It's the middle of the night, and Phil is quietly walking down the main drag. He surveys the buildings around him, trying to find a hotel or anywhere he might be able to spend the night. Heavy clouds are gathering in the night sky above his head, and every now and then Phil can feel a drop falling.
He can't pick up very many impressions of people - probably because they're all asleep, he muses - but every so often he perceives a fleeting image, a thinking human mind somewhere nearby. Phil doesn't know what to make of this new-found ability, and like all the others that have been manifesting lately, it frightens him. At least it's not as bad as accidentally moving things, or starting fires, or finding myself levitating in midair, he reminds himself. Maybe there's someone around here who can help me figure all this out.
Phil comes across a building - a bar of some sort. Maybe he can at least get directions there. He quietly makes his way up to the door, noticing an instant too late that all the ruckus inside has suddenly gone deathly silent.
They know I'm here.
The door bursts open suddenly, knocking Phil to the ground. He starts to scramble to his feet when several formidable-looking men appear in the doorway. The biggest one - the one in front - bares what to Phil's horror appears to be a pair of walrus tusks and glares at him.
Now this just might be a problem...
