There was nothing like trying to pick up the pieces of a life that didn't feel familiar anymore. Matt had been gone for almost a year, and in a rather compromising position, no less. He was just lucky that there were any pieces to pick up at all, really. He had been lucky to get his job back, and lucky that there will still people willing to give him the time of day.

He wasn't about to waste it.

Before his arrest, he'd had enough seniority at the bar to be able to turn down shifts and let the newer workers pick up the slack. Now, though, he knew that he had to prove that he was still willing to pull his weight and be a valuable member of the team. He was that, after all - he was someone willing to give his all.

Even if his all meant coming in for an afternoon shift on a Tuesday to stare at the wall. Tuesdays were historically slow, but this one seemed to be especially so. He had cleaned the stack of glasses next to him at least twice, but it was nice to have something to do with his hands, so he just kept at it. They were bound to be sparkling by the time he was finished with them.

Still, the shift didn't seem to want to go by any faster than it already was. Each second that ticked by seemed to last a lifetime, if that was at all possible. Matt wasn't sure he'd ever felt time move slower, which was somewhat of an accomplishment, given he'd only been out of prison for two weeks.

Finally, someone came in. It was a strange sight, though - out of the ordinary for both the time and the day. He checked his watch: 3 PM. "Are you sure you should be in here?" He wasn't one to turn down a customer, but this seemed off.

It had been a similarly f@#$-off sort of year for EllaLouise Gartner. As much as she wanted to she couldn't blame that fact on anyone but herself. She'd spent the last year in her mansion, eating gallons upon gallons of ice cream and watching pretty much every show on FlixNet. Clearly, she'd sunk into a deep depression after that disastrous Halloween party where she'd gallivanted around actually thinking she was Alice in Wonderland. Jesus Christ. 

This morning, however, she'd found herself staring in the mirror... Probably for an hour or so? Long enough for her to convince herself she needed to get the f#%$ out of this house before she actually went insane. What did that mean? Well, it meant a New Dress! and a night out on the town! What to do, though? She wondered what that goth chick was up to... Nah, she didn't feel like having to explain to someone where she'd been for the last year.

Random bars it was. She called a MRuber. He asked her why she was going to a bar. She asked him if he actually wanted a tip. He stayed quiet from then on out. Good.

Before too long, the bartender would see a 12 year old in a lolita dress struggle to pull the door open, huff, as it closed behind her, straighten her dress, and start to walk forward. When he spoke, however, she froze in place. 

"Are you sure you should be in here?" Oh Mother f-

"...F#$^ does that mean?" She stared at him from her position a good 20 feet away, her short form radiating an aura of pure rage that shouldn't come off of someone who looked so young. "I am going to give you a chance to explain yourself cause you're mildly attractive, and I haven't talked to anything more sentient than a stuffed animal for the past year, so I'm looking to start off on a good foot, so, again, can you explain to me what the @#$% you mean when you ask... Should I be in here?"

Matt blinked. He'd never been sworn at or called 'mildly attractive' by a preteen before. She was obviously young, and clearly eccentric from the looks of her dress, but there was something strange about the way that her voice carried. He felt like he shouldn't even be looking at her, though - like he'd stumbled down some dangerous path on the internet that there was no returning from. So much for a slow day. Maybe it was a practical joke or a test from his parole officer? Just to make sure that he wasn't going to serve a very rambunctious minor.

Still stunned by the response, it took Matt a minute to properly formulate an answer. He didn't want to be staring at the little girl, but she was so out of the ordinary that he couldn't exactly help it.

"Look, kid, uh," he started, fumbling for words. He set down the glass he had been holding as he leaned his hands on the counter. Sometimes there were teens that came in with fake IDs who hoped that whoever was serving them would be stupid enough not to notice that they had the wrong nose or eye colour, but never someone who was so obviously a child. Did she just want food? Maybe that was it.

"Do you have parents or someone who I can call? Or... shouldn't you be in school?" Was there a school nearby? Maybe she was there on her lunch break and thought they had good burgers or something. She was soon to think otherwise. "I'm not sure this is your kind of scene, is all. I think there's a McDonalds a block down."

"Look, kid, uh,"  Oh @#$^, he dun it now. He said the K word. This mother@#$%er was done. RIP. 

The man set his glass down, and EllaLouise looked at the ground for a second, biting the inside of her lip as and rocking her head to the side... Goodness, one more second of this and she was gonna need to take out her hoops.

"Do you have parents or someone who I can call? Or... shouldn't you be in school?" She glowered at him. Spat venom with her eyes that could melt a man. "School? School." There it was... The wind up.  He was two strikes in... One more pitch and boy was he looking to strike out!


 I'm not sure this is your kind of scene, is all. I think there's a McDonalds a block down." Yup. She reached up slowly, removing her hooped earings and slowly placing them in her prissy little hand bag before carefully clasping it shot. She then took a deep breathe, and stepped foward a bit. 

"Allllllright... That's a @#$^in 'nough... I'm over 37 years old you... Jesus you have a strong jaw line, Anyway, 37, and you are going to pour me. A Motherf#$^in' drink. On the goddam house. For pointing me toward a @#$^ MAC DONALDS, or we're gonna have a goddam scene here, got it?" She stared, eyes wide, intense. In her mind, she was being nice. Usually she would have thrown something by now. She hadn't talked to anyone in months, though, and that #@$^ing jaw line. What a sh$%head. 

This... not-kid was something else entirely.

Matt opened his mouth a little to respond, but no words came to his mind. Thirty-seven? She had to think he was an idiot to believe that, even with the 'adult' language and stunt with the earings. There was no way that she was thirty-seven. Not unless he was having some sort of aneurysm.

The girl was angry, though - there was no denying that. It didn't look like it was an act, or like it was the kind of tantrum that a twelve-year-old might have, either. Matt really didn't know what to say, or even what to do next, so he just stared at her for a minute longer, slowly closing his mouth as he thought through the situation. It wasn't like he was just going to serve her because she said she was older than she looked. That didn't work for seventeen-year-olds trying to pull a fast one, and that certainly wouldn't work for... whatever she was.

Even if she had some sort of strange condition, what kind of thirty-seven-year-old wore pigtails and a lolita dress in public? Sure, there were fetishists, but he really hoped that the... not-kid wasn't bringing that into the bar or something. Jesus.

"Look, um," he caught himself before calling her 'kid' yet again, "I can't just serve anyone who walks into a bar at 3 PM on a Tuesday wanting to get plastered. It's the bar's policy that you have to at least show me some valid ID, if you're of age."

Matt swore, if she pulled out a library card or some shit he was going to call the security guard to come in early.

She completed her ultimatum. He stared at her, mouth a bit agape. Just. F*^kin. Staring. And then he finally willed out his words.

He wanted ID. No problem. Why didn't he start with that? The angry 38 year old 12 year old snapped open her bag, opened the wallet portion, slid out her state driver's licence,  and took a step and a half toward him before suddenly stopping. The ID fell from her hand, hitting the floor and sliding off toward the bar. 

Did she look pale? 

Her vision swimmed as, for the first time in 26 years, she felt a blinding pain in her abdomen, and looked down to see... Aw... Her pretty dress was soaked in blood. Damnit.

The girl fell backwards, an action that saved her life, as her wound was suddenly outside of an invisible bubble that swam around this glass cleaning, strong jawed pill of a man. She regained consciousness just as quickly as she'd lost it, and found herself instinctively scrambling back on her bottom. "What... the @#$^. was THAT?!"

It had been odd. She'd felt something was off the second her outstretched arm reached a certain distance from him... It was a tingling sensation, unbeknownst to her it was the protective field around and within her being dismissed. As she'd stepped forward the feeling had crawled up her arm, and into her body, and then... Well, she did have a huge gaping wound in her belly, after all. It did what wounds do when your mutation isn't constantly keeping you alive.

"I.... I don't know what just happened... I think... I think I need a doctor?" The fierce woman now just looked like a lost and confused little girl... Tears were welling up in her eyes. The wound had stopped bleeding, but her dress was stained with blood.

She fell over.

Matt was just about ready to call it right then and there, as if she’d done the whole thing as some sort of diversion so he wouldn’t notice her clearly faked ID. He rolled his eyes and went to pick up the next glass to clean before he noticed the giant bloodstain forming on her dress.

So, okay, she wasn’t faking it.

“The hell?” he croaked, feeling his shoulders tense as the room started to feel smaller and smaller. Was there a sniper somewhere? Who would shoot a goddamned kid, for chrissake? Or was it that she had been walking a while with some sort of injury, delirious from the pain?

Immediately, his brain spiralled with every possible insane scenario that would involve a child somehow receiving a severe abdominal injury in the middle of an empty bar. His muscles felt tense and rigid, and it felt like he was somewhere else again; somewhere far more hostile than some bar in Queens.

After a second, though she seemed to sit up with tears in her eyes, and Matt snapped back into action. Military training kicked in a few minutes too late, and he hopped over the bar to where she had collapsed on the floor. He reached for her and reached to cover the wound with pressure to stop the bleeding.

“What happened? Does it feel like you got shot?” he questioned, his voice hushed and hurried. Turning back over his shoulder, he hollered toward the kitchen, where the lone cook would likely be sat in the back on his phone.

For someone who had just fallen to the floor dying a moment ago, y'know, she felt pretty alright physically. She was shocked, and her mind was racing in a million places at once. 

Was her mutation failing? Was she going to die? What had caused that sensation... It had been like... A wall of no-no for her power. It made a chill go down her spine thinking about it. But she was better, right? Maybe... Maybe she should just go? GRoogle it? See if anyone else had something similar happen? She was mid wiping a tear from her face when he hopped over the bar, and that was when @#$^ got real again. 

She immediately flushed as he stepped closer, and she felt that similar tingle, starting from her legs pointing toward him and moving up as he advanced. Her eyes widened as his range washed over her wound, and she felt that searing pain again. 

IT WAS HIM! Son of a @#$^$ it was him! She felt a wave of dizziness as the man pawed at her, and she fought to stay conscious, whipping her Howdy Feline mini-purse at his face and trying to scramble away from him as quickly as possible, leaving a morbid blood trail. "S-Stay away! It's you! It's you isn't it? STAY AWAY!" 

She was shaking now, but making some distance between him, she felt herself leave that no-no zone as the feeling of being invulnerable, one she'd taken for granted for years... one she'd despised, enveloped her like a security blanket once more. 

Quickly the little girl dug into her tiny purse and pulled out an equally tiny little .22 Derringer, pointing it at him. "Stop!"