It was 5:20 AM, Saturday morning. The sun had woken up, looked at the clock, and gone back to bed: the sky was an overcast gray blanket fit snuggly over the treeline. The paths in Central Park were wet from a downpour sometime in the night, and that sky was promising more to come. The lights on the path stood out as yellow-ish orbs. Or a vapid white, where the city had switched to florescent. It was an absolutely beautiful day to be out jogging.

That wasn’t what Maxine was doing, oddly enough.

“Rex?” The young red head called, walking alone. She was dressed for jogging: she had the rumpled T-shirt, the loose sweat pants, the too-early-for-boys clunky tennis shoes.

“Here, boy.” She called out, feeling like an idiot. What else is a girl to do, when her octopus disappears?

Besides: there was something weird about the park this morning. She’d seen the usual early morning joggers on her way here, but once she was on the paths… no one. No up-and-at-‘em dog walkers, no other fitness freaks, not even a hobos curled up on their benches.

No pigeons.

No ocotoclip.

“Rex? Come on. Breakfast time. I’m heading back. …Rex?”

She wiped a strand of spider thread out of her face, and took a few more steps along the tree-lined path, trying to shake the feeling that she was being watched.

It was early. The unlikelihood of Stephen being awake was more easily explained as not waking up early, but rather waking up very, very late. He had fallen asleep at eight in the morning after a night out at the club the day before and somehow managed to sleep through the next twenty hours. Scolding himself, he took a shower, made himself an omelet and tossed on an old shirt and shorts. He did not run often, but at five in the morning, there was a little less to do.

Central Park was quiet at this time of the morning, possibly the fault of the bleak weather. The emptiness did not bother Stephen; rather, he enjoyed the feeling of owning this open space in the middle of a crowded city.

It was a considerable time before he anyone crossed his path. There was a cute redhead calling around for her dog, Rex. Stephen laughed to himself; it was only a few days ago that he was pretending to look for a dog to trick Sventlana in this very park. He was the only one around, so he thought he would be polite. He jogged up to her, offering his help, "Can I help you look for your do--"

He unknowingly jogged right through a spiderweb strewn across his face. He flailed, cursed and pulled away the web, running his fingers through his hair hastily to make sure there was no spider on him. Once he was sure of his spiderlessness, he regained his composure, his cheeks now as red as the hair of the woman who watched his spazzy display. "Well. Yeah, sorry about that. So is your dog missing?"

>> "Can I help you look for your do--"

A very good start. Points on the completely innocuous delivery, with the jog-up entrance; extra points for being a fellow this-hour-of-the-morning jogger. The shorts… not necessarily a bonus. She liked her men in pants; all that leggy man-hair had never been a turn-on to her. The scruffy little beard, on the other hand—

Hello, freak out.

>> "Well. Yeah, sorry about that. So is your dog missing?"

The red head smirked, and met his gaze. At least he was smooth with recoveries.

“Something like that,” she answered, rolling her shoulders. That feeling of being watched? It hadn’t gone away when he’d shown up. “Mind keeping a lady company? He can’t have gone far.”

Overhead, the sky rumbled. The lights along the trail flickered. Safety in numbers.

Stephen focused on getting the excess color to flush away from his face; he liked to be more in control of his emotions and reactions, especially after his unflattering first impression. Thankfully, she seemed willing to laugh it off; at least he could redeem himself from there.

"Mind? I'd be a shame to all the good southern boys if I refused." He gestured her to lead the way.

Now that he was getting a clear look at her, he could not avoid feeling like her face was familiar. Definitely not a personal acquaintance; he had a knack for remembering faces he met in person, especially redheads, (who admittedly were a weakness to him.) There was just something about her that he could not place his finger on. "So what kind of pup are we lookin' for?"

Stephen had dealt with bad weather before, but this just felt... ominous. It just felt like the sort of morning where bad things could happen.

A good ol’ Southern boy. And how. The accent was a few points off his overall score—the ideal accents, as all women knew, came from across the pond—but he gained a few back for the scruffy. Really, every time she looked at him, he gained a few points for the scruffy. Nothing wrong with a man who’d just rolled out of bed…

His first real test, of course, started now.

>> "So what kind of pup are we lookin' for?"

“Mmm, about yea big,” the red head gestured for something in the Yorkie to Pomeranian range. “Silver. With… with as many legs as that.”

She pointed to the air right above his shoulder, where a spider in the Chihuahua to Mutant Sewer Rat range was descending from the trees.

His inability to place his finger on why he knew who she was started to annoy him. He did his best to ignore his curious mind and be polite, scanning around for any signs of a small, scurrying animal. He turned to see her measurement of Rex. It was not until she pointed behind him that he turned and noticed it.

Not much rattled Stephen, but as he already established, spiders were a weakness of his. He could handle a spider if he was expecting it; he had even let a tarantula walk on his hand once. (He wasn't exactly "relaxed" about it, but he handled it.) It was when spiders caught him off guard that he lost his cool. And this spider was somewhere between the size of a puppy and a house. A foot or two away from his shoulder.

What happened next was what could best be described as a logic blackout. Abandoning rational thinking, Stephen jumped back, raising his shadow high, forming a large wave, encompassing the spider and smashing it into the ground. Two more waves pounded the remains for good measure.

His shadow receded and Stephen calmed down. He turned to become aware once more of the woman he had until that moment forgotten was there. Damn, I was liking being in New York. Desperate subject change. "So, that spider was pretty darn big, huh? Definitely not norma--wait a second." With obvious distracting circumstances, it took some time for Stephen to process the last thing she said. "What sort of pet has eight legs? This ain't a dog, is it?"

“Nope. And it’s not a spider either, thankfully.” The red head leaned around him to stare at the corpse. “Gees. You really killed that thing, huh?” That was a dead, dead spider.

She straightened back up. “Rex is an octopus. Made of paperclips. About yea big,” she repeated her gesturing. Maybe repetition would be good for his blood pressure. He… hadn’t looked so hot, just then.

“So. Shadow mutant, huh?” The red head casually continued. “What happens if—”

Lightning flashed again, near by: Maxine jumped at the thunder that followed. The path lights flickered, flickered... and died.

“—there aren’t any shadows,” the red head finished, talking to a man she could no longer see.

She was reacting casually, so he started becoming less concerned about revealing his mutation. "Yyyup. It is very dead. So... paper clip octopus. Going out on a limb that you're a mutant, too?" Wait, the idea of an octopus made of paper clips actually sounded like something he had heard before, and that was not the sort of idea one hears commonly. "Wait a second... now I know why you looked familiar! You're Maxine Ralls, right?" Stephen kept his eye on the news. He had only caught her program a few times, but some of it was her mutant stuff; controversial but brilliant.

She was so brilliant, in fact, that she was able to ascertain his main weakness. "Exactly what you think would happen, oddly enough." He was tense; total darkness put him on his guard. He normally carried a mini flashlight, but it was in his apartment. Why would he need it for a morning jog? He grabbed his phone; the screen created a small amount of light that gave him a small, faint shadow. Better than nothing.

"I gotta be honest sugar; I'm startin' to think this is just a big nightmare." He used the light to find her. Beyond the dim glow of the phone, nothing could be seen in the jet black night. "Any clue what's going on?"

She looked familiar. She was Maxine Ralls. And he just got major bonus points.

The red head grinned. Modestly, of course. But enough to make a good ol’ Southern boy know that his recognition was appreciated.

“Guilty as charged. To whom should I make out the autograph?” Very modest, and still grinning. And joking, really. Unless he really did want an autograph…? It might be worth something in a few years. Sooner, if she died a death as fantastic as some of her hate mail promised.

The lights went out, and her southern gent brought his cell phone to bear. The weak little shadows it cast didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

>> “Any clue what's going on?”

“No idea,” the red head said, blinking rather blindly. Outside of his cell’s little circle, the world was a dark gray-black. “But I can tell you this: I come jogging here almost every day, but the only time I’ve been this creeped out was when Cthulhu was in town.”

>> “Guilty as charged. To whom should I make out the autograph?”

She really was cute. She was clever and she knew it, which was always a fun plus. He would have to keep this in mind when they were not lone in the dark. Well, at least not this dark. Something was different, and at this point, he could not even be sure if she was joking about Cthulhu. "The name's Nate Holloway. If we make it out of this Lovecraftian affair, maybe then we can talk about autographs. Hell, we make it out of this and I'm pretty sure I'd buy you dinner."

He used his light to find her wrist to hang on to it. "Sorry if you have space issues, but if not for this, we could actually lose each other in darkness like this. Also, you're cute, so that doesn't hurt."

He tried to use his cell phone to survey their surroundings, but the light was barely strong enough to reach a foot or two away. "Don't suppose your mutation has any offensive applications?" The odds for that were low, and with his small shadow, they did not have much to work with.

Stephen felt something skitter across his foot. Already on his guard, he flashed his light straight down and used what was left of his shadow to punt the stray spider at least thirty yards. "You mighta figured this out by now, but I am not a fan of spiders."

She wasn’t joking about Cthulhu. Giant, clay, came just in time for Christmas? That had been a real boost to her ratings. Not to mention her online sales.

Mr. Nate Holloway grabbed her wrist. She lightly scouted her arm to land them hand-in-hand. “Not at all. It’s a good idea.” He was cute too. Which really didn’t hurt. Neither did the darkness, which neatly covered her blush.

“Not sure about my mutation and offensive applications, but…” She unzipped her fanny pack. Yes, she had a fanny pack; a little black one, with a faded Rainbow Brite decal. The golden rule for girl nerds: be cute about it. There were only five things tucked inside. Apartment keys: kind of a must. Camera with video option and the biggest, baddest memory card on the market: likewise a must, and ever so worth carrying. She had a bit of indecision then, between the little canister of pepper spray, and her cell phone. Technically she had two hands, but she wasn’t looking to further occupy one of them…

The cell phone came out, and was flipped open. It didn’t extend their circle much farther, but it did add more definition to the range they already had. She also brought out a little cardboard box.

Its lid flipped open of its own accord: a silver cloud glinted in the cell phone light, quickly dispersing into the air. Paper clips, the side of the box read. 100 count.

“They’re not really offensive,” she continued, “but they’ll help me see.”

There was not enough light to get a good look at it, but by the location of the zippering sound, it was obvious. "A fanny pack, eh? Not the time for comments, I know, but that's adorable." She found her phone, adding its glow to their cause, expanding his shadow slightly. "Well well, adorable and useful."

Maxine pulled out a box of paper clips, which seemed to be a key component of her power, whatever the details of her mutation were. "If it'll help give us any sort of sight, I'm all for it. We really have no clue what's causing this intense darkness or those," he shivered at the next thought, "giant freak spider. I guess our first choice is whether to stay here or try to find a way toward any possible light or way out. I'm for moving, but we don't know what we'll run into... what do you want to do?"

Mr. Holloway was just full of compliments. Maxine was just full of… not complaining, really.

>> "Well well, adorable and useful."

“I am a practical lady,” the red head said, zipping the fanny pack shut with another blush. With her cell phone added to his, he might have enough light to spot it this time.

The school of clips spread outwards, into the shadows. They were a bit like a blind man’s cane: she couldn’t actually see where they were, but she could feel it. Their exact locations, and any resistance they met. She let them swim freely, in her twenty foot range, trying to sense anything odd in their flight path.

“…Hmm?” Oh: what did she want to do. “I vote moving, too. We should try and get out of here. I’d be more worried for spiders with Rex, then for Rex with spiders.” Judging by Nate’s earlier display, these things were definitely flesh and blood. It was a disability the octoclip didn’t share.

The problem, of course, was that they were on the Northeast end of Central Park, by the Lasker swimming pool. There weren’t any quick paths out from this spot. Unless they cut their own, through the trees. Her clips were already swimming somewhat erratically, dodging branches.

Except that they were on the path.

“…There aren’t any branches above us,” the red head whispered.

Maxine’s hand tightened around Nate’s as she pointed her cell phone’s light upwards.

It was bizarre to watch two handfulls of paper clips flit around like tiny fish, but as impressed as he was by the odd power she had, now certainly was not the time. She was apparently the one who could "feel" around their area, so he was dependent on her.

He felt her smaller hand squeeze his, barely making out her voice mention branches. He brought his phone up along with hers to reveal what was above them: a spider slightly larger than a pickup truck.

His natural impulse was to freak out, but her hand reminded him that there was an innocent person at risk. He squeezed her hand tightly, meeting her eyes. "Run!" He pulled her away to the left, just allowing them to get out of the way as the beast dropped on the ground they were standing a moment earlier.

They ran hastily, surrounded by darting paperclips, being chased by a large tarantula who was gaining on them. His mind was planning rapidly; dying in the stomach of a spider was at the top of his list of ways he would never want to die.

Well now. Someone had an impressive mutation. Unfortunately, it wasn’t them.

For the first time since this had started: Maxine gave a shriek. A girly one. To her credit, a spider as big as the subway car she rode every morning had just crashed down from the trees. Oh, and it was chasing them, too.

She squealed when Nate tugged her arm, for good measure.

And then she ran. She ran like a girl who really did come out here every single morning. And like a girl who might have run for her life a time or two in the recent past. He just… shouldn’t ask her how those other times had turned out.

“Ten bucks,” she panted, “says there’s another mutant behind this.”

Which was a problem, really. Because there was either a mutant behind this, or a mutant behind them. If the giant spider was a mutant… they couldn’t just kill it. Right?