The clocks said midnight but for the people inside the bar, it made no difference. They were stuck in a trance, oblivious to the outside world and more than glad to keep it that way.
Waking up from the black void was like being stuck to the bottom of the sea, and then slowly start to float up. Light from the surface reached his eyes, growing more and more visible as he neared it. It was a slow process, and the lethargy kept him from breaking free, from reaching the light. He pulled away from the darkness, struggled against it. When he finally broke free, it was like waking up from a long, dreadful sleep, full of nightmares.
You are the Runner. Running out of your office cubicle you head towards a wide window. Hearing the noises of destruction and chaos outside, you take a leap of faith.
You smash through the window, shattering it in a million pieces. Shards of glass shower the streets below, minor in the grander scheme of destruction. Flying through the air you look down for a moment, following the shards with your gaze. Crowds of people run, scattered, in terror, their peace shattered like the window.
You land on the rooftop ahead without much trouble. The noise of grinding metal drowns out your footsteps as you run to the other rooftop. A huge figure appears in the distance as you watch the skyline. It is metallic and enormous, dwarfing buildings. Something of the same scale whizzes past above you. *What is happening?* You think as you run.
The city is laid before you as you run to safety. There’ll be time for answers later. Right now, however, you are only The Runner.
(Based on the iOS and Android game Canabalt.)
In the dead of the night, it was everything but dark. A building up in flames, an orange signal in the night. A man stumbled, both hands in front of him, away from the burning building. His hands searched in the darkness only he saw, struck the pole of a streetlight and groped it wildly, clinging to it. Behind him, a block away, the flames raged and raged, but to him it was only noise. His mind was a wild panic, unable to cope with the trauma of losing his eyesight. Blood trickled down his face from his eyes, but he hardly noticed it. His mind screamed.
(NOTE: It is recommended you read Poetry In Motion before this.)
The fire raged around him and trapped him inside. Dmitri jumped back as a pillar fell in front of him. He covered his mouth from the smoke, but it seemed useless. Ignis stepped through the flames, facing Dmitri. He dashed at him, one of his arms raised, green fire fingers ready to strike. Dmitri watched helplessly as the flame creature pounced on him.
July, 2. 8:00 A.M.
A white-haired young man stood in the middle of a big room. He wore a form fitting green suit, with a darkened arrow on his chest, pointing towards his head, and two arrows pointing downwards sprouting from it, each on a different leg. His eyes were the same shade of green as the suit.