04* Unknown Territory

Paradox lay on a rippling white floor, his surroundings featureless, mirroring the very ground beneath him.

He stared up at the blank ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of questions. Without a visor obscuring his vision, he wondered if he was dead or dreaming.

Shifting his gaze downward, he realized it wasn't only his helmet missing, but his entire space suit.

Left in his work attire, being the oversized hoodie and black cargo pants, he leaned against the floor, unaffected by its cold embrace, and pushed himself to his feet.

'Well, this is unexpected...'

'Where am I?..'

Glancing left and right, he found himself... nowhere.

A white expanse with quite literally nowhere and everywhere to go.

His eyes motionless, still processing the unfolding events before him, unsure of what to do.

Paradox pinched his arm. 'Well, that didn't hurt... so I'm dreaming?'

Considering his options, it wouldn't make sense.

Dreaming of Xavier would be a nightmare in itself, and Paradox does not dream of the supernatural. As someone who abides by logic, it would be very unlike him. So, what was going on?

He began to walked in circles, going over the events again in his head. 'That figure must've been what fell from the sky. The moment I touched whatever fell, I've felt as if I've been dreaming.'

He stopped, reminiscing the initial encounter.

'That illusionary desert looked so real... the air was so fresh... wait, I didn't have a helmet on then either... what a mess.' Used to his uneventful days, the sudden push of nostalgia brought Paradox a mixture of emotion.

Pushing his feelings aside, he speculated further about the figure. 'Okay focus! Its question was bizarre, not even a greeting, though it had kind eyes. I'm guessing it wasn't trying to be rude, so it was in a hurry! But why?.. My poor head,' an avalanche of unsolved questions piled in front of him.

There was no conclusive answer.

Grasping his head, a light sigh escaped his lips.

Paradox gazed at the rippling floor, attempting to decipher the figure's final words. His reflection in the water-like substance caused him to notice a strange change.

'My eye...'

His previously black eye was rendered white, now embedded with a clock hand, ticking rhythmically in a clockwise direction.

Kneeling down, he got a closer look at himself. His dark hair seemed to have unusual strands of gray. His right eye, eerily similar to the figure's, pulsed with a rhythmic tick.

'Hope...' His concentration was unexpectedly broken by the sound of ticking. 'So annoying...'

The ticking abruptly stopped, and so did everything else.

The rippling water beneath his feet stilled in space, creating an uneven flooring where he stood. Paradox poked at the suspended water, bewildered by this development. 'Huh...'

Paradox noticed his reflection: the outline of his entire body was surrounded by shattered fragments of white and black, flowing continuously out into his immediate surroundings, and abruptly dissipating into space.

Testing the waters, he thought about the ticking noise again. Suddenly, the floor resumed its motion, and the flow of fragments ceased.

Standing back up, Paradox extended his hand, once again thrust into the unknown, he wasn't sure on how to feel.

His eyes shook for a moment, before they focused.

A sense of sturdy resolve washed over him. Unlike before, he hadn't lost himself; he had gained something to live for, a burning passion for a fair world, and most importantly, it was a passion he chose.

As he stood, he felt his yearning become physical, a warmth encompassing his very being.

With an unclear path ahead, what he desired most were answers.

In that moment, a golden sand dome rapidly expanded, covering his immediate area.

Around an arm's length away, it swirled around him like a calm sandy hurricane. As it flowed clockwise, a subliminal glow replaced the surrounding stark white void.

His eyes widened. Before he could properly react, it abruptly collapsed into itself, leaving no trace of his existence.