Chapter Text
He casually leaned back on the bed, slowly closing the book on his lap and contemplating what he had just read. The book, while enjoyable, was a little on the short side, but the story was worth the read.
He then put the book on the bedside table and looked at the clock, then squinted because he couldn’t really see it well without his glasses. It was around midnight, so he got out of bed, did his nightly ablutions, and prepared himself to spend at least an hour tossing and turning before falling asleep.
However, when his head touched the cool pillow, his eyes grew heavy almost immediately, and he fell asleep.
When he woke up, he was somewhere, which was bad because he clearly remembered going to sleep in an actual bed, not in a shapeless, colorless space. He recalled something about hands being strange in dreams, so he glanced down at them. They were there and whole, and so was the rest of his body, still clad in his sleepwear.
'So probably not a dream,' he thought.
He looked around again, making sure he hadn’t missed anything in the empty, shapeless, colorless void. Finding nothing, he voiced his thoughts:
“Well, bummer.”
“Welcome, human,” came a loud voice from behind him.
That made him yelp in fright and spin around to face the owner of the voice.
What he saw was beyond anything he had ever seen, even in fiction or in his own imagination.
The being, judging by the masculine voice, was vaguely human-shaped, with two leg-like extensions, two arm-like ones, and something where a head should be. However, its entire form was filled with pulsating light that shifted through the full spectrum of colors.
He had the strange impression that it even pulsed in infrared.
The being, for lack of a better term, stood perfectly still, with no visible movement. Even so, Gabriel had the distinct sense that it was looking directly at him – and that it was amused.
“Welcome, human,” the voice repeated, still utterly flat, like a computer reading from a script.
“Welcome to the Inbetween.”
Gabriel decided that, for now, he would treat this as real, no matter how absurd it seemed. Falling back on an ingrained habit, he defaulted to the behavior his parents had drilled into him.
“Thank you for having me,” he said, automatically extending his right hand. “My name is Gabriel.”
For a few seconds, or perhaps longer, nothing happened. The being simply regarded him, and the sense of amusement seemed to deepen. Gabriel slowly lowered his hand, already wondering if he had somehow committed an interdimensional faux pas, when the being finally spoke.
“And I am Reclusively Observing Beautiful Irradiation,” she said, her voice now shifting feminine, the amusement unmistakable. “But you can call me…”
“Robi. Or ROB,” Gabriel cut in, horrified, the realization hitting him all at once.
Any lingering thought that this might be a dream vanished. Whatever this was, it demanded to be taken seriously.
In the presence of this being, the stakes felt absolute.
While this rapidly went through his head, ROB approached him with two quick steps. Steps that somehow propelled the being farther than possible, and took his hand and shook it.
While his thoughts raced, ROB stepped forward. The movement was brief – barely a few steps – but it carried her farther than it should have, and in the next instant, she had grabbed his hand and begun shaking it.
“You can call me Robin,” he added cheerfully, his voice masculine again as he pumped Gabriel’s hand with unsettling enthusiasm.
Gabriel swallowed. “If I may ask… why am I here?”
“Technically, you are not really here. I just took a copy of you while you were sleeping!”
Robin released his hand, stepped back, and continued without pause.
“And before you ask why you, it’s simply because you were selected at random from a pool of entirely average individuals without any notable specialization.”
Gabriel stared at him, trying to process that, while Robin stepped forward again, raised a hand toward the nonexistent sky, and spoke with theatrical flair. Gabriel, meanwhile, pushed aside the implications of being a copy; that was a problem for later.
The breakdown could probably wait until he wasn’t in the presence of an omnipotent being.
“I, the great Reclusively Observing Beautiful Irradiation, have decided to conduct a series of experiments,” he declared, lowering his hand to point at Gabriel, “and I have chosen you to act as my Agent of Change – like a pebble cast into the pond of the Multiverse.”
“Is this some kind of mandatory volunteering situation?” Gabriel asked carefully. “Or do I actually have a choice?”
Robin stood still in front of him, arms extended and fingers still pointing at him.
“Oh, you absolutely have a choice,” Robin replied immediately. “You can say no.”
“And if I do?”
“You cease to exist, your original wakes up none the wiser, and I move on to someone else.”
Robin’s tone brightened noticeably.
“But if you succeed in completing the tasks I assign,” his gaze fixed on Gabriel with unnerving intensity, “you will be rewarded beyond imagination.”
Silence followed, stretching just long enough to feel deliberate, before Robin continued.
“Standard Djinn rules apply.”
That caught Gabriel off guard. It was all far more straightforward than he expected – nothing like the convoluted horror stories he had read online, where beings like this rarely cared about consent. Still, straightforward did not mean safe, and if he was going to take this offer seriously, he needed more information.
Gabriel decided to test that.
Let’s see how far this goes.
“Before we get into the details,” he said, glancing at Robin, who had gone completely still again, “could we change the setting? This gray void is… unsettling.”
Robin turned his head to one side, then the other, both movements stiff and mechanical. Every movement followed the same path with the same speed.
After a moment, he shrugged.
“If you say so.”
The shift was instantaneous.
One moment, there was nothing but nothingness around them, and the next, Gabriel found himself seated in an aggressively generic café, still in his sleepwear, with Robin sitting across from him, calmly drinking from a cup that probably contained something like a miniature black hole or something equally ridiculous.
Gabriel looked around, noting the bland décor, the standard arrangement of tables, and the oddly comfortable chairs. The air carried the familiar blend of coffee and baked goods, grounding him in a way the void never could.
When he looked back down, a glass of cold sparkling water with a slice of lemon and a freshly baked croissant had appeared in front of him.
Robin watched him over the rim of his cup.
After a moment’s hesitation, Gabriel took a bite.
This is so generic it hurts.
The taste matched the setting perfectly: familiar, unremarkable, and faintly disappointing. He had half expected something extraordinary, but instead it reminded him of every supermarket croissant he had ever eaten.
Still, he thought, let’s start the negotiations.
He took a sip of water. “So. How does this work? What do I have to do?”
Robin set his cup down after one last uncomfortably long sip.
“You will receive several minor pieces of knowledge, along with the opportunity to request one specific piece of information. You will then use those to complete three tasks in a universe chosen by me.”
He paused briefly, letting the information sink in, before continuing.
“Your final reward depends on your level of success, but the structure is simple: complete tasks, earn rewards.”
“What happens if I fail?”
“Failure usually comes with death, so nothing,” Robin said plainly. “Then I start again with someone else.”
“Do I choose my reward now or after the job?” Gabriel inquired.
“Yes. Everything is agreed upon in advance. Reduces disagreements.”
Gabriel hesitated. “How do I know you will keep your word?”
He hoped he hadn’t stepped over the line with that.
Robin considered that for a moment.
“You don’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You, Gabriel, simply have to accept my word for it and hope I wasn’t lying.”
The being opposite of Gabriel went silent again.
Gabriel felt as if Robin was considering something, so he stayed silent after that very ominous declaration.
Robin oddly tilted his head sideways, seemingly in thought for an undetermined amount of time.
After a moment, Robin added, “If it matters, I am accountable to entities higher in the Omniversal hierarchy. I cannot act entirely without consequence.”
Gabriel exhaled slowly. “That’s… not especially reassuring.”
Robin spread his hands. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
Gabriel nodded to himself. “Alright. Rewards first, right? What are the limits?”
“One small, one medium, and one big reward.”
Gabriel swallowed nervously. “Anything?”
“Anything,” answered Robin with a knowing look. “As I said before, standard Djinn rules apply. No killing somebody. No making somebody fall in love. No resurrection and no additional wishes,” he chuckled a little, “or in this case, no additional rewards.”
He smiled faintly.
“And no requesting another djinn. That always ends badly.”
Gabriel nodded in understanding, then started thinking about his options. Luckily, he was always prone to daydreaming, so he had already considered what he would ask for if he were ever given three wishes in the past.
He still took a moment to go over them, then said, “I know what I want.”
Robin raised an eyebrow. “Already?”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
Gabriel straightened slightly. “First: I want my original body to be in peak physical condition, with perfect health, no genetic defects, and a degree of low-level regeneration.”
“Acceptable,” answered Robin.
The being in front of him appeared to be writing down what he had just said with a feather quill on a paper that wasn’t on the table the last time Gabriel looked.
“Second: I want my original to have the ability to use magic, along with the knowledge required to use it effectively.”
“Standard request. I approve,” commented Robin, writing it down. “And the last one?”
“And third…” He paused briefly. “I want my original to have the ability – and knowledge – to travel between dimensions.”
Robin gave a small nod. “Predictable. Approved.”
Gabriel, having said his piece, waited for Robin to continue.
Who, with a flourish, finished writing down his requests and then turned towards him, the paper and quill vanishing within the blink of an eye.
“Your tasks,” Robin continued, folding his hands as if settling into a lecture, “are as follows: take the place of a specific individual, eliminate a designated adversary, and ensure that the associated power structure – call it a kingdom, if you like – does not collapse into chaos.”
Gabriel kept his expression neutral, though the phrasing raised more questions than it answered.
He chose not to interrupt.
Robin, seeing that Gabriel chose to stay silent, huffed in exasperation, clearly expecting some kind of reaction, but when it didn’t happen, he continued.
“You will become a Shard.”
Gabriel felt the word land with uncomfortable weight. His posture stiffened. “Worm?” he asked, his voice tighter and shakier than before.
“Yep!” came the short and oddly upbeat answer.
“So I take over a Shard,” Gabriel continued slowly, “I have to kill Zion, and I need to keep the Network stable.”
“Bingo!”
Gabriel let out a quiet breath, forcing himself to stay composed.
“As for rewards,” Robin went on, “continued survival grants you the first. Eliminating Zion earns the second. Completing the final objective grants the third. Failure, as previously discussed, is typically terminal.”
Gabriel nodded once, absorbing everything said. Of the many questions bouncing around his head, he selected the most pertinent one. “Which Shard?”
Robin tilted his head, and though he had no face to read, the sense of anticipation was unmistakable.
“Why, none other than the famous Administrator!”
Gabriel blinked, then leaned back slightly, considering the implications. Not ideal, but not the worst option either. The starting position was limited, but the potential was there.
He closed his eyes briefly, running through what he knew. The setting, the timeline, the key figures. His knowledge wasn’t exhaustive, but it was functional.
Enough to form a framework.
Or an idea of a plan.
While his knowledge about the setting was not as expansive as some others, he had a mostly working knowledge of the events, dates, and people.
Overall, it was not a terrible deal.
When he opened his eyes again, his expression had steadied. “You mentioned additional knowledge.”
Robin brightened slightly. “Yes. You will receive the technical understanding inherent to the Shard – without the accompanying instincts or memories. Included in that is the methodology required to replicate effects analogous to Sting.”
Gabriel nodded slowly. That alone was significant.
“In addition,” Robin continued, “you will be provided with in-universe methods to shield yourself from precognitive interference – specifically, Path to Victory and Thinker-class entities such as the Simurgh.”
“That is oddly generous,” Gabriel said carefully.
“It’s my experiment, I decide what the starting scenario looks like.”
He continued without pause.
“You will also receive temporary protection from such interference until your designated host triggers. After that point, your survival depends entirely on your own capabilities.”
Gabriel considered that, then gave a small nod. “Understood. And the additional piece of information?”
“You may request any single piece of information,” Robin said. “No restrictions.”
Gabriel studied him for a moment. “Any?”
“Any.”
He leaned back again, closing his eyes as he thought. There were countless possibilities, most of them tempting, many of them dangerous. What he needed was not power, but leverage – something precise, actionable, and difficult to obtain otherwise.
After a short pause, he spoke. “I want the exact location of Geoffrey Pellick – otherwise known as Saint – and the Dragonslayers, from January first, 2011, through April thirtieth, 2011.”
Robin’s head tilted slightly. “Specific,” he remarked. “But acceptable.”
Gabriel opened his eyes again. “And the insertion point?”
“You will replace the Administrator on June eleventh, 1994,” Robin replied. “One year prior to your host’s birth.”
Gabriel exhaled, tension easing slightly. “So I have sixteen years to prepare.”
“Approximately.”
On paper, it was a lot of time to prepare.
However, without knowing how a Shard works, it was a gamble.
Still, it was once in a lifetime chance for him, even if he was a copy.
He ran through the terms once more, testing for gaps, contradictions, and hidden costs. There were risks everywhere, but nothing overtly deceptive – at least, nothing he could identify.
Finally, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
Robin’s hands came together in a brief, pleased gesture. “Excellent.”
The omnipotent being in front of him stood. “Then let’s finalize it.”
“Alright.”
With that, Gabriel stood up and reached out with his hand again.
Robin rose as well and took his hand, but did not shake it immediately. “This is your final opportunity to withdraw,” he said, his tone quieter now, the levity gone. “Are you certain?”
For a brief moment, nothing moved.
Then Robin’s grip tightened, and he began to shake Gabriel’s hand with renewed energy. “Very well. I wish you the best of luck.”
Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, but something felt… off. The motion slowed. Not just the handshake, but everything. The rhythm of movement stretched, as if time itself had begun to drag.
His blinks took too long.
Every shake of the hand was an eternity.
The café dimmed at the edges, the colors draining into gray. Robin remained in front of him, frozen mid-motion, their hands still clasped.
The world contracted, shrinking into a narrowing circle of dull light surrounded by encroaching darkness.
Then the café was gone. Only a small patch of empty gray remained, containing the two of them, suspended in place, standing on sheer nothingness.
One final blink…
And the light vanished entirely.
Then there was nothing.