Arthur drove to Peter's warehouse exactly as instructed.
The place looked like a war zone. Shelves overturned. Crates smashed. Tools scattered like shrapnel. Whatever happened here during Serina's kidnapping had left the whole place broken—like the aftermath of a storm.
Fletcher took one look around and threw his hands up. "Nah, mate, I'm not gettin' mixed up in this mess again. I'm done. Had enough of them cult nutters, swear down."
Peter stepped in front of him, calm but unmovable. "You walk out, they'll still find you. They already saw you with us. Whether you like it or not, you're in their crosshairs. Staying here is the only way you're even remotely safe."
Fletcher clenched his jaw, but said nothing.
I cleared my throat. "Can I… get some water?"
Peter pointed at the old metal fridge. "Help yourself."
As I gulped down the cold water, Fletcher let out a frustrated breath. "Right… so how d'you lot plan on gettin' Serina back from those bastards?"
Arthur rubbed his face, exhausted but determined. "Dunno, mate… but I've done it once, I'll do it again."
He turned to Peter. "Oi, you know where they might've set up their psycho little secret lab this time?"
Peter hesitated. Then he began pacing.
"There's something you need to know about that, Arthur."
The room went dead quiet.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Peter stopped pacing. "The timeline we're in right now… doesn't have the lab. Or… anything."
Arthur stepped forward, confused. "what?"
"This timeline isn't connected to the original universe anymore," Peter said. "This whole reality was created the day you broke the rules of time—when Serina and I returned to the normal timeline, and you chose to stay behind. That one decision fractured time. Split it. You made four separate timelines. Four universes. And this is one of them."
He pointed around the warehouse. "You're essentially the creator of this reality. Not intentionally, but… that's what happened. And because these timelines aren't supposed to exist, they're unstable. They will collapse—eventually."
Arthur stared at him, stunned. "You're actually tellin' me I birthed universes by accident?"
I felt my stomach drop. "What happens to the people in these timelines? Everyone here?"
Peter looked at me for a long moment before finally speaking. "When the collapse hits… they die."
I felt tears well up. "My dad? My friends? My neighbors? Me?"
He didn't answer.
Arthur muttered under his breath. "This is bollocks…"
Fletcher swallowed hard. "How long's this timeline been around?"
Peter asked gently, "Did you lose someone close?"
A painful silence.
Fletcher nodded. "My wife."
Peter exhaled. "That's when it happened. In the normal timeline, your wife is alive. Living her life with another version of you. The version that belongs there. Meanwhile, you ended up here—in the wrong one."
Fletcher smiled through tears. "So she's alive… and happy?"
"Yes."
I stepped closer. "I lost my mom. Does that mean she's alive in the real timeline? With me and my dad?"
Peter sighed. "It's… surprising how quickly you all are taking this in."
"But when this timeline collapses," I asked, voice trembling, "and me and my dad die here… what then?"
"Nothing," Peter said quietly. "This version of you… ends."
Anger flared in my chest. "So what, we just accept this?! It's not even our fault!"
Peter raised his hands. "We'll figure something out, alright? Just—take a breath."
Arthur cut back in. "Alright, where's Serina, then?"
Peter snapped his fingers. "Right. Before all this went down, I prepared for a worst-case scenario. I injected a multi-timeline tracker into Serina's arm. It shows not just where she is… but when she is."
Arthur blinked. "Where'd you get something like that?"
Peter smirked. "Robbed some bloke at the lab. He wasn't using it."
He pulled out a small console device, tapped a few commands, and turned the screen toward us. A red dot blinked steadily.
"This is where Serina is."
Arthur leaned in and read it aloud.
"November 27, 1983."
Fletcher let out a low whistle. "So we're hoppin' back to bloody '83 then?"
I stared at the screen, still reeling from everything.
Peter nodded. "Looks like it."
Arthur turned to me, noticing my silence. "Oi, you alright, mate?"
I wasn't. But I nodded anyway.
Peter closed the device. "We move fast. The longer Serina stays there, the harder it'll be to pull her out."
Fletcher: "Right then. When do we leave?"
Peter opened his mouth—
—and the lights in the warehouse flickered.
the lights flickered. Once.
Twice.
Then stabilized.
No shaking.
No collapse.
Just… a strange pressure, like the air had thickened.
Peter frowned. "That's… weird. That's not supposed to happen. The warehouse doesn't even have a voltage flux system."
Arthur took a step back, gripping a metal pipe. "Oi… anyone else feelin' like the room just got heavier?"
Fletcher muttered, "Feels like someone's breathin' down my neck, mate…"
Suddenly—
a tear of blue light split open in the center of the warehouse.
Silent.
Clean.
Controlled.
Not like an accident.
Like an entrance.
Peter stumbled backward. "What—what the hell is that?."
A silhouette stepped through the tear.
Tall.
Calm.
Hands in pockets.
Face hidden in shadow—until he stepped into the light.
Arthur froze.
Because it was him.
His face.
His build.
His voice.
"'Ello, lads," the double said, colder, more refined than Arthur's. "Been lookin' for you."
Arthur's voice cracked. "What in the bloody—who are you?"
The double smirked. "Name's Vector. Prime Vector, if we're bein' formal."
Peter's jaw dropped. "Prime what? I—I've never seen anything like this."
Prime Vector clicked his tongue. "Course you don't, mate. You ain't supposed to."
Prime Vector smirked. "I told ya. I'm you. Just… the version that actually figured things out."
Peter blinked rapidly, backing away. "I've never seen this. I don't— I'm not reading any temporal flux, no distortions, no rips—nothing. This shouldn't be possible."
Prime Vector shrugged. "Yeah, that's 'cause you ain't lookin' with the right toys."
Fletcher whispered, "He's givin' me the creeps, mate…"
Prime Vector ignored them all and fixed his eyes… on me.
Every hair on my arms stood up.
He took one slow step forward.
"You don't know who you are, do ya?"
My voice cracked. "I'm… me. What else?"
Prime Vector chuckled. "Nah, mate. You ain't gettin' it."
Arthur stepped in front of me. "Oi! You ain't touchin' him."
Prime Vector held up a hand. "Relax. I ain't here to fight."
Then his eyes flashed a faint gold.
"I'm here to give him context."
The air around him distorted—
and a holographic projection shimmered to life behind him, floating like a ghostly blueprint.
It was my face.
Older.
Harder.
Eyes glowing like molten gold.
Peter's breath hitched. "That— that's impossible…"
Prime Vector turned his head slightly.
"Tell him, Pete."
"I—I don't know what that is!" Peter stammered. "I've never seen him before!"
Prime Vector grinned wider.
"Exactly."
He tapped the projection.
"This ain't future-you. Ain't past-you. Ain't alt-timeline you."
He stepped closer—
until he was just inches from my face.
"This is the original version of you."
Cold washed through my whole body.
"The one from the real universe."
Arthur whispered, "What're you sayin'?"
Prime Vector spoke slowly, like ripping a truth he'd held back for years:
"He ain't supposed to exist in ANY of the timelines Arthur created."
The room went dead silent.
Even Fletcher stopped breathing.
Prime Vector leaned back, slipping his hands into his pockets casually.
"Your memories? Your life? Your childhood? All planted. Fabricated. Inserted into a timeline where you were never born. Someone put you here."
Peter shook his head. "But—no—if that were true, I'd sense an anomaly, I'd see something—"
Prime Vector cut him off.
"That's the part you don't get, Pete."
His smile vanished.
"He wasn't created by the timeline."
He pointed at me again.
"He was hidden from it."
My heart hammered.
"What does that even mean?"
Prime Vector's final words hit like a punch to the chest:
"It means someone powerful—someone outside all universes—placed you here.
And they're coming back for you."
The lights in the warehouse instantly blew out—
all at once—
plunging us into darkness.
A single voice whispered from everywhere at once:
"THEY FOUND YOU."