The small metal plate was coated in rust, but the white lettering on the reflective green sheet was still visible.  If one looked closely the words “Theatre Ln” were legible.  The road called theatre was spider-webbed with cracks, and tall grasses grew along many of the threads, where the rest were filled with scraggly weeds.  The mostly broken sidewalk led to a small set of stairs- its weeds brethren to those of the asphalt. Once the stairs had risen to glass double doors, but they had deteriorated over time.  Now sun-faded blankets covered the opening, the dull red mirroring that of the brick from which the building was constructed.  A plaque was screwed in next to the door.  It was corroded, though in better shape than the street sign.  It read “Apartment 36A”.  There were many slots below for slips of paper that would have read names, and buttons next to them for bells.  Neither had been used in a very, very long time.  In contrast, hundreds of stars could be seen in the sky, but even that beauty was marred by the obscuring covering of smog that never quite went away.   Behind the makeshift door it was dark.  The only light in the building was that from without, and there were few windows.  There were holes in some of the walls, and a few were gone completely.  Most rooms were dusty and empty, but there were a few with some furnishings.  Old, sagging beds.  Half-used candles.  Boken lazy chairs.  Most notably, however, was the lobby, which held three people talking, soon to be four.  
“I say we start looking for him.”
“What’re you talking about?  He can take care of himself.”
I think he’ll be fine.
“what good is thinking going to do?” the girl shouted.
“he’s trying to be supportive!” the dark man replied.
Please, don’t argue.
Then, suddenly, the fourth person was in the room.  In a nearby corner sat a pale-faced boy.  His hair was dirty and long, but it could still be seen to be blonde.  The hair was hanging in strands, shadowing his eyes-and the blindfold that covered them. “Is this all you guys do while I’m away?” the newcomer said with a smirk, looking in no particular direction. “Must be pretty bleak. What would you three do without me?”  Instantly the other three turned towered him.  Mixed feelings of relief and anger showed in their eyes.  Of course, shift couldn’t see that.  Instead he studied them with his other senses- his perception of light which transcended actual sight.  The three sat in an almost perfect triangle in shoddy chairs around a low table.  He studied them individually.  His attention  shifted to the most enigmatic one first.  He was large and muscular, and lacking any semblance of hair.  Stranger than that, though, was his lack of facial features.  His head was an almost perfect egg shape set atop the strong neck.  Infinity.  Was he a result of extensive experimentation?  Or was he an otherworldly entity?  The ability to become anything.  Ultimate camouflage.  Shift had run into him at a military installment.  Ironically the one he was assigned to bomb.  With the failing of the power structure that was occurring all over the world, the systems that had kept him unconscious failed, and he awakened from his long slumber.  How long? They could only speculate.  Over the years he had learned English, but he had no mouth.  You heard him not with your ears, but with your mind.  The girl said it was a form of telepathy.  The girl.  Who was more of a mystery, the creature or the girl?  Although, she’s not a girl, no, not anymore.  She is visibly a woman now, though still very young.  At least by the Old standards.  Shift knew it must be hard for her.  One woman among three men (or two men and an alien, he amended).  They were all intrigued by her.   It was as likely that it was because of the fact that she was the only girl as because her hair color changed almost daily.  His smile broadened at the thought of that.  They had already learned that anyone who tried to find her “stash” of hair dye received a massive, skull-splitting headache.  Girls are so overprotective of their space.  
And what of the third?  Shade, he was called.  Short hair covered his head, and a small beard held fast to his face.  All along his forearms were thick stripes of scars.  They reminded Shift of the way a tiger looked.  He was able to emit a strange substance from his fingertips.  A dark, misty haze that inhibited the senses, not only was sight compromised, but also sound.  Then there was the stench of the foul mist-which overwhelmed all other inputs into smell and taste.  Only Shade himself seemed immune to its effects.  Then was his ability to almost “throw” energy.  The bolts weren’t very powerful, but to someone lost in his dark haze- they could be devastating.  He was also the first to respond to Shift’s  comments.  “Well, did you at least get some food?”
“No.  I got a handful of havin’ the crap beat outta me.”
What happened?
“Demigod happened.”
Then Braniac pitched in, “What? The all powerful Shift couldn’t handle little old Demigod?”
“Hey, it was dark outside,” he offered in self defense.
“Hah, I’m so glad my powers aren’t dependant on the weather.”
Shift laughed at that, “Ok, I am NOT getting into this discussion again.”  The worry was beginning to dissipate, and everyone was returning to normal.  There was isolated discussion after that, and Shift soon went to bed.  At least he could rest easy knowing tomorrow was Infinity’s day to scavenge.  The others soon followed Shift’s lead and retired for the day.   
Meanwhile, far from Theatre Lane, a small African boy sat in an alleyway- rejected by the primitive civilization that had emerged.  The human life here not as destroyed as in most other places.  The child sat looking out at the few people still walking by at this hour.  There were tears flowing from his strange eyes as he wondered if there was any place for a demon like him in this world.