[2] Gene Jubilee

[Narrator]

A rare sunny Saturday in London saw the third annual Gene Jubilee - a terrible name for an exciting event. The annual Mutant Pride street fair was always a sight to see, but this was the first one since Ashlie and the University had started working to enhance and bolster Mutant Town on a regular basis, and so the mood was even more celebratory than normal. The streets were alive with color, sound and energy. Equal parts pride, party and protest, this was a chance for the local mutants to strut their stuff.

The streets were draped in banners, often with DNA helixes and Xs worked into the design, hanging from the balconies above. Booths lined the street, winding their way down side paths and side streets as people showed off their wares. Custom sunglasses for people with a non-standard amount of eyes or types of vision. Makeup that shimmered and changed in response to heat. Hand-stitched clothing with patches of famous mutants in, as well as various slogans, some of which probably would turn a few heads if worn around the flatscans. Kneadful Creations had a stall open, a trio of Wills working it - a smiling one at the register, a shirtless one over a griddle, a small one dashing here and there over the counter. A tattoo artist was working, her tattoos continue to shimmer and move as they were imprinted into people's skin. A woman with mirror-sheen skin performed a dance routine, light refracting through and off her body in breathtaking kaleidoscopes. A tent, with smoke billowing out if it, read "Fortunes Told Here". A stone-skinned sculptor carved busts with his bare fingers. A chef, with hands bubbling with lava, seared skewered meat in mid-air, while his partner, with skin like icy quartz, flash-froze gelato. On and on, booths of art and crafts and food and people out their hustling.

Music filed the air, a DJ spinning tracks at frequencies both for human ears and for the benefit of those who could detect extra frequencies. Here and there, chants and singing broke out, punctuated occasionally by laughter, shouting, and the occasional small explosion from one of the more experimental food stalls. Street performers wandered through, busking for tips -- here, a telepath performing a mental illusion show, there, a contortionist going far beyond human limits, there a....stand-up comedian? OK, not everyone was using their mutant powers.

And, of course, flyers were being handed out. Mutant housing rights. Protests against surveillance. A local politician trying to get onto the council. The line between community and community activism is, of course, razor thin at the best of times.

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

Among those not using their powers to put on a show was a certain fuzzy alien. Instead, Thrax, with a guitar provided by Will that he wasn't sure wasn't a Will, wandered the streets playing various songs from his repertoire modified for Earthling consumption. References to space things that had been literal became metaphor or were changed to more terrestrial subjects. He had always been skilled at reading his audience and adjusting accordingly but this was a new and fun challenge.

Although currently, he was playing an acoustic version Iris by The Goo-Goo Dolls. He went on a bit of a deep dive into Earth music to prepare, sprinkling his set list with an eclectic sampling of personalized covers. His desire to be known fueled his performance and brought out genuine emotion that always made songs better. And earned better tips, which was what was truly important for his broke self.

[Robin Stanton]

A familiar pink-haired young woman in the audience waits for the song to come to a close, then cups her mouth like a megaphone and says (in a reasonable volume) "Play Freebird!"

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

By some miracle, that song was actually on his list. He'd rather have an electric guitar for it but he couldn't carry an amp around and his powers were just as likely to short one out than power it. So, acoustic it was. It was just too bad the awesome part didn't work.

"I guess I could bump that earlier in my set," he responded with a smile and an easygoing chuckle as he began playing. He had been in the song's headspace before, telling a girl he had to move on because that was just his nature.

♫If I leave here tomorrow
Would you still remember me?
For I must be traveling on now
'Cause there's too many places I've got to see

But if I stay here with you, girl
Things just couldn't be the same
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now
And this bird you cannot change

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
And the bird you cannot change
And this bird you cannot change
The Lord knows I can't change

Bye-bye, baby, it's been a sweet love, yeah, yeah
Though this feeling I can't change
But please don't take it so badly
'Cause the Lord knows I'm to blame

But if I stay here with you girl
Things just couldn't be the same
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now
And this bird you cannot change

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
And the bird you cannot change
And this bird you cannot change
The Lord knows I can't change
Lord, help me, I can't change

Lord, I can't change
Won't you fly high, free bird, yeah♫

[Ashlie Minamida]

Ashlie is wandering the streets, stopping here and there to buy something or sample the food. She tries her level best not to come across like a politician publicly eating a hot-dog or some such American non-sense but she does stand out, even if she's foregone her usual sleek and clean white suits for a more relaxed, vaguely bohemian linen look. Still, she's here to enjoy herself. Not indulge, Will's odd system of bribing oneself obviously doesn't apply to her, but it is nice to see hard work come to fruition. The University, as much as it tries to foster this sense of pride and self-expression, is still somewhat rooted in once necessary secrecy, both from it's beginnings as a school for the 'gifted' as well as having had to obscure her own nature. There's a beauty in seeing people not be afraid to be themselves and carefully cultivating it in an ivory tower of private schooling is different. Just a little exclusive where it shouldn't have to be.

Part of her knows this carefree atmosphere won't last. They'd already send Conduit of all people to slip in undetected, a thought that sends shivers down her spine in a wholly new and unpleasant bodily sensation. It makes her want to put surveillance on every building in the city but she recognizes that as the obvious folly it is. Will single-handedly took care of it. Trust those who share her vision. Solidarity, not fear will keep them safe. But they will need to be kept safe. She realizes that even without Conduit's stolen intel having been decrypted.

She shakes her head ever so slightly. Too in her own thoughts, as always. She smiles as she focuses back on the celebrations.

[Will Stanton]

Will waved at the people he knew, continuing to hawk flatbreads and meat pies and other easy-to-carry foods from his temporary stall. One grinned as a young mutant -- six, maybe seven -- rushed up with a sheet of paper. Will took it, making a big, studious show of looking it over, nodding, showing it to one of the other Wills for confirmation. And then they took a big honkin' cookie and handed it to the kid, who rushed off giggling.

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

After his next song ended, Thrax gave his audience a charming, apologetic smile. "I'm afraid it's time for an intermission, folks. This big fuzzy needs to eat something. But don't you worry, I'll be back before you know it."

He shouldered his borrowed guitar and knelt down to pick up his basket of tips. Upon quickly counting his haul, he pocketed the cash and thanked his audience for their generosity. Then, he strolled over to Will's food stand, waiting in the short line before stepping up to the stand.

"So, what've you got for a hungry musician?" he asked with a mildly flirtatious smile.

[Will Stanton]

"Oh, quite a bit," Will grinned. "But I'm thinking you probably want something savory to keep your energy up if you're going to be busking all day. Some steak and ale pie, I'm thinking?" Will called back over his shoulder, getting a confirming nod from another Will.

Will wrapped one up in a paper sleeve baring a cartoon logo of his face, and the address of Kneadful Creations -- a bit of free advertising, as it were, as well as something to keep crumbs off of your fingers. He handed that to the alien, as well as the same sheet of paper the child had shown him a few moments earlier.

A scavenger hunt! Apparently, 10 Wills were hiding around the street festival. Find all of them, and get their stamps, and you could get a free cookie! Cookies are good. As are free things. As are encouraging people to support their local mutant businesses by poking around the street fair.

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

"Steak and ale, huh? Sounds perfect!" he said with a grin as he paid for the food. Looking over the stamp sheet, he made a thoughtful noise. "Sounds fun. Though it better be a damn good cookie if I'm sacrificing playing time for it."

But, damnit, now he really wanted a cookie. And any kind of hunt had an appeal to the warrior alien.

"Is it a damn good cookie?"

[Will Stanton]

"I don't make any other kind," Will nodded.

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

"Good enough for me!" he answered with a grin. "I shall return triumphant to claim my rightful prize."

"But one question: Are the ten Wills human or are other shapes on the table?"

[Will Stanton]

"Humanoid. I mean, the goal is to be able to find them, after all," Will grinned. "If I were really hiding, you'd never be able to find me."

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

Humanoid? Well, he guessed that was the only frame of reference humans had for bipedal life and it wasn't like he had never used the equivalent term of Crocutoid. They got a pass.

Thrax smirked teasingly. "Mmhmm... you like to surprise people by hiding as random objects, don't you? Though, now that I say it, that sounds like it'd be fun. The kind of fun worth the risk of getting punched."

[Will Stanton]

"I did, when I was younger," Will acknowledged. "Been reamed out on multiple occasions for it. Some people do not appreciate a good surprise."

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

"Agreed. Some people just don't know how to appreciate a good prank. I mean, if nobody gets hurt, what's the problem?"

He shook his head. "Anyway! I think the people behind me are getting impatient. So, I'm off to enjoy my food and hunt me some Wills." And with a jaunty gesture that must have been a salute, he was off.

Moments later, he was on the hunt, his eyes and nose peeled. He took a bite of his food as he surveyed a crowd that was watching a four-armed juggler. No green hair, but surely Will wouldn't make it that easy... would he?

[Will Stanton]

A glance at the juggler's face indicated that no, this didn't appear to be a Will. I suppose there was no harm in asking, but part of the game had to be people being able to identify Will as such, and changing his face would defeat that purpose.

That being said...

The sheet for stamps had one clue written on it, on the top.

“I twist, I spin, I fly through air,
Passed hand to hand with practiced flair."

And one of the balls was green...

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

Thrax's eyes moved from the green ball to the clue and back. A sly grin crossed his muzzle as he planned a little mischief. He hated to sabotage another performer but, damn it, a giant cookie was on the line; sacrifices had to be made. So the alien read the flow of the air and subtly exercised his powers to create a precisely aimed gust of blow the ball in his direction, looking to anyone like the juggler fumbled the toss. Was it nice? No. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

[Will Stanton]

The gust of wind caught the ball in midflight, blowing it just enough out of the way to where it bounced off the finger of the juggler -- a desperate snatch at it, but just not quite accurate enough. The ball ricocheted off the fingertip, bouncing on the ground and rolling through the crowd towards the gutter.

It appeared, at least, to be following the laws of physics.

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

"I've got it!" Thrax exclaimed as he rushed to catch it before it disappeared into the gutter. He had to nudge its trajectory a little but he succeeded in getting it at the dramatic last second.

He raised it nearer to his face and quietly said, "Hello, Will number one." At least, he hoped he wasn't just talking to a normal ball. But what else could the clue have meant?

[Will Stanton]

"Oh, I'm not number one," the ball squeaked, as Thrax saved him from rolling into the muck. "But congratulations on finding me!"

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

"I'll take my stamp, if you please. And, I assume, the next hint? That's how this works?" he responded, making sure he had the rules of the game right. It seemed simple enough, as without clues it would be borderline impossible to find them all.

[Will Stanton]

"I'll take my stamp, if you please. And, I assume, the next hint? That's how this works?" he responded, making sure he had the rules of the game right. It seemed simple enough, as without clues it would be borderline impossible to find them all.

Will grinned, a hand stretching out of the ball to add a stamp to Thrax's sheet.

"Don't trust the lines that never fade. I'm squirming on the one who made!"

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

The alien blinked. "What in the varied hells is that supposed to mean? He asks, as if you'd tell him."

[Will Stanton]

"Oh, that would be telling. You're supposed to go around the festival, checking out everyone's stalls and shops. It's all part of a grand scheme to get people to see more things.

You could always try to find help, of course. They might have clues you don't....or they might have a clue where you don't."

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

"Yeah. Didn't think it'd be that easy. But good to know I can compare notes with anyone else doing this. I'm always up for finding easier ways to do things." Crocutans were a very social people; their warrior code made no stipulation that one must fight one-on-one. Should he encounter another player, he would definitely suggest teaming up.

"So, back to the increasingly impatient juggler with you?"

[Will Stanton]

"Oh, very much so. Gotta work for my pay today."

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

"Here you go," Thrax said to the juggler, deftly tossing the ball back to them.

With the second clue in mind, the friendly alien resumed his quest for culinary satisfaction. What could a line that never fades be? The strange white lines humans put on their streets, possibly? What matter of machine made them? Was that even the right line of thinking? He decided to keep an eye out for something that made more sense.

[Robin Stanton]

Thrax may or may not have noticed the shaggy dog wandering about, not really following him but just being around. Until it saunters up behind him while he's thinking and suddenly pops up into a familiar pink-haired shapeshifter.

"Perplexed by human customs? Or did you spend all your time learning how to play the most over-requested song we got?" she chuckles.

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

"Hey. If it's what the audience wants, who am I to deny them?" he responded like any proper performer.

"And, while, yes, your customs are strange and often confusing, I have definitely encountered stranger things so it's all good. This, 'scavenger hunt' your dad put together has me scratching my head though. I don't suppose you know what 'lines that never fade' could be?" he added as he continued to scan the area.

[Robin Stanton]

"Well, you gotta try to think how he does. Road marking's too obvious, plus he wouldn't want to encourage kids to walk out into the road. Phone lines maybe but you wouldn't really have to note that something physical doesn't fade. Colors maybe. He likes being clever and can can definitely flatten himself into a painting or something. Don't think it's something more esoteric like, I dunno, the lines of societal division or something. Hard to turn into, yeah? Plus that's too much of a bummer anyway." she chuckles.

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

"I mean, paint fades eventually if we're being literal. Buuut..." he said, eyes brightening as he made a connection, "'squirming on the one who made' could mean on an artist!"

He sighed and frowned as he looked around. "... of which there are a great abundance, even limiting them to one medium."

"Wait!" He grinned. "What about the spoken word? Plays and poems have lines. Hell, so do songs."

He quickly checked his own clothes, just in case. No, wait, he'd have had someone find Will on him already because people had won already. "Yeah, not on me. Had to be sure."

[Robin Stanton]

"If he's gonna be anything involved with an artist he's definitely gonna be the art and not just clothes. And art [i]on an artist... Ah! Hahaha, I got it!" she grins.

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

It was really hard to see a tattoo through fur, so his people didn't really express themselves that way. However, he had been exposed to enough other cultures to understand the concept. And they did use dyes to a similar effect even if it didn't last. He held up a finger in a eureka gesture and exclaimed with a grin of his own, "A tattoo! I'm not sure about the squirming part but maybe it'll click when I see it."

[Robin Stanton]

"If I'm right then you definitely will. Come on!" she says and waves Thrax to follow her as she heads off in the direction of the tattoo artist plying his trade.

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

The excitable extraterrestrial jogged after his human friend, eager to see if her theory panned out. It did make perfect sense, only eluding him thus far because the practice wasn't a part of his culture. He guessed he had to share the cookie now. Boo.

Catching up as they reached the tattooist's booth, he asked, "So, you really think Will turned into ink and had himself injected under somebody's skin? That's... some extreme dedication."

[Robin Stanton]

"Nah, no way, that's a bit much even for him. I bet he's just made himself real flat." she says as she starts looking around at the various tattoos on display.

[Will Stanton]

Theoretically, any of the sample tattoos on the wall could have been Will -- such is the hard part about finding a shapeshifter. But this was easy mode compared to what Will used to do with Robin when they were younger, because it was meant for the Monoforms. And none of them seemed quite right.

It was when they spotted a traditional style pin-up girl on the back of the tattoo artist herself, decked out in cowboy hat, daisy dukes, six shooters and a vibrant green 'do that they seemed to hit paydirt. Like the other tattoos on the back of the artist, this one moved occasionally, winking up at passers-by.

[Thraxion Ord'Rakar]

"Yep. That's definitely Will," he chuckled.

Upon clearing his throat, he said, "Good day, inkmaster, we need to have a word with your guest. We won't take much of your time."

[Narrator]

"My...guest? Oh, you're here for the damn scavenger hunt and not a tattoo, huh?" she said, grunting a little bit as she turned to look at the two questers.

[Robin Stanton]

"Hey, you figure out how to give me one that sticks and I'll consider it!" Robin notes and makes her arm develop a full sleeve of (admittedly rather simple) designs before making it fade back into regular skin.