The Universe's Mixer

Pietro had enough self-control to stay calm, but it was growing more and more difficult to stay patient. He'd been around the City more than once already, and he'd found no sign of any familiar landmarks, much less any familiar faces. He found it all vaguely unsettling, from the completely mundane sight of a drugstore on a corner to the perfectly polite waitress who delivered his breakfast. Breakfast. At a restaurant.

It was bizarre.

Equally bizarre was the way they all walked about, perfectly unconcerned and focused upon their business. After his first morning snack, Pietro had set himself upon a park bench and had began watching the pedestrian traffic. He wore the nervous, disbelieving air of someone who either expected trouble, or had recently come from trouble. He'd been there five minutes already, and he'd long since passed 'twitchy.' He was going to have to move soon. He'd been still too long, in the open too long. Maybe two more minutes. Two minutes and he'd be on his way.

A shoe hit the pavement in rapid, staccato taps. Where was he? He'd asked, and a bemused woman had told him that he was in the City. As if it had been self-evident. And then, in a very gentle tone, she'd asked him if he was new.

To be honest, he didn't care where he was. That wasn't what bothered him. Maybe it was more of that time/dimensional travel business - it didn't matter. No, Pietro only wanted to know where the others were. Storm. Blink. His father. By some miracle, Pietro was still alive. Had the others survived, too?

Okay, yeah, he was getting up. Time to start looking for them, again.