Age of Power: Dawn

The Light fades.

Thoughts race through your mind, foreign sensations take hold, a new awareness presses down upon you. Hot water continues to rain down from the shower head. An ocean full of data pours into your mind. A poor vessel for so much information! For a second, it's as if you can feel everything in your immediate vicinity, you know it as if it were the back of your own hand! You can feel the electrons flowing through the circuit's in the wall. The flow of water racing through pipes. Pipes made of steel, copperplastic.Tilesmadeofceramicawomandownstairsbloodthroughbrittleveinscancerouscells-

Your head swims. You go weak in the knees. That sixth sense loses focus even as you stagger. You slip on the low friction surface. You're falling. Going to bust your head open like a watermelon on the Fourth of July. You blink. Time slows down. Your fall slows to an absolute crawl. The world almost stands still. No. Your perception sped up incredibly. This is truth. Some new and alien part of your mind informs you matter of factly. That same part of your mind tells you to reach out with an impossible part of your will. Gently, like a leaf on the wind, you take hold of yourself. You halt your fall very, very carefully. Using Telekinesis on yourself is not something done lightly.

As you slowly levitate yourself back to a suitable standing position, an exulted grin carves itself onto your lips. Against all the laws of physics and science known to man, you are a full-fledged Telekinetic bad ass. The full range of your abilities, the possibilities of gaining even more power settles upon your mind. The accelerated perception recedes.

Thoughts become wild and chaotic. The smile falters. The water continues to beat down on you rhythmically. On the other side of the shower curtain, you can feel every contour of your bathroom. Below you, underneath layers of steel and wood and plaster, Cherly Donovan sleeps alone in her big bed. Can't exactly see her or hear her, but you can easily identify her. If you close your eyes, you can easily picture her. You remain in the shower for a full five minutes more. Deep breath. The constant stream of hot water is comforting. Deep breath. Keeps you from being overwhelmed. Deep breath. Everything's going to be fine!

Takes a while for you to stop freaking out. If you hadn't just levitated a good foot off the ground, you'd think you're nuts. You don't know how long you stay in the shower. The mixture of alien knowledge mixing with common thought freezes you in place. Eventually, you can move. The water's definitely cold and your fingers and toes are so pruned its painful. Goosebumps pimple your flesh.

Once you've managed to collect yourself, you pull back the shower curtain and take an instinctive step out. Need to grab your towel. Need to- Your foot freezes mid-step. A thought rumbles through your anxious mind. A moment of calm clarity. Focus. You know where you want to be! An instant later, you're standing before the bathroom's sink. Completely dry. The beads of water and moisture and remnants of soap and shampoo were left behind! Can't take anything with you.

In a daze, almost as if you've entered a fantastic dream world, you stumble to your room. Not even bothering to turn on the lights or open a curtain, you easily navigate your large room. Finding the clothes you want, a pair of stylish jeans and a too-expensive T-shirt that does its best to hide your muffin top, is a breeze. Don't even have to look to find where your shoes are under your bed. No way are you going to work today. No way. Probably not even going to leave the apartment, but getting dressed gives you time to think. You take your time. Your thoughts seem to be muddled and slow.

The sound of your smartphone going off finally manages to shock you into action. The sound of the Imperial March playing makes you shake your head. Mom's calling. Can't deal with her right now. You let it ring through to voicemail. Call her back later.

Looking at your phone, you see a dozen notifications. That's strange. You're definitely not one for social media. That's a whole dumpster fire best left alone. You thumb through them. They're all mentioning some big world-wide event. Domes of Light over hundreds of cities world-wide.

Shit.

You find the remote easily enough. It's wedged underneath your mattress. Somehow. A flicker of Will brings the remote to your waiting hand. Convenient. Don't watch much TV. The internet is a thing after all, but if it's that big--you get the sinking suspicion it is!--then it'll be on every channel. Need information. Need to see what's going on.

"-ing News!" says the pretty talking head on the television. Deborah Salinger's blonde hair gleams in the studio's light. The usually composed Channel 8 anchor looks panicked. "We have multiple reports from across the world of hundreds of these- these strange phenomena making appearances simultaneously. Some reports say they span over dozens of miles. Reports of fatalities from traffic incidents and several plane crashes have begun to filter in. No official word from the White House as of yet, but we await President Trump's response. Stay tuned for continuing coverage of this developing situation. Wait- we have Breaking News! Now to Brian Austin, who's live aboard Chopper 8!"

The screen shifts to an overhead view of Downtown Dallas. There are fires and car crashes everywhere. Gridlock like you wouldn't believe. There's a giant red monster raging through the lanes of I-30. He sends cars, trucks, and pedestrians flying with a half-assed swipe of his arm. He bellows unintelligibly at the heavens. The sound of sirens mixed with the roar of the helicopters rotor provide an apocalyptic soundtrack, but you're not listening to the reporter any more. Memories of strange faces flicker through your mind. The world seems engulfed in chaos. These Light Domes popped up all over the place.

Your phone rings again. Mom. Mute the TV. This time you pick it up.

"Robert!" She says as you put the latest and greatest smartphone to your ear. She's the only one who calls you that, and only when she's upset. "Where are you? Are you okay? You're not out there are you?"

"Yeah, mom." You answer. Your eyes remain glued to the TV screen. A policeman fires some sort of assault rifle at the Rage monster. Just manages to piss it off even more before he goes splat! You grimace.

"Thank god!" Her voice cracks in panic. She hesitates. Not like her.

"Are you okay?" You ask. It's your turn to panic. Might not be super close to your parents, but you love them all the same.

She hesitates again. "I'm fine. No need to worry about me!"

"Where's dad?" You ask immediately.

"H-he went down to City Hall this morning." She finally says. Naked panic is evident in her voice. The thought of your father, the agining and retired bureaucrat, out in that chaos makes your stomach plummet. "He won't answer. He's still out there. Anything could have happened to him, Robert. I was so afraid when you didn't pick up! Can't get a hold of Ashley either!"

"I'm okay." You reassure her quietly. Have to be strong for her. "Ashley's probably just busy dealing with all of this craziness." That's true. What kind of shitstorm would this put on her plate? You don't want to know. All she ever says is that she's a field agent for the CIA. The rest is classified. She could tell you, but 'then she'd have to kill you!' On the television, a creature made of black fire has entered the fray. He's wrestling the bigger creature. It's like something out of a comic book or a video game. You continue after a moment, "And I'm sure Dad's alright. Can't think of many places better protected than City Hall!"

Not that the police seem to be able to do anything to the two monsters fighting it out through burnt out husks of cars.

"Right..."

She doesn't sound convinced.

Above you, you sense Carl locking and loading. He's got an arsenal up there. The veteran's a doomsday prepper. You're on friendly terms with him. Since getting out of the service, he's been a trainer with the Cowboys for years. On occasion, he'd offer you prime tickets. No thanks. Like the military, organized sports was never your thing. Privately, you thought he was nuts when he showed you his safe room and his myriad supplies. The man had detailed topographical maps of the entire DFW area! He even told you about a 'fallback location' out in the boonies. Definitely paranoid. One too many RPGs launched at his head. Now, he seems oddly prescient.

What do you do?
[] Stay on the line with mom. Provide moral support. Nothing you can do out there. Surely, the authorities will restore order.
[] Go up and see Carl. If anybody is prepared for this madness, he is. Maybe you can tag along as he plays soldier again.
[] It's stupid. Idiotic. You're not likely to find dad in all of this, but you can't stay here while he's out there all alone. Go find him.
[] Write-in.