The first real disaster didn't announce itself with a siren. It began with a heartbeat that vibrated through the asphalt of Y City until the tectonic plates seemed to groan in sympathy.
Pedestrians froze. In the mid-day rush, the frantic tempo of urban life hit a jagged wall of silence. Then came the second impact. It wasn't just a sound; it was a physical weight that rattled teeth and shattered the storefront windows of high-end boutiques. Car alarms began a frantic, discordant chorus across the district, but no one moved to shut them off. Every eye was fixed on the epicenter of the tremor.
The answer crawled out of the earth near the city's central park.
