Falco reclined in a leather chair on the deck of his airship. He doodled idly in one of his notebooks. The weather was nice, not a single cloud on the horizon. He chuckled, every day had nice weather when you lived in a balloon. The wind tickled his handlebar mustache and ran across his chiseled face. His lips curled into a smug smile beneath his mustache, as they so often did.

A lightning strike tore across the sky and ruined the spotless weather. Falco dropped his notebook out over the ship’s railing but caught it again with the tips of his fingers. That had been too close. If he had lost that notebook, he would’ve had to go get it, no two ways about it. And he did not want to land in this place.

He looked out over the teetering towers of scrap and the dilapidated ruins of the Scrapyard. The place was infamous for being the resting place of his old friend and was for the most part shunned by all who knew of it. Falco didn’t need to heed any such caution though, he had an airship.

He opened the notebook and looked at his latest drawing of a keystorm while the memories of a time gone by churned in his mind. Another spark of lightning sundered the ground below him and he looked up just in time to see the dark blue mists of a keystorm spin into existence. He’d never seen one from so up close. The sheer clarity of it took his breath away. It was almost like the drawing in his notebook had jumped out of the page into the real world.

Falco threw the notebook to the deck and held on to the metal helmet on his head as he ran to the helm. He’d really need to sort out a strap of some kind, running with one hand on his head all the time was getting to be ridiculous. He fumbled with the levers in his excitement until he found the correct one. A valve opened at the top of his balloon and the hydrogen inside rushed out with a hissing noise. Slowly the airship and its captain fell towards the Scrapyard.

Falco ran back down and hung out over the railing. The storm was a big one, and a violent one as well. It rushed around itself in a circle, the dark smoke hiding everything inside from view. The clouds billowed counter to the way the wind blew, as if a completely different wind Falco couldn’t see was the one that frothed the tips of the clouds into such a flurry.

The storm rotated on the spot with the patience of a glacier. The resulting mismash of seemingly contradictory forces left a very disconcerting effect on Falco, like he was looking at one of the illusions some of the prospective sponsors had shown him back at the academy to impress him. The speed of the storm’s rotation changed according to what section you focused on, just like how those illusions had worked.

Such things had fascinated him to no end in the past. But now, these storms frustrated him. None of it should have ever happened.

The top of a tree peeked out the top of the storm. More objects started appearing; several statues, a cart, whole walls, some roof tiles and more trees. Most of the smaller items Falco had no names for. At one point he saw a large metal cabinet drop out of nothing. It tipped over and numerous sets of what looked like some sort of armor spilled out. The suits were bulky, rounded and bright white. The helmets had glass visors! Falco shook his head at the thought of someone being dumb enough make armor with glass. These other timelines that were now spilling into the ruins of his once great planet truly made some strange objects.

The airship drifted on the breeze. The center of the storm came into view. He’d never been able to look down into a storm before, the storm clouds always reached unnaturally high into the sky, but for some reason this particular storm was different.

He looked down into the core of the storm and to his surprise found… well… nothing.

He looked straight into a long tunnel stretching all the way from the top of the storm down to the ground. Not a speck of mist or smoke twisted it’s way into this funnel of nothingness. At the bottom he saw the scrapyard, looking as it always had since Crassus broke. It was like looking down the eye of a whirlpool.

A large enclosed metal cart circled around in the wind, sticking out of the funnel every now and then. The cart had four black wheels with silver spokes. It was made completely from metal except for the glass windows on all sides. He’d seen these metal carts lay strewn about before, amidst the rubble the storms left in their wake. Some of the newcomers had told him they were used as carts in their homelands, but Falco couldn’t see the appeal.

This cart had two large lamps at one end that shone through the storm, revealing ghostly shapes in the mass of chaos. At the other end two more lamps shone an ominous deep red in the darkness, but these did not shine as bright.

Just as sudden as it had arrived, the storm along with the funnel disintegrated. That was the best word for it, the storm just smoldered away into nothingness. One second the brooding clouds battered against the land, and the next second the blue sky smiled upon it in apology.

The metal cart hurtled towards the ground. It skidded off a wall with a deafening screech and landed on the ground with a bounce and a thud. A door in the side of the box opened and a small man with blonde, almost golden, hair walked out on shaky legs.

The man seemed alright, Falco been worse for wear before himself and lived to tell the tale. The man vomited onto the ground before him. Yes, definitely alright, well, it was time to be off! No dillydallying about. He’d seen what he’d come for.

A roar sounded in the distance. Falco froze. He knew that sound well. He covered his face with his hands and muttered to himself. “No no no no…” He balled up his fists and beat them against his forehead. “Do not do this, just leave…”

Falco grabbed the railing with both hands, leaned over it and screamed.

“HEY KID!”

The man on the ground whipped around and quickly located Falco standing on his airship hovering above the man.

“Do you speak English?” Falco hollered.

“Uh, yes!” The man answered.

“My name is Falco, what is your name?”

The man hesitated. “I’m Finn, nice to meet you!”

Falco did not hesitate. “What country do you come from?”

“America.”

“From the Union?”

Finn brought a hand up and ruffled his hair. “Uh, no… from the US.” He seemed a bit sheepish. “From the United States.” He added, and he smiled so wide Falco could see it all the way up from his airship.

“What year was it?”

Finn hesitated at this as well, but shorter than last time. “2005.”

Now it was Falco’s turn to hesitate. The timelines people arrived from were growing later and later with every person he met, far outpacing the rate time went by in the Endpoint. Falco had no way to explain why that was so, but his best guess was that the non-union alternate timeline had something to do with it. At the very least this gave him an excuse to save the kid.

“Listen to me, Finn, there’s someone coming for you and I know it sounds like I’m asking you to run, but it’s important that you do not try to fight this man.” He waited for the inevitable protest but none came. Finn waited in return for him to continue. “You must not try to run either. The only way you can survive is if you hide. But just keeping out of view alone is not enough however. For you see, you also have to hide your—”

A nearby wall exploded into pieces which showered over the poor unsuspecting Finn. All Falco could do was to scream “Hide! Hide!” while he hefted his rifle around and began loading it with powder.

The dust from the explosion hid Finn from view, but as the dust settled Falco could once again rest his eyes on his old friend.

Time had not been a good friend to Crassus. He stood tall and powerful as always. But the hair and beard on his head stretched long and unkempt down over his chainmail of keys. His face looked pale and emaciated, nothing at all like how he had used to be.

Crassus heaved with anger, like there was so much hatred he could barely contain it. His white eyes bulged out of their sockets and strained to locate the intruder, the source of his wrath. There was nothing to be seen of course, he was completely blind, but Falco knew very well that Crassus had other ways to find his way. He had too many bronze keys for that not to be the case.

Falco finished loading his rifle and swung it around over his shoulder and took aim. Crassus practically vibrated from indignation, he gulped in a large bubble of air, drew his head back, opened his mouth and screamed. No normal human could scream that loud. The roar was deafening, even all the way up to the airship. His power keys must be continually repairing his vocal chords. Normally the fortitude granted by the power key was negligible. But when you had as many as Crassus did, it became the main benefit to the key.

Finn fell over himself trying to escape the sound. He had not listened to Falco’s order to hide and it was too late to do so now. Instead he was attempting to climb a wall rather than take the ten steps required to go around it.

Maybe it had always been too late.

“This way, boy!” he screamed. “Come this way!” 

Falco honed in on Crassus. If he missed, Finn would die. He called to his keys, all of them, and they answered. Blue sparks shot out from his skin, first firing out in random directions, then the next second they all surged forward as one in spirals around the rifle. Discs of black clouds with dark blue tint formed in sequence around the barrel like the cloud of condensation left behind when breaking the sound barrier.

A ripple in the air spun out from Falco’s hand and traveled up the rifle. The spiraled tendrils of lightning and the disks of clouds all pulsed a bright blue light as the ripple went by.

At the last moment Falco pulled the trigger. A cloud of dust shot out from the barrel. The ripple hit the cloud, ignited the dust, and shot through the air like a comet trailing blue fire. It hit Crassus straight in the chest. His screaming stopped. A river of keys flowed out behind him like the bursting of a dam. Crassus groaned, looked down and brought his hands to his stomach with movements that resembled that of an old man.

Finn stopped the desperate climb he still hadn’t abandoned to look over his shoulder. Maybe the kid would listen now that Crassus had stopped screaming.

“Finn! Over here, I’ll throw you a rope, you can’t run from him! This is your only option!” Falco was already tying the knot around the mast as he attempted to reason with the kid. “It won’t keep him busy for long, hurry!”

“Okay, I’m here!” Falco heard the panic in the boy’s voice. “Quickly, he’s waking up!”

He secured the rope twice, tested it once, then threw it overboard. He watched it fall all the way down right between Finn’s outstretched hands and smack him in the face. He closed his eyes and fell flat on his back all while missing the rope several times with his waving hands on the way down. Falco groaned.

“Come on, kid! Get up. Get up!” Falco clenched his jaw and heard the railing croak under his grip.

Finn blinked several times, found a pile of rope nestled on his chest and gripped it. Falco spared one glance for Crassus and saw him on his knees shoveling keys with his hands into a pile in front of him. Crassus had more than enough keys still on his vest to kill them both, but the man was addicted to his precious keys. The only way to fight him was to resonate off some of his keys and escape while he collected them.

When Falco looked back Finn had gotten to his feet and was attempting to climb the rope. Falco doubted he’d managed to clear his own height even when he fumbled his grip and fell on his ass once more. Falco cursed.

“Don’t climb, just hold on! Hold on to the rope for your life!”

“O-okay!” the kid stammered back but Falco had already turned and ran for the helm.

He climbed the half-spiral staircase five steps at a time and once he was inside the helm’s room he spared no time for the remaining distance. Instead he took off his metal helmet and threw it. It hit the control levers at the panel, even the correct one, and pulled it all the way back, as intended. But when the lever hit the maximum setting and wanted to stop whereas the steel helmet wanted to continue, a brief battle of wills occurred. Which the helmet won. The lever broke clean off.

Falco gulped. Crassus roared below. Falco spared one more glance for the broken lever but he turned to leave. It would have to do.

He almost fell when he ran down the stairs and rather than risk his neck further by running the last twenty steps he jumped. He stuck the landing but pain radiated from the soles of his feet.

He reached the railing and looked down. Finn floated thirty paces in the air, clinging to the rope with all he was worth. Falco almost shouted in celebration but the huzzah died on his lips as he spotted Crassus, or rather the large segment of wall that Crassus must be under. The segment shifted back.

“Watch o—” Falco tried to warn Finn, but it was too late.

The segment of wall blurred and the next moment it hurtled towards Finn. Falco felt a surge in his stomach as if he looked down into the drop off a cliff. All he could do was watch.

The wall missed Finn by several paces, but hit the rope above him. The rope, with Finn on the end, slingshotted up and around the segment of wall and the centrifugal force peeled Finn off the rope like a flaky piece of old paint. Falco moaned involuntarily and made a half hearted attempt to shield his eyes with one hand, but he couldn’t stop watching.

Finn screamed and flailed about. He swung in a graceful arc into the rope and was once again smacked in the face.

Falco leaned so far out that he almost threw himself over the railing. “Get a grip, you moron!”

Finn started accelerating down towards the ground, but regained his composure faster this time. His fists closed around the rope and Falco could almost hear the friction scorch the kid’s palms as they slowed his descent to a stop.

Falco resumed breathing again and grabbed the rope with both hands. He stomped one boot against the railing and heaved with all his might.

“Don’t climb, just hold on!” he screamed down to Finn.

“Stop the ship! Damn it, stop the ship now!”

“What?” Falco dragged three arms length of rope onto the deck, careful to never let go of it fully as he switched his hands around. If he made a misstep now, the kid would probably fall off.

“The ship is still sinking!”

Falco cursed, “oh, right!” and he almost did let go before remembering to tie off the rope again.

“Hold on my friend!” he shouted down as he turned.

“Quickly!” The kid sounded frantic.

Falco bounded once more up the stairs and into the helm. He cursed as he remembered the broken lever and tried to pry it back into the neutral position. It didn’t budge.

“No, no, no, no…” he muttered as he waved his hands back and forth over the control panel from lever to lever, unsure what to do next. He flinched as a resounding crash emanated from far below. The crash of something large dropping back down to earth. The next crash could be his ship, with him on it. Falco made up his mind. He leaned over the console and grabbed his metal helmet.

He skidded as he rounded the doorframe leading out on the stairs. Then he jumped up on the large structure consisting of twisting tubes, fuel tanks, mechanical gears and other contraptions with countless vents and gauges. With one hand holding the helmet he climbed past the vents, gauges and valves on the ground level up to a large tank underneath the top-most vent that aimed directly into a hole in the balloon above.

He clamped his knees as best he could around the curved top of the tank and gingerly let go with his one free hand. He lifted the helmet above his head, holding it tight with both hands, ready to strike. He knew this was an extreme measure. Just one spark and his darling airship would become a fireball. He hesitated one more second. He yelled and slammed down, aiming to hit with the edge of the helmet.

The fuel tank reverbated a deep clang and dented inwards but didn’t breach. Falco screamed louder and bashed the helmet against the tank again in pure adrenaline-fueled desperation. The dent ruptured. The force of the hydrogen within ripped the edges of the hole outwards and flung Falco several paces into the air.

He tried twisting in the air but couldn’t manifest a resonance in time because of his panic ridden mind. He landed awkwardly onto the deck below, just one pace away from hurtling over the edge of the ship. His elbow struck the fence hard and all feeling rushed from it as numbness spread up to his shoulder.

Falco lumped his half-turned body over on his back and he lay there staring into the balloon as hydrogen rushed past it on either side, making the canvas flutter and contort. Some of the hydrogen must’ve found its way inside the balloon because Falco could feel the pit of his stomach drop as the airship lifted.

He stood up, holding one arm around his numb elbow.

“Hey kid! Are you with me?”

“I’m— I’m alright!”

Falco breathed out a long sigh of relief. Taking his time now that the crisis was over, he sauntered over to the railing where he’d tied the rope. It was fastened in two places, the second one from when he’d needed to raise the ship out of its decent.

A hand appeared from behind the railing and startled Falco. The image of Crassus crawling up the side of his ship flashed before his mind. The illusion dispelled however, when the hand grasping the railing tensed and brought up the smiling face of a golden haired man. His smile faltered a bit when he spotted Falco.

“What’s wrong?”

Falco clutched a hand to his beating chest. “Nothing— nothing, my friend,” he walked to the closest wall and slid down into a sitting position, “I just thought you were someone else.”

Finn looked back over the railing he had just climbed over. He peered down for a long while but didn’t say anything. He seemed to understand that Falco needed a little moment to himself. It took him longer than usual but Falco shook out of it in the end.

“Let’s get something to eat, eh, or what do you say, boy?” The kid didn’t answer, he looked to still be in shock. Not too hard to understand, considering what he’d been though. On the good side of things though he appeared to accept the new reality of things quite quickly.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Finn asked.

Falco couldn’t help but laugh. What a considerable fellow! “Of course, my friend, never better. Now, how about that food? You’ll feel better, I promise.” Falco smacked his forehead, “and questions! You must have so many questions.” Warm laughter bubbled up from deep in his belly. “Come! You eat, you ask and I will answer!” His aching elbow forgotten, Falco slapped Finn on the back and gestured him inside to the galley.

“Oh— uhm— alright I guess.”