To Miss Geek (Guest): Hey, thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked the chapter! And yes, the girls did go complete badass. Together they're amazing, I'm actually drawing a picture that I will post to DeviantArt that involves them. I'll let you know when. Enjoy this next chapter! XOXO!

To Guest: More RobStar is on the way!

To Pinkgrande (Guest): Here's the update, enjoy!

To Guest: THANKS! I'm sure my story is not even close to the 'best' on FanFiction, but thanks so much for the compliment!

To A.M Williams: Thanks! Improvement is what I'm all about. I've been practicing! Enjoy this chapter!

To Guest: 'Utterly amazing'? Wow, you made me blush! I want to reach through the computer and hug you! Enjoy this chapter. XOXO!

A/N: Wonderful reviews. Hands down. As for the lemon, some people thought that it was overkill? I'll work on a happy medium, I promise. This next chapter pertains to some past issues, and it might not make ANY sense. I apologize in advance, but this is a necessary part of the story. You might hate me, you might not. This is just how the plot thickens…

Part 4: Pulse

Chapter 26: Rewind

Before the Zap…

"Well, it looks like Wayne Industries are going to expand into Bludhaven as early as this weekend Jane. To be honest, I think the corporation is turning into a monopoly, which can lead to some risky moves in the future."

"I don't know Jim, maybe, I thought Harper Incorporated would be better this quarter. We'll discuss it after the break. We'll be right back after these messages."

Jericho flicked the 'off' button, the daily news anchors of the 'Jim and Jane' show disappeared, their words bouncing around in his head. Why wouldn't the government stop Wayne Industries ahead of time before they have a chance at becoming a monopoly? To be honest, Wayne Industries was just a money hog of a company. That's what his Dad always says.

"Jericho, get in here, stop watching that garbage." His father called from the kitchen.

Jericho stood up, a frown on his face. Morning conversations with his father were always so bad. Almost cringe-worthy. He popped into the kitchen, his blonde curls bouncing on his forehead. "Yeah Dad?"

His father was tall, and the embodiment of brooding. Ever since his Mom left, his father had been almost monotone, always cutting right to the chase. "I need you to clean out the bunker out back, we haven't touched it since last year." His large frame was perched against the counter, a hot steaming mug in his hand.

Jericho shrugged, trying not to comment on the fact that they were the only family in the neighborhood with a bunker in their backyard. "Fine, whatever. Why? Is there a storm coming or something?" He asked, apprehension in his voice.

"No, but I feel something coming, something threatening." His father droned, his eyes scrunched together in focus.

Jericho slumped in the doorway. His father was paranoid, all the time. It was a nuisance, but understandable as he was in the military. "Anything else?" Jericho asked, wanting to get out for the day.

"No, just do what I asked sometime today." He was looking away, meaning that Jericho was informally dismissed.

The blonde boy shrugged again and left. "I'll be back later." He shouted, knowing his father wouldn't care. He grabbed his skateboard and made a hurried exit.

Hitting the streets of Jump City was exactly what he needed. Being homeschooled and being under the same roof as a paranoid and emotionally destructive father was draining enough. He took a running start and hopped onto his already rolling skateboard, the wheels clacked against the sidewalk of his affluent neighborhood. Neighbors watering their lawns waved as he passed, dogs barked as he zoomed down the hill, he did a jump off the concrete and onto the pavement. The road was clear from cars, so he swerved right and left.

The wind picked up his curls and whirled them around his face, framing his features in the passing rays of sun. He steadily approached the edge of the City, he sped up and within minutes he was zooming down Main Street. His t-shirt clung to his body, his shorts lashing around in the wind. He let out a little 'whoop' as he skirted around the thickening crowd.

Jump City was always busy, people hustled by in suits and dress-clothes. Some people hung on street corners begging for spare change. Either way it was Jump City, Jericho's favorite place in the world.

Jericho leaned into a turn and abruptly came face to face with a stranger. He was knocked backwards, his skateboard scuttling from under his feet, his back slamming into the pavement. For a second he saw stars, a warm liquid dribbled down his chin and he instantly knew he was bleeding. He probably bit into his lip when he fell.

He sat up quickly, his eyes connecting with a scraggly older man, his crazed grey eyes meeting his. He was also on the ground. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you." Jericho stood up and offered the man a hand, he looked homeless.

The man took his hand and shakily came to a stand, his eyes were on Jericho's the entire time. His clothes were tattered strips, visible dingy skin showing through the holes.

Yep, definitely homeless.

Jericho grabbed his skateboard, the wheels still spinning. "Usually I'm more vigilant, I hope I didn't hurt you too bad." He swiped at the cut on his lip, a metallic taste tinging his tongue.

The man shook his head slowly, his watery eyes swimming in mystification. His chapped lips were trembling slightly, he looked dazed and confused. "My boy, the world is in grave danger."

Jericho sighed, out of all the people in Jump that he could've run into, it had to be a crazy homeless man. He rummaged around in his pocket and grabbed a few dollars. "Here, take that and get something to eat. I'm sorry I can't help more."

The man's grubby hands enclosed around Jericho's. "No, I don't want your money. I just need you to listen." He grouched in a crackly voice.

Jericho resisted the urge to yank his hands away, his skateboard was tucked neatly under his armpit. "Yeah, sure whatever, I'm all ears."

"This world is going to vanish within the next 24 hours. Please, run while you can. Grab your loved ones and say goodbye." The man hacked suddenly, a wad of yellow pus dribbled onto his lip. "Everyone is doomed, we are DOOMED MY BOY!" He shouted, grabbing the attention of some passing citizens.

Jericho yanked his hands away, quite embarrassed to be talking to a lunatic. "Sure whatever man, I'm uh…Going to go."

The man grabbed Jericho's collar, pulling him close. "Grab your loved ones, and RUN."

Jericho roughly shoved the man away, his skateboard falling onto the sidewalk. "Hey, just relax okay!" He felt momentarily guilty for shoving the man so brutally, but he had no choice. The man was crazy.

He looked scared suddenly, he held his hands to his chest, looking at Jericho with a mixed expression of angst and sorrow. "I will bleed for your soul, my boy." The man turned around and limped away from Jericho, his shoes were covered in a thick sheen of brown mud.

Jericho stood still for a moment, the man's words swirling around in his head. I will bleed for your soul. "Pfft, crazy old man." He picked up his skateboard, and with one last glance at the old man, took off at a sprint and a roll. His skateboard clanked onto the street and he allowed the breeze to take away his worries.

"Dad, I'm home!" He called, shutting the door behind himself. He discarded his skateboard and listened for his father, all he heard was the TV.

'Do you really think that type of brutality is needed in times of war, Mr. Light?'

'Of course, this world is full of shit, we need a special format of government. Something that will dictate all people and control inhibitions. By the way, it's Dr. Light to you Martha.'

'I apologize. So, Dr. Light, when do you think Congress will listen to your plan?'

'Those bigoted idiots will probably never take me seriously. One day though, the world will kiss the ground I walk on, mark my words.'

"Dad, what are you watching?" Jericho asked, walking into the living room. He watched the yellow-suited man on the television scowl at a blonde reporter.

"I didn't hear you come in." His father droned from the couch.

"Well, I'm back."

"Did you clean out the bunker, like I asked?" His father asked, a hint of aggravation in his voice.

Jericho sighed loudly. "No, can't it wait?"

His father stood up, his tall stature straitening. "No it can't. I told you to do it, where have you been all day?"

"Out in Jump City, why?"

"You should be studying, or doing your chores." His father droned, his eyes narrowing.

Jericho felt his blood boil. "That stuff can wait, I like spending time outside, with my skateboard. Is that a problem?"

"Get that attitude out of your voice boy, I will not stand for disobedience in my house." He said darkly.

This was when Jericho was supposed to turn on his heel and start the chores, like always. His father snapped at him, and Jericho nodded his head like an obedient boy. Not today. Something within Jericho warmed and snapped, like an over pulled string of yarn. He was frayed beyond repair, his senses reddening with every breath. "No." He said calmly.

His father's eyes flickered, his eyebrows raising. "What?" He asked.

"No." Jericho stated proudly. "I am sick and tired of this routine. Every day I sit here and endure your brutality. Every day I have to listen to you gripe about the government, or me being a bad son. I have NO friends! I have NO activities! I have NO FREEDOM!" He shouted, feeling the storm in his veins bubbling, it felt good to lash out, so good. "You have taken everything away from me! I have NOTHING! Do you understand how that feels? I don't even have mother anymore thanks to you!"

Apparently that was the snapping point, his father rushed forward, so blindingly fast that Jericho didn't even have time to put up his arms in defense. His father hit him squarely in the face, Jericho toppled to the floor, his lip splitting even further from his earlier falls. Thicker rivulets of blood flowed down his chin, his tongue burning with a fresh wound.

Jericho slowly looked up at his father, not in shock, not in fear, but in pure happiness. "That's the most emotion you've showed me in ten years. Do you want an award, or maybe a cookie?" He wiped the blood on his wrist.

"Stop talking now, you insolent unappreciative brat." His father scolded, his features twisted in pure anger.

"NO, I have held this in for so long! I'm going to get the last word in!" He stood up, nowhere near his father's height, but he felt taller today somehow. "You are NOTHING to me, I'm not afraid of you!"

His father attempted to take another swing but Jericho backtracked out of the way. The hit landed slightly on his temple but he didn't fall, he flung his hand wildly and ended up backhanding his father in the face, not hard, but it was enough.

They both paused.

This was the moment, the defining moment that would determine both their paths.

They stared at each other, steely dark eyes against green defiant ones.

Was this the path Jericho wanted?

Yes.

Jericho clenched his fist and swung hard, the punch landed on his father's hard cheek. His father's head turned the side sharply, his eyes wide open in shock, an almost uninhibited expression on such a stoic man. Pure satisfaction filled Jericho's veins. "You deserve it, mom left you because of how you treated her, now I'm gone too. The next time I see you would be too soon father."

Jericho headed towards the door, his knuckles were throbbing, blood seeping in between his fingers. He barely felt the pain, all he felt was courage, courage to keep going. To keep moving forward. He reached for his skateboard and unexpectedly he was jerked backwards by his shirt. He fell back and he realized too late that he was being dragged by his father. His back bumped against random objects, he flailed but his father's grip tightened.

"You think you know what happened between your mother and me? Well, you're DEAD WRONG." His father sounded purely evil, and it was this moment that Jericho realized that he had made a mistake.

His back stopped bumping and the floor beneath him turned smooth, he knew he was in the kitchen then. His father stopped for a moment, as if he was grabbing something, and suddenly was hauling Jericho to his feet, his back pressing against his father's front. "You think you can talk shit, and not feel the consequences?" His father's asked, his lips near his ear. "I gave you life! Without me you wouldn't be here!" He shouted, and roughly held his son in place.

Jericho squirmed, his feet not even touching the ground anymore. He forgot how strong his father was, it was otherworldly. "Let me go! You're hurting me!"

His father laughed then, his voice echoing around their large linoleum kitchen. "You sound just like your mother, allow me to fix that."

A cold object pressed into Jericho's throat and he paused his movements. "Dad? DAD, what is that?" He asked, fear now replacing the burst of previous courage.

"It's your omen son…"

Searing hot burning pain. That was Jericho's first thought. The screaming that resonated the air didn't even sound like him, it sounded more like a whistle, or a train horn. Hot liquid burst from his throat, drenching his collarbone and t-shirt. The blood seemed to stain him, like paint, or sticky glue. The skin beneath the knife pulled and gave way to the sharp surface. Jericho flailed and kicked to no avail, his father was stronger.

He landed on the ground, his screams gone, replaced by an agonizing wail and bursts of grunts. He twitched, trying to breathe through the blood filing his throat. His father stood over him, smiling wickedly, holding the bloodied butcher knife.

"You're an insolent brat, now you can say as much as you want." He laughed, a guttural sound, almost like a cackle.

Jericho held his throat, tears mixing with the pouring blood. He needed a hospital, or the police, or a surgeon…Someone. The floor pressed into his cheek, he noticed a blue pen a few inches away from his face. His hand grabbed for it so fast that his father didn't notice.

His father jerked him. "Look at me son! I want to be the last face you ever see!"

Jericho didn't know where the strength came from, maybe the last withering piece of courage he had, but he drove the pen into his father's eye. The pen plunged deep into the cornea, his father screamed and fell backwards, thrashing wildly.

Jericho scrabbled to stand. He needed to exit, the blood was filling his mouth, his vision was swimming, his head felt dizzy. His body felt weightless. He needed medical attention. He brokenly held his throat with one hand as he shakily made his way to the door. Maybe a neighbor would call 911 for him, he tried to take a deep breath but it burned.

He opened the door and rushed out, blood still seeping onto him. He called out, no sound. Fear sunk into him again, like a rush of adrenaline but worse.

Suddenly a fist was clenched in his scalp, it yanked him back and he hit the grass with a dull 'thud'. He tried to shout and scream, but only blood bubbled into his mouth.

He was being dragged again, he tried to look and only got a glimpse of his father holding his face, blood seeping in between his fingers. Jericho kicked out but his hair was being tugged so hard, he could feel the strands snapping.

He heard the metallic creak of a door.

He heard his father spit a few profanities.

He heard his father laugh.

He felt his body being flung onto the concrete bunker floor, a bunker that held so many supplies, but so little light. The cold seeped into his skin, but nothing felt worse than the blood still spilling between his fingertips.

"Fa-FATHER!" He croaked, feeling the strain in his wind pipes. Jericho reached towards the light of the doorway, his father's silhouette outlined.

"NO! You, your mother, and your sister will rot away in hell! For eternity! I gave you life, and now I'm taking it away." He slammed the door, darkness seeping in.

Jericho felt a lump in his chest tighten, more tears spilled down his face, his throat burned, the skin hanging like a noodle. He tried to scream, but all he heard was the raspy sound of air.

A bright hot burning sensation suddenly took over his vision and he felt his brain clench harshly. His body twitched, a loud ringing sound in his ears.

This wasn't normal.

It felt like he was being electrocuted, almost…zapped.

Darkness dragged him down, like an inky blanket.

The last thing he thought about was the old man's words, I will bleed for your soul.

Months Later…

"Whoa, wait a fucking second! You have a son? You abandoned your son in a rusty old bunker? That's- That's barbaric!" Xavier exclaimed, upon meeting Slade he thought 'hey what a cool guy, I'll stick with him to stay alive'. Now, he didn't know what to think.

They were sitting around the fire, a few altered Walkers tied to a tree with a corroded chain hobbled back and forth. Slade was drunk off his ass, sharing a few stories from his past. When asked about family he had gone on with an intrinsic story about his son, Jericho.

Xavier could only listen in horror. He himself had a bad relationship with his father, but a fight would never turn deadly. "Are you serious?"

Slade looked at him, the eye patch firmly in place with good reason. "Yes, he deserved every piece of what I gave him."

Xavier tried to stop his jaw from dropping. "So then what happened?"

"The god-damned government released that electro-magnetic signal and the world went to shit." Slade said plainly, taking a swig from a Jack-Daniels bottle.

Xavier shook his head. "No, I'm talking about Jericho, what the hell happened to him?"

Slade patted his right breast pocket. "He's still in the bunker, the key stays right here." He coughed lightly, the liquor making him drowsy. "He could very much still be alive, there's enough food in there to help keep any person alive."

Xavier looked intently at the fire, the flames dancing in the nighttime air. Xavier quietly made a vow to save Slade's son one day, no matter what it cost him. He knew from past experience with his own father what abuse felt like. But for your own father to cut your throat? Brutal. Fucking brutal.

"Hey, pass me the Jack-Daniels, I have the sudden urge to get drunk."

A/N: I know, short chapter. It's a precursor to everything, I promise. There's still much more on the way, please review! And feel free to ask questions! I already have most of the next chapter written out, so no worries, I'm not going to disappear.

Please follow, favorite, and REVIEW!

Next Chapter: "This isn't a fucking joke! WHERE ARE THEY?"

XOXO