The restaurant this time was called Frank's, the clothing was far more casual – Miranda had chosen her tightest jeans, fishnets visible through its various rips and tears, as well as a layered top featuring a plaid button-down over a simple black, clingy shirt. She'd been asked to pick the location of the second date, a week and a half later, and now waited expectantly at the table, occasionally slurping iced tea. She pulled her old car from her purse and idly played with it, rolling the shrunken object up and down the contours of her plate. The restaurant's bell rang and Miranda snapped her attention to it, smiling as Kira walked in, tucking a strand of crimson under her ear. She was wearing glasses today, thin violet frames; Miranda bit her lip. They were pretty sexy, she thought.

Kira sat down across from Miranda, wearing far more casual clothes as well – though they still managed to show off every curve she had. “Oh my gods, I am so sorry, lovely,” Kira apologized. She put her hand on Miranda's and bit her lip nervously. “Traffic in this town gets worse by the day!”

“It's okay,” Miranda said, shaking her head at how sweet Kira was. “I've barely been here five minutes.” Kira settled into her chair and looked around the 50's-era diner, her emerald irises taking in the surroundings. The two ladies had caught the attention of the male cooks, who now stared enviously from behind the counter; Miranda had brought girls here before, but never someone as regal-presenting or as gloriously beautiful as Kira.

“This is...” Kira said, smiling and shrugging slowly. “Nice.”

“Yeah, I know it's not exactly what you're used to, Miss Daddy's Money,” Miranda said with a sarcastic grin, raising an eyebrow over her glass of tea. “Some of us have to deal with meals that cost less than a week's paycheck.”

“Sassy, so sassy,” Kira said, tsking at Miranda. She picked up the menu and yawned cutely. “What do they have?”

“You know, diner stuff. Hamburgers, breakfast food, wraps, salads. Really good milkshakes – oh man, get a milkshake. They goooood.” Miranda said eagerly. Kira laughed at her and mocked her.

“They goooood,” Kira mocked. Her accent made the statement even more ridiculous, and they laughed together. Kira did in fact order a strawberry milkshake from the waitress when she came back, and then held up her phone. “I got a text from Seth a couple of hours ago...he asked me to accompany you to his lab. Do you know what's up?”

Miranda drummed her fingernails on the table. “I dunno. He asked me to come down to the labs when I was talking to him last night. Maybe it's his gamma reversal gene.”

Kira's eyebrow rose. “His what?”

Miranda leaned forward and took the straw of her tea between her lips. “He's been trying to find the key to whatever triggers gamma neo mutations, and how to reverse them, so people can, like, look human if they want to. I keep telling him the government's gonna get ahold of that, but he really wants to be 'normal'.” Miranda said, air-quoting the word.

Kira received her milkshake shortly afterward. “Huh. That's actually pretty interesting – and it only works on gamma neo humans?” She took the milkshake, bid a thanks to the waitress, and slurped it. “Oh, by Darkness, that's exquisite–”

“Told ya,” Miranda said. She had to avoid actively biting her lip as she watched Kira's lips and tongue move. “But, uh, yeah, so he says. I mean, it's a dream – and it's still in formula. I really doubt he's nailed it down to be perfect to his ideals.”

“Still, should be a good thing to witness,” Kira replied gently. The waiter showed up moments later, and the ladies placed their orders – a buffalo wrap for Miranda, and a western omelette for Kira. The two of them ate in silence, enjoying their meals. “Okay, this is wonderful.” Kira muttered, her mouth full of egg and ham.

“See? You don't need to go to the Mr. Fancy's Italian Bistro just to get good food.” Miranda laughed. Kira chuckled and slid her hand across the table, igniting a candle between the two of them with a flourish. Miranda locked eyes with Kira and smiled as fondly as she knew how. Across the restaurant from them, a table of four stirred.

“So I meant to ask you,” Kira said, cleaning her mouth delicately. “When do I get to meet the real you?”

Miranda's eyebrow rose and she shivered a bit on the inside. “Wh-what...what do you mean?”

Kira leaned forward, resting her chin on her delicately folded hands. “Seth told me you're a bit of a masochist. Practically a sub born to the purpose.”

Miranda's eyes widened slowly and she blushed instantaneously. “That...motherfucking...” She muttered, looking down at the table. Kira smiled a bit, but otherwise waited with eternal patience for a response. Miranda prodded the table with her finger, whimpering a bit. “Y-yeah, I...guess so...”

“Interesting,” Kira said simply, sitting back upright and sipping a glass of water.

“Inter—interesting what?! Kira! You can't just leave me hanging like that!” Miranda said, pounding the table in mock anger. Kira laughed and spoke softly, letting her words flutter out.

“And why not?”

Miranda's mouth dried up. In seconds, there had been a dynamic change; in mere moments, they had gone from casually dating to possibly establishing power roles. It made Miranda squirm inside; one side of her leaped for joy, ecstatic over being chosen by this gorgeous British goddess, while the other side was a quivering pool of nervousness over the chance to disappoint her.

Kira took Miranda's silence as acceptance. “Exactly. Finish your food, and then we'll go the park or something. Sound good?”

“Y-yes, sure, Kira.” Miranda said quickly. She struggled with something on the inside; Kira had trusted her enough to show her hers, but then again, Kira was only a delta...not so much to worry about. Miranda's fingers closed around the little car in her pocket, and she gulped. It wasn't rejection from Kira Miranda was worried about; surely the girl wasn't prejudiced against her own kind...but it was still the concern of being viewed as abnormal. “Hey, Kira? Can I show you something?”

“We're in a diner, lovely. Later.” Kira said with a snarky grin.

Miranda blushed again. “No, not my – Kira!” She joked, lightly smacking the laughing redhead's arm. “This.” She extracted the car and slid it across the table to Kira. The redhead picked it up in two fingers, inspecting it closely.

“This is some pretty great detail,” Kira said. She leaned in close, inspecting the tiny wires and tubes underneath the car. “Like some seriously great detail. Who made this?”

“It's real,” Miranda said quickly. “I m-mean. It's a real car.”

“You mean, it runs? What is this, a car for ants?” Kira joked.

“I shrunk it,” Miranda said, fumbling with her napkin. “It was mine, but it broke...sentimental value and all that.”

Kira's eyebrow rose. “You shrunk it. You a mad scientist now? 'Cause that's kinda hot.”

Miranda laughed a bit, which broke her tension. “N-no, sorry. I'm...I'm a beta neo. I can shrink inanimate things to a fraction of their size.”

Kira's pretty mouth hung open for a moment, and then she swallowed. “Oh! Well...wow. That's...quite a unique power. Only inanimate things?” Across from them, the party of four left their table rather angrily, pushing a chair in so hard it tipped over.

“Yeah,” Miranda said, nodding. “Watch.” She gently placed her hand on a glass, and it wobbled a bit before shrinking down to a doll-sized minature of itself within seconds. Kira's emerald eyes focused on it, and they glittered at the wonder she'd just seen.

“That's so cool,” Kira breathed, looking back up at Miranda, who beamed. “No, really. That's awesome.”

“Really? I always thought it was kinda lame...” Miranda muttered. Kira shook her head.

“Don't think that! Don't let people put down what you can do. That's really impressive.” Kira reassured her. Miranda smiled ear-to-ear, fumbling with her napkin again, and she awkwardly took a sip of water and placed her car back in its pocket.

“Th-thanks,” Miranda said shyly. Kira smiled her affectionate grin, and Miranda melted a bit. The two girls stood up, their money laying upon the check, and Kira reached for Miranda's hand. Miranda's heart hammered in her chest. She glanced at Kira's delicate fingers, those crimson-painted nails, and gingerly took it, blushing and highly aware of it. Kira thanked the waitress, wished the clerk a good day, and the two of them exited the building.

“We should go there again,” Kira said, glancing at Miranda through her crimson curls. “It was so nice, and I wanted to try a lot more.”

“Definitely,” Miranda said, again beaming at Kira's attention. “Now where'd you park?”

“Somewhere over --” Kira began. She let out a scream as a thrown bottle shattered against her head, throwing the redhead to the ground. Miranda had barely time to respond when a heavy fist slugged her, likewise dropping her onto the concrete. Miranda held out a hand weakly, dazed and hurt, watching a man in a sweater grab Kira's hair and slam her back into the ground. It was the group from the diner, who sat across from them.

“Unbound filth!” The man said, kicking her hard. Kira cried out and coughed, her arms reaching out for anything in her pain. Miranda herself barely registered anything beyond the use of the slur, and was then held up again, this time by a woman with four blue streaks through her hair and piercings. The woman slammed Miranda in the stomach, hit her across the face, and threw her in a heap near Kira.

“Go back to your own kind, cunt. No one wants you here.” The woman spat. Miranda cried out as Kira endured another beating, not just from her, but from another man. She struggled to fight as she watched a fourth man remove a baseball bat from his car. Another fist came down on Miranda's head, bruising her eye, and then a whirlwind of beatings came. The group kicked, punched and swore, beating the two neo humans senseless.

“Fucking hate these mutant freaks,” The man with the bat growled, spitting to the side. He raised the baseball bat over Kira –

BLAM!

A shotgun blast caught the man in the arm, and he screamed as he fell, his arm riddled with buckshot. Miranda looked to the side, willing her aching body to move. Old man Frank was hobbling out of his diner, a shotgun in his hands. He pointed the gun at the injured man.

“Get the fuck off my property,” He growled. The bigots didn't hesitate. One of them helped the shot man to his feet, and they took off. Frank sighed, handing the shotgun to an employee, and took out his phone to call the police and an ambulance. Frank's wife, the clerk, rushed out and put a hand under Miranda's head.

“Oh my gods,” The old woman said. “Are you alright, dear?”

“K-Kira,” Miranda breathed, trying to point to her. “Please...”

But someone was already helping Kira. Miranda's eyes fluttered shut; she barely registered the world around her as people rushed to help her. Kira didn't move; she was still and silent, and Miranda feared the worst as darkness took her.