If you're into the right kind of music, you'd take one look at me and think 'Laurence René'. The pale skin, the eyeliner, the nose ring, the short and spiky jet black hair. The reason for this? I was named after Laurence René, in memory of better times, and I just feel like I have to live up to my namesake. I'd even stylised my friends to match René's band (I heard one of them got affected by 2012). I guess you could call it an obsession. But it kept me relatively sane in an insane kind of way. Until the crash anyway. That was the day I found out I was a freak. My name is Laurence Ezra and I can make barriers. Mental, physical, emotional, you name it I can make it. And as far as I can tell, they're impenetrable. I've been shot at a few times with grade one bullets and all they seem to do is bounce off. I can heal people sometimes but it only seems to work if I'm in the right mood. Besides the barriers and the occasional healing, if I focus hard enough I can run super fast. But that's only happened a few times since the crash.
I was drawn to the exploding pub like a moth to a flame. No idea why, catastrophes seem to attract me. I missed the explosion but saw the aftermath. Would it be wrong to say it excited me a little bit? Especially the group of six people that hastily ran off. I followed them, putting up a mental barrier so they wouldn't notice me, and caught up just in time to see them disappear. I caught a good enough glimpse of one of them, though. Luna. All I could do was wait for them to come back. And when they did, they'd have to face a slightly sadistic goth-looking teenager in a black shirt and white tie. A white tie which normally ended up red.