The classy and professional thud of footsteps echo through the empty hall. A mix of fatigue and laziness is layered in between the pattern of the strut. It's footsteps that anyone in the building could recognize by the faint vibration alone. Footsteps that demand silence. That demand attention and respect.
Eight in the morning. Something that had recently become a pattern of Christina, was to get another cup of coffee at this time. It didn't matter how many other cups of coffee she had already drank at that point, she would still get another one. The only reason for this behavior, is that she would find herself dozing off around this time, only to be woken up hours later by her assistant, Timothy.
While a majority of the world tower was open to the public at all hours of the day, the upper floors were prohibited. Those floors are where meetings are held, important work is done, and where the world leader's house is. There were only two ways for someone to reach that upper area, whether it be by elevator, or stairs. While both ways are quite predictable and common, that doesn't detract from their effectiveness. One way is through a standard security card, which is only given to an employee if their work requires those upper floors. The second is by scanning your thumb, which should be in the system if needed. For extra security however, both of these options require a unique password, which changes every day. These passwords are emailed to employees at twelve AM on the dot every morning, without fail. But even with this security, there are still ways for someone to wiggle their way through.
A man –whose name was not documented in the records– somehow managed to make it to the floor where Christina's office is, without anyone's knowledge. The only information that was documented about him was that he was an average height male, who was in his late twenties. While having a history of mental instability, he had excellent control over his power of creating explosions. So much control in fact, that he could manipulate the size, type, and location of the explosion.
While never being proven so, this information was false. The purpose of it was not to document historical events, but rather, to highlight the brutality and sadistic nature of superpowered individuals. As some –if not most– would expect, this man did not have any history of having, or using a power, which is the reason his name was withheld from the record. Instead of using a power, this man was armed with a pistol. Where he acquired said pistol, is unknown.
The moment Christina turned the corner to her office, she was met with the man's intense and disgusted stare at the end of the hall. Showing off her false composure, she lifted her cup to her mouth and took a short sip, exhaling loudly once she swallowed. Feet planted comfortably on the tiled floor, her eyes scan quickly over his filthy clothes and tired body. She waits silently at the corner, with a disapproving look over her face, waiting for him to do something.
The man sniffles, and immediately wipes his nose. His movements are quick and look to be full of enthusiasm, contrasting his tired demeanor. His leg bounces uncontrollably, creating a ripple that tenses his whole body. Yet at the same time, his movements feel loose and relaxed. The grip he has around the gun tightens noticeably, yet Christina pays no mind. Her uninterested stare over him never wavers for a second. A pained chuckle forces its way out of his mouth, as tears drip down his face, washing away the despair in his eyes with a burning sensation, replacing it with resolve as he lifts the gun. With shaky hands, he carefully points it to her. His breathing quickens more aggressively. Like furious huffs rather than angered breaths.
Man: Do you know me?
Internally, Christina raises an eyebrow, clearly not understanding his question. So far, this whole encounter has been more confusing than threatening. Feeling an ounce of interest at this point, Christina waits a few seconds before answering his question, respect and politeness dripping off of her words.
Christina: I do not.
Man: AND YET YOU CONTROL ME!?
Christina: Pardon? I don't control anyone, let alone you, sir. I simply govern and enforce. Would you mind elaborating on your words, please?
Man: SHUT UP! I… You… You don't govern shit! YOU CONTROL! YOU TAKE! YOU WAIT UNTIL PEOPLE FALL, AND THEN LEACH OFF THEIR SUFFERING FOR YOUR GAIN!
A wave of grief rises up in his chest. A new flood of tears spill out, making his face hot with rage. Stumbling over his words, drool swings out of his mouth as he cries silently. But determined to finish this, he smacks his fist into his forehead a couple times, and straightens out his aim, before continuing. All the while, Christina's feeling of disgust and disinterest grew.
His voice –while soaked with contempt– is calm. It grows louder and more violent with every word, as unpleasant memories flood back in his mind.
Man: You call yourself a leader. What do you lead? What do you lead!? The only thing you lead… Is money into your account! You lead people… To their graves! You lead the world towards collapse! Have you ever, for once in your life, actually given a shit about a civilian!?
Christina: I have, yes. Many times.
Man: BULLSHIT! WHEN!? WHEN!? WHEN!? WHEN HAVE YOU EVER CARED ABOUT ANYONE BUT YOURSELF!? WHEN HAVE YOU EVER CARED ABOUT THE PEOPLE!? ABOUT ME!? ABOUT… ABOUT ALL THOSE PEOPLE WHO DIED!? ALL THOSE PEOPLE, WHOSE FAMILIES SUFFER EVERY DAY! BECAUSE YOU WON'T HELP THEM! YOU WON'T STEP UP! YOU WON'T DO WHAT'S RIGHT!
With the hand not holding the cup of coffee, Christina makes a motion signaling for him to calm down as she speaks. Her voice is soft, as she genuinely tries to deescalate the situation.
Christina: Sir, if you would kindly lower your weapon, I'd be happy to-
Cutting her off before she can finish, the man stomps forward a few feet. Both hands are placed over the gun as he straightens his arms out, and tightens a finger over the trigger. Fury bubbles in his heart at Christina's lack of a reaction.
Man: YOU'LL WHAT!? ARREST ME!? HAVE A NICE LONG CHAT!? SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP! YOU JUST WANT ME OUT OF HERE! YOU DON'T… YOU DON'T EVEN GIVE A SHIT, DO YOU!? DOES THIS MEAN NOTHING TO YOU!? JUST A NORMAL DAY!? DO I MEAN NOTHING!? DOES MY FAMILY MEAN NOTHING!?
Christina: If I may ask, what happened to your family, sir?
Man: THEY'RE DEAD! I WATCHED IT HAPPEN! I CAME HOME FROM WORK THAT WEDNESDAY NIGHT, AND IT DISAPPEARED RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY EYES! FELL INTO THE HOLE! NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN!
Tears bolt down his face like raindrops. Even with his voice wobbly, and his body shaking, he continues.
Man: The last… The last thing I saw… Was my wife. She opened the door to welcome me home. There was a bright smile on her face, and tired bags under her eyes. I instantly knew why, since she was holding our newborn son in her arms. He was giggling. Playing with her hair. Then they were gone… Just like that.
Although uncaring, Christina places a hand over her mouth, mocking a gasp with wide eyes. She understands the man's mental state well enough, and knows that he most likely won't use the gun. But she can't be completely sure of that, so she chooses to play it safe, pretending to show sympathy.
Christina: That's heartbreaking. I'm truly sorry that happened to you. If there's anything I can do-
A quiet voice from the man, tinged with resentment, cuts through her words. As seconds of silence pass, Christina takes a step back, the fake sympathy washing away. Her face twists in abhorrence, patience running thin. The man straightens his knees and stares at her in disapproving amusement.
Man: You're sorry? What are you sorry for, huh? Are you sorry for me? Because my family is dead? Or are you sorry that you don't care? That you didn't do anything to aid me, or all the other grieving people? Are you sorry for tossing us to the side like old toys? Or are you sorry… For being the reason that we all live in hell?
Christina: No. I was apologizing to myself. I'm sorry that I pretended to care about your generic sob story. And I'm sorry that I wasted my time by not alerting security sooner.
Expression unchanging, the man slowly lifts the gun up to his chin. A faint "I'll miss you" inaudibly escapes his lips before he pulls the trigger. Blood splatters onto the ceiling and walls, yet not a single drop lands on Christina. In fact, she hadn't even flinched when he pulled the trigger.
With a sigh, she carefully walks around the corpse and opens the door to her office. Sipping her coffee while sitting down, Christina alerts security of the situation, and calls Timothy into her office as well. While security was aware of the encounter the whole time, they had been placed under strict orders by Christina herself to never get involved in something unless she alerted them of it. This decision had been made by her years prior, but never ceased to confuse people.
A short time later, the door slowly swings open without a creak. Carefully closing it behind him, Timothy enters the office. Immediately noticing the anger both from his eyes, and the way he pats down his suit, Christina straightens her back and returns his gaze with equal intensity.
Timothy: You wanted to see me, Ma'am?
He steps into a different pose as the normal innocent look returns to his face. Despite his attempt to appear professional to the world leader, his posture is sloppy, the papers piled under his arm aren't neat, and his hair is unkempt. Even still, his job is to be the assistant to Christina, so no matter how he looks, he must do that job.
Christina: Mhm. You look as if you have something to say?
Stepping forward towards the desk at the end of the room, the angered look on Timothy's face returns. Upon getting a closer look of his features as he steps closer, Christina realizes what he's really conveying with his stare. Dissatisfaction. Disapproval. Disappointment.
Timothy: I do, yes. For one, on my way here, the janitors looked utterly disgusted. And rightfully so considering what is currently being cleaned up. The bullet he shot caused damage to the roof of the building, which will cause major issues if not dealt with soon. Second, as world leader, you have a responsibility to keep your citizens safe. Did you consider the possibility of the camera recordings of that getting out into the public? Your main goal right now should be to clean your name and reputation. At this current moment, many many people are extremely upset with you as a leader, and demand a change. And considering that getting a new world leader is a long and rigorous task, something has to be done immediately. Either fix the issues that need to be dealt with, or don't actively try to make things worse.
Knowing that she needs to carefully handle this, Christina lets out a quiet sigh before rolling back her chair and standing up. With Christina being a little taller than Timothy is, the height difference from standing asserts some sort of dominance she needs. Pair this with crossing her arms behind her back and standing up perfectly straight, and she begins to look like someone that shouldn't be messed with. Someone who earns respect simply by existing. With this slight advantage, she responds in a firm yet non-hostile tone.
Christina: I understand that. And to say what you're saying is false, would be ignorance on my part. However, the man was pointing a gun at me. Clearly, he wasn't in the right head space to be reasoned with. Fury stormed in his mind. It was either him or me. I did what I had to do to get the gun away from me. While I do regret not being able to prevent his suicide, I can say with certainty that the life of one man who has already lost it all is far less important than the life of the world leader, especially when things have fallen into such disarray as of late.
Timothy's face twitches almost unnoticeably. A look of confused disgust etches across his face. Unintimidated by Christina's attempt to appear powerful, he fires back, knowing that her words are simply clever excuses.
Timothy: That's completely avoiding the root problem.
Christina: And what might that be?
Timothy: It should be obvious what the issue is, assuming you actually listened to what he said. The problem is you, and your inaction to aid the people after a disaster. Instead of handing out money or food or necessary supplies, or creating homeless shelters, you did nothing. You chose to sit by and watch the world burn. Ms. Christina, with all due respect, your choices in this matter absolutely baffle me. You're spitting in the face of responsibility. Of humanity. If you don't grab that fire extinguisher soon, then the flames will become too strong to put out.
The anger in his voice grows with each word. However, because of the respect in his word choice, and the fact that the topics he brings up are completely true, Christina is unable to get upset over this. Frustrated, yes. But nothing more. In fact, in a way she admires Timothy for standing up to his superior like this, as it's something she never had the guts to do.
Christina: Of course. You are absolutely right in all of this, but-
Timothy: I wasn't finished. If you'd please allow me to continue.
Christina: Y-yeah. Go ahead.
Timothy: Second, the employees here, including myself, have been extremely dissatisfied with your performance as our boss. Going back to earlier points, because of your inaction to deal with the issues the world is facing, we are the ones who are forced to handle them. But without your approval on our plans, we can't set them into motion. Not only are we tired, we are overworked, we are fed up, we are frustrated, we are confused, and we are scared. Have you even noticed the amount of people who have resigned in the past week alone? So I ask why? Why are you doing this? What are you waiting for? How do you plan to fix this? When do you plan to fix this?
The wording and delivery of his argument makes Christina suspect that it was scripted. Or at least planned out beforehand, and rehearsed multiple times in his head. Because of this, Christina was rendered speechless. Her mouth hung open just a bit as she stumbled back into her chair. Mind racing with ways to counter that attack, she was unable to look back up to his intense stare. With her brain feeling as if it was melting, her mouth involuntarily blurted out words in an attempt to deescalate the situation.
Christina: I don't know. I'll admit that. I don't know. But I will say, I don't want things to be this way, and I do plan to fix things. I just don't know when.
During their meeting on the 27th, Leon had told Christina to not make any attempts in search of Dean until he gave her that information himself. However at a later date, Leon returned and clarified his words. He stated that Christina was not to do anything to resolve the issues caused by Dean. When she questioned him about it, Leon spoke in a defensive way. Deep down, she knew it was better to follow Leon's orders. Considering his power, between causing a major recession and making Leon angry, the correct choice was obvious.
Timothy: I understand. Thank you for being honest. And I want to clarify to you that it was not my intention at all to appear disrespectful, and if that was the impression you got from my words, then I apologize. I was simply frustrated with you, as any person would be. However, I am still loyal to you as your assistant.
Christina: You don't need to worry. I know what your intentions were there. I respect you for that. Now, we should get to the real reason I called you in here.
Timothy: Of course.
With her elbows placed comfortably on the desk, she crosses her arms and scoots her chair in. As she leans forward, her eyes glance up to Timothy, who is standing perfectly still, waiting for her to speak.
Christina: After the meeting with Samuel, I requested a follow up meeting to further discuss the people who can supposedly remember alternate realities. Do you have any new updates or information regarding my request?
Eyes widening, Timothy scrambles through the stack of papers under his arm, looking for the correct one. Leaning back in her chair, Christina crosses her arms over her chest as she waits. After a few seconds, Timothy manages to pull out a few papers from the pile. Shuffling through them, his eyes dart quickly between the words, trying to read them as fast as possible.
Timothy: I'm very sorry, Ma'am. This is entirely my fault. Your request was approved two days ago. I even scheduled it for today… In about two hours. I don't know how I forgot to tell you, but I apologize.
Christina: Don't worry about it. The meeting is to be held in the powered representative building, correct?
Timothy: Yes it is. If we leave now, we should arrive on time. Once we get there, Samuel will meet us and guide you to the meeting place. Would you like security to accompany you during this process?
Christina: No thank you.
Timothy: Understood.
Timothy (Inner): What? Why wouldn't you want that extra protection? Considering how dangerous we know these people can be, it only makes sense. I guess I can't argue against it though. After all, the word of the world leader is absolute.
Upon arriving at the powered representative building a few minutes behind schedule, Christina opens the car door and carefully steps out, leaving Timothy inside, waiting for her return. Standing a few feet away from the car, with hands behind his back and an untrustworthy grin, is Samuel.
Samuel: Welcome. I'd like to thank you for coming, even though you were the one to request this meeting.
Christina: Shut up. I'm not here for you, you know why I'm here. So bring me where I need to go.
Instantly shooting down his polite manners, Christina glares at him. Samuel –a bit thrown off by her rudeness– falters and trips over his words. Quickly regaining his composure, he clears his throat and bends over just a bit as he gently swings his hand out, motioning to the entrance of the building.
Samuel: Right. You can follow me this way then.
As they walk, Christina keeps her hands firmly clenched at her sides, not wanting to come into direct contact with anything. She instantly notices how unprofessional and cheap the place looks, which goes against her expectation of how a place like this should look.
Christina (Inner): I guess it makes sense why it's like this. It is called the bad part for a reason, after all. Still… It's weird being back in a place like this. Here… After so many years. I thought for sure that I left that part of my life behind, but it still finds a way to creep up on me every now and then. It's almost nostalgic in a way. Even though I don't have any particularly fond memories here.
Samuel: Is it okay if I ask, what do you hope to discover here exactly? When I brought this phenomenon to your attention, I never expected you to actually go anywhere with it.
Christina: Why's that?
Samuel: Well you see, you'd generally expect a world leader to handle issues of a larger scale, correct? The biggest problem you people seem to be facing as of right now, is that ginormous hole that killed thousands. Compare that to this, which has only affected around fifteen people total, and this seems utterly insignificant. So why did you choose this to take priority? Do you have some sort of stigma against your own people? Some hidden agenda to bring about the fall of the non-powered people?
Christina: You're looking too much into this. It's mostly a matter of ignorance on yours and everyone else's parts. While it may appear that I'm sabotaging my own people, with the full picture painted, I'm actually helping them out. But… I suppose the people won't realize that once this is all over will they?
Stopping in place, he turns around and faces her. Hands placed on his hips and head cocked, he asks her to clarify what she means. Almost losing her balance from the sudden halt, Christina adjusts her jacket and squints her eyes aggressively at him as she shakes her head. Not wanting to push any further out of a genuine fear of what may happen, Samuel simply laughs this off and begins walking.
Samuel (Inner): Could she be lying to me? Trying to make herself appear to be the good guy? No, there's no way that's the case. It wouldn't make sense is all. I, of all people, should know that she isn't completely inherently evil, but even still, I can't bring myself to see her as a good person, considering the things she, and the previous world leaders, are responsible for. So she would have no reason to seem like a misunderstood hero to me, when it clearly won't work. So maybe she's being genuine about it? Or perhaps she is trying to seem like a saint, but is too stupid to realize it won't work. Judging by her blatant inaction to solve major issues, this could very well be the case.
Christina: How much further until we get there?
Samuel: It's the next door on the right. We will have to go down a flight of stairs or two. I assume that's alright with you?
Christina: Yeah. That's alright.
Samuel (Inner): Is her professional demeanor fading? Back during our first meeting, it felt almost as if it was an act, but here, that theory seems to be correct. It's like her speech is becoming more and more casual every time she opens her mouth.
Christina (Inner): Down the stairs? Does he plan to murder me?
Taking the lead, Samuel leads Christina down the stairs. Once they reach the bottom, she immediately notices a myriad of doors, all placed about in a pattern down the corridor. A total of twenty doors stretch down.
Christina: Are they in these rooms?
Stopping at the first door, and wrapping his fingers around the handle, Samuel looks back at her with a blank expression. Judging by the lack of a keyhole on the door, it seems that all of them are unlocked. This leaves Christina in a puzzled state. One that she doesn't make obvious however. If these people were really losing their minds, wouldn't it make sense that the rooms they are confined to would be locked? Of course, that's assuming that there is a person just past each of the doors.
Samuel: They are. While most of them have similar stories of suddenly appearing in an alternate universe where things are different, the person beyond this door has a far more interesting story. One I'm sure you'd love to hear. And don't worry. It's not as if I'm keeping them here against their will. Everyone here has chosen to be here, and can leave whenever they wish. All I'm doing is giving them shelter, food, and a therapist to talk to.
Forming a fist over her mouth, Christina clears her throat, before patting down her jacket and taking a few steps towards the door. While her expression and body language suggest professionalism and ferocity, her inner thoughts are hesitant. She doesn't know exactly what will happen when she enters that room, but at the same time, she isn't scared. No matter what might happen, she knows that she can get out of it, one way or another.
As they enter the room, and Samuel closes the door behind them, Christina's eyes scan over the environment. The state of it makes her falter for a second, because of how clean and livable it is. It could of course, just be societal differences, but this kind of room is nothing like what she had expected. A twin size bed with a clean wooden frame and washed sheets lay in the top right corner. A small wooden desk sits next to it, with a cheap swivel chair tucked in under it. A large shelf resides at the bottom left corner. Scattered about the shelf are an array of books. And in the top left corner is a large curtain, supposedly closing off a bathroom area. While the room is claustrophobic, overall, it's not a bad place.
To top it off, a man sits on the bed. With his face in his hands, he groans softly at the sound of footsteps entering his room. He swiftly lifts up his head and spins his neck to face them. A stubble stretches across his face, and large bags hang under his eyes. As he speaks, his voice is soft yet raspy. It's filled with despair that he makes no attempt to mask.
Man: What?
The moment Christina opens her mouth to speak, Samuel flings his hand out in front of her to halt her speech, only lowering his hand when she closes her mouth. Once she does, he faces the man with a smile, and begins to speak.
Samuel: Hello, Tom. As you are most likely familiar with her, this is the world leader, Christina. Would you mind sharing your story with her? If not, I completely understand. It's okay if the memory of it is too upsetting to retell.
Tom: I don't care. Sure.
Lowering his head, Tom's voice becomes a faint whisper as he responds to Samuel's request. As Samuel carefully backs up into the wall, he motions his hand to the chair. A second later, Christina's eyes widen in realization, and she quickly pulls the chair out from under the desk, and takes a seat in it. In response to Christina scooting the chair closer to the bed, Tom scoots further back on the bed.
Christina: It's nice to meet you.
Tom: Mm
Samuel: Whenever you're ready, Tom.
Tom: "Okay. I'd say it started a little over a decade ago. Maybe like… Fifteen years? I can't remember. Anyways, I was in my car, I don't remember why, but I was driving home. Next thing I knew, bam. Another car slammed right into me. Pretty sure I was at an intersection that was infamous for having accidents, but I can't be sure. The car hit the right side of mine, so I was kinda launched to the side it felt like, I dunno. Woke up in the hospital, felt like I was dying. It was hard to keep my eyes open, so I closed them and took a nap. Then it was all black. And it stayed black for what felt like forever. Black and cold. I couldn't escape it.
The next time I woke up, I was back in my bed. I quickly looked over my body, to see if any of those bandages I got from the crash were still there. They weren't. By that point, I started freaking out about that dream of nothing, and how it felt like it stretched on forever. Still sends chills down my spine man.
Anywho, I went about my day like usual, but I was a little slower this time for whatever reason. So when I was driving home again, the car in front of me got hit from the side. I was like… Super confused. 'Cause like it was the same car that hit me. At least from what I could tell. I think I started hyperventilating or something, then took a cold shower when I got home to calm myself down.
Ended up gettin' so freaked out by it that I couldn't sleep that night. To be honest, haven't really had a good night's rest since. But that was just the beginning of it all. From that day on, at no set time, I would just… Go back. Like I was time traveling or something. It didn't matter what I did, I'd go back. There was no set distance either. I could go back a day, a week, or a year or whatever. It didn't matter. In fact, there were a couple times when I went all the way back to the beginning. To the day I got hit by that car. And it would happen without warning too. Just whenever it wanted, I guess.
I'm not really a smart guy, so it was really hard to figure out what was going on. Pair that with constantly losing all the progress I had made on my life, and it really started to take a mental toll on me. I felt like I was losing my mind. But then I'd go back, and it was like I'd be back to normal.
I tried so many things to make it stop. Things I'm not proud of, even if they technically never happened. I've killed. I've kidnapped. I've stolen. I even tried killing myself a few times. That's what that infinite darkness was. The space after death. I'd be there for who knows how long, and then I'd come back whenever it wanted me to. I don't know what 'it' is, but that's just what I'm calling this force that has me trapped in this cycle.
I can't get out. I don't know how. And… This ain't even the first time I've told you this story. I've lost count of how many times I've gone back. How many people I've fallen in love with and had to say goodbye to so suddenly. Even if I tried to get them back in the new timeline, I'd always mess it up.
There was one time… One time where I thought that I'd cheat the system and play the lottery or whatever. It just knew, I guess. Knew what I was up to. Didn't allow me to win. I swear that I've heard a voice in my ear just say 'stop that' a few times. Last time I told you that, you asked me what the voice sounded like, so I'll just answer your question before you ask. It was a man's voice. Sounded kind of cocky, but also tired, and angry. It was threatening, I dunno.
Oh, and there were a couple times where the world just… Ended, I guess. We all just imploded. Except it wasn't all at once. I guess the 'it' wanted to see people suffer. But in those situations, I wouldn't see black. I'd just go back. That kinda made me think that it was just a dream, but it also kept happening. Got to the point where I started doing dream checks every few hours, so in case it did happen, I'd know if it was a dream or not.
But that is kind of sad to think about, huh? Even though I've been given so many second, third, fourth… And hundredth chances, I feel like my life has been stripped away from me by force. I can't enjoy this freedom, because I'm not free. Someday… Someday I hope that I do die, and that this 'it' will let go of me. Although deep down, I don't think it really cares about me in the first place. And I don't know if death is something I really want. After experiencing it so many times, and knowing the infinite hell that waits beyond… It's scary, you know? Or maybe I'm already in hell. Maybe I did something so bad that I don't remember, and this is my hell. If that's the case, then God is a cruel man."
A minute passes in silence, with everyone too stunned to speak. Tom hunches over and holds his head down with a somber expression at their silent reactions. Despite having heard the bleak story before, Samuel is still disturbed by it, as is evident by his face, and the way his body tenses uncomfortably. After processing all of Tom's words, Christina leans forward with squinted eyes.
Christina: Have you ever considered that this 'it' is a mere person? Is there someone who has a grudge on you, who would enact such cruel revenge upon receiving a time manipulation power?
Tom: No. I did say that I don't think it cares about me. I think this is just something it's doing, and I got caught up in the crossfire of it for whatever reason. And no, I don't know anyone like that.
Samuel (Inner): She isn't even going to try and console him after that?
Christina: I see, I see. Well the most logical and obvious explanation for this is someone with a time manipulation ability, like I said. All I can offer in terms of consolation is that I'll do my best to find this person and bring them to justice. Would that satisfy you, Tom?
Samuel (Inner): That's not the kind of consolation he needs? Is she ignorant, or just a piece of shit who doesn't care?
Tom: I don't really care honestly. It's already done so much to me that can't be taken back, so it doesn't really matter. Do whatever you want.
Christina: Excellent! I promise I will get right on this. I'll make this guy pay for what he's done before you know it, so don't worry! I should get going now!
Tom: Oh. Okay. Bye, then.
Samuel (Inner): Is she really done? That quick?
With a triumphant determination in her pose, Christina shoots up out of the chair and exuberantly walks to the door. Samuel follows her into the hall with a puzzled look on his face, clearly not understanding the intentions behind anything she does.
Eventually, he realizes that this behavior of hers is to be expected at this point. With all the things she's been responsible for recently due to her inaction, it's obvious that she would continue this trend. Surprisingly, he doesn't mind this choice. After all, whatever happens to the people in the good part, in no way affects the people of the bad part. They've always had a 'you don't bother me, and I won't bother you' agreement, so those internal issues would not carry over to the other side. In fact, a small part of Samuel feels a little excited at what might unfold if this continues. But even so, while he knows he should try to stop her and do the right thing, –either to improve the reputation of the powered people, or simply for morality– he chooses not to.
Samuel (Inner): If the good part does fall into ruin, will that be the end of all of this? Will the discrimination finally end?
Sitting in the car, unbothered by Christina's entrance, is Timothy, who is robotically fixed on typing away on a laptop with a concentrated face, like his surroundings don't exist. Intrigued in his behavior, –as well as looking for a distraction from Samuel, who stares blankly through the tinted windows of the car– Christina leans over and asks what he's doing. Shifting the laptop away from her view, Timothy glances up at her. His eyes remain squinted from his focused state a moment ago, causing his forward stare to appear aggravated and hostile.
Timothy: I'd prefer if you weren't aware of what I'm working on. If that's okay.
Christina: Of course. I can respect that.
The car begins moving slowly, careful not to hit any pedestrians. People –coming to the conclusion that someone important like the world leader might be in that car– attempt to stare through the windows, slowing their movements even further. Returning their gazes, Christina stares at them with a disgusted face.
Unfocused eyes stare forward as Samuel begins walking back into the powered representative building. Faced with the hypothetical he himself created, his mind begins spinning ideas in a web of theory for a possible future.
Samuel (Inner): If things keep going the way they have been, I assume the non-powered people will begin an uprising against Christina. Although, while that may be the most likely outcome, what would be done after, assuming it was successful? It would be incredibly difficult to rebuild society in that state. So I can assume two possible outcomes from that point. One: They try to survive on their own, either leading to failure and death, or leading to option two. Maybe they do manage to survive on their own, but it's unlikely. Especially with the average intelligence rates being on a swift decline in recent years. Two: They try to flock to us, hoping to unite as one and put the past behind us. That may be difficult for me and my partners to handle, but I'm sure we can manage with enough time and devotion. Either way, both outcomes are beneficial to us. So I can only hope it works out how I expect. Otherwise, the world may very well end. And new life will emerge to inhabit it.
It isn't until they arrive back at the world tower when Christina checks her phone to see what the notification was. A mix of frustration and relief swirls through her as she sees the notification. A message from Leon. "It's time."
Upon reading this message, she directs her gaze to Timothy, who is walking along her right side.
Christina: I have important work I need to do. I would like to be alone in my office while I do it.
A look of suspicion suddenly washes over Timothy's face, as he too turns his attention to her, but only after she finishes speaking. Although he has questions about this "important work" she brought up, –mainly because it was something he was unaware of– he nods his head and respects her request.
Leon lays arrogantly on his stomach atop the conference table in her office. With arms crossed under his chin for support, and legs kicking in the air immaturely, he raises his eyebrows towards her in greeting as she steps into the room.
Christina: Get off.
Leon: Fine, fine. Don't gotta be such a jerk about it though. Is this what I get for taking precious time out of my day to give you information that you oh so desperately need? 'Cause I don't have to do any of this, you know. To be honest, it is kinda fun watching you wiggle your way out of accusations against your responsibility as a world leader.
Christina: Zip it. I could argue against that by saying you didn't have to force me to not aid my people when they need it the most. I'd actually like to know how you got in here without being noticed. And how you plan to deal with the footage of you.
Leon: Gosh it's like you don't even know me! It's so mean! Duh! Isn't it super obvious how I got in? Also of course I handled the cameras. I'm not new to this stuff, dude.
Christina (Inner): Knowing him, he'll most likely go on an annoying rant about what he did to the cameras. I'm really not in the mood to hear any of that right now. It's better not to ask.
Christina: Just tell me where Dean Jeeves is and get out. I have other things I need to do.
Leon: Yeah alright. But! I have one condition. You're not allowed to do anything until the seventeenth. On that day, you may do as you please.
Christina: Okay? I don't understand. But I also know it's better not to question it.
Leon: Good girl.
Christina: Don't call me that.
Leon: Anywho. Dean is currently at the Falinx residence.
Her face scrunches and her eyes squint in confusion. Leon watches in amusement as she crosses her arms and tilts her head.
Christina: Falinx? I thought you were friends with those folks? Have things changed between you, or do you have some deeper meaning for sabotaging them? Either way, I assume you don't want me to harm the family or their home, correct?
Leon: Oh no no no no. I don't really care what you do to them. Sure yeah, they are my friends. But like, who cares, you know? I've had my fun with them. Don't really need something you don't care much for anymore.
Christina (Inner): That look on his face. That smug look. I know he's up to something, but I have no choice but to trust him.
Noticing her questioning eyes, Leon leans forward a little. Raising his eyebrows just enough to show off his round eyes, but not wrinkling his forehead, he smirks and asks her a question.
Leon: You have something else you want to ask me, don't you?
Caught off guard by his spot on assumption, Christina backs away a few steps. With crossed arms, her fingers dig into her white jacket as she lightly bites her lip. After a few seconds of tense silence, her hands slap themselves into her face, and slide down, extending the skin under her eyes. Cool air passes through the new space and tickles her blurry eyes as she groans.
Leon: What's that all about? You nervous or something?
Christina: No, asshat. I just despise the idea of relying on you like this. But yes, I do have something to ask you.
Leon: Womp womp. Lay it on me. I can answer anything you ask me.
Christina: I know you can. I assume you know what I'm going to ask already?
With eyes that sparkle annoyingly, he cups his hands over his cheeks and chuckles as he responds. Christina's fists clench in irritation at his childish behavior.
Leon: Sure do. You wanna know who's causing all that time loop and alternate universe stuff right?
Christina: I do. What do you know about it?
Leon: What kinda question is that? I know all about it, nerd. I can tell you who's causing it, but you might not like the answer I give.
Christina: Doesn't matter. Who is it?
Leon: A twenty year old guy named Adam Tisfor. While he lives in the good part, he has an ability that allows him to reverse time that he's kept hidden for years. He primarily uses this power for menial daily problems, but has recently become determined to use his power to help people, mainly close friends or relatives. He has told those people about his power, but he's lied about it by saying he can only go back ten seconds, with a ten second cooldown. This is only so that they don't get worried about the things he's capable of, and stop trusting him.
Christina: Interesting. If he does live in the good part like you said, then I should have no trouble finding him. Perhaps by the end of the day or early tomorrow? While I hate to say this, I probably should. Thanks for the help.
He tilts his head back and raises his eyebrows out of surprise as Christina extends her hand to him. Regaining his composure, he accepts her handshake as a grin spreads across his face.
Christina (Inner): Adam Tisfor. The Falinx residence. Adam Tisfor. The Falinx residence. Adam Tisfor. The Falinx residence. Adam Tisfor. The Falinx residence. Adam Tisfor. The Falinx residence. Adam Tisfor. The Falinx residence. Adam Tisfor. The Falinx residence. I got it.
April 16th, 2024. The day before Ashley Falinx's seventeenth birthday. While walking home from his job at a fast food restaurant, Adam Tisfor suddenly falls unconscious. He wakes up an unknown amount of time later, in a grey room, with his hands and feet tied up against a chair. Naturally, panic consumes him as he cries out for help, but no one hears him.
Through blurry eyes, he stops his crying and stares at the dark grey door in front of him as it opens. Blinking quickly to wipe away the excess water, he sees three people walk in the room, closing the door behind them. One of the people he recognizes as the world leader, Christina. While the other two –a man and a woman, each in suits– are unknown.
Christina: Hello, Adam. My name is Christina. Although I assume you are already aware of that fact. Do you by any chance know the reason that you're here today?
Eyes darting uncontrollably between the three people, he shakes his head slowly, his devastated face gradually beginning to calm itself.
Adam: I don't. No clue. Why? What's going on? What did I do?
Christina: We were given information by a reliable source that you have the power of time manipulation. Is that correct?
His chest heaves in sync with his sharp gasps. Sweat falls down the sides of his face as his jaw drops, the devastation in his expression returning. Nevertheless, he answers the question truthfully, knowing that it will result in an easier punishment.
Adam: I do. W-why though? I've never done anything wrong, I swear! I just used it to help people, that's all! I know the whole stigma against people with powers, but I promise I'm a good person!
Christina: The stigma should be the least of your worries right now. While I appreciate your honest answer, I don't appreciate your dishonest answer to the question I have yet to ask.
Adam: W-what? I didn't lie! I swear!
Christina: I want you to answer me with absolute 100% honesty. Can you do that for me, Adam? If you do, I promise we'll let you go with just a warning. I swear on my daughter's life.
Adam (Inner): She has a daughter?
The second person to enter the room –the man– was Christina's assistant, Timothy. Hands in pockets, and shoulders tense, he stares at the scene unfolding with an uncomfortable expression. His stomach turns and his head spins at her lie.
Timothy (Inner): She doesn't have a daughter.
Adam: Y-yeah. I promise. I'll tell the truth.
Christina: Wonderful! Love to hear that! Makes our jobs so much easier, haha! So, have you been using your ability to go years into the past and change certain events to fit your perfect world view?
Adam: What? I wouldn't. I would never! Even if I could, I wouldn't do something like that! I know better!
Christina: Even if you could? Could you elaborate on that, please?
Adam: I can only go back ten seconds! And it's not like I can just keep doing that over and over! I have a ten second cooldown before I can use it again!
Placing her hands behind her back, Christina's aggressive eyes dart over to the woman standing against the wall of the room. Noticing her change in focus, Adam too glances over to her, fear filling his heart at what might happen.
Christina: Lucy, if you'd please. And you as well, Timothy. He's going to need the aid of your power if he continues lying.
Adam: I'm not! I'm not lying! Please! I can't! I swear! I can't go back any further! I wouldn't lie!
A pink glow bounces off the grey wall directly into the eyes of Adam. His shaky breaths carry panic through his bloodstream instead of oxygen, as he slowly shifts his teary eyes to the woman, and sees her glowing ear. Similarly, a green glow shines off the palm of Timothy's right hand. Instead of the appalled look on Timothy's face, Adam only notices the glow on his hand.
Adam: What!? What!? What!? You! You! You! You! They have powers!? You! You fucking hypocritical bitch! How can you do this to people!? How can you discriminate and hate on people with powers, when you have people just like that working for you!? How can you do this!? Why!? WHY!? TELL ME WHY!
Christina: Lucy.
All of the fear, sadness, anger, and confusion that invaded all of Adam's thoughts were instantly drowned out by one thing. Pain. A sharp punch from Lucy connected to his cheek, causing the chair he's tied to to tip over. Head spinning and ears ringing after hitting the ground, he can feel the gaps in his mouth where his teeth should be, and the oozing blood in their place.
Adam: I… Di-...
Blood spews through his red teeth, staining both his face and the ground as he tries to speak. He isn't able to get much out before falling into a coughing fit after inhaling a good amount of blood.
Christina: Alright, alright.
Through his teary eyes, Adam sees what looks to be Lucy bending down and extending both of her arms. This assumption is supported by the sudden sensation of aggressive hands clinging to his shirt. A wave of nausea mixes with the pain both in his mouth, and his lungs as he's forced back up. His head snaps to the side as the chair is sat upright again, creating a sharp pain in his neck that quickly expands to the rest of his body.
Christina: Timothy.
Holding a hand over his stomach and fighting back tears, Timothy extends his glowing green hand shakily.
Almost as if God himself intervened with a touch of health, all of the pain scorching through Adam's body was gone in an instant. The blood he was choking on, the missing teeth, all of it was back to normal.
Adam: W-what…?
Christina: You have most likely figured it out by now, haven't you? Lucy here, has the common ability of super strength, while Timothy has the ability to heal anything. But he can't bring people back to life. Therefore, we are entirely prepared to continue hurting and healing you until you confess your sins. No matter how long it may take. So… I'd suggest spitting it out already.
Adam: I CAN'T! THAT'S NOT HOW MY POWER WORKS! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! PLEASE! I PROMISE YOU I'M NOT LYING!
Christina: Enough of that! Tell me the truth!
Adam: I AM! I AM! I AM! I AM I AM I AM I AM I AM! I SWEAR TO YOU I'M TELLING THE TRUTH! I SWEAR ON MY PARENTS! ON MY FRIENDS! ON MY LIFE! I'M TELLING THE TRUTH!
Christina: Lucy!
Another punch to the face. This time, with different results. While the excessive blood pouring out of his mouth, out of his nose, and down his throat was still there, he instantly noticed that none of his teeth were gone. But there was still something off. When he moved his tongue around to check for teeth, he noticed that the bottom row was in the wrong spot. His jaw had nearly been punched off.
Letting out a scream that was more like a vomit of blood, Adam felt the sides of his face sting with an agonizing pain. Consciousness fading with every passing second, he struggled to stay alive. It wasn't long before his lungs filled with blood from the constant struggled gasps for air, preventing him from breathing any further.
Once again, Lucy lifted him up, but he wasn't healed quite yet. In the moments that he forced his eyes to stay open, he saw Timothy bent over holding his knees, puking in the corner of the room.
Right before his consciousness ceased and his brain died, the green glow blinded his barely open eyes, healing him once again. With a loud gasp of shock and gratefulness, Adam began crying again. This time, not out of fear, but out of happiness to merely be alive, and not have to experience that pain anymore.
Christina: I don't want to have to do that again, Adam. Please just tell us the truth.
He looks up to her with tired eyes, staring at her disappointed face before speaking.
Adam: I have nothing to say. I have no truth to tell other than the one I've already told. If you're going to kill me, I beg you to do it instead of that again. I don't want to die. But I'd rather feel nothing for eternity than feel indescribable pain over and over again until I cave in and tell the lie that will soil the already tarnished name of the people like me any further. It was only twice you did that but… It was two times too many, I'd say.
Christina: I can respect your choice. But just know… Either way, your record will say that you're guilty of everything, even if you don't admit it.
Before she can even finish speaking, Adam's head falls as he starts to cry silently. Tears and snot slowly yet swiftly stream down his face as it twists and wrinkles into a sob, and his voice melts into a low siren of emotion.
Christina (Inner): What if Leon lied to me? What if he is telling the truth? Actually… That doesn't matter. It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. He's still guilty of one thing. Having a power.
Christina: Adam. For a reason I cannot specify to you, your death will be live recorded on televisions all around the world.
His weeping stops abruptly, but the emotion in his voice remains as he speaks in a hushed tone.
Adam: Fine. I just wanted to help my friends and family with this gift of mine. But I guess not.
A few minutes pass before Lucy begins recording the scene. It is broadcasted live across the world, just like Christina said it would be. She stands next to Adam –who is still staring down in defeat– in front of the camera.
Christina: Hello everyone. As you know, I am your world leader, Christina. Here, next to me, is a twenty year old man by the name of Adam Tisfor. You may be wondering what is so important about this man. Well, not only does he possess an incredibly powerful and incredibly dangerous ability, that being time manipulation, but he has also used said power to reverse time, and change certain events in order to slowly create his perfect paradise.
Adam: NO I DIDN'T! SHE'S LYING! I TOLD HER THE TRUTH AND SHE TORTURED ME! I WOULD NEVER DO THAT! I CAN ONLY GO BACK TEN SECONDS AT A TIME WITH A TEN SECOND COOLDOWN! PLEASE SOMEONE BELIEVE ME!
Christina: Shut up!
Her fist slams into the side of Adam's face, making his eyes flutter uncontrollably, and his head spin wildly. He slumps over and drools on himself, more focused on the sharp pain in his head, and the obnoxiously loud ringing in his ears, as well as his vision which keeps fading in and out.
Christina: Excuse me. Back to what I was saying. While we did use force to try and get the answers out of him, he continued to lie no matter what we did. Eventually, he caved in and said that he would rather die than undergo anymore of our questioning. A fitting punishment, I'd say. And so, we agreed to his request, which is what you all are about to witness. Timothy, if you would.
Nervously stepping forward with a pistol clutched to his chest is Timothy. As he holds out the gun to Adam's head, his hands shake, his mind swirls with regret, his stomach twists with disgust, and his conscience screams at him.
In response to his hesitant reaction, Christina raises an eyebrow and places a hand over her hip out of impatience. Timothy pulls the gun back into his chest and shakes his head firmly.
Timothy: No. I can't do that. I'm not going to kill him.
Timothy (Inner): He's innocent, isn't he? I can't kill someone, let alone someone who didn't do anything wrong. It's unfair that he should be killed merely because he has a power. And yet… And yet I work for someone who discriminates against people like that. Someone who still respects me even though I have a power, yet blindly hates all the others.
Christina: Fine. I'll do it then.
Timothy: What?
Taking a forward step of determination, Christina snatches the pistol out of Timothy's hand and points it to Adam's head, who glances up with accepting despair in his eyes. With zero hesitation, her finger tightens around the trigger.
Adam (Inner): Go.
Ten seconds in the past. Timothy points the gun to Adam's head. The ten seconds soon pass as the same events unfold once again before his eyes. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Over and over.
Adam (Inner): I don't want to die. I can't get out of this.
Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Over and over.
Adam (Inner): I don't want to die. I can't get out of this.
Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Over and over.
Adam (Inner): I DON'T WANT TO DIE! I CAN'T GET OUT OF THIS!
Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Ten seconds in the past. The same thing. Over and over.
Adam (Inner): I DON'T WANT TO DIE!! I CAN'T GET OUT OF THIS!!
TEN SECONDS IN THE PAST! THE SAME THING! TEN SECONDS IN THE PAST! THE SAME THING! TEN SECONDS IN THE PAST! THE SAME THING! TEN SECONDS IN THE PAST! THE SAME THING! TEN SECONDS IN THE PAST! THE SAME THING! TEN SECONDS IN THE PAST! THE SAME THING! TEN SECONDS IN THE PAST! THE SAME THING! OVER AND OVER!
Adam (Inner): AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ten seconds in the past.
The same thing.
Adam (Inner): I suppose… I have to die at some point. Right?
Ten seconds in the past.
The same thing.
Adam (Inner): I'm not ready but… I just want this to be over.
Ten seconds in the past.
The same thing.
Bang.
It happened so fast. To the point where the other two people in the room didn't even have time to process it. While Lucy remained still, holding the camera without any expression, and ignoring the blood on her, Timothy fell to his knees in a stunned silence.
Timothy (Inner): I see. I get it now. I pledged my loyalty to a monster, didn't I? What have I done?
Blood splatters against the grey wall, mixing it with the blood from before, as Adam's head falls over, spilling out blood like a faucet. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. And yet none of it got on Christina.
She turns to face the camera, a joyous yet menacing glint in her eyes, as she tosses the gun to the side.
Christina: Well that's that. Some of you may be wondering, why did I choose to broadcast this live? I shall answer that question. It was for one purpose. For one person to see. The person who put us in this depression. The person who took thousands of innocent lives… By creating that giant hole. Sixteen year old, Dean Jeeves. If you're watching this, Dean Jeeves, I know where you are. And I'm coming for you. Goodbye.
Justice For Adam.