I started working on this story little by little last month. I am planning on making this a full novel, but wanted to see how many people actually like it before I continue. I will keep writing, but will not apply for publishing when done until I am sure this would get a good reception. Well, here it is.
Prologue
Keith Zero was a boy, but a very special boy. He had no idea why, as of late, but he knew he was special. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. Something would happen at some point that would show everyone else.
O had been around almost as long as he could remember. Keith was the only one who could hear him, and he was a speaking conscience for Keith. Everyone, including himself, thought he was mentally ill. By principle, he decided against any medicines, including the ones they were giving him to be rid of O, saying they were unnatural, and learned to cope with his semi-existence. They would have conversations about anything and soon, O became Keith's greatest friend.
The job wasn't a hard one. Keith was so alien to the other children all through his school life that they acted as if he wasn't there. For all intents and purposes, he was a zero. The small group of people that acted as if they so much as saw him became his friends and they, too, learned to cope with O. They would include his opinions on discussions and count him as part of their group. There was one other person who saw Keith as he was - a person, rather than a freak.
Her name was Vanessa. Vanessa Hart. She was beautiful, with long, flowing, brown hair and her cherry lip gloss shone in the sunlight, increasing her already gorgeous appearance. She wore a skirt everyday and it accentuated her perfect legs. Her eyes were a deep hazel, her eyelashes long and full. Her smile was as white as a fresh blanket of snow and could light up a room. In short, she was the perfect girl. She had a good personality as well, and a voice that caused boys to melt. She had only one flaw, in Keith's eyes. She gave into peer pressure and pretended she didn't see him. When they were alone, she would say hello before leaving, but with others around she would pass him by without a glance.
His best friend in the world outside of his head, Skip, was seldom serious in nature. When he was, he got very much so. He would begin to talk in a soft voice, like someone close to him had just been killed in front of him. He would then continue to speak until he ran out of words. Then, as if possessed, he would begin speaking in his normal voice and behavior, as if it had never happened. On these rare occasions, Keith and the rest of the small puddle of friends - when compared to the ocean of students that were the Epoch High student body - let it go without saying a word, though inside the feeling was strange.
This was the life Keith lived. Forever in love with a girl that barely recognized he existed, a best friend that could turn cold in an instant, a voice in his head that made people avoid him, and a pressing and eternal feeling that he would soon do something amazing. Not the best life - not even good by many people's standards - but it was his. And he was fine living it, so long as it stayed relatively the same.
And it did, for a while. He was still ignored, and when he wasn't, he was getting his ass kicked by his enemy since Junior High - who knew how to hold a grudge - Zeke Cross. No one truly knew why Zeke targeted Keith, and no rumors were made. No one really CARED. They were just happy it was being done without getting their own hands dirty. Zeke was the son of local business mogul, Xavier Cross, who owned Cross Industries, a company that specialized in the manufacturing of children's toys. The family was rich, yet Zeke still decided to wail on "The Zero". That was the nickname the children of these "brilliant" high school students devised for the poor, presumably schizophrenic child. Not a clever nickname, but it still stung all the same.
March 4, 2009
After a particularly brutal thrashing, Keith went home and lay in his bed. His father, Chuck, had gotten very used to this routine, as had Keith himself. His mother Susan, however, just never could. She would always rush to her son's aid as any good mother would do and, for that, Keith couldn't help but smile.
That night, two nights before Keith's eighteenth birthday, Keith and O had a chat.
"Keith?"
"Yeah?"
"You know, it's been almost nine years to the day that I've been here with you and... Well... I couldn't have asked for anything more..." Keith smiled and O continued. "You know your eighteenth birthday is a special one, don't you?"
"How so? All I get to do is drive... And not even that is much of a liberty..."
"Just trust me. It'll be special." Those words echoed in Keith's mind as he drifted into unconsciousness into the realm of sleep. His dreams had been almost as bizarre as everyone viewed him as. On this night, he was swimming, but there was no water around. Floating around were watches and clocks of all sorts. Keith could hear voices speaking in only a whisper. They sounded like voluptuous, sultry women.
"Soon. Very soon."
"It will happen soon..."
March 5, 2009
Keith woke up in an instant and checked the alarm clock beside his bed. The digital face of the clock stated "2:37 a.m.". Keith groaned and fell like a boulder onto his pillow and fell back to sleep.
He would wake up again at 6:20 to get ready for school. It was a Friday, which meant that his birthday would be a Saturday and he wouldn't have to see Zeke that day. That was really the only bright side to the "special day" O spoke of. His parents couldn't get the day off work, his friends had no way to visit him, and he had nothing to do. But O said to trust him, so he did. At school, the normal routine continued.
Zeke went straight for Keith that morning and decked him. As he walked away, Zeke laughed and said, "Not even worth my time today..."
During lunch, Keith and his friends were talking, as they normally did, about anything they could think of. Keith thought against his better nature and decided not to bring up the dream. O brought up the topic of time travel which, it could be assumed, was spurred by the current topic of having too few hours in the day. Everyone in the group said it was possible, and when it came time for Skip's opinion, he got serious.
"You can never really know. There could always be a person from the future standing right here with us. There is no way to be sure."
As usual, the group let it go as just one of his odd moments. When he got home, however, Keith started up the conversation with O again.
"What about you? Do you believe in time travel?"
"Well, of course I do." Keith could swear, with the way he said this, that if he could see his face that O was smirking.
Before he had a chance to react, as with any other day, Keith's mother brought him an ice pack for his swollen lip. He accepted it, but he had grown so accustomed to the pain, he didn't need it. He would just stay in his room for the time being, watching TV, using the computer. He had very little to do holed up in his house that he was happy for each day's passing, but never one's beginning. After hours of searching the internet for information on time travel, which turned up nothing of real interest, Keith checked the clock on his computer. "10:48 p.m.", which was just enough time to take a shower and get to bed. As he went to sleep, alarm clock reading "11:07 p.m.", and thoughts of time travel still on his mind after the odd conversation with O, Keith prepared for his supposedly "special" day.
That night, Keith found himself in the same dream as the previous night. This time, however, the voices simply said, "It happens NOW!"
A bright flash blinded Keith and he started to feel weightless. When he could see again, he was in a large hallway. The walls and floor were covered with all forms of time-keeping devices - clocks, watches, sundials, anything. In front of him stood a large man. He was wearing a mask that covered every part of his face but his eyes. The man turned, saw Keith not moving, and motioned for him. Keith followed, knowing he had nowhere to run to, and was lead to a room near the end of the corridor. They entered, and Keith was greeted with the sight of five creatures. They weren't human, but he couldn't think of any species they could have been. They were seated in what could only be assumed to be elegant chairs. The man in the mask bowed and motioned for Keith to step forward.
Keith did so, slowly. As he approached the creatures, he slowly realized that he knew what they were. On a single, otherwise ordinary day, Keith suddenly started drawing. That day, he drew 5 different creatures and, afterwards, he had no recollection of ever drawing them. These were the creatures that sat before him tonight. When he came close to the creatures, he stopped and turned to the man in the mask. The man nodded and bowed, indicating Keith should do the same. Keith bowed and the creature in the center chair - Keith figured, from the bowing and the largeness and fanciness of the room, was a throne - began to speak.
"Yes... He is the perfect specimen... Strong, but noble. Knows his principles. Yes, he'll do fine." This was said in almost a whisper, as though Keith wasn't supposed to hear a word. The creature spoke up, not to Keith, but to the man in the mask. "You have been awfully quiet over there. Introduce yourself."
The man stepped forward. He placed a hand over his face as if to remove the mask, but decided against it.
"Welcome, my friend." When he spoke, a sense of familiarity filled Keith's soul, but he couldn't place why. As if reading his mind, the man said, "I had hoped you would have remembered my voice after all these years. Shame. I am named, here, Oniverus. On Earth, I am known as... O."
Before he had a chance to react to this statement, the creature in the center-right throne announced, "Oniverus has been your guardian, speaking to you telepathically for the past 9 years. He steered you in the correct directions to ready you for tonight."
The creature on the far left continued from this thought. "You have been chosen, above all other humans, to obtain special abilities. You are the only one who met the qualifications exactly."
The creature on the far right, the most human of the set, began. "The human had to be kind-hearted. They had to be athletic. Finally, they had to have high endurance. You were the most promising prospect. We have allowed you the privilege of the Vox of Vixis."
"And what is that?" Keith inquired. It sounded like Latin, but he could never be sure.
The center-right handled this one. "They are special abilities that are bestowed upon a new human every 3 centuries, on each one's eighteenth birthday. They are abilities that allow you to control and manipulate time. You will start you only being able to travel through time and space. As you advance and train your powers, they will strengthen and you shall be able to do much more."
The creature in the center chimed in, "There ARE certain rules we expect you to follow. First, you cannot use the powers to have second chances at anything. Second, you cannot alter the course of history too much, like allowing the British to win the Revolutionary War. Third, you cannot meet anyone you know in the past, as it could disrupt the time continuum. Fourth, you must not speak of these powers to anyone, lest they attempt to turn you over to scientific studies. Last, you cannot use your powers for affairs of the heart. Oniverus shall watch over you to make sure you don't break these rules. He will be your guardian once more, teaching you the finer points of these abilities. Now, are you ready?"
Keith nodded, and in a flash, a light similar to the one that brought him to that strange area shone before him once more, and he was awake.
March 6, 2009
"O... What just happened? I know that was no dream, but there is no way that could be real." He was pacing back and forth, trying to make sense of it all.
It was "3:14 a.m." according to the alarm clock. He had been asleep a little over three hours, yet the dream, under normal circumstances, would have lasted him all night. It took about ten seconds for O to reply. He spoke, and said, "You know what happened, and you know now who I am. I was to guard you from afar these past nine years, but that will no longer be enough."
He didn't sound as he did before this ordeal. Instead of sounding like he was a thought Keith was having, he sounded like he was near him somewhere. Keith took a look around the room, but saw no one. "Follow my voice. I still cannot create a solid form in the current timeframe."
Keith followed, and tried to imagine the image that he had seen in the previous area leading the way. He was led to his backyard, in the almost pitch black. "Now... To train your new powers..."
O sounded close, as if Keith could touch him, if it were possible. When he spoke, there was much more seriousness in his voice than usual. "How to do it... Ah! Keith, stand near the tree."
Keith moved to the single tree in the yard. He waited patiently for more instructions. "Slam your hand against the trunk, and say a date and a location, if you have one. You will be transported to that very day at this same time in that location. If you have no location, you will stay in the same general location of the Earth as you are now, but you rarely know what was or will be in the spot where you stand so be cautious."
Keith thought a moment, then decided. He slammed his palm against the trunk and shouted "September 17, 1978, Paris, France!"
Sept. 17, 1978
The same light from the "dream" shone and when it dissipated, Keith found himself staring face to face with the Eiffel Tower, towering over him. "Why this time, if I may ask?"
Keith spun to the source of the noise and O, in his solid form stood before him. He was still wearing the same mask as before and obviously had no intention of taking it off. Keith started, "Well, we learned in our History class that this was the day the French diplomat Bumierre Cabonet was assassinated, but they never found the shooter. Even though I can only watch, I can still try to figure out who it was."
The wait was long. According to the watch Keith always wore, it was 6:53 a.m. Time of death was estimated by autopsy to be 10:00 a.m. or so. This was back in a time that time zones existed as well, so no one knew for sure anymore. It was 8:26 a.m. before Keith noticed any movement in the crowd. A man in a hooded jacket sulked through with his head stuck low, pointing at his shoes. Keith followed just close enough to not be noticed and not lose him. The man made it into an abandoned building and prepared to kill. The man made no movement and Keith couldn't see his face. At 10:49 a.m., it seemed like nothing would happen. At 11:24 a.m., it finally happened. The diplomat walked up to a house, a bullet fired, and he was shot after he knocked on the door. He fell to the ground and then a woman opened the door. Looking at the fresh corpse still bleeding, she shrieked. The assassin ran past Keith, and he saw the killer's face.
Keith took a moment. He needed to process what he had just seen. After running it through his mind four or five times, he was sure. The person who had just ran past him... was his father. He was younger-looking, but there was no denying that the man was, indeed, Keith's father.
"How do I go home from here?" This new information had crushed his spirit. The man he thought was his father had changed entirely in his mind. "I've seen enough."
"Simply say 'Reddo Nunc'. As I am sure you've gathered by now, most phrases used by the Sapians Templar, or Sages of Time - those are those creatures you saw in that room - are old-style Latin. That's how it's been for centuries and it's how it's staying."
Without hesitating, partly because what O said had no real impact on him, since it felt more like a history lesson than anything, but mostly because he was still trying to process and get over what he had seen his father do just now, he shouted the words and went to bed, waiting for the moment to speak to his father about it. He would have to figure out a way to ask him without bringing up the time travel, as that would break one of the rules the Sages told him never to break. That, however, would wait for morning. Keith was exhausted at this point and needed rest.
March 7, 2009
Keith decided to just talk about learning about the murder in History class and see what his father's reactions were. He began once his father walked in after school. "Dad, we learned something really interesting today."
"Oh? I hope it was something in self-defense, for your sake."
"Haha," Keith feigned. His father was always making jokes and he normally laughed, but there was something important that needed doing. "We learned about the Cabonet murders in '78. Apparently there was no clue as to why he was killed or who did it. There are some speculations, though."
"Speculations?" Chuck's face was almost red as a beet and that's when Keith knew he had to move in.
"Yeah, some people are saying that the killer could have been around 20 or 30 at the time, to pull off the job. They also needed to have been in France at the time, and have no relation to the French government, to successfully leave the country. Can you think of anyone that fits that description? They say the only planes out of the country right after the murder, which would have been pretty much the ONLY time to leave, were coming here to Boston, so you may know someone who it could be."
Chuck worked in the local airport and had for years. He knew almost everyone - due to his eidetic memory - that came and left the city. He was now sweating. He told Keith everyone, imagining he would also have the "gift", as he called it, and wanted it to be useful in the future. Clearly it was doing so now. "Can't say I can, son. You're trying to solve a mystery more than 30 years in the making. Just let it go."
"Dad. I'll be blunt. I'm sure you did it. You're 55 now, prime time for the murder, you told us you visited Paris in the right year, and you said you went here soon after and met mom. Don't even try to lie." Much like Skip, Keith could be very coldly serious when he needed to.
His father sighed in defeat. No matter how he did it, he had found out. The only thing left was to explain. "When I was younger, around that time, I did things... things I'm not proud of. I became an assassin, paid by the kill, because I had no way to pay for the things I needed to live. Unfortunately, I was young and stupid. I didn't want to believe there were other options. As soon as I had gotten that deal, I knew I would be set for life. He was so important, they were willing to pay millions. And I got it, at a cost. All the money I received was stolen and I knew I had hit rock bottom. So I quit, threw away the money, and started a new life."
P.S. Any ideas for a title are welcome haha.
Prologue
Keith Zero was a boy, but a very special boy. He had no idea why, as of late, but he knew he was special. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. Something would happen at some point that would show everyone else.
O had been around almost as long as he could remember. Keith was the only one who could hear him, and he was a speaking conscience for Keith. Everyone, including himself, thought he was mentally ill. By principle, he decided against any medicines, including the ones they were giving him to be rid of O, saying they were unnatural, and learned to cope with his semi-existence. They would have conversations about anything and soon, O became Keith's greatest friend.
The job wasn't a hard one. Keith was so alien to the other children all through his school life that they acted as if he wasn't there. For all intents and purposes, he was a zero. The small group of people that acted as if they so much as saw him became his friends and they, too, learned to cope with O. They would include his opinions on discussions and count him as part of their group. There was one other person who saw Keith as he was - a person, rather than a freak.
Her name was Vanessa. Vanessa Hart. She was beautiful, with long, flowing, brown hair and her cherry lip gloss shone in the sunlight, increasing her already gorgeous appearance. She wore a skirt everyday and it accentuated her perfect legs. Her eyes were a deep hazel, her eyelashes long and full. Her smile was as white as a fresh blanket of snow and could light up a room. In short, she was the perfect girl. She had a good personality as well, and a voice that caused boys to melt. She had only one flaw, in Keith's eyes. She gave into peer pressure and pretended she didn't see him. When they were alone, she would say hello before leaving, but with others around she would pass him by without a glance.
His best friend in the world outside of his head, Skip, was seldom serious in nature. When he was, he got very much so. He would begin to talk in a soft voice, like someone close to him had just been killed in front of him. He would then continue to speak until he ran out of words. Then, as if possessed, he would begin speaking in his normal voice and behavior, as if it had never happened. On these rare occasions, Keith and the rest of the small puddle of friends - when compared to the ocean of students that were the Epoch High student body - let it go without saying a word, though inside the feeling was strange.
This was the life Keith lived. Forever in love with a girl that barely recognized he existed, a best friend that could turn cold in an instant, a voice in his head that made people avoid him, and a pressing and eternal feeling that he would soon do something amazing. Not the best life - not even good by many people's standards - but it was his. And he was fine living it, so long as it stayed relatively the same.
And it did, for a while. He was still ignored, and when he wasn't, he was getting his ass kicked by his enemy since Junior High - who knew how to hold a grudge - Zeke Cross. No one truly knew why Zeke targeted Keith, and no rumors were made. No one really CARED. They were just happy it was being done without getting their own hands dirty. Zeke was the son of local business mogul, Xavier Cross, who owned Cross Industries, a company that specialized in the manufacturing of children's toys. The family was rich, yet Zeke still decided to wail on "The Zero". That was the nickname the children of these "brilliant" high school students devised for the poor, presumably schizophrenic child. Not a clever nickname, but it still stung all the same.
March 4, 2009
After a particularly brutal thrashing, Keith went home and lay in his bed. His father, Chuck, had gotten very used to this routine, as had Keith himself. His mother Susan, however, just never could. She would always rush to her son's aid as any good mother would do and, for that, Keith couldn't help but smile.
That night, two nights before Keith's eighteenth birthday, Keith and O had a chat.
"Keith?"
"Yeah?"
"You know, it's been almost nine years to the day that I've been here with you and... Well... I couldn't have asked for anything more..." Keith smiled and O continued. "You know your eighteenth birthday is a special one, don't you?"
"How so? All I get to do is drive... And not even that is much of a liberty..."
"Just trust me. It'll be special." Those words echoed in Keith's mind as he drifted into unconsciousness into the realm of sleep. His dreams had been almost as bizarre as everyone viewed him as. On this night, he was swimming, but there was no water around. Floating around were watches and clocks of all sorts. Keith could hear voices speaking in only a whisper. They sounded like voluptuous, sultry women.
"Soon. Very soon."
"It will happen soon..."
March 5, 2009
Keith woke up in an instant and checked the alarm clock beside his bed. The digital face of the clock stated "2:37 a.m.". Keith groaned and fell like a boulder onto his pillow and fell back to sleep.
He would wake up again at 6:20 to get ready for school. It was a Friday, which meant that his birthday would be a Saturday and he wouldn't have to see Zeke that day. That was really the only bright side to the "special day" O spoke of. His parents couldn't get the day off work, his friends had no way to visit him, and he had nothing to do. But O said to trust him, so he did. At school, the normal routine continued.
Zeke went straight for Keith that morning and decked him. As he walked away, Zeke laughed and said, "Not even worth my time today..."
During lunch, Keith and his friends were talking, as they normally did, about anything they could think of. Keith thought against his better nature and decided not to bring up the dream. O brought up the topic of time travel which, it could be assumed, was spurred by the current topic of having too few hours in the day. Everyone in the group said it was possible, and when it came time for Skip's opinion, he got serious.
"You can never really know. There could always be a person from the future standing right here with us. There is no way to be sure."
As usual, the group let it go as just one of his odd moments. When he got home, however, Keith started up the conversation with O again.
"What about you? Do you believe in time travel?"
"Well, of course I do." Keith could swear, with the way he said this, that if he could see his face that O was smirking.
Before he had a chance to react, as with any other day, Keith's mother brought him an ice pack for his swollen lip. He accepted it, but he had grown so accustomed to the pain, he didn't need it. He would just stay in his room for the time being, watching TV, using the computer. He had very little to do holed up in his house that he was happy for each day's passing, but never one's beginning. After hours of searching the internet for information on time travel, which turned up nothing of real interest, Keith checked the clock on his computer. "10:48 p.m.", which was just enough time to take a shower and get to bed. As he went to sleep, alarm clock reading "11:07 p.m.", and thoughts of time travel still on his mind after the odd conversation with O, Keith prepared for his supposedly "special" day.
That night, Keith found himself in the same dream as the previous night. This time, however, the voices simply said, "It happens NOW!"
A bright flash blinded Keith and he started to feel weightless. When he could see again, he was in a large hallway. The walls and floor were covered with all forms of time-keeping devices - clocks, watches, sundials, anything. In front of him stood a large man. He was wearing a mask that covered every part of his face but his eyes. The man turned, saw Keith not moving, and motioned for him. Keith followed, knowing he had nowhere to run to, and was lead to a room near the end of the corridor. They entered, and Keith was greeted with the sight of five creatures. They weren't human, but he couldn't think of any species they could have been. They were seated in what could only be assumed to be elegant chairs. The man in the mask bowed and motioned for Keith to step forward.
Keith did so, slowly. As he approached the creatures, he slowly realized that he knew what they were. On a single, otherwise ordinary day, Keith suddenly started drawing. That day, he drew 5 different creatures and, afterwards, he had no recollection of ever drawing them. These were the creatures that sat before him tonight. When he came close to the creatures, he stopped and turned to the man in the mask. The man nodded and bowed, indicating Keith should do the same. Keith bowed and the creature in the center chair - Keith figured, from the bowing and the largeness and fanciness of the room, was a throne - began to speak.
"Yes... He is the perfect specimen... Strong, but noble. Knows his principles. Yes, he'll do fine." This was said in almost a whisper, as though Keith wasn't supposed to hear a word. The creature spoke up, not to Keith, but to the man in the mask. "You have been awfully quiet over there. Introduce yourself."
The man stepped forward. He placed a hand over his face as if to remove the mask, but decided against it.
"Welcome, my friend." When he spoke, a sense of familiarity filled Keith's soul, but he couldn't place why. As if reading his mind, the man said, "I had hoped you would have remembered my voice after all these years. Shame. I am named, here, Oniverus. On Earth, I am known as... O."
Before he had a chance to react to this statement, the creature in the center-right throne announced, "Oniverus has been your guardian, speaking to you telepathically for the past 9 years. He steered you in the correct directions to ready you for tonight."
The creature on the far left continued from this thought. "You have been chosen, above all other humans, to obtain special abilities. You are the only one who met the qualifications exactly."
The creature on the far right, the most human of the set, began. "The human had to be kind-hearted. They had to be athletic. Finally, they had to have high endurance. You were the most promising prospect. We have allowed you the privilege of the Vox of Vixis."
"And what is that?" Keith inquired. It sounded like Latin, but he could never be sure.
The center-right handled this one. "They are special abilities that are bestowed upon a new human every 3 centuries, on each one's eighteenth birthday. They are abilities that allow you to control and manipulate time. You will start you only being able to travel through time and space. As you advance and train your powers, they will strengthen and you shall be able to do much more."
The creature in the center chimed in, "There ARE certain rules we expect you to follow. First, you cannot use the powers to have second chances at anything. Second, you cannot alter the course of history too much, like allowing the British to win the Revolutionary War. Third, you cannot meet anyone you know in the past, as it could disrupt the time continuum. Fourth, you must not speak of these powers to anyone, lest they attempt to turn you over to scientific studies. Last, you cannot use your powers for affairs of the heart. Oniverus shall watch over you to make sure you don't break these rules. He will be your guardian once more, teaching you the finer points of these abilities. Now, are you ready?"
Keith nodded, and in a flash, a light similar to the one that brought him to that strange area shone before him once more, and he was awake.
March 6, 2009
"O... What just happened? I know that was no dream, but there is no way that could be real." He was pacing back and forth, trying to make sense of it all.
It was "3:14 a.m." according to the alarm clock. He had been asleep a little over three hours, yet the dream, under normal circumstances, would have lasted him all night. It took about ten seconds for O to reply. He spoke, and said, "You know what happened, and you know now who I am. I was to guard you from afar these past nine years, but that will no longer be enough."
He didn't sound as he did before this ordeal. Instead of sounding like he was a thought Keith was having, he sounded like he was near him somewhere. Keith took a look around the room, but saw no one. "Follow my voice. I still cannot create a solid form in the current timeframe."
Keith followed, and tried to imagine the image that he had seen in the previous area leading the way. He was led to his backyard, in the almost pitch black. "Now... To train your new powers..."
O sounded close, as if Keith could touch him, if it were possible. When he spoke, there was much more seriousness in his voice than usual. "How to do it... Ah! Keith, stand near the tree."
Keith moved to the single tree in the yard. He waited patiently for more instructions. "Slam your hand against the trunk, and say a date and a location, if you have one. You will be transported to that very day at this same time in that location. If you have no location, you will stay in the same general location of the Earth as you are now, but you rarely know what was or will be in the spot where you stand so be cautious."
Keith thought a moment, then decided. He slammed his palm against the trunk and shouted "September 17, 1978, Paris, France!"
Sept. 17, 1978
The same light from the "dream" shone and when it dissipated, Keith found himself staring face to face with the Eiffel Tower, towering over him. "Why this time, if I may ask?"
Keith spun to the source of the noise and O, in his solid form stood before him. He was still wearing the same mask as before and obviously had no intention of taking it off. Keith started, "Well, we learned in our History class that this was the day the French diplomat Bumierre Cabonet was assassinated, but they never found the shooter. Even though I can only watch, I can still try to figure out who it was."
The wait was long. According to the watch Keith always wore, it was 6:53 a.m. Time of death was estimated by autopsy to be 10:00 a.m. or so. This was back in a time that time zones existed as well, so no one knew for sure anymore. It was 8:26 a.m. before Keith noticed any movement in the crowd. A man in a hooded jacket sulked through with his head stuck low, pointing at his shoes. Keith followed just close enough to not be noticed and not lose him. The man made it into an abandoned building and prepared to kill. The man made no movement and Keith couldn't see his face. At 10:49 a.m., it seemed like nothing would happen. At 11:24 a.m., it finally happened. The diplomat walked up to a house, a bullet fired, and he was shot after he knocked on the door. He fell to the ground and then a woman opened the door. Looking at the fresh corpse still bleeding, she shrieked. The assassin ran past Keith, and he saw the killer's face.
Keith took a moment. He needed to process what he had just seen. After running it through his mind four or five times, he was sure. The person who had just ran past him... was his father. He was younger-looking, but there was no denying that the man was, indeed, Keith's father.
"How do I go home from here?" This new information had crushed his spirit. The man he thought was his father had changed entirely in his mind. "I've seen enough."
"Simply say 'Reddo Nunc'. As I am sure you've gathered by now, most phrases used by the Sapians Templar, or Sages of Time - those are those creatures you saw in that room - are old-style Latin. That's how it's been for centuries and it's how it's staying."
Without hesitating, partly because what O said had no real impact on him, since it felt more like a history lesson than anything, but mostly because he was still trying to process and get over what he had seen his father do just now, he shouted the words and went to bed, waiting for the moment to speak to his father about it. He would have to figure out a way to ask him without bringing up the time travel, as that would break one of the rules the Sages told him never to break. That, however, would wait for morning. Keith was exhausted at this point and needed rest.
March 7, 2009
Keith decided to just talk about learning about the murder in History class and see what his father's reactions were. He began once his father walked in after school. "Dad, we learned something really interesting today."
"Oh? I hope it was something in self-defense, for your sake."
"Haha," Keith feigned. His father was always making jokes and he normally laughed, but there was something important that needed doing. "We learned about the Cabonet murders in '78. Apparently there was no clue as to why he was killed or who did it. There are some speculations, though."
"Speculations?" Chuck's face was almost red as a beet and that's when Keith knew he had to move in.
"Yeah, some people are saying that the killer could have been around 20 or 30 at the time, to pull off the job. They also needed to have been in France at the time, and have no relation to the French government, to successfully leave the country. Can you think of anyone that fits that description? They say the only planes out of the country right after the murder, which would have been pretty much the ONLY time to leave, were coming here to Boston, so you may know someone who it could be."
Chuck worked in the local airport and had for years. He knew almost everyone - due to his eidetic memory - that came and left the city. He was now sweating. He told Keith everyone, imagining he would also have the "gift", as he called it, and wanted it to be useful in the future. Clearly it was doing so now. "Can't say I can, son. You're trying to solve a mystery more than 30 years in the making. Just let it go."
"Dad. I'll be blunt. I'm sure you did it. You're 55 now, prime time for the murder, you told us you visited Paris in the right year, and you said you went here soon after and met mom. Don't even try to lie." Much like Skip, Keith could be very coldly serious when he needed to.
His father sighed in defeat. No matter how he did it, he had found out. The only thing left was to explain. "When I was younger, around that time, I did things... things I'm not proud of. I became an assassin, paid by the kill, because I had no way to pay for the things I needed to live. Unfortunately, I was young and stupid. I didn't want to believe there were other options. As soon as I had gotten that deal, I knew I would be set for life. He was so important, they were willing to pay millions. And I got it, at a cost. All the money I received was stolen and I knew I had hit rock bottom. So I quit, threw away the money, and started a new life."
P.S. Any ideas for a title are welcome haha.