Abby had sparked a lot of discussion in the shelter. Since she had stopped talking, the average volume had risen to quite the din. Naturally, most of the conversations were about her recent exploits. If any criticism of what she had done arose, it was quickly drowned out by the praise of her sycophants, both established and freshly converted.

Amidst this mess, I was becoming overwhelmed with my thoughts. The account Abby had given was essentially identical to my dream. In addition, the well of power I had felt when fighting the fiend was back, but this time, it was not going away, at least not yet.

Supposing I really have awoken powers, that dream has almost certainly got something to do with them. It was too accurate to be anything else. And I'd hazard a guess that this well of power also has something to do with my powers. My dream this morning wasn’t nearly as clear as this recent dream, but it did predict the rift. That’s probably not a coincidence either. And what were the vines? I could see them while others couldn't, but what else? I think it was me who made it wilt in the end, so that’s something.

At this point, I don’t know what to feel about my emerging powers. Should I feel elated? I've never given much thought to getting powers since I was a little kid. And these powers are weird. Why not flight or speed or something else simple. This seems like it's just going to make my life a whole lot more stressful.

I end up deciding to just not think about the ramifications for now. Instead, I use the plentiful time I now have on my hands by trying to figure out what my powers actually do. I start by mentally prodding at the well of power as I can't think of any other experiment at the moment.

It appeared and immediately disappeared a couple of times earlier. Then it reappeared when I woke up, but it has not disappeared yet. Suddenly, something happens. Somehow, I start pulling on the power. It feels like some sort of muscle that I have never used before. Whenever I pull, it slowly decreases, and when I stop pulling, it stops. I guess that means that it’s some kind of expendable resource. Why is it going so slowly, though? It all disappeared so fast last time. Also, what does it even do? I don’t feel any different when I pull on it.

“Fuck this, I never asked for any of this,” I mumble exasperatedly, giving up on my experiment. I don't use the last sliver of power since I have no idea how to recharge it. We have now spent several hours in the shelter since the rift started, and I am beginning to feel my hunger growing.

“What did you say?” Robin asks as they turn to me.

“Nothing,” I answer quickly.

They look somewhat confused before replying, “Sorry, I can’t understand you. My hearing aids don’t like all the background noise.”

*Sorry, n-o-t-h-i-n-g,* I sign, *How are you?*

*Fine,* they replied, *you?*

*B-e-t-t-e-r now.*

The noise, as well as my everpresent stress and gnawing hunger, seem to fade away as I become completely distracted by getting to talk with Robin.

*That’s good. Wait, why are your eyes ######?* they sign, obviously slowing down for me.

Oh fuck, almost forgot about that. Honestly, I wish I could forget. *I don’t know. I woke up like this. What is ######?*

*P-u-r-p-l-e. Does that mean you have powers now!?*

The gunshots are getting closer now.

*I think so. Don’t know what, though. Had strange d-r-e-a-m-s,* I sign, trying not to show any embarrassment at my sloppy signing or general weirdness.

*Strange dreams?*

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*Last n-i-g-h-t, I saw this r-i-f-t, but I didn’t know it would come t-r-u-e. Then I saw Abby before she came in,* I admit.

*Oh, cool! Though do remember to tell me if you have another dream about rifts. Advance notice would have been great,* they sign, with an amused look.

*I will,* I reply giggling.

“Hey, everyone quiet down! Someone is coming to the shelter,” shouts the vice principal from where he is standing by the monitor.

Another burst of gunshots comes from just outside the shelter. A loud bang echoes through the room as a stray bullet slams into the reinforced metal doors, making me, as well as several others, flinch.

*We’ll be getting out soon,* Robin signs smiling.

I smile back, nodding. Despite the stress and chaos of today, seeing them smile still gives me butterflies in my stomach.

One of the teachers unlocks and opens the door, letting in a man In a dark trench coat who quickly slams the door behind him before anybody else has the chance to do so.

He is of very average height and build and would certainly not appear very extraordinary if it were not for his clothing. He wears a finely etched steel cuirass under his black trenchcoat which is also reinforced by strategically placed metal plates. Brown curls of hair slip out from under his black beret, and a bandana covers the lower half of his face.

He holsters his beautifully engraved pistols and turns to face our now silent group as we watch him with wide eyes.

With a scowl easily visible, even beneath his mask, he says gruffly, “Alright everyone, listen up. My callsign is Reiver, and I’m the super who’s getting you shmucks out of here. This rift is mostly under control now, so we’re starting to evacuate the shelters before we get this siege properly underway. No, I'm not taking questions or suggestions. I’m in charge till you guys are outa here.”

There is plenty of whispering at his brusk introduction, but nobody dares to interrupt him, so he continues speaking.

“Now here’s the plan, we are going to proceed in a calm and orderly manner. Y’all will stay behind me and will not run off. If you run off, you’re gonna be on your own. Got that?”

Everybody silently nods in agreement. He certainly has enough presence that everyone submissively shuts up and listens.

“Now I know one of you got powers 'cause of that smokin' corpse out there. Who is it?” he asks.

“It’s me,” Abby says with a questioning tone as she raises her hand.

“Hey, great work out there. Stupid, but good job nonetheless,” he says, causing Abby to glower slightly. “Come over here, I’d like you to tell me a bit about your fighting style and your power’s capabilities, and no, I won’t share them with anyone, even the government. If things go to plan you can just sit back and enjoy the show, but I do need to know in case things go south and we need ya’.”

Abby reluctantly walks over to him, and they turn their backs to the room and talk in hushed whispers.

“Okay, great,” he says as he turns back around, “Now I’ve put suppressors on my pistols since we’re fightin’ indoors, but they pack enough punch to take down fiends, which means they’re still loud as hell, so I advise you cover your ears once this party gets started. Just do try to pay attention so that if I need to tell you guys somethin’ I can. Does anybody have any reason we can’t head out right away?”

Robin turns to me and whispers, “I’ll be turning off my hearing aids for this, so sign if you need to talk.”

I nod as reaffirmingly as I can possibly make a nod.

Nobody speaks up, so he continues, “Fantastic. By the way, some fiends followed me and are waiting outside, so I advise y'all to step away from the doors while I handle them. Then we can go.”

Everybody obediently backs away as he turns around to prepare. He jams one of his feet against the bottom of one door and, as quietly as possible, unbolts the large lock. Drawing one pistol, he uses his free hand to suddenly pull open the door he isn’t holding with his foot and begins firing rapidly through the gap.

The gun’s roar is incredibly loud, even with me covering my ears. Fortunately, it stops after just a few shots. Reiver casually opens the door and walks out, smoothly drawing his other gun.

“Let’s get a move on y’all,” he calls. Nobody makes any objections as we begin to follow him out.

In addition to the charred remains of the fiend Abby killed, another seven are dead on the floor. Five centipede hounds and two unfortunately large spiders.

Other than the fact that they have eight large legs, they weren’t actually that much like spiders. Their flesh is an unnatural and sickly shade of orange and is covered in their natural bone-white armour. Their legs aren’t even like those of arachnids, more like those of an emaciated deer, except, of course, for the long blades in place of the feet. I move on, not wanting to give too much of my attention to the disgusting abominations.

Each carcass has several bullet holes punched through its flesh, dripping orange blood. Strangely, none of the bullets seems to have hit any of the fiends' armour. Instead, each had narrowly missed the many chitinous plates to strike weak spots to deadly effect.

We began moving through the halls, avoiding the large open areas of the school. Occasionally, with a roar of precision gunfire, a fiend would have its life cut short before any of us could even realise it was there.