He woke up to a pain in his side. A pain that he hadn't felt in a very, very long time.
"Oh fuck! He's alive!"
The man held his chest, unable to breathe. It was as if he was drowning, but he had a felt like that was ironic for him. As he was trying to get control of himself, two figures stood near him, searching what seemed to be the man's backpack. "Oh Jesus look at this! this guy has all sorts of good shit! Chips, bottled water, fuckin' desserts too?" It looked like they were in what once was a community pool. Sunshine glowed through the broken and dusty windows, the pool has long been dry as they were sitting in the bottom of it, and the breeze from the outside gave a low whistle. The place was in horrible shape outside the pool too, pipes leaked and creaked, and everything was covered in a fine layer of dirt.
The man finally was able to catch his breath, he managed to roll onto his stomach and get on all fours to look at his reflection in a puddle of water. He was handsome, and gave off a sense of power and authority. His hair and beard were thick and jet black, with a couple of dark gray hairs visible. His eyes were the darkest green he has ever seen, and he had a strong jaw, straight nose, and a scar on his cheek. His skin was a deep bronze, and looked weathered by sea travel... He wore a dark blue flannel coat, with a warm v-neck sweater underneath. Around his neck was a scarf made of cloth and what looked like a fishing net. He also had on jeans, and some old boots. he looked like he dressed as a dirty crewmember of a fishing boat.
His self realization was cut short by another shot of pain to his side. One of the two men kicked him back down, but this time. "Where'd you get your gear?" He asked. The two men wore matching outfits. ski masks with disturbing stitches to create a scarecrow smile, bullet proof vests over their heavy jackets, with army fatigue pants and boots. Something told the man that they were looters for a living. "Where'd you get your shit pal? you couldn't have possibly gotten this type of stuff on your own... And what is this? A harpoon?" The second one spoke up, holding up something that made the stranger's heart beat faster.
It was an old fishing harpoon, the metal dulled, but the edges still sharp. The shaft looked like it was made once of bronze, but was just as dull as the blade. Leather was wrapped in the center of it to get a better grip. It was an ordinary looking antique, but something told the stranger that he had a very long history with that harpoon. "Might be one. He's all dressed in ocean looking shit. Who are you? Where're your friends?" The first man demanded.
"I'm.." The man said with a hoarse voice. A name came to mind immediately in his head. that was the only thing that appeared about him, actually. I Am Poseidon. the voice in his head said. "Ben." The man now known as Ben said, his voice more confident. The two of them laughed. "You don't look like a Ben, but alright." The first one stepped forward, holding a knife. The second one tossed aside the harpoon and continued to search the backpack. "Tell us Ben, where'd you get your gear? We don't like repeating questions." The blade got closer to Ben. "I... I don't know." He managed to say, backing up. Before he could do anything, the man with the blade punched Ben in the face, grabbing him by the shirt, and picking him up. "Bullshit. Where's your base held up? We don't kill people unless its necessary.. So we'll give you one more chance."
"I'm telling you I don't know any--" Ben was thrown backwards, hitting the side of the pool wall hard with his head. He was in half a daze, his head hurt, but most of all... He was starting to get upset. He was punched again in the face, then kicked in the stomach, everything was hurting, like being hurt for the first time. And this kept fueling the hatred he had for this man. The angrier he got the more he sensed something... He didn't know what, but it was like something in his gut told him that something was within the pool side wall. His hands tingled as he looked over at his harpoon a few feet away, and his stunning green eyes stared at the man with anger. "Don't do that again." Ben said, his voice surprisingly calm.
"Or what, old man? You gonna tangle me up in that fish net of yours? I hope your friends' lives were worth more than yours. Thanks for the free stuff, by the way." The man lunged at Ben with the blade. Everything went in slow motion. The tug in his chest was stronger than ever, his right hand was on fire. His instincts took over. Ben put out his left hand, and extended his right to the side. A very low creak sound appeared, and then a jet of water rushed out of the side of the wall, hitting the looter straight in the face. He fell to the ground, and when Ben looked at his right hand, the old harpoon was in his hand. He assumed that in the heat of the moment he went to grab it.
Water was now flooding the pool. The water was up to their ankles, and Ben started to feel the back of his head and other wounds numb down. He guessed it was the adrenaline finally kicking in. "Ohohoh, I don't know what you just did, but you're dead you son of a bitch!" The man with the knife lunged again, but this time, Ben was ready. He swiped the pole towards the man's wrist, making the knife go sideways. With a twirl of his own wrist the harpoon was parallel with his forearm, and he smacked the man's head with the bottom of the weapon. He man went out cold, blood trickling out of his mask and in the water. Ben and the other looter stood in amazement. and then the second man came in to attack. Ben ducked and swung the harpoon at the man's legs, making him fall over. With another flip of his wrist the harpoon's blade quickly went to the man's neck.
Ben had no idea how he did that. He never fought with any weapon before!... or did he? Everything was a blur to him! the only thing he knew was that he was in New York, and the world has gone to shit. The two stared at each other for a second, until Ben decided not to kill the man. He kicked him square in the head, knocking him out cold. He was scared at this moment. Where exactly was he? Who were those people? Who was he? He dropped down to the ground to pick up his backpack, and then did a very quick search through the looter's objects. Satisfied, he put the backpack on his back, the harpoon in his hand, and climbed out of the pool, and out of the building.
New York City was not what it once was, or at least what he thought it would be. Once mighty skyscrapers were now toppled over and covered in plans and dust. The roads were willed with bones of all shapes and sizes, as well as rusted cars, oil drum fires, and all sorts of debris. Ben looked both ways, uncertain on where to go. he looked down at the weapon that saved his life minutes ago. It definitely didn't look special. Just a rusty harpoon, but something in the back of his mind told him it was so much more, but the more he thought about it the more blanks he drew. It was as if this memory should be here, but it wasn't. The only memories he had were those of the end of the world, and what his true name was.
I am Poseidon. Rang through his head again... It wasn't a normal name, but that was the only thing that made sense about him right now. He was Poseidon. And he had to find the others... The others? Whatever that meant. He heard distant gunfire to the left, with a very high pitched and bone chilling screech. A normal person would have started running the opposite way. But Ben needed to find some answers. The sound of battle was his best bet. Putting the harpoon in between his back and backpack, he started to run towards the sounds, keeping low as he did so.
"Oh fuck! He's alive!"
The man held his chest, unable to breathe. It was as if he was drowning, but he had a felt like that was ironic for him. As he was trying to get control of himself, two figures stood near him, searching what seemed to be the man's backpack. "Oh Jesus look at this! this guy has all sorts of good shit! Chips, bottled water, fuckin' desserts too?" It looked like they were in what once was a community pool. Sunshine glowed through the broken and dusty windows, the pool has long been dry as they were sitting in the bottom of it, and the breeze from the outside gave a low whistle. The place was in horrible shape outside the pool too, pipes leaked and creaked, and everything was covered in a fine layer of dirt.
The man finally was able to catch his breath, he managed to roll onto his stomach and get on all fours to look at his reflection in a puddle of water. He was handsome, and gave off a sense of power and authority. His hair and beard were thick and jet black, with a couple of dark gray hairs visible. His eyes were the darkest green he has ever seen, and he had a strong jaw, straight nose, and a scar on his cheek. His skin was a deep bronze, and looked weathered by sea travel... He wore a dark blue flannel coat, with a warm v-neck sweater underneath. Around his neck was a scarf made of cloth and what looked like a fishing net. He also had on jeans, and some old boots. he looked like he dressed as a dirty crewmember of a fishing boat.
His self realization was cut short by another shot of pain to his side. One of the two men kicked him back down, but this time. "Where'd you get your gear?" He asked. The two men wore matching outfits. ski masks with disturbing stitches to create a scarecrow smile, bullet proof vests over their heavy jackets, with army fatigue pants and boots. Something told the man that they were looters for a living. "Where'd you get your shit pal? you couldn't have possibly gotten this type of stuff on your own... And what is this? A harpoon?" The second one spoke up, holding up something that made the stranger's heart beat faster.
It was an old fishing harpoon, the metal dulled, but the edges still sharp. The shaft looked like it was made once of bronze, but was just as dull as the blade. Leather was wrapped in the center of it to get a better grip. It was an ordinary looking antique, but something told the stranger that he had a very long history with that harpoon. "Might be one. He's all dressed in ocean looking shit. Who are you? Where're your friends?" The first man demanded.
"I'm.." The man said with a hoarse voice. A name came to mind immediately in his head. that was the only thing that appeared about him, actually. I Am Poseidon. the voice in his head said. "Ben." The man now known as Ben said, his voice more confident. The two of them laughed. "You don't look like a Ben, but alright." The first one stepped forward, holding a knife. The second one tossed aside the harpoon and continued to search the backpack. "Tell us Ben, where'd you get your gear? We don't like repeating questions." The blade got closer to Ben. "I... I don't know." He managed to say, backing up. Before he could do anything, the man with the blade punched Ben in the face, grabbing him by the shirt, and picking him up. "Bullshit. Where's your base held up? We don't kill people unless its necessary.. So we'll give you one more chance."
"I'm telling you I don't know any--" Ben was thrown backwards, hitting the side of the pool wall hard with his head. He was in half a daze, his head hurt, but most of all... He was starting to get upset. He was punched again in the face, then kicked in the stomach, everything was hurting, like being hurt for the first time. And this kept fueling the hatred he had for this man. The angrier he got the more he sensed something... He didn't know what, but it was like something in his gut told him that something was within the pool side wall. His hands tingled as he looked over at his harpoon a few feet away, and his stunning green eyes stared at the man with anger. "Don't do that again." Ben said, his voice surprisingly calm.
"Or what, old man? You gonna tangle me up in that fish net of yours? I hope your friends' lives were worth more than yours. Thanks for the free stuff, by the way." The man lunged at Ben with the blade. Everything went in slow motion. The tug in his chest was stronger than ever, his right hand was on fire. His instincts took over. Ben put out his left hand, and extended his right to the side. A very low creak sound appeared, and then a jet of water rushed out of the side of the wall, hitting the looter straight in the face. He fell to the ground, and when Ben looked at his right hand, the old harpoon was in his hand. He assumed that in the heat of the moment he went to grab it.
Water was now flooding the pool. The water was up to their ankles, and Ben started to feel the back of his head and other wounds numb down. He guessed it was the adrenaline finally kicking in. "Ohohoh, I don't know what you just did, but you're dead you son of a bitch!" The man with the knife lunged again, but this time, Ben was ready. He swiped the pole towards the man's wrist, making the knife go sideways. With a twirl of his own wrist the harpoon was parallel with his forearm, and he smacked the man's head with the bottom of the weapon. He man went out cold, blood trickling out of his mask and in the water. Ben and the other looter stood in amazement. and then the second man came in to attack. Ben ducked and swung the harpoon at the man's legs, making him fall over. With another flip of his wrist the harpoon's blade quickly went to the man's neck.
Ben had no idea how he did that. He never fought with any weapon before!... or did he? Everything was a blur to him! the only thing he knew was that he was in New York, and the world has gone to shit. The two stared at each other for a second, until Ben decided not to kill the man. He kicked him square in the head, knocking him out cold. He was scared at this moment. Where exactly was he? Who were those people? Who was he? He dropped down to the ground to pick up his backpack, and then did a very quick search through the looter's objects. Satisfied, he put the backpack on his back, the harpoon in his hand, and climbed out of the pool, and out of the building.
New York City was not what it once was, or at least what he thought it would be. Once mighty skyscrapers were now toppled over and covered in plans and dust. The roads were willed with bones of all shapes and sizes, as well as rusted cars, oil drum fires, and all sorts of debris. Ben looked both ways, uncertain on where to go. he looked down at the weapon that saved his life minutes ago. It definitely didn't look special. Just a rusty harpoon, but something in the back of his mind told him it was so much more, but the more he thought about it the more blanks he drew. It was as if this memory should be here, but it wasn't. The only memories he had were those of the end of the world, and what his true name was.
I am Poseidon. Rang through his head again... It wasn't a normal name, but that was the only thing that made sense about him right now. He was Poseidon. And he had to find the others... The others? Whatever that meant. He heard distant gunfire to the left, with a very high pitched and bone chilling screech. A normal person would have started running the opposite way. But Ben needed to find some answers. The sound of battle was his best bet. Putting the harpoon in between his back and backpack, he started to run towards the sounds, keeping low as he did so.
