K-Boy is this mysteriously perplexing enigma that no one can explain. Seriously, as Slipstream tells it, he just showed up one day and started running with them. He didn’t say a word then, and still hasn’t. They only let him stay because he’s the absolute best. I mean the things he can do are physically illegal. No human can accomplish such amazing feats. Slipstream contacted the Singularities to see if he was one of their transhumanists, but like, from the future. They said no, and he even cut himself on the arm, presumably to prove that he bleeds and heals just like everybody else. All these are just stories to me, though. I’ve only ever personally seen him at a distance while I was eating his dust. What I really wanna know is how they know what his name is if he’s never said it.
One thing is for sure, he’s incredibly strong, just as I would expect. I try to break free from his grip, but there’s nothing I can do. In fact, he holds me tighter to his body and zips away. Next thing I know, I’m standing in the middle of a parking lot, but not just any parking lot. This is right around my final destination at the amusement park. I can see rides in the midground of my vision. I also look back and realize that I witnessed all the space in between the church and here. So we didn’t teleport, we ran. We ran fast. “Whoa. How the hell did you do that?”
“That is not your concern at this time,” Lincoln Rutherford, Esquire says, revealing himself to have been standing there the whole time. He starts walking towards the two of them then nods to K-Boy. “Good job. Best get to your next checkpoint.”
K-Boy carefully hands Crispin back to me then speeds off in the blink of an eye. This is not my first experience with time manipulation, but now I know that I wasn’t dreaming before in the police station. This is real. This is my life now. Some people can mess with time, and I don’t know what they’re going to do with me now that they know that I know.
“What’s going on?” I ask, trying to not sound like I’m accusing him of anything, but failing.
“I work very hard to remain a neutral party. You’ve no idea how difficult it is for me to act like a normal person...to be a lawyer, of all things.”
“What are you if not that? A time traveler?”
I don’t travel through time, but I can see it.”
“So can everyone else.”
He smiles. “Yes, you’re right about that, aren’t you?” He paces, but just a little. “I see every possible outcome of every possible choice, and I see the entirety of the past, and I see every alternate reality that once was.”
“Fascinating,” I say, feeling like it’s time for him to get to the point. Even though it really is interesting, I don’t actually understand what he’s talking about.
“But I can’t see you. You are a variable that exists...let’s say, outside of my jurisdiction.” He nods at his own accomplishment of finding the right analogy.
“Is this because I stepped into the police station?”
“When was this?”
“Earlier today.”
“No, whatever you mean by that, it was before that. You’ve always clouded my vision. I like being around you because it makes my life interesting for a change.”
“How did this happen to you?”
“It didn’t happen to me. It happened to an alternate version of me, and that has had repercussions across all timelines.”
“I see. That doesn’t explain what I have to do with anything, or what I’m doing here.”
“I told you, because—”
I cut him off, “yes, I’m special. You can’t see my future. Something, something, something, chosen one, something, something, dark side.”
He twitches at this. “What made you decide to use that term?”
“What? Dark side? I dunno, ‘cuz bad guys?”
“No. Chosen one. Did you hear that somewhere?”
I shrug. “It’s a common trope in fiction. They’re all just Jesus, though.”
He paces again, but adds some jitters. “No, that’s not right. There are choosing ones, but no chosen ones. Unless...”
“Unless what? I mean, who’s choosing what?”
He starts backing away, like he’s afraid of me. “Umm...”
“Rutherford, what just happened? All I said was chosen one.”
This makes him twitch again. “You’re something different. You’re new. I have to consult the timestream. I can’t be here right now.”
Black sports utility clichés screech into the parking lot from the other side and start driving towards us menacingly.
“I brought you here so that you could technically finish the race, but you should go. I’m sorry, I have to go too, I can’t help you.” He crawls into his car and drives off.
“Wait! What am I supposed to do now!”
He doesn’t answer, of course, so I just stand there and watch as he passes the SUVs who don’t give him the time of day. I could try to run, but we’re in flat Missouri. There’s nowhere to hide, and they would eventually catch up to us. I look down at Crispin who’s been as quiet as ever. But then he does that adorable squeak again, giving me the signal. “You’re right. We have no choice but to fight.” As the vehicles draw closer, I summon the electrokinetic power from Crispin and send a lightning bolt towards the lead car. It overloads the battery and sends it exploding out of the hood. The others swerve around it and keep coming. I can see an unassuming sedan coming at me from another direction, but I ignore it and send another bolt towards the major threat, which shoots right through the windshield and presumably fries the humans on the other side. Still more SUVs race towards us, and they’re almost here. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “I’ve one more trick,” I say, then I face my palm towards the ground. Energy passes out of Crispin, through me, and then into the air around us. An electromagnetic pulse halts all electronic equipment in the area, sending all vehicles in the lot into a frenzy as the drivers attempt to regain control.
After the dust has settled, men in dark suits and sunglasses step out of the SUVs and point their firearms at me. They don’t want to shoot, though, because they obviously want Crispin alive. I’m actually starting to get the feeling that they want him back. He didn’t come out of nothing. Somebody made him, and he must have escaped some off-the-books facility they built underneath a lake, or on the side of a steep cliff. The men carefully walk towards me. None of them is wearing the kind of suit that Noobo was, though, so I think I can take them. As luck would have it, I don’t have to. Ace suddenly runs up to me from the side and starts firing his own weapon at them. They fire back, but miss, of course.
The leader guy screams, “hold your fire! Hold your fire!”
They all stop but duck behind their cars because Ace doesn’t stop, until he has to. His gun only holds so many bullets.
The leader guy runs up and engages in fisticuffs with Ace, who holds his ground beautifully. Redshirts run up as well. A couple try to help their leader, despite Ace’s ability to hold them all off at once. The rest strategically attempt to steal Crispin from me. I zap a few of them, but minimally, because we don’t have much charge left. I swing both my legs and one of my arms at them, landing a few good hits, but in the end, I’m overtaken. I fall to my ass and try to shield Crispin from their grimy little hands.
Ace pulls their attention away just in time, though, having successfully put down the others. Before too long, they’re all on the ground, nursing their wounds, or just plain unconscious. He reaches his hand down to me. The sun produces a brilliant halo over his head. If that’s not apropos symbolism then I don’t know what is. Maybe he’s the real chosen one. I sure as shit can’t imagine it’s me.
“Where did you come from?” I ask.
“I can’t explain that since we have to, ya know, GTFO.”
“Why does everyone I know have something to do with it?”
“With what?”
“With it, IT! What’s happening right now. This whole thing. The rabbit dog, the SUVs, Lincoln Rutherford, you! You all know something I don’t, and I want answers!”
“I can give you answers, but just not right now, okay? It’s time to go. That was our ride you destroyed.” He gestures to his sedan.
I let out a sigh of impatience. “Fine. I can run, can you?”
“Well enough.”
Then we jog away.
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