Chariot laid on the hood of his car, out in a field, staring up at the stars. What was he doing eight years ago? He was... what? Twenty?

Fuck. He'd been such a kid back then. Such an idiot.

He'd read the accounts of the Park Wars in the Arrow records. There was a very good chance that he would die. It scared him, the idea that maybe his death had already happened and he had been unknowingly playing catch up to it for nearly a third of his life.

He'd thought about going to the park and looking for ghosts. But then, what if he found Thrope's ghost? Or Tuesday's? Or his? If he had found the specter of one of his contemporaries, what was the right thing to do? Did he tell them that he knew they were going to die? Did he keep silent and let it happen? Would the very action of going and looking for a ghost lock down the potential for someone he knew today dying in the past? Could he go back in time if he knew for a fact that it would kill him? And what if he didn't die, but somehow got stranded in the past? It had already happened with one of their Chrononauts. Was there a thirty-six year old him somewhere on earth living his life? Was he hiding in Sacramento right now, waiting until the now-Chariot went back in time to reappear?

If he did get stuck in the past... could he go find himself? Help him through some of the shit he had to deal with on his own? What kind of person would he be today, if today's him got in contact with yesterday's him?

Fuck. Zombies were probably the least scary thing about time travel.

But...

Fuck. He was going to be a Time Traveler.

Fuck.