#so this happened...

As Erik heads deeper into the End Zone he can’t help but look around apprehensively. What once was a thriving coastal town is now row after row of boarded up houses half-buried in snowdrifts, fronted by broken down cars and trucks all rendered inoperable by the EMP. The only vehicles still viable are older models without electronic parts, like the large magenta truck Erik is driving. The nature of Erik’s mutation- his ability to manipulate metal ore and metallic energy fields- has meant he has been able to keep the vehicle going a lot longer than most, and that makes him a target. Humanity can be hostile at the best of times, but even more so when their very chance of survival is at stake.

Erik pulls into a side road, manoeuvring the truck down a narrow alleyway behind the back of an old superstore. After parking up he uses his powers to drag a large metal sheet- presumably once part of the superstore’s roof- in front of the vehicle to hide it from view. What the sheeting doesn’t hide the snow surely will; dense flurries continuing to fall down as Erik turns away from the truck, pulling the hood of his coat over his head and zipping up the front as high as it will go. These days the temperature rarely gets above zero, and as such warm clothing is essential to combat the chill. Often though it doesn’t really help, and the possibility of freezing to death is a very real threat. If the EMP hadn’t made it clear the weather certainly does- the planet has had enough of being mistreated, and it is trying to rid itself of humankind once and for all.

Part of Erik can’t help but grimly wish it luck. He has never been very fond of his fellow man, or woman- even the mutant ones. If the world wants to kill them all then so be it, only... he can’t just give up. It is not in Erik’s nature to surrender, and so he finds himself fighting for survival each day- some days harder than others- and knows he will continue to try for as long as it takes.

Mercifully the snow starts to thin out as Erik nears his destination. In the distance he can see the lights coming from the market, a hazy glow in the air illuminating each shimmering flake of snow as it falls to the ground. Sounds can be heard too- a hum of activity that confirms to Erik that the monthly event looks to be as busy as ever. Every time Erik is driven by necessity to attend he hopes it will be quieter than it was the last time, but it never is. The world may be dying, but evidently there are still enough people left in it to be drawn together like this.

As Erik approaches the building he slips one hand into the pocket of his jacket, running his fingers over the two small metal balls contained there. Carrying a gun wouldn’t be unusual given the current circumstances but Erik has never liked firearms, and his method of defence enables him to have the element of surprise if needed. It has been needed, more often than Erik would like, and therefore he knows only too well the damage that can be caused with the right application of force and pressure. The intention is to avoid confrontation if possible- to just get in, get the necessary supplies, and get out without incident- but if that can’t be done at least Erik has the means to defend himself. Which is more than can be said for others...

The door to the building swings open and the first thing Erik sees is them, though he tries not to. The large hall is stocked full of merchants- people buying and selling supplies of all varieties; food, water, medicine, building materials, clothing, weapons. But there are people too- not trading, but being traded. Bought and sold, for whatever means their purchaser desires. In a post-apocalyptic world the possibilities are limitless, and horrifying... As Erik begins to walk past, attempting to just ignore their presence, he can’t help feeling grateful that he has the means to prevent himself from succumbing to such a fate.

Get in, get supplies, get out...

Voices clamour for attention- sellers touting their wares, buyers trying to secure a bargain. It’s too loud. The isolation of Erik’s day-to-day life has made it harder than ever for him to be around others, and every moment spent inside the market hall is distinctly unpleasant. He needs to just find what he is looking for so he can leave as soon as possible. There is no time for distraction or delay.

Across the room Erik sees what he needs- the trio of traders he usually deals with, who will have everything he requires and won’t try to engage with him any more than is necessary. The noise seems to lessen as Erik centres his focus and begins to cross the room, edging past throngs of bartering patrons, ignoring anyone who tries to engage with him. He doesn’t look to the side, doesn’t inspect the array of goods on offer, doesn’t get distracted, until--

Blue... So much of the world is muted now, little more than shades of black and white blurring together, with nothing bright or alive about it. Consequently the sudden shock of colour in that moment is so compelling and so vivid. It forces Erik come to a sudden halt before he can think to correct himself. Immediately the nearby seller starts to try to engage with Erik, listing off the varied and numerous features of the wares on offer, but Erik does not hear them. There are perhaps twenty people there in front of Erik but in that moment he sees only one.

Pale, freckled skin. Dark hair that curls at the ends. A face half-obscured by the thick, leather muzzle covering his mouth and jaw. And the eyes... Erik doesn’t think he has ever seen a shade of blue so vivid before. Instantly he feels it, there in his gut. He has never wanted anything more.

This wasn’t the plan. Get in, get supplies, get out... Erik repeats the mantra to himself, tries to make it a command. But the frightened specimen on his knees in front of Erik stops looking frantically around the room for the first time, lifts his head up, stares directly at Erik.

The words come out before Erik can think to stop them.