Firestorm: Kallias Bran (Part IV)

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I’m not in hiding, but I have been laying low for a while. Back in the year 1990, I started investigating a child’s disappearance. It was my first case as a detective, and the weirdest thing I had ever seen up until that point. Things like it would eventually become commonplace for me, but back then, I couldn’t explain it. Escher Bradley was missing according to his supposed father, but according to the mother, he never existed. I spent years trying to figure what the hell was going on. More children disappeared over the next decade, and I was the one assigned to them all. Other strange things happened in Springfield, Kansas until it all just ended when the entire town itself disappeared. I continued to investigate, though. I traveled to other planets, other points in time, and even other universes. My life was non-stop adventure, so when I was given the opportunity to go back to where it all began, and lead a more normal life, I took it. Sort of.

The first moment I experienced nonlinear time was, as I said, way back in 1990. But since then, I’ve seen all kinds of technological advancements. Living in a time before I could look up literally anything in an online encyclopedia, or navigate to a new location on a little computer phone, was something I didn’t think I could do. I hitched a ride back to the future—the 2020s, to be exact—and I’ve been generally avoiding other time travelers ever since. There are some good people in this underworld, though, and I should have left myself available to them if they ever needed me. I don’t know how he did it, but one of them did finally manage to find me, and he apparently needs my help.

“Where’s your family, Ace?” I ask him.

“They’re still looking for you,” he says. “We got separated, and I found you first.”

“Can’t you call them?”

He pats his pants. “I don’t have a phone.”

“How did you know where I was, but they didn’t? Why were you separated?”

“I was in prison,” he explains. “Don’t worry, I didn’t belong there, and The Warden let me go. I came into possession of some intel while I was on the inside, which led me to you. If you don’t help us with our mission, you’ll still need to bug out. Not everyone who knows your location is on your side.”

“Am I, like, wanted?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “My cell neighbor seemed particularly interested in you, though. You could better understand what it is that makes you special. I just consider you a friend.”

“Okay, I appreciate the warning. And I’ll definitely help with whatever mission you’re talking about. I’m sorry I haven’t reached out lately. I’ve been kind of staying out of the game, but I think I’m ready to be involved again.”

“We appreciate that. Come on. We’re based out of your safehouse.”

The condo I bought a long time ago has been used for many different things by many different people. I probably lived there for the shortest amount of time, but I still technically own it. I’m glad it’s been there to help so many people. It is a joy.

Serkan Demir runs over and tackles his boyfriend when we arrive at the condo. “How did you get out? Did we win? I don’t remember winning.”

“It had nothing to do with this,” Ace explains as he was peeling Serkan off so he could hug their adopted daughter too. “A friend I won’t have until the future broke me out.”

“They broke you out?” Slipstream asks. I’ve never met her, but she’s famous in all of Kansas City, and beyond. It’s an honor just to be in her presence. “So they’re coming for you.”

“Well,” Ace begins, “when I say he broke me out, I mean he literally broke the bars on my cell. I don’t understand who he is, or what our relationship will be in the future, but the Warden basically said he can do whatever the hell he wants, and she has no right to go against him. I’m in the clear.”

“So, is that it?” Paige asks. “Do we not have to do what it is the Warden charged us to do?”

“I still need to,” Alexina McGregor says. She’s one of the Springfield Nine, like me. She got her time powers from another dimension, and while most of them are amoral, at best, she’s recently tried to redeem herself. I hope she makes it. “I still have to get the rabbit dog from the FBI. I can’t ask you to continue if you don’t have to.”

“Of course we will,” Ace assures her. “Now we have some real firepower to back us.”

Is he referring to me? “Are you referring to me?”

“Slipstream has some clout,” Serkan says. “She’s still a civilian, though. We could use a real law enforcement officer on our side. Ace, how did you find him?”

Ace looks like he doesn’t want to explain how it is he found me. He told me it had something to do with other people in the prison, but maybe it’s a lot more complicated than that, or it’s something bad. There’s a phrase I’ve heard before, which serves as what I guess you could call the time traveler’s way of saying shut up. To avoid paradoxes, and other timeline problems, all you have to do is say, “eh. Time, right?”

Serkan still wants answers, but he’s letting it go for now. “Right.”

“What exactly do you need from the FBI?” I ask them.

And so they go about telling me what they’re hunting for. There’s some kind of psychic hybrid creature, and a temporal object that’s so powerful, no one seems to know what it does. They’re both being protected by a federal agent who probably has special time powers, and he may be in possession of other things they don’t know about. What his motivation is, or what his ultimate plan is, they don’t know, but they know they have to get these things back, because he can’t be trusted.

“And what do you need me for?” I go on. “I’m not a detective in this timeline. I don’t have a badge, or even a gun.”

“We can make you a detective again,” Paige says. “We need it to be you, because you know what questions to ask; how to get into people’s heads.”

“Are you planning on taking me to The Forger to get my badge back?”

“That was the idea, yes,” Paige acknowledges. “Do you not think that’s gonna work?”

I sigh. “It probably will, as long as we give his bouncer a thousand dollars. I’m willing to do just about whatever it takes to help you, but I don’t know if I want to go back to that life. I gave up the force a long time ago.”

Paige comes over, and takes my arm in her hand. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We weren’t going to contact you, but Dupont dropped your name, and it made us realize we could do with a little more help.”

“Delmar Dupont? The magician guy? Hm. Weird.” I sigh again, and watch them watching me, wondering what I’m going to do. “Okay. Let’s go make me a cop again.” I start heading towards the other side of the condo, while everyone else heads for the exit. “Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?” I ask them. The Forger is this way.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ace questions. “He’s downtown.”

I study them a moment, to see if they’re joking. “You’ve been living here the whole time, and you didn’t realize he and The Communicators moved here last year?”

Slipstream and Serkan tilt their lizard brains.

“Yeah,” I go on, “they’re in the closet. Come on.”

I lead them to the closet, which gives us access to another dimension. We step through it to find ourselves in a much nicer facility than the one these people were working out of before. It’s cleaner, brighter, and modern. I was in here once recently, since I’m the one who gave them the money to upgrade, but I haven’t been here since they finished fixing it all up.

“This used to be a clothing warehouse,” Paige notes.

“Yeah, they moved that to The Hub,” I explain, but it’s clear they don’t know what that is yet. That’s okay, I’m sure they’ll see it later in the timeline.

The same bouncer is standing at the entrance. He seems to recognize everyone, except for Alexina. “She’s cool,” I tell him.

The bouncer nods his head towards Ace. “He owes me a thousand dollars.”

I pull two thousand bucks from my back pocket. “I got it covered.” Ace doesn’t look happy, but I shake my head. “I’m rich, and I didn’t even work for it. I don’t want you to bother paying me back. Money isn’t gonna matter much in the future.”

We keep walking down the great hall. A wide-smiling Ennis waves to us through the glass of his new post office. Susan’s office is darkened, with a red light above the door, which indicates that she’s currently napping. Allen and Richard’s restaurant is open to the public on the other side of the kitchen, and it sounds like a lot of people are dining right now. The time traveler side, however, is almost empty. Only one young woman is eating right now, and she looks a little worried about this group of people walking by her. The Salmonday Club isn’t open at all right now, but we see somebody cleaning the entrance. Finally we’re at the Forger’s new den. I open the door, which knocks into a little bell hanging from the ceiling.

The man himself, Duane Blackwood, comes in from the back, and lifts his arms in a welcoming fashion. “All of you together in one place. My heart is warmed. Mr. Reaver, I heard about your jailbreak. How do you know Mateo Matic?”

“I don’t yet,” Ace answers.

“Ain’t that how it always goes?” Duane asks rhetorically. “How can I help you fine folk? I’ve expanded my business. I can now offer direct transport to another time and place, and discount prices on certain living places. I would just generate the cash myself, but that can screw with the local economy too much, so you’ll still need to pay a little yourself. We even house a Nexus replica on the premises, so if you need to get to Tribulation Island, that can be arranged.”

“That’ll be all right,” I say to him. “I just need...I need you to make me a detective again.”

Duane frowns, but not too sadly. “I thought you were done with all that.”

“My friends evidently require access to the FBI building,” I say. “I’m the only one they know with enough experience to help them.”

“You need access to the fed building, then you need to become a fed, not a detective,” Duane suggests.

“You can do that?” Paige asks.

“Hell yeah, I can,” Duane says. “With my new digs, I can make authentic badges, and appropriate firearms, as well as necessary identification papers.”

“I don’t know much about what it takes to be FBI,” I say honestly. “They’re very different professions.”

“You just need to get through security, right?” Duane asks. “That’ll be easy. I do...umm...ask for payment these days? Not money, of course. Like I was saying, I have my own bottomless ATM, but I do need a favor.”

I was worried something like this would happen, but I’m not gonna freak out until I hear what it is he wants from us.

“There’s a guy at the front door,” Duane begins. “He comes every single day. He knows there’s something here. I’m not a hundred percent sure what he wants, but he’s just human. The Salmonday Club has had to let people in the side entrance, so he doesn’t notice them.”

“What’s the Salmonday Club?” Paige asks.

“You know how there are only seven days a week?” I pose to her.

“Yeah.”

“There are eight, as long as you enter the club thirty seconds to midnight at the very end of the week.”

“Everyone rushes in all at once,” Duane continues for me. “This place is a madhouse on Saturday nights. This dude saw the clubgoers coming into this building one time, and I guess he’s been obsessed with us ever since. The power/pattern detector filtered him out, and just showed him a regular abandoned building, but he knows something’s up. Security can’t get him to leave.”

“Is he there right now?” I ask him.

“Yeah.” Duane walks up to the counter, and reaches over to swing the computer monitor around. It’s showing security camera footage from the main entrance of this building. A guy in a button-up shirt and skinny tie is leaning up against a pillar, hastily writing in a journal, or something.

“Oh my God,” Paige says with a bit of disgust. “That’s him. That’s Orson Olsen, the mormon I accidentally inspired to start a religion.”

I sigh one last time. “You make me FBI credentials, and I’ll get him out of here.”

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Microstory 1345: Gifted

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University Admissions Interviewer: So, I didn’t realize this when my assistant first put it on my calendar, but you’re a freshman in high school, correct?

Gifted Student: That’s right, sir. It’s been my dream to go to this university since I was a kid, though. I’ve been working on a thirty year plan since I was six.

University Admissions Interviewer: That’s...impressive, but why does your plan involve doing an interview with an admissions counselor when you’re only fourteen?

Gifted Student: I’m fifteen, sir, and I don’t see my age as a hindrance. I’m preparing myself for a bright future, and I’ve always seen education as the most important aspect of my life. I wasn’t born a prodigy—

University Admissions Interviewer: Yeah, yeah, yeah, you had to work for everything you have, but that’s not what I asked. Why do this interview so early? You’re not going to be admitted, and so much can happen in the next two years before any institution will take you seriously. High school is all about showing us what you’re made of. Right now, all I have to go on is whatever you did in elementary and middle school.

Gifted Student: Uhh, I didn’t provide those transcripts before, but I have them with me...

University Admissions Interviewer: No, you misunderstand. I don’t mean I’m going to look at your history, and make a judgment about your potential to excel at this university. I mean I don’t care about it, because no one does. My point is that I have very little to go on. Hell, you’re not even finished with finals for this year, so who are you?

Gifted Student: Well, I’m obviously an academic, but I have a range of interests. I play tennis and golf, I’m on the debate team, and I’m not yet allowed to work on the school newspaper or yearbook, but I’ll be doing both of those next year. I’m already and Eagle Scout too. My project was landscaping the courtyard for my middle school.

University Admissions Interviewer: You play tennis and golf. I’m going to take a stab in the dark and assume your school is in a fairly wealthy district.

Gifted Student: Umm. It’s true, I live in the wealthiest county of the state. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know hardship.

University Admissions Interviewer: That’s not what I’m saying. You brought up your Eagle Scout project. You fixed up your school’s courtyard.

Gifted Student: Yes. I had tons of volunteers. I learned a lot of leadership skills during that experience.

University Admissions Interviewer: That’s lovely, except that’s still not my point. Your school is rich, Gifted. It didn’t need your help. You could have repaired a home for someone living in poverty, or blazed a trail for a community arboretum. You chose to do something easy, in a place where you were not needed. Now, this university may not care about that. In fact, I doubt it will take anything into consideration other than the fact that you attained the highest rank in Boy Scouts. But I was a scout, and I do take it seriously, and I’m not impressed.

Gifted Student: Once you’re an Eagle, you’re always an Eagle.

University Admissions Interviewer: Well, I’m gay, so I renounced my affiliation many, many years ago, but that’s neither here not there. This is about you.

Gifted Student: Well, I do charity too. I donate a thousand dollars to Homes for Humankind every single month. If that’s not enough, though, I’m sure I could raise that to once a week.

University Admissions Interviewer: Oh my God. I don’t care about charity either. I care about what you’ve done personally for your community. Where do you get that money? Lifeguarding? Stacking shelves at a grocery store?

Gifted Student: I take it out of my allowance.

University Admissions Interviewer: Right.

Gifted Student: I don’t understand the problem here. This is one of the most expensive universities in the country. Everyone here is rich, except for maybe a few academic scholarships, and recruited student athletes.

University Admissions Interviewer: You’re right, this is as rich as your neighborhood. You would fit in well. But it’s not going to be today, or even next year. Come back when you’re a senior, and really think about how you’re going to grow as a person until then. That’s why we don’t do interviews like this when you’re so young, regardless of what legacy connections your parents may or may not have with someone here. You haven’t learned anything yet, and I don’t want to talk to you until you have.

Microstory 1344: Reward

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Marketer: Thank you for driving all the way out here to see us. You are one of our best clients—

Customer: Whoa, when did I become your client?

Marketer: Well, we generally refer to our customers as clients, but I can use the former term, if you prefer.

Customer: I prefer.

Marketer: Okay, that’s fine. So as I was saying, you’re a valued customer, and we would really love to hear what excites you about our company. We wanna know what kinds of things you would be looking forward to in the future.

Customer: I was to understand I would be receiving a twenty-five dollar gift card that’s good at any of the shops at Hillside Mall?

Marketer: It’s actually a prepaid card, so you can use it anywhere that Charta is accepted, which excludes Hillside Mall, because it shut down three years ago.

Customer: Really? Well, nobody told me.

Marketer: I’m sorry to hear that. So, like I said, you are one of our best customers. We’re actually thinking about designing a rewards program based on customer engagement. How would you feel about that?

Customer: You said I would be getting the rewards card as long as I completed the survey.

Marketer: It’s a prepaid card, and you will. After. This is something different. I’m asking for your thoughts on a new program. It would be like this survey, but for everyone. We chose you specifically because you live in the area, and you’ve been so loyal to us. I’m talking about a nationwide system that allows our best customers to provide feedback on a regular basis, in exchange for some compensation.

Customer: I guess that would be okay. So you would be setting up new locations like this one?

Marketer: No, it would all be online.

Customer: If you can do it online, why did you have me drive out here?

Marketer: We do not yet have the new program implemented. We have the capabilities to make the online survey system but we’re waiting until we hear from people like you.

Customer: I don’t really like doing surveys online. I can’t ever tell if it’s going through. I need to speak to someone in person, so even if it’s secretly a waste of time, at least I’m not the only one who wasted his time.

Marketer: Okay, that’s good information. You like to talk to people face-to-face. What would you have to say about a video chat feature? We would still let our elite customers answer surveys online, but they would be speaking to a real person, right here in our headquarters.

Customer: I would hate that too. I mean, the government has access to webcam streams, so that would be a terrible idea. Every time I buy a new laptop, I jam a letter opener into the camera, so no one can spy on me. I also put medical tape over it, just in case it doesn’t break.

Marketer: Yes, I am aware that you buy one of our laptops about every six months. Is it important to you to have the latest technology?

Customer: I don’t care about technology. I have to buy a new one because it takes the government six months to hack into them, so I have to cycle them out that often.

Marketer: Uh, really? I’ve never heard that theory.

Customer: It’s not a theory, that’s just how it works. It doesn’t literally take that much time. But, ya know, they have to get approval, and go through all the bureaucracy. It’s this whole thing. I used to work for a satellite dish manufacturing company, so I know how all this works.

Marketer: I see. Well, I think that’s all the questions we have for you today. We appreciate you taking the time to visit with us.

Customer: That seems short considering how far I had to drive.

Marketer: You’ve given us a lot to think about already. Here is your gift card.

Customer: I thought it wasn’t a gift card.

Marketer: Right, my mistake. You can, uh, leave through the same door you came in. Thanks again.

Microstory 1343: Art Institute

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Art Institute Interviewer: So, why do you want to attend Hillside Art Institute?

Art Institute Candidate: Well, I want to be an artist.

Art Institute Interviewer: Do you want to become an artist, or are you already an artist?

Art Institute Candidate: Oh, well, I guess I already am. I would say as soon as I declared that that’s what I wanted to be, I was. Yeah, that makes sense.

Art Institute Interviewer: If you’re already an artist, what good do you think it will do to come here?

Art Institute Candidate: Should I not?

Art Institute Interviewer: That’s not what I’m saying. I just want to know your background, your intentions, and your expectations.

Art Institute Candidate: Well, I suppose I’ve never really thought about it before. I don’t know exactly when I made that declaration I was talking about. Everyone does art as kids, and most probably don’t give it much thought until they’re a little older. I just never really stopped, ya know? Some of my peers were focusing on their writing skills, or sports, or the sciences, but I always really looked forward to art class, and things just kept going from there. I’m doing a lot of it in high school, so art school just seems like the next logical step.

Art Institute Interviewer: That’s what you would think, but is art...very..logical?

Art Institute Candidate: I would never use that word to describe it, no. Or yes?

Art Institute Interviewer: Whatever you think is the truth. It’s your truth. Don’t ever let anyone take that away from you, not even me. You just have to understand that my job is not to help you get into this institution. No one is responsible for that but you. I’m just here to find out if this is where you belong, or if you should go somewhere else. This isn’t a difficult program. The teachers aren’t going to yell at you, or grade you harshly, or have a bunch of tests. It’s not easy, but if you like making things, it should generally work out. So the school itself is not the problem. The problem—or question, really—is will you benefit from going here? Will this improve your work in ways that you won’t get elsewhere. Because I’m here to tell ya, there aren’t a lot of jobs you can get after this. If you want something in a related field, like curating, or graphic design, other colleges are probably better for you, and their curriculum is more diverse, so that’s a plus. Many of our students are here because they don’t have access to certain equipment and supplies. They can’t get scholarships for brushes and clay if they’re just doing it on their own. Again, I’m not saying you won’t benefit from this. We have a strong network of people who kind of already understand each other, and if not, it’s easy for them to learn. Even with the internet, and other networking opportunities, nothing beats a school like this. If that’s what you’re really interested in, come on in.

Art Institute Candidate: Wow, this has been an eye-opening interview. You’ve given me a lot to think about.

Art Institute Interviewer: Now, hold on. This isn’t over. I still need to look over your portfolio, and we should discuss what it is you like to do. I just needed to make sure you had all the facts, so you could make the best decision for you.

Art Institute Candidate: Okay, cool. I do different things. Here are my landscapes...

Microstory 1342: Opening Statements

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Prosecutor: [Majority of opening statement cut for time.] ...so this is a simple case. The defendant threatened the victim in public. No, it wasn’t a threat of death, or even violence, but he promised to cause quote-great troubles for [him] in the coming days-end quote. That’s not a smoking gun, but it’s nothing either. He had access to the building, and the floor from which the victim ultimately fell. By the defendant’s own admission, the victim had ruined his life, which speaks to motive. Evidence will show that the defendant committed this crime. Footage and testimony of his behavior beforehand will prove that he intended to commit the crime, which means it was premeditated...which means it was murder. I urge you to look carefully at this evidence, and decide for yourselves. Thank you.

Murder Case Judge: Thank you, Madam Prosecutor. Mr. Defendant’s Attorney?

Defendant’s Attorney: Thank you, Your Honor. Before I go into my prepared statements, I would like to address a few things that the prosecutor said. Prosecutor called this a simple case. I believe I know what she means by that, but I hope you don’t take it to mean that the decision should come easy to you. All you have to go on are the facts, and the facts do not support the prosecution’s case. They are the ones who are actually making it complicated. They have drawn conclusions that are not true, only because their presumptions are technically possible. Possible and plausible, however, do not equal reality. We in the business call this circumstantial. As the prosecutor stated, my client made some hate- and anger-filled comments against the victim. I will not try to tell you what he meant by them, what his intentions were, or how he feels about them now. That will be his job when he takes the witness stand. Prosecutor is right that these remarks, coupled with the victim’s ultimate death soon thereafter, are suspicious. Evidence will show, however, that he was not the only one to say such things about the victim. The victim, may he rest in peace, was not the most belovèd person in the city. That’s okay, I’m not disparaging his memory. I don’t have a lot of fans myself. This is more about the suspect pool, which was egregiously small. My client’s name was chosen by the prosecution, and dragged through the mud, simply because he was the loudest. But that would be like blaming your neighbor’s dog for knocking down your tool shed ‘cause you can’t see the wind. My client had means, motive, and opportunity, but so did many others, and the prosecution will not be able to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that my client is guilty. So... [Majority of opening statement cut for time.]

Microstory 1341: Bad Thoughts

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New Patient: Where should I sit? Or should I lie down?

Psychologist: You can sit or lie down wherever you like, however you like. That’s why I have so many options. I have one patient who prefers to curl up against the wall, because it makes them feel safer.

New Patient: Okay, thanks.

Psychologist: So, what brings you in today? The way I understand it, you’re having mixed feelings about something?

New Patient: Well, that’s one way to put it. I would describe what I’m experiencing as bad thoughts. I just keep—not seeing things; I don’t have hallucinations—but I have these urges to do things I know are wrong.

Psychologist: Things like what?

New Patient: Well, the other day, the cashier at the grocery store got upset with me, because I’m apparently supposed to scan my rewards card before I pay, so now there was nothing she could do about it. I can’t say that I wanted to do this, but I just had a vision—this flash—where I shoved the card in her mouth, and told her to scan it now. Oh my God, that’s so terrible. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.

Psychologist: That’s okay. This is a safe space. Everything you say is confidential, and I’m not here to judge you. Mine is only to help.

New Patient: I sure hope you can, because this isn’t even the worst example. I can’t explain it. Like I was saying with that one, I don’t have a desire to hurt people, but I can’t help but think of these alternative responses. The normal thing to do is just open the door that’s just been accidentally shut in my face, but a part of me wants to get them back for that; to physically drag them back to the threshold, and slam it in their face too.

Psychologist: So your thoughts are more about exacting justice, or revenge, on people who have wronged you.

New Patient: Yeah, I guess that’s probably an accurate limitation. I don’t walk past someone on the street, and think about randomly slitting their throat. It just seems to bother me more those little annoying things that people do. I mean, I would almost rather just be the kind of jerk who snaps at others, because then at least I wouldn’t be hurting them. I’m worried I’ll one day just lose control, and actually act on these thoughts.

Psychologist: Well, I wouldn’t be worried about that just yet. Simply by acknowledging that these are, and would be, irrational reactions, you’ve taken the first step in changing your perspective.

New Patient: I’ve just never been like this before. I grew up totally fine, but now it’s all I can think about, at least for a few moments after something frustrating happens to me. It’s making it hard to focus on everything I need to do.

Psychologist: There’s probably some reason it’s happening now. When people change their moods like that, it’s usually due to newer, stressful situations. Let’s talk more about who you are, what you do, and what has changed in your life recently that could cause you to feel a little more temperamental than before.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 18, 1992

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Mateo was in hiding. What he had done, he thought was unforgivable. He had to be away from Leona, probably forever. She never said she wanted him to leave, but it was the right thing to do. He just needed to make sure no one could track him, which was one reason he was keeping Ramses around. He wanted to keep the Cassidy cuff on, because it made him feel—not powerful—but protected. Or maybe it made him feel powerful too. Maybe being able to do all these things he couldn’t before was corrupting him. He just didn’t know what he should do. Keep the cuff, and stay safe, but don’t use the powers unless they were absolutely necessary. If he stayed away from people anyway, there shouldn’t be much need for the powers.

Like any other location sharing solution, Ramses’ capacity to disable it was limited by its vulnerability to anyone smart enough to exploit some programming weakness. Fortunately for them, Ramses grew up in a more technologically advanced world than Leona, so she would always be no match for him. Their link was severed, like that time Jacob and a couple of other wolves started their own pack in the middle of the book. This was a reference Mateo didn’t realize he had. He hadn’t read a single word from that series, nor had he seen the films. There seemed to be some knowledge in his mind that came from someone else; someone whose brain he had blended. He shrugged it off, because so far, this extra information wasn’t causing him any problems. He took note of it, though, in case something changed.

Things seemed to be going okay when the two of them jumped to December 11, 2279, but that belief did not last long. Within one hour, Vidar was tearing open a rift in the spacetime continuum, and stepping through with Leona and Nerakali. So they couldn’t track them with the cuffs, but Vidar could still always find them. That was kind of his whole deal.

“Let’s just talk,” Leona requested politely.

“We’re not mad at you for what you did,” Nerakali added. “We all agreed to it.”

Mateo wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what, so he just stayed quiet, like a shy kid on the first day of high school.

“Please,” Leona asked.

No, there was nothing he could say. He just had to figure out how to stop Vidar from following them. What if he jumped to another location, and then another, and then another, and kept going for so long that Vidar would have to give up? Reopening rifts seemed to take at least a little bit of time, and wouldn’t the trail go cold once midnight central hit? What if he jumped to one place, and then another, and then backtracked to the second location, and then jumped to a third, and then backtracked again, and then just kept forming this huge web of dummy paths? Vidar could track him, sure, but by the time he figured out his targets weren’t there at any given spot, Mateo and Ramses would have expanded the web even further. Or what if he just teleported to an airport, and flew somewhere else manually, in secret. Or maybe the answer was doing a combination of all of these things.

Mateo reached for his cuff, and started hunting for new coordinates.

“Wait,” Leona said desperately. “You don’t have to do this. I love you. We’re not in a fight; don’t make it one.”

Ramses decided to step up, because Mateo couldn’t. “Stop tracking us. When he’s ready, we’ll find you.” Mateo wasn’t sure he would ever be ready, but that technically didn’t make his friend’s claim a lie. “You can’t track us forever, Wolfe. You’ll get tired of it.”

It doesn’t matter where you go, or how you get there. I’ll always be able to sniff you out. There’s only one thing I know of that can stop it.

“What?” Mateo finally spoke up. “What is it?”

The three of them looked at him in confusion, as did Ramses. “Honey, what are you talking about?”

“What is the one thing that can stop you from being able to track us?”

Is he asking about the home stone?

That was weird. Vidar wasn’t moving his lips, but he was talking. That was because he wasn’t talking; he was just thinking. Mateo was reading his mind. It must be a secondary power that Nerakali never told him about. He thought hard about how he could exploit this new ability without giving his intentions away. “I mean, I obviously know what can stop you. I’ve been looking for one, but I haven’t been able to.”

Well, there’s one on Purple Rose Lane in April 18, 1992, and Horace used one for September 25, 2022, Vidar thought.

“Twenty-twenty-two,” Mateo mumbled as quietly as possible while still assured that the others could hear him.

“Are you reading my mind?” Vidar asked.

“What? No.” Mateo cupped his mouth, and whispered to Ramses, “September 25, 2022.” But he didn’t input those coordinates on his cuff. He chose the first date instead, and then beamed them to Ramses’ cuff, so he would see that it was a misdirect. All of this was playing out very similarly to how they did back in—interestingly enough—2022, with the fake train ticket. He wasn’t going to screw up this time, though.

“Please,” Leona begged one more time. “Don’t.”

“Were I you,” he replied, but he executed the command before he could hear his wife say it back to him.

“What are we doing here?” Ramses asked. They were now standing in Springfield, Kansas at twilight. “What are you looking for in 1992?”

Mateo looked around a little. “Her.”

He saw a young girl about fifty meters away, standing alone on the sidewalk. She waited patiently for them to approach. “It’s already gone. I let Ace take it back to 2022.”

“Shit,” Mateo said. “That’s when they’ll be expecting us.”

“Someone’s tracking you?” the girl asked.

“Yeah,” Mateo answered. “Apparently a home stone is the only way to travel undetected.”

“Yeah, but won’t they know when and where you’re going anyway?”

“I was hoping my engineer friend here could modify it for me.”

“I don’t know what it is,” Ramses explained.

“It takes you back to the first moment you experienced nonlinear time,” she began. “Either right before, so you can stop it from happening, or right after, so you can get back to your life, right where you left off. I can’t get you back there, because my power is traceable, at least by the man I assume is chasing you? I can, however, put you in contact with someone who can block your signal, even retroactively. I don’t know how it works, but it will allow you to stay in the moment without anyone finding you.”

“That would be amazing. Thanks, Jesi. Uhh, I mean...”

“I know we’ve already met. I’m from the future. The home stone just reyoungified me. That’s how it works.”

“Oh, okay. Lead the way.”

“No, I’ll give you the coordinates. I have to change my future, so you’re on your own, buddy boo.”

“Okay.”

A woman Mateo recognized opened the door. “Holly Blue?” he asked.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“I’m Mateo Matic, Leona’s husband.”

“Oh, right. I went to your wedding...and your funeral.”

“Thanks!”

“Listen,” Ramses jumped in, “we’re looking for a way to stop people from time-tracking us. Do you have anything like that?”

She looked up at the ceiling. “This whole house is warded. Come on in.”

When Mateo and Ramses stepped inside, they saw a toddler playing with blocks on the floor of the living room.

“Awww, and who is this little fella?” Ramses knelt down, and shook the baby’s hand.

“I’m Declan!” the child exclaimed with delight.

“I saved him from The Vosa before it was destroyed,” Holly Blue explained. “I was working on a way to travel through time when the crisis came upon us. I didn’t have time to test it, or save anyone else. I guess the machine kinda chose a random date. We ended up here last year. He was born in space; farther than anyone ever had at that point in history. Now he watches Sesame Street on a square TV; can you imagine? How do people survive in this time period? I’m working on building him a flatscreen, though it takes a lot of time, since I’m not a real inventor.”

“Hm. Leona would beg to differ.”

“Where is she?” Holly Blue asked.

“I’m sort of hiding from her.”

“What happened?”

“I killed two people—bad people—but I can’t even look her in the eye. Will you help me, or are you too loyal to her?”

“I help people in need. I love Leona, but you’re not her enemy. It’s not my place to settle your domestic issues. You can stay here as long as you like.”

“We were looking for something called a home stone?” Ramses said. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have. I asked Weaver about them once. She didn’t invent them, and I don’t think I do either. I could probably rig something up, though. I might need some time.”

Mateo looked at his Cassidy cuff like it was a watch. “I’ll be back in a year. Or if it takes you longer, that’s fine. I don’t want to put you out.”

“No, I don’t do much time-engineering anymore. I’m mostly just trying to keep Declan safe. It’ll be nice to get back to it. Are those Cassidy cuffs?”

“They are,” Ramses answered. “Did you want to take a look at them?”

“I have plans for those in the basement. I won’t have a working prototype for another ten years, I think. There’s kind of an important ingredient that I’m missing.” Yeah, Cassidy won’t be arriving on Earth for another several years. “Anyway, I shouldn’t look at the real ones; that could disrupt the timeline.”

Mateo and Ramses nodded understandingly.

“The facilities are at your disposal. You can shower, and sleep in the guest bedroom. If you want a change of clothes, I’m presently building a time-wardrobe. It’s not as large as the one on Tribulation Island, or in the Bran safehouse, but it should be good enough.”

“Thanks,” Mateo said. “We appreciate it.”

Meanwhile, in 2022, Leona, Nerakali, and Vidar have just shown up at the law offices of Stanley, Bristol & Associates. They opened the door to Lincoln Rutherford’s office just in time to see a young Horace Reaver disappear with his boyfriend, Serkan, and their daughter, Paige. Lincoln sighed at the sight of them. “Make it quick. Someone else is about to barge into my office, right behind you.”

Leona looked into the hallway with a hopeful frown.

“It’s not Mateo.” When she looked back, she saw Lincoln holding a stone in his hand. “He went to 1992, looking for this. He couldn’t have it, though, because Jesi gave it to Ace, so he could come here.”

“How did he know where to go at all?” Leona interrogated Vidar.

“How was I meant to know he can read minds? A man’s thoughts are his private business. I would have put up mental wards had I realized Nerakali was capable of such a thing.”

“I’m not,” Nerakali corrected. “I can take memories, add memories, or use my power creatively to make you remember something that never happened to you, like a dream. I cannot read realtime thoughts, though. I have no clue how he took those from your brain, if that is even what happened.”

“It’s the only explanation,” Leona said.

“No, it’s not,” Lincoln said. When the others stared at him, he added, “I don’t know how he did it. That truth is hazy for me. I’m just saying there are other possible explanations. He could have coerced the information out of you, then returned to his body in the past, to undo it, but retain said information. I don’t know. All I know is that you have thirty seconds to get out of here. After my next abrupt and unwanted meeting, I have a real meeting with the named partners, and I kind of want to make a good impression, because one of them becomes my wife in the future.”

“We’re very sorry,” Nerakali said sincerely. “Could we have that?”

Lincoln dropped the stone on the table like he had forgotten he was holding it. “I have no use for it. Go crazy.”

Leona input the next coordinates on her Cassidy cuff. Once the three of them were all synced up, she executed the command, and sent them all to 1992. Unfortunately, something was stopping Vidar’s power from working. He could sense that Mateo and Ramses were here, at least at some point, but the trail had already fallen cold, and now there was apparently no way of knowing when or where they were.

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Firestorm: Delmar Dupont (Part III)

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I struggle to open my eyes. I can see a silhouette watching me from the corner, but I can’t gather enough strength to figure out who it is. I keep working at it, though, and I’m eventually able to confirm that it’s human. Then I can tell it’s a woman, and then I can see her blurry features, and finally, I would be able to recognize her, if we had met before.

“Delmar Dupont, my name is Dr. Mallory Hammer. I’m a choosing one who—”

I sigh. “I know who you are.”

“Do you remember what happened?” she asks.

“I know what happened, but I don’t know why.”

Now she sighs. “Lemme guess, you practiced your latest trick with a comparable-mass dummy?”

“No, that girl couldn’t have been more than forty-five kilograms. I practiced with a dummy that weighed twice that much. It should have been easy.”

She started shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter; it was still a dummy. A living organism—especially a human—is infinitely more complex. Miss Turner has blood in her veins, and electricity in her brain. You’re lucky she’s spawn, or I would have demanded Beaver Haven lock you up.”

“What’s Beaver Haven?”

“It’s a prison for people like us.”

“What’s a spawn?”

“It’s when a salmon or chosen one somehow converts a human into someone who can experience nonlinear time with no further aid.”

I wait a moment. “What the hell is a chosen one?” I can see that she’s not used to having to explain quite this much about our world. I have a time power—well, it’s more like a space power—but I haven’t met a lot of people like me. My abilities are extremely limited, so others don’t have much use for me. I kind of stay in my own world. My knowledge of what’s going on out there doesn’t go beyond knowing that the others exist.

“As I was saying, Miss Turner is strong. What happened to you—if you had chosen a human as your volunteer—would have happened to them, but about ten times worse. They probably would have died.”

A man walks into the room.

“Mr. Demir, I understand you’re upset about your daughter, but this man deserves as much privacy, and time to rest, as anyone else would.”

“I’m not mad,” this Demir guy says. “I heard you through the door, though. Why isn’t he going to Beaver Haven anyway? Why hasn’t The Warden already arrested him?”

“Wardens don’t arrest people,” I point out.

“This one does,” he replies. Yeah, maybe I should recognize that I don’t know what I’m talking about. “He exposed us to the humans just by having a magic show in the first place. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” Dr. Hammer says. “By disguising his powers in a magic show, he’s actually helping his case. No one in his audience thinks it’s real, even now that he’s done his grandest trick yet. One or two might believe, but not enough to raise concerns on a larger scale. Plenty of people believe in aliens among us, but that barely impacts social practices.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” I say. “I’m just not powerful enough for anyone to worry about what I’m doing.”

Mr. Demir squints his eyes, and stares at Hammer for a moment. “Are there aliens among us?”

She smiles, not expecting such a light question. “Not that I know of; not in this time period. Now, as I was saying, Mr. Dupont requires rest. I would thank you to leave and let him be for now. You can ask him your questions later.”

Now he may be getting a little upset. “The longer he sleeps, the longer my husband is sitting in Beaver Haven. I want him out, so give this man whatever it is you need for him to magically recover, and let us get on with it.”

He starts to leave, but I urge him to wait as I’m finding the remote. I see that I’m in a hospital bed, but this just looks like a bedroom. Once I’m sitting up, I catch my breath. I have to help these people however I can. I guess I owe them that much. “What do you wanna know?”

Demir steps closer. “We need information on someone we’ve heard you met. His name is Austin Miller. No, Agent Austin Miller.”

“Agent Miller, yeah. He came to a lot of my shows, for months. I thought it was weird, because no one else does that. Well, I do have one groupie, but she’s there for a different reason. I’m not that good. I only chose the profession because of what I can do, but I’m lacking a lot of showmanship. I would much rather just be selling insurance, or something. Anyway, this guy seemed like he was studying me, like he knew that my tricks were more than just tricks. I was about to pack up, and move on before I got caught, but then he finally approached me. He said he thought he was one of us, but wasn’t sure. He could remember things happening that no one else can. He can see alternate realities, or something? I dunno. You could probably better explain it.”

“What did he want from you?” Demir asked.

“He could see that I wasn’t anybody important, but he hoped I knew someone who was.”

“Who did you lead him to, Dupont?”

“Ya know, when I was just trying to get my magic show off the ground, this guy who called himself The Delegator showed up. He warned me that there would be consequences if I got too big. He and his people would allow me to proceed, as long as I didn’t try to go viral, or something. I had to keep my act moving, and not making any waves. He told me there were others like us, and offered to put me in touch with your little network. I declined, because I didn’t really care. I still don’t. I’m all right with my life, and I have no interest in getting mixed up in all the craziness I’m sure you people go through on the regular.” I nod over to the doctor. “He gave me your card, in case I ever needed medical attention, but other than that, I don’t know anybody. He didn’t even say you had powers yourself. He just said you treat our kind. Well, I didn’t give her up to the agent, and I didn’t give up the Delegator either. That was only because he didn’t give me the means to contact him again anyway.”

“Who did you lead him to, Dupont?” Demir asks again.

“Oh, don’t be so concerned. I’m just giving you background; not building suspense. You see, the agent wasn’t the first person to come to my show, looking for answers. There was another dude. Wore a button-up white shirt, and a skinny black tie. He looked like a mormon, and he was very interested in basically giving me anything I wanted. He was treating me like a god, and it freaked me out. I almost moved because of that time too, but then he left me alone, so I let it go.”

Dr. Hammer looked confused. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“He introduced himself as Orson Olsen,” I explain. “He doesn’t have powers. If he did, he would be worshiping himself.”

“He worships people with powers?” Demir questions.

“He sounds like a cult leader,” Hammer points out.

“That was the impression that I got,” I agree. “I think he sensed how uncomfortable I was, and also realized I wouldn’t be able to help him, so I never saw him again. I didn’t feel bad about giving the agent his name, though. I don’t know what he did with it.”

“When was this?” Demir asks. “When did you last see Agent Miller?”

“A couple weeks ago,” I answer honestly.

“Where can we find this Orson guy?”

“I don’t know,” I say, also honestly. “I have a picture of him, though. I took it on the sly when he was in my audience.” I grab my phone from the bedside table, and swipe through the camera roll until I find what I’m looking for.

Demir studies it a moment, then shows it to Dr. Hammer, who shakes her head, indicating that she doesn’t know who he is. He takes out his own phone, and double bumps it with mine, to transfer the photo to himself. “Thank you. I think that will be all from me. Don’t leave town, though.” He starts to walk out again.

“I think I have to,” I remind him. “What your daughter did on stage; that was probably too much. I have to move my act to the next location.”

He looks over at the doctor. “Can you keep him in one of your basement environments until we’re sure we’re done with him?”

Dr. Hammer frowns. “That’s not really what those rooms were designed for.”

He lets out an apathetic wince. “You forget, I’m a time traveler. I’ve been here in the past. This is Fletcher House. Those rooms weren’t designed for what you’re using them for either.”

She stands up for dramatic effect. “Yes, they were. The architect knew where history was headed.”

“Please? For Paige?”

It’s obvious the doctor is about to give in. “You’re lucky she’s one of my favorites. You’ll have to clear it with Carmen, though.”

“Who’s that?” Demir asks.

Demir and Paige—who looks far too old to be his real daughter—help me down two flights of stairs, to the most insane basement I’ve ever seen. At the bottom of the steps is a giant bank vault. When they open it for me, I see it’s not a real vault, but the door must have been stolen right from a bank. He called this Fletcher House, which is a name that sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. The first room beyond the vault door contains two angled desks facing each other, but there’s nothing on them. I see four more doors, all of which are closed. This place is real creepy, and I don’t understand who these people are.

A woman is standing to the side, wearing a toothless smile, with her hands holding each other in the front. “My name is Carmen Felt. I’ve been told you need a room. You have three options.” She points to three of the doors. “1987 to 1997, 1998 to 2008, or 2020 to present. The other one is being used for 2013 Saskatchewan.”

I casually walk towards two of the doors. “These lead to other points in time?”

Carmen laughs. “No. Ashlock sends our operative through time by switching bodies with someone who lives there. That individual then waits here, in one of these rooms. We dress it up to look familiar to them, so they’re more comfortable. And when I say we, I mean mostly me. I’m the interior designer.”

I point to the door on the opposite wall to the vault door. “Where does that one lead to?”

She turns to take a quick look at it, even though she knows what I’m talking about. “You don’t need to know that. You’ll be in one of these three rooms. Or, if you would prefer, I can have you placed in one of the holding cells.”

“The twenty-twenty room will be fine, thank you.”

“Perfect.”

“Is she always so scary nice?” I ask Paige after Carmen leaves.

“I have no idea,” she answers. “I met her when you did.”

“So, you don’t know if she’s single?” That’s an inappropriate thing to ask a teenager I don’t know.

“No. But I’m sure Morse will kick you out as soon as you’re well enough to leave, so it doesn’t really matter. This is a special place, for a special team. Outsiders like us can visit, but not stay.”

“That’s all right. I need to start thinking about where I’m gonna go next.”

She nods. “Well, while you do that, I’m going upstairs to help plan the mission.”

“Wait, you’re going to confront that mormon?”

“That mormon is my responsibility,” she explains. “I’m the one who told him to start a church to worship us. I was a child at the time, but it was still stupid.”

“He’s dangerous.”

“So am I,” she says.

“Wait.” I sigh again. “I lied upstairs. The Delegator wasn’t the only time traveler I met. There’s another one, but I promise I haven’t told anyone else about him. I think I can trust you guys, though, and I know he’ll be able to help, because he used to be a cop.”

“Who?”

“His name is Bran...Kallias Bran.”

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