didn't want his brand new helmet getting its paint job ruined bare moments after buying the damned thing. The tongue wrapped around the helmet, and-- in the nick of time, might it be noted-- swung it up and into the back of the man's head as he bent to retrieve his knife. The first man hit the sidewalk on his forehead with a meaty thud. Which just left three others to handle, and a fourth without a knife.

"Joy..." Elliott trailed.

Celeste turned red and retreated a little bit behind him. She had a flare charged up, so she only needed to get into a good line of shot to sent it out. Of course, maybe that wasn't a great thing - she'd already messed stuff up a little bit by her outburst. She wasn't wrong, though. These guys were bigoted jerk faces. 

>> "This is broad daylight in the middle of the city. Maybe we can go to some alley where you murder me? Might be better for you, in the long run? Whaddya say?"

She sighed, unsure of how to react to that statement. Were they really just targeting him because of his mutation? She hadn't really been involved in the mutant community in Regina. Of course, she wasn't even sure if there even was one there. NYC seemed to be a central hub of mutants and anti-mutants from all ends of the spectrum. It was kinda weird - this was the second time she'd found herself around some people like this. She was never attacked in Regina. 

She watched him attack the first guy. That was pretty darn impressive, actually. Of course, seeing the guy smash into concrete was gross, especially with the blood that came off his face. Yuck. Four more to go. Two were moving straight ahead, including the one who didn't have a knife. One was going around to the side and the other was also going around to their side on the otherside. 

Luckily, she had a clean shot of the guy on the right, so she released her flare which landed straight on his face. He began coughing, dropped his knife, and quickly curled into a ball on the ground groaning. He hadn't thrown up, which was pretty impressive, but it was only a few minutes later that the radiation poisoning hit him hard. 

Three more to go, so she began to recharge. It would take a couple minutes, so hopefully she could take out the guy on the other side before he got too close. She had no way to get to the guys in front of Elliott - otherwise, she'd risk hitting him and that would be very, very bad. 

"I hope your helmet isn't too messed up.." She whispered, staring at the guy coming from the other side.

Well. You don't see that every day. A guy falling down, coughing and groaning. He hadn't caught sight of the cause, but it certainly hadn't been him. He also wasn't thinking too hard on it. If the guy was in pain, fine. That was one less person for him to deal with. One less person who had been holding a knife.

Part of him wanted to snatch the fallen knife up, and use it. That part of him knew that he'd mess up, and somehow this would wind up like the Triad hatchetman debacle. He wasn't quite ready to fall into that abyss just yet. Knives have such a great chance of actually killing people. Even accidentally. Elliott wasn't in the mood to get arrested for somebody else's dumb idea. Even in self defense, it didn't seem justifiable to him. It just seemed messy. Fights happen fairly fast, so he hadn't spared much time thinking on all of that stuff. His red eyes had settled on the two men coming straight at him. His mind worked, worked, as seconds passed.

>>"I hope your helmet isn't too messed up.." The girl whispered.

He wasn't in a state of mind for repartee. The green man grunted, and turned to quickly press the helmet into her hands. "Hold this, please." He said. Then, he snapped his focus back to the guy in front of him. For the moment, he ignored the threat from the side.

Elliott hadn't practiced aikido. Sparring and grappling were things of martial arts disciplines other than taekwondo. Taekwondo focused on striking with speed and force. It focused on kicks. So when the knife-wielding thug rushed him, he didn't step to the side and throw him out of the way. He took a few quick steps to close the distance, and aimed a quick low kick angled at the side of the man's right knee. It wasn't something the man had been expecting. He also hadn't been expecting Elliott to follow it up by hopping back and catching the other leg up in a lashing tongue whip that wrapped around it, and hauled it up and out from under the man. The thug fell. He never even got a chance to use that knife. Unfortunately for Elliott, the thug without the knife was still rushing him, and the other man was flanking him.

The first of the two men crashed into him in a full-body tackle, even as the friend who Elliott had just put on the ground groaned and rocked into a fetal position. Had bad baby hit his head? Aww, poor baby. Then, he wrestled with Elliott and forced himself behind the green man's back. He tried to position his arms up beneath Elliott's pits. So he could hold him in place while the other guy stabbed him. Well, spit. It hadn't even been a whole minute yet, since the groaning (and very irradiated) man had been put down. Elliott wasn't aware of any clock timer, and at that moment, really didn't care. He struggled against the grip, and tried to break it. Tried to move in such a way that any stabs the other guy tried would be more likely to hit his friend than to hit Elliott. And struggled to buy time for a lady he really hoped would back him up and start swinging heavy objects into the backs of annoying thug's heads.

"Bastard!" Elliott cursed. He tried to bring a kick up to create distance, but all it did was distract the man holding him so that he had to tighten his grip and shift his feet.