Keeping Time Part 1 of Chapter 1 The train roared through the city, stopping cars and pedestrians as it passed. Its mechanical, clockwork heart sent thunder resounding off the towering buildings. Pip sat inside, killing time by staring out the window as the metal beast sped through tunnels and navigated between the monolithic structures of New Haven. She was on her way to see her grandmother. As the buildings and the people and the shops zoomed by, Pip gently fingered the slick black pocket watch, a gift from her late mother, which she kept tucked beneath her bright yellow jacket. Like the train, the watch seemed to have a heart of its own that beat with each turn of its gears. "Excuse me, little miss," Pip was stirred from a daydream by the voice of a man. "I believe you dropped this." The man, having bent over to retrieve a strange object from the floor, was now holding it out in his hand while giving her a warm smile. Pip gingerly took it from his hand. The object was metal and plastic, and shined in the sunlight with a warm glow. On the side was a single black button, on its front was a circular grill, and protruding from the top was a telescoping rod. "I... I'm sorry but this isn't mine. I don't even know what it is..." Her voice trailed off as she saw that the man was no longer there. Confused, she pocketed the object. Perhaps her grandmother would know what it was. For now, she slept. --- The electric lamps flickered, and the train shook. Pip was thrown to the floor as the train jolted and lurched. A woman in the seat over screamed as she clung to the brass pole in the center of the train car. Slowly, Pip crawled to join her, seeking an anchor to prevent her from being jostled any further. The next moment, the car was screeching to a halt, derailed on its side. Then everything went black. --- Pip awoke. It was dark and rain fell, pattering on the window that was now directly above her. Suddenly, a disembodied voice spoke. "Hello? If you can hear me, please respond by pushing the button." The voice was under her, and muffled. Startled not only by the recent events, but also by the strange voice, Pip sat up. She looked about and her eyes found the woman that had been screaming, now with a shard of metal in her temple and blood forming puddles around her body. Frightened, Pip attempted to let out a yelp, but fear gripped her throat and no sound came forth. Again the voice spoke: "Little miss, if you are alive find your way out of the car. Please, lord god be alive." Pip found the origin of the voice. It was coming from the peculiar object the man had handed her, and it was his voice, she realized, that was speaking.

Time I once played, day and night But now I work until there is no light Summer's evenings never went to waste Now I sit at my desk with a bitter taste Time has not and will never be A good friend that knows how to comfort me Instead it comes and takes away What now are just memories of yesterday But, perhaps time is not an enemy For it has granted wisdom and maturity But what are these to an aging man Who only wishes to be a child again?

The Thief -3- The next day, Rob stood across the street from his next target. It was a small, comely department store crammed in between a jewelers and a bank. He never went for banks, he felt it was too classic. People would expect it. At exactly twelve o' clock he made his move. A small bell jangled as he entered. The clerk was wearing dark sunglasses and staring intently at a thick black book. Drawing his pistol out from underneath his long dark coat, Rob made nod to the cash register. The clerk didn't bat an eye. Perhaps he didn't notice, thought Rob, and cocked the gun for good measure. As he did, the runes running down the sides of the barrel lit up a dark green. Still the clerk continued reading. "Must be one helluva book," Rob commented. "Indeed." Something was wrong. No one had ever reacted this way. The hair on Rob's neck stood up as he felt the cold metal of a handgun against the back of his neck. A blunt thud resounded throughout the shop as an elbow made contact with the back of Rob's head. ---- He awoke in an interrogation room. But this one was different. The floor was a dark, smooth stone material with a large ring around a simple table and various markings carved into it. A single lamp hung from the ceiling cast shadows on the wall and provided barely adequate lighting. Across the table sat a muscular yet ragged looking man with stubble on his chin and a distinct stench of coffee trailing off him. "I'm Detective Mark Donahoe. I will be performing this interrogation." "Detective?" questioned Rob, still feeling an ache where the blow had landed. "With who? Police? FBI?" "Doesn't matter. What does matter is that you have been getting into quite some trou--" "You're with The Order, aren't you?" Rob interrupted. The detective hesitated, then nodded slowly. "And you're not here about the robberies, either. No, you could have come long ago, when I first started. But you didn't. Tell me, detective, why am I here?" The detective again hesitated, then spoke, quietly and gravely. "Because we need you."

The Thief -2- The man unlocked the door to his small apartment. It was inconspicuous, and he liked it that way. The door creaked open as he quietly swept passed it and flicked on the lights. A voice made him freeze. "Hello, Rob." There, sitting on his couch sipping a ginger ale, was a woman. A tall, beautiful woman with flowing brown hair. Also, a woman he knew. "Elise," he gave her a nod of acknowledgement as he tried to shake off his surprise. "I can't believe you don't keep any booze," she commented, gazing listlessly at her soda can. Rob joined her on the couch. "What are you doing here, Elise?" "The Order sent me." "The Order?" "Oh, don't act surprised. They've been keeping an eye on you, and they don't like what they see," she took her feet off the coffee table and set down the soda can. "To hell with The Order. All they do is apply restrictions. Then whenever some brave mage breaks those restrictions in the name of good, they swoop in and claim responsibility, they claim the prize. They're scum, the whole lot." "Even your father?" Elise stood up and grabbed her coat. "Just... be careful Rob. And put your tricks to good use, not thievery." "They're not tricks, they're magic," Rob said bitterly. "Please. I've seen them. They're illusions at best." At this Elise strode to the door and into the hallway, not bothering to shut the door behind her. Rob could hear the elevator buzz as she left.

The Thief -1- "I want everything." The shopkeeper was in tears as she scrambled to empty the register. The masked man held the gun out straight, his finger resting on the barrel just above the trigger. He was calm, confident. He had done this many times. As the woman behind the counter began to shovel various spellbooks into the sack, the masked man spoke again: "On second thought, just the money. I have no interest in those." The woman paused, warm tears rolling down her cheeks, her free hand shaking, and her other a sickly white as she gripped the bag. "Now hand it over," said the man, almost reassuringly. The woman slowly reached out, and the man swiped the bag from her grip, turned, and walked briskly out the door, giving her a bright "Good day!". Five minutes later, the shop alarm blared throughout the streets. "Good," thought the man, she can follow instructions". He stood atop the roof of the towering adjacent building, observing the chaos below. The chaos he had created. For him, it wasn't so much about the prize as it was obtaining it and then watching the destruction he left in his wake. He did it for the thrill. "Well, it's time I got going," he said to himself. Casually, he stepped over the edge of the rooftop and plummeted straight down. A woman below screamed as she saw what she believed to be a jumper ending his #life, and people around her turned their heads, their gazes locking on the falling figure. Moments before he hit the ground, however, he vanished.