He arrived home later than he wanted to on account of the press that awaited him outside of the airport, as well as Jonathan Vane and other executives of his father's company. All parties expressed their condolences, though both groups held differing motives. Drake dealt with them as quickly as he could and returned home via taxi Jonathan opted to pay for. Drake wanted to walk back through means of stopping time, but he felt obligated to accept Jonathan's offering, if for no other reason to conceal his abilities. Once home, Drake left his things at the door, wandered up to his room and paused in silence. His bedroom continued to feel adolescent and meaningless in contrast to the sudden loss and gravity of how his life would be from then on. His father's room on the other hand seemed to be a hallowed place he dared not disturb. All he could manage was to close his father's door and leave it as it was.

The kitchen was immaculate and cold, just as the marble countertop felt as Drake ran his fingers across it on his way to the refrigerator. His home was hushed aside from the hum of the appliances and Drake's rustling about the house. It felt alien and Drake was unsure of how he could counteract that isolation.

He quickly took his keys, exited his house, locked the door behind him, and started off down the road on foot. The sky was still a deep blue and the only other people out that early in the morning were people on their way to work or the exceptional few who dedicated themselves to an early morning exercise routine. Drake checked the time on his watch and tried his best to calculate how many hours had pa.s.sed since he took the orange soda from the flight attendant on his father's private jet. After another minute of walking Drake focused his ability, stopped time, and continued to walk.

The world remained still beside him while he contemplated the facts in his father's a.s.sa.s.sination. The obvious similarities between his father's murder and Nick's brother's death raised questions, none of which he could answer. Drake knew his father and Victor were well acquainted, but he wasn't certain of what connection could warrant two well-timed murders by the same killer.

Drake remained lost in thought as he headed down toward the heart of Both.e.l.l. However, Drake saw a man off in the distance who walked toward him. The figure wore decorative equestrian-styled armor and a cape of extremely fine material which Drake couldn't quite distinguish. The individual continued toward Drake and only stopped when their paths crossed.

He wore a kind smile and asked Drake what troubled him. "I gather this is the first time you've found someone who moves in this realm besides yourself?"

Drake nodded. "I a.s.sumed there could be others, but I a.s.sumed they would not notice my decision to stop time."

"Meaning, you believed you would never cross paths with another soul like you because in your mind, I would not have noticed your activities with your powers."

"But you did and here you are," Drake began, "So I a.s.sume this is something you're familiar with?"

"Actually, this is a first time for me as well," he chuckled. "How long have you had your power?"

Drake told him it was very new. "All of this is still a trial run to me."

"Then you haven't discovered the limitations, have you?"

Drake said he had found a few. "Do you mean the inability to jump forward in time or to completely control where and when I go when I go back into the past?"

The armored man nodded. "One cannot see the future because it is not completely defined. There are events which will occur, that is certain, but the minor details as well as catastrophes, personal choices, the results of wars, and other events shape the future. Simply put: the future is not predetermined."

"Then what about the past?"

The stranger admitted he was unsure why Drake had such a limitation. "What have you witnessed thus far?"

"I only watched some man propose to a young woman in j.a.pan in what I could only guess was thirty years ago or so."

The armored figure admitted he was uncertain why Drake saw what he had and only offered the advice of continuing to experiment with his adventures into the past.

Drake thanked him and asked for his name.

"You can call me Pyotr."

"Alright then, Pyotr, were those the only two limitations I need to worry about?"

"For the most part. The only other restraint I can think to mention is that there are certain times and places you cannot go to or see."

"For instance?"

"Christ's era, a majority of the dark ages, and primarily anything which surrounds significant religious events throughout history."

"Why is that?"

"I believe it has something to do with a religious barrier which has been set around individuals with abilities."

"Do you think that means there really is a G.o.d of some sort?" Drake questioned him, "That we might have received out abilities from Him?"

Pyotr simply chuckled and said, "I am not one to press my beliefs onto others, especially since I would hate to send you down a road that might be contrary to what's beneficial to you."

"Do you believe there's a G.o.d?"

"I do, but it has nothing to do with our situation." Pyotr waited for a moment before he asked whether Drake had questions he might be able to answer for him.

Drake said he only had a few. "Firstly, how is it possible for me to exist like this?"

"Could you explain what you mean to me?"

Drake extrapolated by questioning how he could survive moving at speeds beyond the speed of light, as well as how he could continue to perceive light and sound in an environment which neither light nor sound could travel in.

Pyotr smiled and told Drake that his ability was far more complex than he realized. "This place, this stopped time, isn't traditional. As you most likely guessed, both air and water are stationary in this environment, which means that realistically you could not move through either rain or the air, as it would be immoveable. The same is true for light and sound."

"Then how can I function here?"

"This ability is more than a simple matter of time control, my friend. I am not entirely certain of the possibility or cla.s.sification of such a thing, but you could call this realm a separate dimension from the traditional third and fourth dimensions you are familiar with."

"What do you mean?"

"Basically, this is a place that exists outside of the limitations of the first four dimensions you are familiar with. Here you can walk through low density matter in a stationary environment, you never feel hunger or fatigue, you are able to hear and see even though you shouldn't be able to, and your structural integrity is fortified to withstand heightened speeds."

Drake looked away from Pyotr and mused at the thought of an additional dimension. "It does explain the anomalies...would that also explain the minor healing factor?"

"Pardon?"

"I entered this dimension as you called it with a minor cut on my finger earlier in the day and it regenerated itself," Drake explained. "Would that explain that occurrence as well?"

Pyotr slowly nodded his head. "It would. You could think of it as a failsafe against a demise paradox."

"A what?"

Pyotr repeated himself, "A demise paradox. It's a term I made up to categorize this phenomenon. Basically, if you were to be fatally wounded, stopped time, and perished while time was stopped, only one of a few outcomes could occur. First, you would die and time would remain still indefinitely. Second, you would die and time would resume upon your death, as you could no longer control time. Third, you could not die in the stopped time environment and as such, a selfish being would remain living in the stopped-time environment indefinitely to preserve their life. However this revelation solves for the dilemma; you are healed whilst in this realm, which negates any need to remain here once healed. It also safeguards against death in this realm."

Drake could hardly follow along with Pyotr's reasoning. He took a moment to run the hypotheses through his head once more before he asked, "You weren't aware of the healing factor here?"

Pyotr said he hadn't ever been injured and entered into that realm before. "It makes sense though...I mean, some contingency needed to be in place, wouldn't you agree?"

Drake didn't respond.

Pyotr paused for a moment before he asked whether all of Drake's questions were answered; Drake merely told Pyotr that he was satisfied and left the matter alone. "Then I guess you and I had better part ways here. I'm personally off to Iraq, so unless you'd like to accompany me"

"How is it that you and I can both stop time?" Drake interrupted him.

Pyotr frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Is there anyone else who can do what we do?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

"Then this is a completely new experience for you as well?"

Pyotr nodded, "More or less."

"Then why didn't I frighten you when we met?"

He smiled once more and said, "Drake, think for a moment. You were on the right path earlier when you asked me how there could be more than one person pulling on the reins of time. If there were two people who could manipulate time, they would either have to act in tandem or neither of them could stop or move time at all."

"Then how is it possible for you and I to be here right now?"

Pyotr shrugged, "Maybe one of us isn't who they say they are?"

Drake stared at him. He felt his limbs stiffen and tried to make his mind about what the man said, but Pyotr only chuckled and told him to put it out of his mind. "I am not like you and that is all that is significant about my presence here Drake. What I do suggest is that you try to solve your dilemma with whatever it is you see in the past and apply it to your present."

"Who are you?" Drake asked.

Pyotr turned away from him and vanished in an instant. And though Drake tried to stop him, time was already frozen, which to Drake meant that Pyotr moved on a plain of reality outside of time, which was utterly beyond Drake's control and influence.

The meeting bothered Drake, but he knew that even if he turned and headed straight for Iraq, he doubted he'd ever find the man again. As such, he relented and returned to his wanderings through a stationary world.

Part III.

Obscurity.

Chapter 17.

September 11th, 2029.

6:44 AM.

Baltimore, Maryland.

Detective Felton stood beside a mound of freshly unearthed dirt and gra.s.s. A deep hole in the ground exposed the damaged and emptied casket of Jeff Foster, the eighth victim in the case. The bitter morning held Felton's breath midair as he studied the roped off site. The gra.s.s was held erect in every place except for where Detective Felton, the groundskeeper, and a few officers had stepped, though from the recollection of the groundskeeper, who called in the grave desecration, there were no footprints at the site. The only clue Felton had was the Roman numeral carved into the headstone, a.s.sumedly by whoever committed the crime.

Bryce Maguire happened to be one of the officers who responded to the call first and helped keep the onlookers away from the site. Felton called him over and had another officer replace him. Bryce glanced once more at the open grave and the Roman numeral for eight carved in the headstone before Felton asked how everything appeared when he first saw it.

"Well it was open, there were footprints, not that we'd be able to use them, since we a.s.sumed they were from the groundskeeper, and you noticed the marking on the tombstone..." he scratched the back of his head, "Does that answer your question?"

"Not really," he mumbled, "But that's fine. I think we're done here."

"Do you think this was Cladis?"

Felton admitted he wasn't sure and started off toward his vehicle. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sergeant Murdock, who responded to another instance of an apparent grave robbery. It rang twice before the sergeant answered, "Find anything worthwhile?"

"Take a guess," Felton sighed. "Who was the site for on your end again?"

"I was lucky enough to have two cases on my end," Murdock informed him. "Caroline Reynolds and Tim Qing; both unearthed, coffins broken into, not opened mind you, bodies gone."

"Did you find anything on the headstones?"

"Yep, number four for Qing and nine for Reynolds, both in Roman numerals."

"Same here."

"So what do you think this means? Do you think Cladis is collecting the bodies?"

"I don't know what else to think at this point."

"Well what about the ones that were cremated?"

Felton rubbed his forehead and said he was unsure. "Maybe he got to them before the bodies were burnt and replaced them?"

"I'd like to think that someone would have noticed they were cooking up the wrong stiff. And that could even mean additional bodies if Cladis was stealing the others...and why not use those if he did?"

"I know, it doesn't make any sense to me." Felton paused and watched his breath dance before him. "Maybe he doesn't need the whole body, but only a part of it," he mused.

"Like a piece or an organ?"

"Possibly. He could take that before the cremation and leave the rest of the body to burn."

Sergeant Murdock relented and told him he had a few more graves to check on in the area. "I'm guessing anyone buried up to now isn't going to be resting soundly, judging by the number of calls we've received about the graves. Are you headed back to the station yet?"

"Nope. I have another graveyard to visit myself."

"Do you know which victims they are?"

"No, but I'll text you once I do."

They hung up and Felton unlocked his car door, entered the vehicle, and swore under his breath as he started the engine.

7:22 PM.