He woke up because of the sun, which felt like it was cutting in to his eyes, with its' bright rays. A hand was lifted groggily to cover red eyes, not red blood shot, but actual red iris eyes with smouldering black pupils. He could laugh and say they were natural but, what man made thing was natural?

He sat up, hand still over his eyes, and a dark, tattered blanket slipped and fell to the floor. Turning away from the window, the blanket was picked up then tossed to the bed where it sat in a rumpled pile, it would be washed latter. Tan soles of feet hit the old wooden floor; it creaked complaining about the sudden addition of weight, not that he was heavy. After putting on some clothes; gloves, socks, shoes, a green scarf, and a black sweater, his next goal was food. One foot in front of the other got him across the room and in to the hall through a door frame, which had long lost its' door, and down a 12 step flight of stairs in to a cafe like room.

From where he stood, there were two large windows; one which had backwards writing so someone outside could read, the other was simply dirty with dust and whatnot. The door, which was right across from him, had and oak frame with glass panels and a screen door with several tears both were closed and locked just like he had left them. A large serving counter protruded from the right hand wall, about three meters from the glass window, projected out about one and a half meters turned and continued until it met the back wall. The counter was high enough that three tattered bar stools were arranged around it and it was topped with simple oak like the three tables and several chair scattered around the room were made of. Behind the counter was basic appliances, against the wall was a stove/oven which sat next to the sink next to the dish washer, above there were two shelves holding jars containing various foods and ingredients. The counter had several cupboards which held dishes and a small bar fridge.

Slipping under the counter he selected a bowl and spoon from the cupboard, milk from the bar fridge and dry cereal from the shelf titled 'Sun flakes'. Mixing them together he began to eat.

Yes, his life was dull.

Usually.

Dumping the dishes in the dishwasher, he headed for the door after a quick glimpse of his calendar.

Today was going to be different. If he had calculated correctly.

He stood outside his sweaters' black hood was up, he didn't want any attention and began to head toward the nearest information center. He hadn't been outside for awhile now.

The world had changed considerably, first off grade thirteen came back, much to his distaste. Second, due to humans poor memory and several erased files, He was practically inexistent along with any of his previous friends who had long since past. And finally Mobians had gained kinetic abilities.

A change in the magnetic fields of earth and the sun changed the way signals were sent through the brain opening an unused sector of the brain for those who had the correct genetic code. (None of what was just written [or read in this case] would happen) Those who had the right genetics would suffer a migraine a few weeks before developing their powers, usually around the age of 7-18 on average.(5 years old being the youngest ever) It was hypothesized that the greater the migraine a person suffered the stronger the power they would have, the length of time would be their stamina for the ability. It was impossible to predict what type of kinetic power one would get, Telekinetic, psychokinetic, hydrokinetic, pyrokinetic, cryokinetic, the list goes on. But the world was unaware of the Chaos powers the he held, and much to his annoyance revealing his unique powers would put him in a spotlight he didn't want to be under.

Walking up the steps of the Information building he opened the large glass doors with oxidizing copper handles and walked inside. The front desk had two attendants, one who was halving a quiet conversation with a greyhound mobian police officer, the other tapping away at a keyboard. He chose to address the later of the two.

"Excuse me."

The tabby feline attendant looked up startled by the interruption; the office didn't get many visitors obviously.

"H-hello" she stuttered, maybe it was her first few days on the job, "Can I help you?"

He nodded and was about to reply when the officer intercepted the reply, rather rudely he would have to say.

"Shouldn't you be in school right now?" The greyhound implied with a cocked eyebrow, walking over, in translation- are you looking for trouble? –Obviously expecting the younger to be a trouble maker.

"No" he replied dropping th hood of his sweater to address the officer, then turned back to the tabby.

"I-" he got no further as he was interrupted again by the officer "How old are you?"

He could have laughed and given him his actual age, orbits of the earth around the sun, and they would never believe him. Would they brush it off as a joke or send him to a mental home? He wondered. Yeah they still had those twisted versions of jail. He would probably be sent there and his supervisors would watch him outlive them, and then they would see things his way. Or would they?

He took a step out, misjudging his weight collapsed on the ground, and looked at the door that was old and rusted. A single crack was etched down the hinged side, warm air flowed through. Feeling was coming back to his nerves, he began to shiver violently as his body attempted to warm him up and keep him active. He never could remember how long he had lain there, staring at the cracked door wondering just how long he had been stuck there in the cold chamber.

Time was trivial.

"Twenty –one" he guessed, hoped, wanted the officer to believe, he didn't want to go to school again and find out what 'scientific' law was proved wrong this time.

"Sure you are..." The old greyhound gave him a face between, 'who do you think your fooling' and 'I've got you now', maybe it was a smirk.

He pulled a face in reply, he hated smirks like that. "And how can you tell?" he retorted. The authority figure was probably stereotyping him just because the way he was dressed.

The grey officer reached in to a pocket and pulled out a small device, not unlike a floppy disk in shape, a square –ish rectangle with a button at the bottom and a screen in the middle. The greyhound held it out so the screen side was facing himself then pressed the button so it scanned the black and red youth, who crossed his arms throughout the whole event. After several hums and a soft click something appeared on the screen which made the dog smirk even more.

Oh, how he wanted to wipe the smirk off that dog's face.

"This is how I find out who you really are" The officer stated, then continued "Your eighteen, Male, Some kind of hybrid specie Hedgehog something I can't pronounce, You have or are on the verge of obtaining a power, hm..."

The officer began to frown a bit after that and tapped the side of his device, and frowned deeper. He mumbled something about it being old technology while the one he was originally addressing was cursing the new technology.

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Cookie for your thoughts?

Ok so I've been working on this for awhile (still don't have a super exiting plot) and I've been considering making it its own separate story (The characters/cast in it would be Shadow, Silver, possibly Blaze and G.U.N.). I've also been thinking of changing it to 1st person p.o.v. So Comment if you're interested and would like to see it as an all out story or even if it sucks (As long as you tell me why...). Do you think it would be better in first person? Is the writing style ok? Anything you want to see happen? Not happen? Do you like flash backs? Feedback is hugely appreciated.

When I was writing this I had 'Mad World' stuck in my head.