[ WP ] A person with the ability to stop time suddenly notices some one who is unaffected by the freeze .

The statues of flesh conveyed the rushed nature of the city all in a single instant. Raindrops floated in mid-air, reflecting everything around them like three-dimensional mirrors. But in this calm, static sea of halted objects was one figure molding the world around him. He reached into the statues' pockets, lifting wallets and dollars and other material things. He was a man of opportunity and little empathy, seeking to use his skills and gifts to their fullest potential. His whistling filled the empty vacuum of silence with a comical wit. 
 
 As the entrepreneur worked his way down the sidewalk, he looked up in time to see a statue seem to settle back into its place after moving, as its fabric was wavering in a world where the wind was halted. Unlike the other statues, this one wore not smooth, black suits nor rough blue jeans nor the sweats and hoodies of those around it, but instead coarse rags that were bleached gray-ish from severe aging, like one might see on a monk. All of its skin was covered -- its face shrouded in darkness, excepting only its eyes of pure maroon, which stood stark against the silvery world. The entrepreneur was both frightened and intrigued, what riches must this strange man hold, what treasure? 
 
 The man casually strolled toward the anomaly, but stopped to acquire a better view of it. It was much taller than the statues around it, probably around six foot seven. After observing the strange art, the man took a step closer and was met with surprise. Its right arm whipped around like lightning and somehow had unsheathed a nefariously obsidian black sword that slid onto the man's neck. Its eyes now pierced through his, and he was overwhelmed with fear. 
 
 `` Who are you?'' the man asked. 
 
 `` I am ancient.'' it replied firmly yet almost silently. `` You did n't believe you were alone in this power, did you?'' it asked without the natural human intonation of a question. 
 
 `` Why do you have me at er... sword-point, then?'' the man asked, intrigued. 
 
 `` Because the others, like you, have influenced the world outside the path that was intended for it,'' it said without emotion. 
 
 `` How?'' the man asked ignorantly. 
 
 `` There are effects to your actions, which you blindly ignore in the aim of your own self-profit,'' it illustrated, `` every minuscule detail, every drop of rain, every pebble, every wallet, and every person is where they need to be in order to ensure the future that you are unable to see due to your three-dimensional perspective.'' 
 
 The man seemed perplexed, and pondered the issue for a bit, wrapping his mind around what was occurring in front of him. `` I... guess I'm sorry?'' he issued insincerely out of necessity for life. 
 
 `` Mistakes are easily rectified, but not by words,'' it ominously answered as the blade slid across the man's throat, leaving behind a dripping, dark red trail that rolled down his body. As he choked on his own lifeblood, he fell to his knees, sloshing the red river onto the pavement, until he finally gave out and collapsed onto the ground to his left, laying in a pool. His eyes became silver with the world, still jolted open with fear. 
 
 In the distance, a shrouded figure was molding the world around him, reaching into the statues' pockets, leaving wallets and dollars and other material things.
