Seth sat on his front step for what seemed like hours, head sunken into dampening folds of his mother’s scarf. The winds had died down, the light had faded, and a light drizzle was starting, but the fires on the western horizon still burned. But he didn’t care, or couldn’t care. For that matter, he wasn’t even able to cry. For his mom, his dad, his neighbors, for anything. Seth just sat there face down in that scarf feeling nothing, but not for lack of trying.

The drizzle continued, the pattering of drops across the dead town the only sound left to it. No crickets, no birds, nothing but rain. A slight gust and shift of the wind, and for a second the drizzle subsided. Long enough for the voice from before to try calling out to him, but the rain started up again and it was lost to the pattering. Yet the event was enough to snap him out of his muted and numb sorrow to take in the change of day. To see the sun had gone down, and the world was moving on without him. And to notice the growl of his stomach against his neglect. He was hungry… very hungry. So left with nothing he got up and walked back inside, stepping over the door and robotically heading toward the kitchen.

The rain was softened by the home, but still reverberated through it, mostly due to the permanently open door. But the rumble of his thoroughly empty stomach would have drowned out everything anyway. A feeling permeating his already broken demeanor. Once in the kitchen he could see what was left of his parent’s morning. Cold coffee, cold over-steeped tea, and all the tools and fixings for waffles.

Seth hungrily reached up to the counter and pulled down the waffle iron, hugging it close, setting it on the floor so he didn’t have to reach. He then grabbed up the mix left beside it. A familiar smell flared that growling pit, demanding he open it already. Inside he saw the distinct sparkle and swirl of brown sugar in the batter. His parents knew he liked it, even when they messed it up, but they only made it on special days so-

‘What day is it?’

He still couldn’t remember much, like half of his mind was just a blank. But he still knew enough. Looking toward the fridge he saw their calendar had fallen from it, as had all the magnets keeping it up. It was a 20XX Heroes of East Asia edition, though he knew next to nothing about the region beyond what the first few months had on display. The calendar was splayed every which way, but the days were all marked down so he could see which pages to ignore.

He found July, the calendar showing a propaganda poster of Major Nguyen, or at a bunch of him, lifting a stereotypically American tank from over top of a family. His mom had said it was a different time or something, but… he didn’t know why that was. The days on the calendar proper though were barely marked two weeks in. But… he could see what was written on the last date. The current date.

Saturday 13th

*Seth’s Birthday*

The calendar slipped from his hands, his strength slipped from his legs. He fell to his knees still half stained in healed away blood. The gravity of his whole world was coming down upon him. The meager sliver it all was. He lost his parents, his town, his piecemeal happy life. All of it was gone. All of it was taken away… on his birthday. Why…

‘Why…’

‘WHY!!!’

Without warning the lights in the kitchen started flickering, practically strobing. The waffle iron, absentmindedly left unplugged on the floor, started heating, smoking, and melting in on itself. The fridge shook, the stove tops burned, the oven overheated, and the coffee maker rattled apart. Outside the window the entire town began flashing in course. Car alarms blaring, entire houses flickering in the dark rain, sirens for disasters warbling like they couldn’t hold their duties.

The streetlights went first, shattering in sequence away from the home, filaments exploding with too much power to hold behind glass. Then came the cars, their batteries running off and melting down as their lights shared their fates. Transformers on their poles soon flashed in spectacular overload across the town, the entire grid rerouting backwards into them without care for what they already contained. The first exploded, thundered against the dark in green arcing fire, but the farthest away from this gradually emptying town. The rest followed suit, detonating in sequence and lighting up the rain. Concentric rings flowing back toward their only accepted output, toward Seth.

His knees charred the floor below him, a burgeoning grimace trying to break through his enforced emotionless hell. All the while he stared down at that now charring calendar, eyes unable to look away from its message. The dead magnets strewn across the floor revived and crawled toward his legs. The barest amount of emotion soon forcing its way to the surface. His teeth gritted, his fists clenched. His thoughts spiraling completely out of control.

‘WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY!!!!’

Seth was losing it, the transformers on his street were popping and now the power sockets were smoldering, plastic covers lighting on fire and drywall curling back in pain. The final transformer outside his house finally exploded sending a shower of green sparks dancing across the lawn. The sockets finally gave out and shot pure streams of electricity straight toward the swirling field forming around him. The magnets, the burning calendar, the once cold drinks, everything not nailed down in the kitchen was churning around him like a maelstrom.

Seth had clenched tighter, now bleeding from his palms, his teeth almost cracking from the pressure subjected to them without will enough left to care. Everything was lost, everything was gone. He was all that was left and barely had anything to show for it. The only thing he had, the only thing he was allowed, the only thing screaming in the beat of his heart in his ears… was rage.

Finally it all snapped, he snapped, his teeth snapped, his palms snapped, and the sky snapped with him. From the light drizzle outside came a lightning bolt straight through the house. It tore through the roof and his parent’s bedroom, burning a hole straight to the kitchen. Straight to Seth.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

He yelled, yelled like he’d never done before, the lightning screaming with him, channeling straight into him. The kitchen burned, was blasted apart. The windows blew out, and the vortex turned into shrapnel. The power tearing through him denied that emotional dam, refused that muted sorrow. A path burned parallel like his nerves were on fire. Like he was on fire. But nothing could be as bad as it already had been.

The lightning subsided first, plunging the world into violently drained darkness. Then fell Seth, releasing and dropping down into a curled up ball in the now dark and decimated kitchen. His eyes forced closed, his palms bleed dry, the floor a smoking crater of overcharged wrath. The rain was stopped and the town had gone silent. The emotional dam was broken open, in spite of whatever put it there. A single tear streaked down his face in pyrrhic victory. As he was finally able to cry for his destroyed life.

Time disappeared, and Seth opened his eyes, the sun shining through the shattered windows was too powerful to ignore against the empty thoughts left to him. He hadn’t so much slept as simply cried himself into unconsciousness, but his mind still blanked out all the same. But… things felt better at least. As better as his situation could allow them to be anyway. He started up, kneeling in the burnt scar he made in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes clear. It was quiet again, peacefully quiet, save for the- *THUNK* disintegrating hole in the ceiling. Seth rubbed his head with muted grumbling, getting up to avoid further head trauma. But still it was quiet, so…

“You are finally awake. Good.”

The voice returned, but… different. More polite, professional, but really dismissive.

“Your little outburst… forced my hand… so I will be taking over being our liaison. Not that ~Threat~ was not doing his best, but you cannot take the soft approach with this much power at the disposal of a mere whelp.”

The voice seemed to talk through him, caring little for what he felt, but…

“I know all too well what you are feeling, all of us know it. But right now we need to keep you from losing control again. And keep you alive. I did not agree to this divulgence, but still he was right. We are part of you now, your fate is ours.”

The voice paused, something deeper than Seth could feel forcing him down.

“...And I fear our fate may yet be yours as well. But for now, I believe someone is quite hungry.”

Seth snapped to realization at the oppressive growling of his stomach, and the dry bloat of his tongue.

“Maybe if you had not turned your kitchen into a smoking crater you would have actually tasted those… waffles?”

Seth looked around at the charred and stirred results of yesterday. At least the fridge was intact- *thump* …*CLANG* The door fell away from the scorched fridge revealing the equally charred contents. Seth sighed in disappointment, shuffling toward the pantry that was thankfully around the corner from the kitchen.

Most of the jars and boxes were at least still on the shelves, rather annoyingly as the stuff in his reach was unappetizing or ‘ugh’ healthy.

“You do not get to pick and choose what you survive on.”

The voice interjecting at his thoughts and reprimanding his childishness only added to the disappointment. All the while they seemed to ignore that he was still ten…eleven?

“What matters right now is what can be prepared! What can be saved and rationed so you can survive the longest. Though at the moment sustenance is necessary to make up for your lost meals. So maybe something dense is called for.”

Seth eyed the cookie packets on the upper shelf, just out of reach.

“No!”

He sank down further into his dour then looked lower. Most of the jars and cans were ingredients, so not very appetizing.

“Almost.”

His eyes focused, looking at every can individually before-

“There, that one will do.”

…It was a can of refried beans.

“That paste should be dense enough while still being nutritious to warrant it as a full meal.”

Seth glowered at the idea of eating an entire can of refried beans for breakfast. But… wasn’t fully against it, he eyed up again to the high shelf, looking for chips.

“Hey, luxuries can wait, you need food that is… HEY!!”

He’d stopped listening and realized there was a step ladder in the closet he was thrown into upfront.

Now with beans and chips to dip in them Seth… realized he didn’t know how to cook. Also the stove top had melted down, and the microwave was scattered across the neighborhood.

“I’m going to have to teach you how to light a fire aren’t I?”

The voice sounded exactly as if it had its palm in its face. Seth looked around at the charred kitchen he’d made, feeling a slight bit less dour about it. Something almost approaching pride in having this much power. Like he was an actual super now. And thinking slightly of…

“Ugh to use the power for something as trivial as cooking is… oh sorry *hhsshish*, I forgot you were with us. *HHsshhss* But…”

The voice seemed to growl slightly at its situation.

“Very well.”

Seth felt a tingle, not quite on his skin but throughout it, as if his nerves were just booted up for the first time. Quickly it focused to just his hands, a slight warmth radiating against the cold air wafting through to him.

“We are still locking your power control proper to avoid further ‘incidents’, but we can release some of it to facilitate… trivial matters I guess.”

Seth looked at himself, looked at his hands, felt a power in them like nothing else he’d… well besides the other times, felt. But it was real, he had powers, he could feel it flex with his fingers. He really could be a super. The voice cleared its throat with deliberate force, snapping Seth from his awestruck spiral.

“Take the container in your hands. Hold it tight, but focus on where you make contact with the metal.”

He readily did as he was asked, giddy to actually use this power, but he stopped short. Realizing that if he was about to heat a can with his bare hands.

”Oh right, you do not have scales. Don’t worry, if you focus right you will not burn your skin. We can heal you if you accidently do at least. Think of it as a learning exercise. Besides, we will need to teach you to heal yourself sooner or later.”

Seth furrowed his brow, but continued on. He focused on the contact points, his pinkies that touched the uncovered bottom of the can, his thumps that touched the top. Felt the warmth in his hands increase little by little.

“Now focus on the contents of the container, look through it, focus through it. But do not- *POP*… focus too hard.”

The can’s lid flew open, narrowly missing Seth’s thumbs, but instead revealed a cloud of steam and hot bean paste.

“Huh, guess your people’s metals are rather weak compared to ours.”

‘Or it was just a pull tab.’ Seth was starting to get use to thinking rather than speaking to his new ‘friends’.

A thought passed his mind though as he scooped a bit of paste up in a chip.

‘Why do I see these voices as friends, I barely even know who they are?’

“We can discuss who, what, where, and why later, your survival takes precedent…”

The voice paused for a solemn moment.

“But we do owe you this, and it will be the first debt paid.”

Seth resigned the thought, but still asked.

‘Can I at least know ‘your’ name? You called the other voice Threat but I don’t-’

“Wait. You understood that? I guess you were able to parse some amount of our language in return. No…? *hsh shehhsh* collective meaning? Wait, I understand now, Threat as a name is known by everyone here so there are no contradicting perspectives. So its meaning is not obfuscated by all of us having our own interpretations of what it meant by it.”

Seth rubbed his head, this kind of neuroscience is way above what’s expected of an eleven year old.

“Sorry. If we all think the same way about something, its meaning might be clearly translated to you, since we are all in agreement about what that thing is. And we all know quite well who and what Threat is...”

Seth could feel a deep seated ire from the voice, but equally felt them keep it in check.

“At any rate, we will have to wait for everyone to get done learning your language, but names will be an easy starting point for your own translation in time.”

The voice felt somber for a moment.

“It… may sound awful, but most of us cannot remember our true names. We have transitioned to calling each other by our respective titles due to our… relatively new state of being. We never gave much thought on preserving them. *sigh* Another thing to add to the list once we are able to reconstitute ourselves…”

An almost collective pang of sorrow and guilt swept over Seth from the voices.

“Do not worry, existential questions are not conducive to survival, and we need to refocus outward… And my title is ~Tlatoani~ by the…What?”

‘Oh… ugh there’s a hero I like that’s Aztec themed, I guess maybe now I’m ob-fu-scating your meanings.’

“…Parsing this mess of a brain is going to be agonizing. I can feel it. Let us at least alleviate that translation a little bit, call me Speaker. I am the elected leader of this group you are now harboring. But, as the name suggests, I was to merely represent them at large. Our situation though has transitioned my role somewhat, so I have become the de facto leader in a more direct regard.”

Seth swallowed the chip he had been munching on and bowed slightly.

‘It is a pleasure to meet you Speaker.’

“I do not know whether to feel patronized or happy that you finally found some decorum. Never mind, survival, focus, now.”

Without much more thought, Seth set about following Speakers instructions. Grabbing empty water bottles from the kitchen cabinets, the ones not scorched the night before, and filling them with water from the bathroom tap. Quickly taking a swig as the salt stinging his dried up mouth finally caught his attention. Next came storage, he grabbed his school backpack, as well as proper clothes since he’d been still wearing the same blood stained pajamas since yesterday. A graphic t-shirt with a younger looking General Advance charging through a brick wall and a pair of grey cargo pants. Oddly though, he had his mother’s scarf on as well, having absentmindedly put it on when he grabbed it yesterday. He stayed just a little while longer holding it, grounding himself and trying to hold on the memories he had of it. Of his mom.

With proper clothing, Seth went about grabbing up every usable and storable piece of food in the pantry he could fit into his backpack and prepared to…

‘Why do we need to stay somewhere else? I like my bed.’

“There is a smoking hole through the roof and the front door is off its hinges. Not to mention you shattered most of the windows. It is no longer a sound or insulated structure. Do not worry though, we should not have to go far. Your village has plenty of houses we can use. And fewer… hrmm.”

The voice stopped itself, redirecting Seth out the tossed aside door. Thus he was set off into the emptied town, leaving his house behind. Photos still on the walls as he walked through the doorframe a final time. A few faces… not so blurry anymore.

The town was in a horrid state, mostly due to the ever present smoke clouds from distant fires discoloring most of the western sky an ominous red hue. Every house Seth passed was the same story. Shattered glass and scorch marks, though most led outside rather than in. The few cars on the road were… broken out of, with the few exceptions being banged and dented as if pushed aside. The center of town was a little better, but most of the windows were blown in for a different reason.

Close to the center of town, at the intersection of Main and 15th, the source of all this destruction stood, still smoking from its landfall. It was an almost perfect sphere, at least from what could be seen of it. Chunks of meteoric rock and metal jutted from various areas. Fused on tagalongs from several asteroid belts. Its surface a matte black, but had distinctive lines crossing it, almost like circuitry.

“Our ark. The deliverer of our salvation and the spreader of our sins. It is best that we not linger here, we can talk someplace… safer.”

‘But…’

“I know… but we need suitable long term shelter before nightfall.”

‘But there’s nobody here?’

“That… is what worries us.”

A small tinge of collective apprehension kept Seth company as he continued on, only slowing to scrounge around a grocery store and make sure it was still viable. He was only stopped when he came to the outskirts of town, at a small mattress store. It still had all of its windows, had more than enough beds, and could even be fortified a little…

‘But from what?’

“With any luck, nothing at all. We are making countermeasures on our end to keep anything away, but for now just keep quiet when doing anything.”

‘Okay, but-’

Seth was interrupted. A low thunder rolled in from that red hued west. It was distant, but it was there… and unrelenting. He stared off down the road that led out of town, fear coloring the barren road with every roll.

“Do not worry, with everything still usable around here, and these countermeasures, we can stay here for a long while. We can wait for rescue… and never have to deal with whatever that is.”

Seth kept looking, listening to the thunder, listening to it die down. To nothing. Left with himself again, he went inside. And prepared to camp out for the foreseeable future.