The rain clouds above New York City caused the man to move through the streets faster. Even as he blended with the crowds around him, he covered his face in a fedora hat. Just a few years ago, his world ended with the collapse of the stock market and start of the Great Depression.

Since that time, Daniel Taylor had drifted from odd job to odd job. The blue collar world of menial labor did not pay nor provide well. He once had tried to enlist at a nearby recruiting station, but the recruiter did not seem fond of the idea of a half-Asian man enlisting.

His father’s Chinese heritage did not endear him to the general public. Even more so since the stock market crashed. Foreigners were one scapegoat that had always existed. Never mind the fact that Taylor had been born and raised in the States. Now, even the short-lived menial jobs were almost impossible to come by. Taylor had survived for the last few years on savings.

Even living at the bare minimum of living essentials cost money, however. Money that was almost completely worthless. Inflation and stagnation of the economy had reeked havoc across the world. There seemed to be no end of it. The Dust Bowl had recently occurred out west, as if God wanted to add insult to injury to the starving nation.

Taylor continued walking down the street. A woman in a ragged raincoat scuttled by, just as a weary looking man with a beaten coat locked eyes with him before continuing down the sidewalk. As he gazed into the boarded up windows of countless closed shops, Taylor knew it would be the last time he would see the street.

Taylor’s plan, of course, was to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. The way he reasoned, it would be better for him and society if he did it. He was producing nothing, and he had little prospects for long term employment.

The walk to the bridge was surprisingly short. Along the way there, Daniel saw several people jumping out of skyscrapers. He ignored them and focused on his own demise. He hurried down the street to the bridge, ignoring the few pedestrians around him. Apparently, they were only too glad to return the favor. Climbing onto the edge of the bridge, Deciding he’d lingered on the mortal coil long enough, Daniel closed his eyes and dived off the edge.

He felt a whoosh of air for a split second, and then, nothing. He felt something grab his right leg, and start to pull. A voice behind him started speaking. “Oh, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Why not?” Daniel replied to his unseen savior. “Can’t I just die?”

“I’m not letting that happen again. Anyway, did you know your parents?” the man apparently ignored Daniel’s question as he pulled. “How much do you remember of the last few years of your life?”

“I only remember bits and pieces. My father died in the Great War in 1918, and my mother died some years later in a fire,” Daniel responded. “After that, I was in a New York orphanage for a few years until I left to find a job. Then the market crashed, and it’s been a downward spiral since then.”

“I see. How old are you?” the man asked.

“Twenty,” Daniel instinctively replied.

“I regret to inform you a good portion of your life has been a lie,” the man said.

Daniel realized that he had now been pulled back over the edge he had jumped off. He now had a clear view of the man who had rescued him. He had dark skin, jet black hair, and a brown monk-like robe. A Mauser rifle with the name “Zarathustra” on it was slung over his shoulder. He showed traces of European, Asian, and African heritage in him, and Daniel could not readily tell his age.

“Who are you?” a perplexed Daniel stared around. Something strange was going on, but he could not put his finger on it. There was an unnatural stillness in the area.

“Did you recall either of your parents ever mentioning a former Jesuit named Charles Lazar?” the man asked.

“No. Is that you?”

“Of course,” the monk nodded. “Figures they’d forget to mention me.”

“Why did you save me?”

“I would not let the progeny of two former comrades of mine kill himself so easily,” Lazar replied. “Hell, I two cabins down the hall when they made you.”

“How come they’ve never mentioned you to me, then?”

“Let’s just say some thought of me as a crude man,” Lazar smirked and quickly reverted to a serious look. “However, I can’t blame them. They wanted to return to normalcy after a certain ordeal we all went through.”

“And that was?”

“Twenty-three years ago in 1908, we fought a trio of occultists who planned a twisted ritual to make France, Britain, and Russia the dominant powers,” Lazar empathized the “twenty three.” “You were born nine months afterwards in 1909.”

“But if you were there when “they made me,” wouldn’t that be twenty years?” Daniel asked. “Besides, I was born in 1912!”

“I see they lied about your birth year, but I don’t blame them again,” Lazar replied.

“Why do you insist I was born in 1909?”

“Because you were,” Lazar replied. “You see, you were born normally, but you were quite sickly as an infant. You got a case of influenza and died from it.”

“What?!”

“You were too young to remember. You couldn’t have been older than three,” Lazar continued. “It was through a complex thaumaturgical ritual and bargain with Azrael himself.”

“Azrael?”

“The Angel of Death himself.”

“And what was the deal my parents made?”

“Each of them would give up the chance to live a full life, and agreed to die a violent, untimely death,” Lazar explained. “They did not know the times nor how they would die, but they knew what awaited them.”

“How do I know you’re not just making this all up?”

“Look around,” Lazar smirked. “That’s my handiwork.”

It was then Daniel noticed exactly what was strange. The raindrops had frozen in midair, and pedestrians were frozen in mid-step. Daniel reached out to touch one of the frozen raindrops, and cashed the delicate aquatic drop to shatter when he touched it.

“I take it your parents informed you a bit about thaumaturgy?” Lazar smirked.

“They told me it existed. I didn’t believe them for a while, but strange things always seemed to happen around mother,” Daniel replied. “I remember strange lights and sounds at night.”

“Both of your parents had thaumaturgical skills due to their willpower and passion,” Lazar described. “Your mother officially studied it, while your father had a supernatural knack for seduction. He remained faithful to your mother, thankfully.”

“So what does that mean to me?”

“Your mother knew all about your father’s subconscious talent when you were conceived,” Lazar continued. “It was somewhat of an ulterior motive of hers, at least at first. She wanted to produce an offspring with the thaumaturgical potential of both. It did become true romance soon afterwards.”

“What?!” Daniel exclaimed, anger crossing his face. “Who gave you the right to talk about Mom?”

“She did,” Lazar continued. “She knew her time was limited, and she wanted someone to instruct you on how to best use your potential, as well as ensuring nothing happened to you.”

“So I have a monk who can freeze time and telling me all manner of strange things as my guardian angel?” Daniel gazed almost wistfully over the edge of the bridge.

“Correction: former monk. I was excommunicated for some…opinions of mine,” Lazar added.

“What opinions?”

“I am an avid reader of Friedrich Nietzsche, and a believer in the philosophy of a friend of mine, a certain Pierre Teilhard de Chardin,” Lazar continued. “One of the few Frenchmen worth respecting.”

“Chardin was that guy who combined classical theology with evolutionary biology, right?” Daniel asked. “Mother told me about him once.”

Lazar nodded. “However, the Pope and Cardinals pronounced his work as heretical, and excommunicated all who openly believed in it.”

“So an excommunicated monk wants to teach me thaumaturgy?”

Lazar nodded. “I can also teach you science. Another friend of mine was Nikolai Tesla,” Lazar answered. “I cannot force you to learn. If you are interested, head to the lighthouse in the town of Cape May, New Jersey in exactly one week. I will be there at noon. If not, you’re free to do whatever you’d like.” Lazar motioned at the edge of the bridge.

“I’ll see you in a week, then,” Daniel extended his hand.

Lazar did not reach for Daniel’s hand. Instead, he raised his arms, started chanting in Latin, and vanished. The rain resumed falling, and the pedestrians continued walking. With a new purpose in life, Daniel headed down to the train station, and purchased a ticket to New Jersey. That was how his new life began.