A pale man wearing an all-black suit approaches me—he's tall, tall enough to hunch over when he looks at me. Even the way he speaks breathes animosity.
"A little off schedule, but it seems everything else is in order," he says, his words arriving too quickly for me to process them. Such a careless tone… such a conniving attitude.
"Do I... know you?" I ask, with a pause in the middle, unsure if he's actually falling for it.
"Oh, Miller, Hutson… whatever God-given name you've got in this timeline... I need your help once more."
He steps forward, looking into my eyes. Despite his shades, I can still feel his gaze digging deep into mine.
"You're mistaken, mister…" I say, carefully walking on eggshells, trying not to sound too confident. "I think you've got the wrong guy."
His face falls—visibly annoyed. Yet he lets out something between a laugh and a sigh. Not surprised, just disappointed.
"You never were a good liar, Tiean."
My eyes shake as my grip tightens around the fissure device.
He steps back, folding his arms behind him as he marches slowly to my side.
"You're here for the same reason the other Timekeepers were…"
Then to the other side.
"Though… it appears none of them have been successful."
"So I ask you again," he says, stopping abruptly to face me.
"I need your help."
He repeats the words slower this time, like he's tasting them for the first time.
There's something unnerving about the way he says it, like he's letting me believe I still have a choice.
I don't answer. The rain keeps falling—softer now. Mist curls against the pavement. A siren cries in the distance. A cab splashes past.
New York never sleeps, but in this sliver of silence between us, the whole city feels like it's holding its breath.
Bethy doesn't say anything either, which is more terrifying than when she does. She always talks. Always.
The silence confirms what I'm already feeling in my gut.
Gerald never explained the full plan—whatever it was. And this? This definitely wasn't part of it. The script had branching states, stretching through possibilities that the other timelines of us had already tried.
With this kind of development… are we still under protocol?
"What kind of help?" I finally ask. Not because I'm interested, but because I need time—time to figure out what this thing in front of me really is.
He smiles. Not warmly. It's too precise, too calculated, like he practiced it in front of a mirror and never quite got it right.
"To stop the timeline from collapsing in on itself, of course."
His tone is light now, almost cheerful, but there's weight behind his words.
He begins to pace again—slow, deliberate steps.
"You see, Tiean... the anomaly's been busy. Too busy. It's gotten clever. Unpredictable. It's making changes that weren't accounted for. Entire loops that no longer lead back to the same outcome. You know what that means?"
I stay quiet.
"It means your plan—the one Gerald drafted in all his little backrooms and false identities—won't work anymore."
He stops and turns to face me again.
"Because the anomaly learned how to avoid being identified. It's mimicking continuity. Acting like it belongs."
A pause.
"And worse... it might not be alone."
The thought hits hard.
Multiple anomalies? That's impossible. Given the infinite states of the Cantor line, there should only ever be one existence of something out of everything.
Sure, multiple deviants are possible—but time-breaking monsters? No.
Unless…
"What do you mean 'might'?" I ask, eyes narrowing.
He shrugs, rain dripping off his narrow shoulders.
"I don't know. And I don't like not knowing. That's where you come in."
He taps the side of his temple, then motions to the fissure device in my hand.
"You still have the key. You still hear Bethy. That means you're not compromised. Not yet."
He steps in closer, his voice dropping just above a whisper.
"Help me find the anomaly. Help me stop it. And I'll make sure you and your little friend don't end up like the rest."
"The rest?"
His smile returns.
"You haven't wondered why you haven't heard from the other Keepers with your fissure device?"
My heart stutters.
"They're gone, Tiean. They're either dead... or worse."
He steps back into the shadows, his form half-swallowed by fog and night.
"I'll give you twenty-four hours. That's longer than I gave the last one. Don't disappoint me."
Then, just like that, he's gone.
No flash. No portal. Just... gone.
Bethy's voice finally returns—jittery and faint, like a radio tuning into a dying signal.
[This one... he does not match any known Keeper profiles. His identity was overwritten in multiple timelines. I cannot confirm his origin.]
[Recommendation: Do not trust.]
I exhale shakily, letting my hand drop to my side.
Too late for that.