The emotional part of my brain shut off. It couldn't handle what I'd done, and simply shut off. The logical part off my brain called all the shots. It told me to wash the blood off my hands, it told me to get on a bus, it told me not think about what had just happened.
I traveled for what seemed like years, but what was probably only a few hours. I wasn't sure where I was going, but eventually I found myself in New York City. It seemed like the perfect place to hide, so many people wound up there. I changed my name and my whole identity, and tried to start over.
Now, dear reader, you probably think of me as some kind of monster, and I wouldn't blame you. But, please realize that my ability, and, in a way, my curse, is not something I easily control. I wasn't prepared for it, and it controlled me. Now that I knew the consequences of my ability, it would not make me a killer again.
Easier said than done. Only a month or so had passed, and I already felt like I was going insane. Always, in the back of my mind, there was this pressing, urgent need to find just one more ability, just one and I would be fine. Every sound was in rhythm with a constant tick-tock.
I did everything I could, trying to stay in control, trying not to become a killer again and again. It wasn't working, every second was a struggle, and I was slowly but steadily losing. Eventually, the thought crept into my head that, as long as I was alive, I would not be able to stop myself from trying to open up people's heads. My only option was suicide.
But I was reluctant to throw my life away, as any of you would be. There had to be some other choice, some way I could put my Hunger at ease. Desperate for answers, I turned to the only source of information I had, 'Activating Evolution'. I'd left my book behind, along with everything else, so I only had the website to guide me.
The computer that I bought specifically for this purpose was old, and decidedly crappy, so it often didn't work. I prayed that it would start as I pressed the power button. Nothing could go right, the screen stayed painfully blank.
It wasn't that big of a deal, easily fixed, but I was upset. I cursed several times at the thing, punching the desk. Eventually, I calmed down and used my phasing powers, sticking my hand inside the machine. I felt around and, using my intuitive aptitude, I learned what the problem was. I didn't even have to open my computer up and take it apart.
I didn't have to take it apart.
The solution to my dilemma hit me like a ton of bricks. If I could feel the inner workings of a computer just by phasing into it, maybe I could do the same thing to a person's brain. If this plan worked, I could satiate my Hunger without becoming a killer. It was like being able to have my cake and eat it to. Perfect.
With this knowledge, I sought to track down another person with abilities. In New York City, there had to be hundreds, thousands even. If I could find them, their powers would easily be mine. The thought made me giddy.
I set to my new task without hesitation or reservation. I no longer had the time to stay in a steady job, so I stole to provide for myself. I didn't feel guilty about it, there were more important things at stake here. It was fairly easy to take what I needed, considering that I could walk through walls. It was far harder trying to track down people with abilities. Surprisingly enough, most of these people didn't want to be found.
My first lead, if that's what you want to call it, was a comic book. I happened to pass it as I was walking past a newsstand, and I noticed it because it had a symbol on its cover, the same symbol that was on the cover of Activating Evolution. That weird little squiggly with the horizontal lines... it couldn't be a coincidence.
The book was written by Isaac Mendez, his address would not be hard to find thanks to the marvel of the internet. I decided to pay this guy a visit. He probably knew about evolved humans, he might know where I could find some; heck he might even have powers himself!
As soon as I could, I went to Mendez's apartment. He didn't answer when I knocked on his door, so I walked right through, assuming he was out. I was not prepared for what I found. Surrounded by his paintings, Isaac Mendez lay sprawled on the floor, covered in his own blood and with the top of his head sliced clean off.
And standing over Isaac was a man. He was scruffier, dressed like a hobo and he'd taken off his glasses, but I recognized him. How could I forget Watch-guy?