There was a report this morning about a building being disintegrated, obviously by mutants, in Atlanta.

It made him sickeningly uneasy.

He had had the radio on ever since, unwilling to leave its side, waiting for any new information, but none came.

None was likely to come.

It was rare, these days, to get news like that. Most of the big cities, Atlanta amongst them, had been completely evacuated and abandoned. Those that remained were mutants, unable to get through the checkpoints and hunted down by the military like animals.

He wondered what would happen to Reed if they tested him. Would it show positive or negative?

It was likely he would never know.

There was the sound of the bell and a crash downstairs. He pushed himself to his feet, took the knife from his side table, and made his way towards the stairs. Very few people came to his shop these days, no one wanted antiques when the world was ending.

"Who is it?" he called.

"Shit," muttered a boy's voice.

"I thought you said this place was empty!" came a girl's reply.

"I thought it was!"

There were three children in his store. Or rather, two teenagers and a little girl wrapped in a coat that looked like it was made for large adult men.

"Can I help you?"

The boy scowled and brandished what looked like a hunting knife at him. "We don't mean no bother. We'll be leaving now."

The smaller girl huddled closer to the older one, who might have been anywhere between twelve and fifteen, and Otto caught a flash of blue skin as she moved. The boy reached for the door and the older girl shook her head and caught his wrist, jerking her head towards the end of the street where a pair of soldiers had just turned the corner.

Otto sighed. "You three are mutants, aren't you?"

"What is it to you?" snapped the boy.

"A desire not to see children shot on the streets."

Which was exactly what his father would have wanted, if they were the wrong type of children.