A figure shrouded in black leaves a building. He, for it is, in fact, male, makes his way across a human encampment, teleporting, running, and jumping incredibly quickly. As he approaches his targets, a demonic energy increases in power. When he encounters the drug dealers, the demon’s presence is indistinguishable from his own. Though he could defeat a thousand of them in seconds, he draws a fight with three of them to last for five minutes. He throws the first blow at four minutes and thirty one seconds, without drawing either of his swords. He reaches out with one hand and lightly pushes on one of their heads. With five eighths of a second left to live, the dealer starts to turn and adopts a shocked expression. His head, no longer attached to his body, flies forward, smashing into one of his comrades. The shocked expression of his disembodied comrade is the last thing he sees as his entire body is electrified. The last of the triumvirate attempts to flee. He discovers that his feet are frozen to the ground. His terror increases as he notices the ice is creeping up over his body. He dies before it reaches his crotch. The killer begins to feast upon the bodies, an unnatural jaw taking chunks out of their flesh. I turn around to leave. This one does not need interference.
A muscular boy is speaking to a reporter. The boy is not very intelligent. The reporter is. One’s name is Oliver Goldberg, but he is often called Everest. The other’s name is Andrew Myers, but he is frequently called Asshole. The reporter is angry. His son is sick, and he blames metahumans. He is correct to, though not for the reason he thinks. If he spoke about his son’s illness to anyone, his problem could be solved. Instead, he takes out his frustration by ruining careers. He is trying to do that now. He will fail. Though he will accurately show the lack of intelligence, the muscular boy has a following that is not founded on his depth of character. The following will be sorely disappointed in less than one month, though not because of the reporter. The reporter’s troubles are drawing to close.
A boy who is almost a man is fighting. He is sitting in his room. He, more than any other on his team, is in conflict. He has great potential, but how he will use it is uncertain. I will talk to him when he is a man. Neither of us is in a rush. We have all the time in the world.
The two I have come here to talk to have just stopped fighting.
The two I have come here to talk to are about to fight.
The two I have come here to talk to are fighting. I pop up and stand in between them. The Destroyer’s punch, intended for the Wise Woman hits me, instead. Though I slow the punch before it hits me, my jaw will be pulverised. I wait for it to happen, then reconstruct it, reverting my body to how it was four seconds ago. To them, it will have appeared as regeneration.
“Hello,” I will say.
“Who are you?” asked the Wise Woman.
“A chronoton is a unit of time that represents how far one can predict or travel in the past or future based on the amount of variables in play. In the average one on one fight, in a close environment, with no air flow or outside interference, no weapons, no powers, just fists, a chronoton is approximately five minutes,” I say, answering his question. The Destroyer frowns, then will have an epiphany.
“So, you’re The Watchmaker, huh? What’s a chronoton?” He asks, looking at me expectantly. For once, the Wise Woman is confused.
“The Watchmaker,” I will have said. A look of realization dawns across her face. I realized the problem.
“Nice catch,” I said, altering my appearance slightly, changing my clothes to fit the time period, “I hadn’t even realized I was off.” The Wise Woman nodded.
“Rune told us to expect you.” I laughed.
“Oh, Rune! That ol’ dog! Did he ever tell you about that time he and Bash inspired the Greek legend of Damon and Pythias?” Seeing their faces, I paused. “No, then. Ah. Right. He wouldn’t have.” I looked at the two of them and shook my head, smiling a bit. “Oh, you two. You have so much ahead of you. Exile, you’ll become greater than you can imagine. Nidh- no, wait. That’s not your name yet. Well, you’ll see.” They stared at me in confusion. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to reminisce about the fun we’ll have. I want to help you defeat King. Both of them, though the latter comes later.” The Destroyer waved his hands in the air vaguely,
“Aren’t you supposed to be some sorta… benevolent but bound guardian of mankind? Policy of non-interference?” This time, the confusion belonged to me.
“Why on earth would you think that?” I asked, furrowing my brow, “I do whatever I want.” The Destroyer laughed.
“Alright, I can get behind that,” he said, “Now, how are we going to kick King’s ass?” The Wise Woman looked at him.
“Wait,” she said, “Who’s the second King?” Without moving his head, the Destroyer replied.
“We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we? Besides, it’s best not to ask more questions than you need to.” The Wise Woman nodded. I walked up behind them, and put my arms around their shoulders.
“What’s up, guys!” They jumped and spun around.
“Fuck!” The Destroyer cried, relaxing. “Weren’t you ahead of- Oh, for fucks sake. Of course you would use godlike mastery of time to play stupid jokes.” The Wise Woman stopped walking.
“Hold on, hold on. Zeta. How did you know his power was godlike mastery of time?” We both looked at her. Before The Destroyer could open his mouth, I responded.
“It’s best not to ask more questions than you need to,” I said. She fumed, but didn’t say anything else. As we walked out of the gym area, The Fool entered.
“Oh, hey, Jay, Sar- Ah! Zeta and Exile! Umm… How goes the crime fighting?” The two of them rolled their eyes. The Destroyer took my shoulder and guided me out, bringing me to his quarters while the Wise Woman made her excuses to the Fool.
“So,” he said once we had reached his room, “while Sarah is explaining you to Oliver, what’s the deal? You have some questions to answer.” I thought for a moment, tapping my chin.
“Okay. What you need to know about me for now… I am called The Watchmaker. I triggered about six thousand years ago. Since then, I’ve perfected the use of my power and lived eight trillion years, three months, twenty-four days, three hours, fourteen minutes and fifty three seconds. I am functionally immortal, invincible, and unkillable. I am omnipresent, omniscient, and fairly close to omnipotent. And… I will be your friend. If, of course, you survive that long, which you will. But barely, and not without effort and my help. I know about your powers because I’ve seen you in action… with your real power, and I’ve talked with Khan.” At that, he reacted.
“Where is Khan, then? He normally likes to be here for things like this.” I looked at The Destroyer seriously.
“He is not you. He is not your friend. Do not forget that. I have blocked him for now, but I cannot help you with him. But… do not be fooled.” He stared at me and shook his head.
“Why should I trust you? He’s told me things about myself I needed to know. He’s helped me plenty. And what? You, a random stranger who could be anyone, is telling me he’s an evil manipulator? Yeah, sure, I’m being tricked by a serval. Sooo suspicious. That’s fluffy doom, right there.” He stood up and opened the door. “Get some proof, and maybe I’ll consider it.”
“He’s told you you’re weak. He’s wrong, by the way. He’s sealing your powers. I am who I say I am, simply because there is no one who would dare to claim to be me. Evil? Yes. Demonic. He is no more a serval than you or I. He can appear however he wants.” The Destroyer glared at me. “Use your powers, dragon. See what you can do without his influence.”
“Out. Now.” Despite myself, I grinned. I knew it would end up like this.
“When you’re ready for your fate, let me know.” I walked out the door, and promptly disappeared. Next to Rune, in a different, earlier time, I looked at a rampaging superhuman. Bash swore.
“Shit,” he said, “This guy’s gotta be stronger than me. I can’t get near him without risking my life.” Rune frowned.
“Nothing I can do against his caliber without making things worse.”
“He’s protected against me, too. Sorry.” I shrugged. Bash spat, narrowly missing Rune’s black Regulator uniform.
“Anyone you know who could take him? Can you pull someone out of their timeline, pull them back here?” I thought for five seconds, considering the possibilities. At last, arriving at a suitable candidate, I nodded.
“Nidhogg could take him.”