"Things aren't going to get better for a long time, I can tell. The people that didn't change, the ones that are still human? I already know they're going to hate us. Hate the Pulsed. I'm lucky. I can hide my horns and tail. My only friend looks like a humanoid cat right now though. He'll have a much harder time. I'll help keep him safe though, just like he will keep me safe. Signed, ImpTail."
"This is my fault, I just know it. For three years I was.. Well, the doctors call it a coma, but it was much, much more for me. I was just dreaming, and that dream was more real that anything at all. Not that you'd believe me it I told you what was going on..." ~Máché37
Posts like that and more are showing up on UnknownPower, with the number growing as time passes by. Some people are talking about the riots, the looters, the strange way they look. Some are happy about the Second Pulse, because now at least they know they aren't alone. How could they not, when it seems to be all the news is talking about?
Elise was simmering with frustration. It had taken a really long time to get from the park to the apartment even though it wasn't that far...but mass hysteria didn't exactly make for smooth travel time. As they walked up the stairs she tried dialing Missy's phone for the umpteenth time. She'd been unable to get through to the house phone either. All the lines were busy and she was just stewing with worry about what was going on with her kids.
"Mrs. Q? Come on, drink some water or something." Gerald says, though he's just as worried. His mom wasn't home either.
Meanwhile, out in the city, the tide seems to turn in the police's favor. Not because of the cops though. It seems for every looter out there is someone trying to stop them, appearing as needed. Some join the police as temporary deputies, others run off before the cops get there.
Some cities are not so lucky.
In the chaos following the second pulse, many people were in danger, but a certain few buildings in New York have their own guardian angel of sorts.
Stephen Burkhardt patrols the area around his apartment complex, watching anyone who looks up to no good.
A few roughnecks, one green and rough, the other dark red and scaled, had already tried robbing one of the women from his building.
A flash of light and two cracks from a bat with the New York Yankees logo quickly bring that to a stop and the woman rushes into the building, thanking him quickly, but sincerely.
He nods at her thanks and once she's in the building, he resumes his short patrol of the building's area.
A few hours go by and nothing happens on the streets. Either he's scared off any would-be thugs, or the few that were there have been dealt with. Never the less, he decides to check on the other tenants of his building.
There's a knock on Gerald's door.
Geral looks at the door, worried. His mother wouldn't knock. One hand goes into his pocket and comes out in a fist while the other goes to the door and locks the chain latch before he opens it.
Stephen sees a teen with a blue streak in his hair and ears that are just pointy enough to mark him as a Pulsed.
"Hello. May I help you?"
"Um, hello. I'm Stephen Burkhardt. I live in the building, 2-C, and I was checking on everyone, to see if people were injured or needed anything after all the craziness."
He gestures away from the door in reference to the "craziness" that is everywhere outside.
The man standing before you is 5'11", has dark brown hair and blue eyes. He wears a leather jacket, Jeans, Blue Hightops, and a black T-shirt that has a red 20 sided die with the 1 face up the reads "Fail" underneath.
He has a backpack on with the end of a baseball bat sticking out of the top.
The most defining characteristic is that he has a ring of golden light above his head that he either hasn't noticed or doesn't mind.
"Maybe we should offer to help too? I mean, it has to be better than sitting around here and worrying. I've been trying to make the same phone call for hours and still no luck. I'm going to lose my mind if I don't do something...but maybe you should stay here Gerald. It's not safe out there and it's one thing for me to go out...I'm an adult. Your mom would kill me if I let you get hurt."
A small town in Idaho unless it was supposed to be Oklahoma...oh, screw it...somewhere generic in the midwest...moving on....
"Is he still out there Missy?" the young boy asked. He looked to be around 7 or 8, pretty small for his age though and had lightly pointed ears.
The girl, also with the slightly pointed ears, but just on the edge of adolesence, carefully looked out of the window and quickly jerked back to where she had been, pressed against the wall. "Yeah...he...ummm.....I think he caught Mr. Prescott," she said, feeling nauseous.
"What are we gonna do, Missy? Mr. Turner...he...he...he ate Grandma!" the boy said his lower lip quivering as he couldn't quite hold back the tears.
"I don't think he's Mr. Turner anymore, Caleb. Mr. Turner didn't have tusks and he definitely wasn't ten feet tall. Look, he has to sleep sometime. When he does, we make a run for it, okay? We take our bikes and get as far from here as we can. We can pack soe stuff in our backpacks now while he's distracted with Mr. Prescott and then we'll be ready to run as soon as he falls asleep," she said, trying very hard to be brave for her brother's sake.