It's snowing. It's cold. Even though Warren was always alone, he never felt cold like this. His awakening, if he could even call it that, wasn't supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to feel a small surge of power and feel lighter—at least, that's how it was described. No, no. This awakening, this destruction, was nothing like that.

Warren sat in a crater that his destructive and uncontrollable powers created. His body quivering from the uncontainable venom that threatened to seep out of him. Nearby buildings caved in and soot seemed to mingle with the snow. Heroes will arrive soon, and yet his body was too weak to move.

It wasn't on purpose, but he couldn't control himself. Every part of his being felt like it was being ripped apart and put back together in the most excruciating way. Almost as if his cells were dying and regenerating all at one to endure the power he held. There haven't been any powerful awakenings such as the one he was tormented with.

All his life, Warren just wanted a place to belong. Somewhere he wouldn't have to put on a mask and pretend to be someone else. When he was younger, he thought that being a PK would help him find a place to be. Now that he's finally awakened at the age of twenty-one, he couldn't be anymore wrong. He awoke to a new hell.