It had started with just one short conversation, overheard while traveling on the subway. "Dude, you have got to go check out this shop! The guy is like magic or something... he can see the future! He told me I was going to just barely escape death and only a week or so later a cabbie almost hit me. Put things in perspective, I can tell you that!" The comments had been interesting, but Paul had ignored it. There were lots of fortune tellers and palm readers all over New York and broad statement like 'you will barely escape death' were nothing new. However, as the weeks progressed he began to hear more rumors, more conversations about a place called 'The Oracle Shop' where a young man spoke with amazing accuracy. Not only did he give predictions about the near future but about years down the road that, while they had not happened yet, gave many people hope. Finally, Paul had heard enough and decided it was time to investigate and experience this for himself.

A call placed to the shop had been answered by a very friendly sounding young woman that had explained rather regretfully that the shop was undergoing renovation and they couldn't take any appointments there but that they would be glad to meet him at a nearby coffee shop. It seemed a touch strange but Paul was willing to run with it and so, after providing his credit card over the phone to pay for the meeting, a day and time was set.

And that was how Paul found himself sitting in one of those chain coffee houses that he detested, sipping on an over priced cup of coffee that while decent was far from the best he had ever had. The clientele were mainly college age and almost every one of them was wearing head phones that were either attached to some sort of computer or an mp3 player. Did no one appreciate the human touch anymore? Did no one appreciate a good conversation?

"As much as things change, yet they stay the same." Paul murmured to himself before taking a slow sip of coffee. During the wars people were afraid of talk because they were afraid of being labeled dissenters or being found to be friends to someone in the opposition. Now, instead of fear, it was simply disinterest that plagued the people. People more interested in their virtual lives than their real ones. "Time passes but it doesn't really go anywhere."

Alister didn't need any of the usual trappings of a fortune teller. He didn't need to gaze into a crystal ball, poke around at clumps of soggy tea leaves, or consult star charts. He didn't need the purple curtains, the star spangled table cloth, the darkened room, or the incense.

He didn't need them, but he did kind of miss them. They helped set the mood, to get people ready for seeing the future. Meeting in a coffee shop just seemed all wrong to him. Too bright, too noisy, the smells were all wrong, there was no privacy...

He knew it had been a long shot, but he wished the panther man had taken his post script to heart.

It wasn't too difficult to spot his customer when he came in. For one, he was one of the only people who entered the coffee shop that wasn't either a college student with headphones or a businessperson with a PDA. This guy looked like he was about forty, but walked as spryly as any teenager, he purchased his coffee, muttering to himself, and found a seat. Alister had already seen himself sliding from his own seat, over one chair to say hello to this man. So that's what he did.

“Paul,” he extended his hand to shake with confidence. Nothing in his visions had indicated that this would be in anyway unsafe. “I am Alister, the Oracle from Delphi. How can I be of service to you?”

He came out of nowhere. While Paul had assumed that he was there first and was keeping watch on the door, a young man had suddenly risen from the table next to his to join him across from where he was sitting. "Paul. I am Alister, the Oracle from Delphi. How can I be of service to you?" He offered quite suddenly and with obvious confidence in his voice as he extended a hand. For the briefest moment Paul could only look at him, slightly stunned, but then he reached out and firmly shook the hand that was extended. Shaking hands was still something that held some power over the older man. A handshake was even better than any written contract and there was no way that Paul could betray someone over a handshake. If he was out to get the 'Oracle' he would never have accepted the offer.

"Nice to meet you Alister." Paul responded with a slight smile before leaning back to take one last sip of his coffee and work on collecting his thoughts. There were lots of questions he wanted to ask, not the least of which being whether the Oracle was really who he claimed to be. "I've been hearing about you quite a bit and while I have to admit a part of me wants to play the skeptic another part is curious. I guess you could say I want to learn about you as much as I want to hear about myself."

Pausing for a moment, Paul looked at the sun-glass covered eyes. "I've been looking for someone... or maybe its the idea of someone." He said slowly, "The world has had its share of leaders but instead of uniting people it has only led to division. If you can do what people claim then my question would be... does this person even exist and will I ever find him or her?"

That was not a simple question, right there. It would be a challenge to root that sort of information out of someone's future. He liked a challenge, though. It was so much more interesting than the usual questions people wanted answered.

“Some of your questions about me will be answered as I go looking for the answers to the questions about you.” The man was already looking in the right direction, meeting his gaze without even knowing it. All Alister had to do was remove his sunglasses to send them spiraling through time.

They were falling. The man's life flowed past in images just as rapid and uncontrolled as the unicorn's. This time Alister had a better idea of why. This man was an immortal.

Images like pictures flashed past, too fast for him to grab a hold of any one scene and examine it as he was usually able to do. Instead, he watched the man's life reel past uncontrollably, each one vying for attention. Each scene starting before another had finished, each overlapping the next until he became dizzy with trying to find anything of relevance.

This time, instead of ending with death, this man's future started with death.

...

The young man spoke with obvious confidence. There was none of the self-doubt that Paul was used to seeing in someone of his age. So what could inspire someone to believe this strongly in themselves? It was a question that he was tempted to voice until the moment that he removed his sunglasses and they were suddenly thrown into visions of his life.

Times and places from long ago flashed by almost faster than Paul could follow. Just as he would recognize one moment from his past it would shift into another one. There were his parents faces, his siblings, the terror in his heart after his first death, the struggle of trying to survive, the descent toward darkness as he committed crime after crime, but then the ascent to a place that allowed him to stay in control. There was the feeling of love from his time in California and then the horrific loss of a lover. It was to much to comprehend and especially for a man unused to the process, Paul was left reeling before they even finished his past.

Blood and death...

Things still moved fast but they seemed to slow just a touch as they moved into unfamiliar territory. His body lay broken and bloody, a mess while nearby but in the shadows there was a presence. Something like a great cat but before he could try to see it more clearly they were racing onward.

Suddenly he found himself standing near a stage, listening with pride as a female voice spoke to the massed audience. The words were unintelligible but the tone gave so much information. There was hope, strength, and steely resolve. It was the tone of a leader that could guide the people through whatever tragedy might come their way.

The scene changed without warning, and Paul saw himself kneeling in large empty building. His hands were bound and he was staring into a bright light that seemed to crackle with power. His body stiffened and as he collapsed Paul could make out a figure with blond hair visible just at the edge of the light.

The story moved on, little flashes that paused for the briefest moment before disappearing. Facing death over and over but also intermixed with moments of carnal pleasure and even a few of real happiness. The story seemed to be never ending and as it continued, Paul felt his awareness dimming. His consciousness was reeling and darkness was beginning to close in. He couldn't take it anymore... he needed it to stop. In barely a whisper he tried to make himself heard. "Please stop..."

He wanted to stop, he really did. Stupid immortals and their stupid long lives. Their futures stretched out so far that peeking in on it threw everything out of control. They weren't walking down a corridor in which they could just turn around and go back. They were on a roller coaster ride to which there was no exit other than unbuckling their seat belts and jumping off.

Alister groped at the items on the table, knocking napkins askew. His fingers came across something thin, cool, and metallic.

They were yanked backwards by a thread tied around his thigh. It hurt. It hurt like the thread was going to sever his leg, but it pulled them back. They snapped backwards to the present, pulled by the painful thread.

Alister glared at the man across the table, tossing a bloody fork across the table at him, then grabbing stacks of napkins to apply pressure to the wound on his leg.

“Does that answer your questions, immortal?” Anger flickered at the edges of his voice. He should have seen this coming, but his vision of the future was not complete. It couldn't be, or he'd be sleeping 23 hours a day. Even he could be surprised. He hated nothing more than surprises.

Seeing the future had shaken Paul like nothing he had ever experienced. Even the experiences of his numerous deaths were nothing when compared with the overwhelming sensation of seeing the possibilities that stretched out before him. A metallic object clattered across the table, settling right in front of him. It was a fork with what appeared to be blood coating the prongs. "Can it change? Is there really such a thing as destiny that control future or am I still in control of my own choices?" His voice was soft and though the questions were spoken out loud they were more like musing than inquiries. He didn't exactly or even want an answer from the Oracle. He had his own belief in that area and he believed that he was in control of his own destiny. What he had seen was one possible future, nothing more.

Looking up, at the Oracle, his mind clicked on the obvious distaste with which the question had been spat in his direction. Apparently the ride had been as uncomfortable for him as it had been for Paul an the way he used the word immortal made it seem like possibly this wasn't the way it always happened. "I'd suggest you put a warning on your business cards." Paul threw back, his wits and wit beginning to return as his heartbeat began to slow back to normal, "Immortals enter at your own risk. Though... I never thought of myself as immortal. I have grown older over the years."

Glancing down at the wad of napkins pressed against the other man's leg, Paul decided to change the subject. "You should probably get that looked at. Restaurant cutlery isn't exactly the most sterile. Do you need any help?"

Alister winced and grabbed for more napkins. He left a very unsanitary smear across the dispenser in the middle of the table.

“Of course you... can change things,” his words were somewhat strained, “but not... everything.”

For example, if a guy was going to die a fiery death, he tended to die a fiery death. He could make choices that would help him avoid the time and place, but in the end, somewhere down the road, the flames would find him.

The comment about his business cards earned the man a glare. Too bad the sunglasses lessened the effectiveness of such a facial expression. Still, the twelve-year-old disapproved, and it was evidenced by the tightening of his lips, the angle of his eyebrow, and the angry silence that followed the man's question.

Still, the man kept talking: “I didn't know I was immortal, blah blah blah. Oh hey you're bleeding.”

Alister grabbed for another wad of napkins. The first was red all the way through now.

“Don't want your help.” What he really wanted was the man who was as close to a father as he'd ever had. Eros would know what to do. All he had to do was cross the street to the still-under-reconstruction Future Sight. Forget this stupid immortal who didn't even realize what he was. He stood using his good leg, wobbled, caught himself on the edge of the table.

Pain apparently followed gravity. He thought his leg had hurt before, when he'd been sitting. It had been nothing. His leg throbbed, like someone was sticking the fork back in and twisting it a couple of times. His face had been pale before, but now it was an unhealthy shade or grey. Moisture leaked out the corners of his eyes and he bit his lip. Alister wasn't even sure he could sit back down, he was afraid to move again.

The young man was responding to questions that Paul hadn't really wanted to have answered. Though the way he explained things gave Paul something to ponder about. He could change some things but not everything? Very interesting... He was so distracted by his musing in that direction that he missed the expression that his comment about business cards causes. The boys silence did not stand out that much thanks to the noise of the busy coffee shop around them.

"Don't want your help." The words were spoken with the slightest tough of petulance that helped give away boys youthfulness. Up until this point he had spoken and acted very mature but with that one statement it became clear that he was younger that Paul had first perceived. "Whether you want it or not is a moot point." Paul replied as he quickly rose to his feet and moved over to where the boy seemed frozen. Narrowing his eyes, Paul gave the young man a quick once over. All thoughts of his past and future were lost as he realized that he was very much needed in the present where someone needed some help.

"You need my help." He stated very bluntly as his eyes swept down to focus on the stained pant leg. Was the spot growing bigger or was he just imagining it? "Will leaning on me be enough or should I carry you?"

***

Most people had been to distracted to notice what was going on at one table toward the back of the shop but now that the two of them were moving people almost automatically glanced their direction before looking back down at their books or computers once again. Then something clicked in the mind of one slightly more observant young woman that had been sitting only a few tables away. Looking back up, her eyes focused on the bright red smear on the napkin dispenser that was slowly turning brown. "Oh my god... is that blood?"

Damned if he was going to let stupid immortal-who-didn't-even-realize-he-was-immortal carry him across the street.

Alister took a step forward, using the table as support, or rather, he tried to take a step forward. The moment he put any weight on his injured leg, it sent spikes of pain all the way up to his spine. Apparently he was going to be carried after all.

“I live across the street. You'll find my father in the front room.”

Alister chose to close his eyes rather than watch the faces of the coffee shop patrons watching him.

…

Just as Alister had said, a man who could have been his father was in the entry of the shop across the street. He was picking up bits of debris to carry it to a dumpster out in the alley. They had been doing a bit of forced redecorating after someone took the liberty of smashing into their shop the night of Eros' bowling birthday party. It had been lucky, or rather fateful, that they hadn't been home at the time. The shop was still quite a mess, which was why Alister had been seeing customers in the coffee shop.

“Hey, Eros,” Alister smiled weakly at his father figure from the arms of the immortal. He was feeling a little light headed now that he wasn't busy being hard headed.

It was only the work of a few moments to pick up the young man and carry him toward the front door of the coffee shop. Just as they were moving out onto the sidewalk he could hear the noise suddenly increase from inside. Apparently a few more people had noticed the blood. "I hope your father is an understanding person."

***

"Hey, Eros."

"Do you have a first aid kit inside?" Paul asked with the young man held firmly in his arms, "Your son had to get violent to break a vision and he's lost some blood." He was trying to come off as relaxed but a part of him was tensed and ready for whatever might be coming his way. 'Eros', as the young man called him, could blame him for his sons injury which could quite possibly lead to violence. Paul wasn't looking for a fight but since he knew that his bodies fight or flight mechanism would kick in if things got bad, he was making his decision right now. Flight was the obviously choice to make sure that the boy didn't get hurt any worse than he already was.

Eros had been a little squeamish about blood in the past. However, being the sole caretaker of half a dozen children for the last couple of years had helped desensitize him a bit. There was always someone playing a little to rough, or falling off of something they shouldn't have been climbing, or any other number of mishaps that regularly happen to children, plus a few more thrown in due to the children being mutants and wanting to train themselves to save the world.

He was almost immune to the average cut, scrape, and bloody nose by now.

The blood on Alsiter's leg, though, was enough to turn him pale. However, his instincts as a caretaker kicked in before the squeamishness could. He rushed forward to see the boy, firing off a rapid series of questions while he was at it.

“How did it happen, exactly? How long ago? Have you been putting pressure on it? Have you called the paramedics?”

He turned and yelled at someone in the next room.

“Letitia, first aid kit! Marco, 911, now!”

He dumped the debris off one of the old armchairs and pulled it up in front of the man.

“Let's make him comfortable until the paramedics get here.”

Alister groaned, “Eros, I'm fine. I don't need paramedics. Really.” He may have been protesting the need, but the look on his face when they moved him toward the chair said something quite different.

Thankfully, Eros did not react like the angry father as Paul had feared. Instead he was the concerned parent wanting to take care of his ward first and foremost. The rapid fire questions were to be expected and he rushed forward to evaluate the young man's condition and decide what to do.

"He had to break us out of a vision and apparently the only way to do that was to hurt himself. It was at most ten minutes ago. We've been applying pressure but he was focused on getting home so we didn't call any paramedics." Paul's answers were crisp and to the point as he started moving again, striding through the first room. At the first opportunity, Paul took advantage of a proper area and set the young man down where he could be comfortable and allow easier access for someone to care for his injury.

"Are you or someone else here experienced with injuries? I did a stint in the military and can handle bandages pretty well." There was no reason to mention that his time in the military had been almost sixty years in the past. Thankfully he had a pretty good memory and had been forced to mend his own wounds a few times over the years.

Looking back down at the young man, a slight expression of sorrow or regret passed over his features. "I'm really sorry that you had to do this. I really had no idea that I was immortal or that it would affect you in this manner. I hope you can forgive me." He spoke sincerely but with no expectations. If Eros chose to punch him now he would accept the blow and if the young man refused to speak he would accept that too. Family was important and it was something to protect above everything else.

Katrina had been taping all around the edges of the doors and windows in the kitchen with dark blue tape when she heard the commotion in the front room. People were shouting about 911 and first aid kits and rushing round all over the place.

The little illusionist was not about to keep taping up the woodwork while someone was bleeding in the other room, no way. She poked her head out from behind the tattered purple curtain. Then got shoved the rest of the way through by a rat psychic carrying a first aid kit and a speedster heading for the big phone by the front counter.

Alister looked awful. His leg was soaked in red and his face was contorted with pain. She wasn't a healer, but she could help him feel a little better until that ambulance got here.

She crouched next to Alister and touched his arm, asking his permission with her eyes. He nodded at her and she concentrated hard on the feeling of nothingness in her legs. She slumped the rest of the way to the ground, her own legs feeling numb and useless. The tension in Alister's face melted away. The little illusionist kept concentrating, ignoring everything and everyone around her, and would continue until she heard sirens pulling up to the front door.

Eros nodded to the newcomer. “If you even have field experience, that should be helpful until the paramedics arrive. Thank you.”

At the older man's call, a lot of things happens. One individual came rushing out with a first aid kit while yet another raced for the phone. Then a blond young woman came out and headed straight for the Oracle. Apparently she had some sort of pain relief power or something before in just a matter of moments the Oracle's face relaxed as though he had just gotten a shot of morphine or something.

"We can at least get the bleeding slowed down and things cleaned up before they arrive." Paul responded with just a tinge of gratitude in his voice. Now that he knew the Oracle's family wasn't going to attack him he could focus on the task at hand which happened to be cleaning up the damage that he was at least partially responsible for.

Opening the first aid kit, Paul scanned over the very basic bandages and things but quickly saw that it was lacking one very important element... scissor. Shrugging he dug into his pocket and pulled out the pocket knife that he carried on a semi-regular basis. Flicking open the blade he quickly cut off the Oracle's pant leg just above the wound and then stripped off the excess fabric. "Sorry about the pants." He commented as he dug out first the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and then poured it liberally over the wound. The immediate foaming action showed that it was cleaning out some of the debris and nastiness that had been deposited by the not quite sterile fork.

"I was serious earlier though... you should put some sort of mention about this issue on your business cards and signage. It'd be good if both you and your clients had some warning that an immortal could do this to you." Paul offered with a slight smile as he tried to put some sort of levity back in the situation, "Although I will admit that it was probably the trip of a life time."