Author's Note:

If you've seen this story before, under the pen name Von Stark, it is because that was my last profile. I created Escapist Esquire because I lost all information regarding logging into Von Stark, and therefore could not access the account. I simply wished to inform you that this is not plagiarism, since Von Stark and Escapist Esquire are one and the same person.

This is one my older stories, so I apologize that the prose is not the best it could be. I have grown as an author since the time of this writing.


DOCTOR MANHATTAN:

The date of what Humans perceive as the present is January 14, 1986. About six months into my past, I am standing on the barren, icy wasteland of Antarctica. Rorschach stands before me, his mask replaced by tears of fury as he implores me to obliterate him. My judgment would be clouded with emotion were I still completely Human. Perhaps I would not be able to kill him.

Now, emotion means nothing to me. It has no impact on my decision. I am not a god. Who am I to decide this man's fate? Vietnam was different. It was war, and I was a soldier. But Rorschach's fate does not rest in my hands, and so I teleport him, unconscious, to Liberty Island in New York.

Laurie and Dan have agreed not to interfere in Adrian's peaceful planet. So too have I agreed, without condoning or condemning. And so I leave Earth once again, to perhaps create life in another galaxy.

Eight weeks into my future, I am standing face-to-face with an extremely powerful being with the capability to destroy Earth. Adrian, Laurie, and Dan stand beside me, along with six other brightly costumed heroes wielding powerful weapons.

Six minutes into my future, I am standing in Adrian's office.

OZYMANDIAS:

I heard Jon before I saw him. There's typically a faint hiss before he teleports. Thus, I had time enough to hold down the contents on my desk so the force emitted from his appearance would not blow them away.

"Good afternoon, Jon," I said.

"Adrian," he replied simply.

"How's life?"

"The reason I'm here."

I examined his face. Others would not be able to identify any signs of emotion amongst his features. But, then again, I don't fall into the category of "Others." I saw both fascination and worry in his eyes.

I rose from my desk and approached the Indestructible Man, noting that the glow of his blue skin was a touch dimmer as well.

"What is it, Jon?" I asked.

And then he told me.