I have always seen the world as a struggle between opposing forces. My body, my will competing against forces both natural and unnatural, and it has been my goal to overcome all those forces, especially the natural ones.

I approach the inferno and talk to the Fire Chief. He tells me that the fire is in danger of breaking out along the docks and into the neighboring chemical storage domes. Something has to be done quickly. April is with her family, Sandcaster says she has plans, and Alchemist is ‘away’. Its Christmas and regular people have lives to lead. That leaves me. I nod and head into the flames.
Behind me, someone says,
“I didn’t know he was fire-proof.”
“He isn’t,” the Fire Chief responds, “but he is the only one we’ve got tonight.”

I feel the heat radiating off me. I find it thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I do burn. My flesh will catch fire and fry if I let it. I quicken my pace and dodge into an open doorway, letting the flames conceal my movements. I step between the moments and plan out my next moves.

Eighteen points … it will take just eighteen points to bring this building down on itself in such a manner to rob the fire of life. I see the flame standing out as grayish pillars and the heat distortions make the air look like ice. I see were the fire has warped some of the steel supports inside and calculate the changes in weight load for the structure. I feel time pulling me back into her embrace, but I resist her urgent appeal. Still much to do and I need my mind clear of distractions to act.

I move through the fire, passing before and after its existence. I harden my hands by exerting my will against the force of time that hungry bitch. Reality is impossibly hard, so I need to be harder. I feel the forces of reality harden around my hand as I strike. It boils back down to the mass times acceleration equaling the force of the strike. I move my hand so rapidly in time, the force is devastating, yet I have to be careful to retract my hand before it joins with those forces and shatters. The iron starts to explode as I move around it. One, two, three … eighteen and I’m done.

I chose the exit and bound out. As I do so, I allow the world to drag me back in. I feel the moments coming back together around me. It frees me even as it kills me. When I am free of time, I am free of death. I am free of some many things … everything but myself that is. Here, between the moments, I am alone with myself … and lonely.

I come bounding out of the flames, going into a hand-stand flip and landing on my feet. I let the smoke waif off me as the cameras capture the moment and the building collapses behind me.
I get the standard awed expressions and nods of appreciation. They get what they want and I make the Knights look good. We need some of that right now. I feel them getting stronger, though I wish we had more unity as a team. Something else for me to worry about, I guess.

A few more moments go by as I answer some questions, respond to a few more requests, and do what’s need to boost our celebrity. I smile one more time and leap off into the night, making sure the prying eyes can’t follow.

I move across the rooftops and for a bit, I live through the moments given me. I live, get closer to dying and think. I drink in the life around me with all its sounds, passions, and failings. It eats at me at the same time it fills me with hope. They don’t need us as much as they use us. When we fail them, they will create something else and I find that amusing. I find that the greatest hope of all, for it allows us to be ourselves without the guilt of the world on our shoulders. It has allowed me to step between the moments, because I’m not God, or even a pale imitation. I am me. I am between the moments, alone and lonely, but I have hope for me as well.