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Had the man even moved?

The curving dome of the arena's roof slid away under his feet in all directions, his weight supported well enough. The trenchcoat he wore was open, the trailing end hardly moving as a gust of wind slipped past its already suspended form. If one were to examine the man it would seem as if he had frozen himself in time, surrendering to suspended animation of his own volition. Subtle motions passed by even the keenest of eyes, echoes of his own body rebounding not off of any solid surface, but off the branes we consider to be the third dimension. He seemed to be trying to alter his own existence within this realm such that he could seek out another realm entirely, one beyond this multiverse, one beyond the set of time and space which we knew. His body seemed to pulse outward in the simple spaces between the passage of a photon. In that brief moment his body would crush the arena roof underfoot, his weight skyrocketing to near infinity for but a nanosecond on the outside.

Perhaps it was best that he did not feel that one.

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