He sighed as he shut down the browser, logging off 'Mutant's Unite' and the PC and finishing his coffee. He sat thoughtfully for a moment, staring at the fading spiral as the machine beeped and returned to the log on screen. The middle aged man stood up, tossing the crumpled cup into a trash can. He shook his head and made his way out of the internet cafe.Originally Posted by Witch Doctor
He walked out into the weak sunlight of early afternoon, it cast long shadows across the pavement but around here there were no skyscrapers to blot it out entirely. Taking a moment to enjoy the cooling breeze he looked around, seeing one or two passersby, a mutant. It was a knack, something about the way they walked. Once to have such abilities was a point of pride, now most mutants hunched in on themselves, trying to make themselves as unnoticeable as possible, it was a sorry state of affairs.
Even they were not the worst off though. People were tired of hearing it, but the deficit had hit people hard, and some harder than most. All over Chicago the shelters had sprung up, offering food and a roof for the people who were forced otherwise to sleep under the clouds. Despite the efforts of the over worked volunteers the shelters were still rife with infection and illness. They were all too eager to accept the help of an aging doctor who offered his services, god knows they were few and far between and Frank Applebee seemed to have a knack for the work, as though he'd spent more years healing than showed on his face. That's where he was going now, it's where he spent most of his time. Why would anyone look for him there after all?