Beyond

It was another rainy day in Cosmopolis.

The buildings reflected a silver light in the puddles that formed on the streets of the city. The air was cool, the streets were mostly empty, but the quiet was disturbed by sirens echoing in the alleys.

Detective Loxley arrived at the newest crime scene, his hair damp and a cigarette between his lips.

"Is it him again?" he asked while snapping on some gloves.

"Same signature. Strangulation, no signs of struggle, no prints, and she was a Leaper," the medical examiner declared.

The detective nodded while staring intensely at the body. To many it might seem like mourning or analysis, but only Loxley knew what his gaze meant.

In this city, certain people had what they call TAs, Transcendent Aptitudes. It has never been explained why or how these powers appeared, but they became more frequent as the years progressed. Some explained it as evolution in the human species; others say it is the result of some kind of failed experiment.

Among them, the Leapers were the rarest; they had the power to rewind, pause, or fast-forward time.

The detective was one of them, but his TA went beyond what most could do. From a young age, he had awakened his true potential. He could transcend time and space to go beyond.

At the crime scene, he crouched near the victim, then he extended his arm and slid it from right to left. He transported himself into the victim's past to see what had happened to her in the last hours before her death.

The image blurred for a moment, then the city appeared once more, but this time in a new light.

It was exactly eight p.m. The victim was coming out of a cafe after a study session, like she always did on weekdays after her classes. She was young, most-likely in her mid-20s. As a Leaper, she was probably in the stage of learning how to control her powers.

Detective Loxley started following her from behind; he was walking the path of the murderer. He could feel it, the craving and the anticipation of the hunt.

After a while, the victim seemed to notice there was someone following her and started walking a little faster. She suddenly turned around to confirm her suspicions, but no one was there. Nothing seemed different. The same streets illuminated by the lamps. The same cars driving. But something felt wrong; she knew someone was watching her.

She turned around to pick up her pace, but someone was behind her. This time, she was sure.

Then the assailant put a hand on her shoulder. Her body froze, no matter how much she tried, her limbs didn’t budge. But she was conscious of her surroundings and what was happening.

There was absolute silence, the kind that is only found between heartbeats. Around her, time and space stopped. Nothing was moving except for the man.

Then she realized that her senses were failing her.

He was moving, but his footsteps did not reach her ears. The sound that was supposed to be, felt deaf to her ears. She could breathe; however, no scent came through her nostrils. The air was flowing, but she could not feel it in her lungs. She wanted to scream, but her throat felt heavy, as if something foreign was blocking her voice. The victim's eyes could see her attacker, but she did not believe the image that appeared before her.

Her eyes slightly widened at the realization. The man standing in front of her was none other than the famous Detective Loxley.

She knew of him; everyone knew of him, especially the Leapers. Among them, he was called The Prodigy. For, his skills surpassed those before him while none in the future would be able to exceed him.

She started panicking. Her breathing grew shallow and quick. She did not know his intentions, but his gaze sent chills through every inch of her skin. It was the only sense she could trust: her physical instincts.

He looked at her with a predatory gaze, not the kind that wants to kill her, but the one that enjoyed her suffering, her fear.

The detective, seeing her dread, started smiling wickedly. The fear gave him a thrill. He loved that moment when his victims realized who he was. That small instant when their pupils dilate, when the adrenaline emerges in their bloodstream and heightens their senses.

However, the victims could only feel and see him, which intensified their fear. In this moment between space and time, he had absolute control over everything; he was the master of this universe.

He approached her, almost touching her. He could feel everything: the way the blood rushed in her veins, the racing pulse of her heart, the panic in her breath, and most importantly, he could feel the absolute terror radiating from her.

That feeling gave Loxley a rush that went beyond the understanding of the human mind. In his own wicked mind, the sole means to his exhilaration was causing despair in each of his victims.

It was feeding him.

Then, to reach the acme of his pleasure, he went in front of her and brought his hand to her neck. He first felt the rushing of blood in her veins and the warmth of her skin. Towering over her smaller frame, he began suffocating her.

She was perfectly still, mouth slightly open with no sound coming out. The detective loved the sight before him; the life slowly vanishing from her panicked eyes. In that small instant, when their hero became the one conveying them to man's worst enemy, he finally attained what he had been waiting for: the culmination of his fulfillment.

In the silence between heartbeats, Loxley committed the ultimate treason against his kind, but no one witnessed his crime.

Then the rain came once more, the sirens wailed, and the imagery before him disappeared. The detective was brought back to the crime scene after relishing and reliving his intimate moment of happiness.

No one knew it was him, that he was the murderer. He stood up, enjoying that thought; it was his guilty pleasure.

He stepped aside, observing the people around him do their jobs. He stood on the sidewalk, looking blankly into the distance, and then the rain became motionless.

For the first time since his awakening, Loxley felt something, someone watching him.

The detective tilted his head up, looking at the sky. In that instant where time was no longer, the detective seemed to realize what none before him knew: he was never alone.

His ability transported him beyond space, beyond the universe itself. He reached a dimension where only one being had lived since the beginning of time. He transcended all knowledge known to man and reached the realm of the unseen observer.

In this dimension, he could feel the difference in the air; his consciousness transported somewhere he was not supposed to know. Despite not seeing it, he could feel a cosmic presence, someone that knew.

He was not shocked or scared; his first thought was that it had witnessed what he had done. This thought brought a wicked idea to his mind; he wanted the death of the narrator itself so he could be the only one to know his secret.

He wanted to be the sole ruler of this fictitious universe.

"You're next," he simply stated.

The unseen observer had no voice to respond to this threat. It believed that the detective had the power to do it, just by the wicked and evil look in his eyes.

This simple man had traveled beyond to reach the mind that had created him; he surpassed narration itself.

The formless being stood unable to comprehend the event unfolding before him; it could only act on what was meant to be, but this moment was never written.

However, before the detective could act on his menace, his consciousness went even further, past the vantage point of the unseen observer, beyond the pages, past the frames of the screen.

Breaking the fourth wall, he was now aware of you, the unknown watcher.

He could see you clearly. Lying in bed, sitting, standing, in class, in a library; he could see you in every alternate universe, no matter where, when, or who.

He could feel you. He could hear you. He could see you.

He watches the slight hesitation to scroll away; the reflex to look over your shoulder because you could feel him too.

He witnessed everything; your breath catching in your throat at the realization, the goosebumps on your skin, the blood rushing in your veins, the thumping of your heart against your rib cage, and the fear slowly settling within you.

And unfortunately for you, you know his secret.

"Rectification, you, last," he said, pointing at the unseen observer.

"You, next," he said, looking at you with a devilish grin.