[ WP ] Time is a fabric sold on the Black Market . How it is created is still a mystery .

`` I just want to know how you got it.'' 
 
 `` Trade secret. Are you buying or not?'' 
 
 ``...'' I thought. `` How am I supposed to know you're not scamming me if I do n't even know how you got it?'' 
 
 `` The same reason you still eat processed foods, I suppose. I see you're trying to buy time, but I'm only selling it for real cash.'' 
 
 In an alley, a young street rat talked to a shady dealer who sat over a steel vault. 
 
 He had a thousand to pay up front, but past mistakes had weaned him off of sudden ventures. Especially something so shady... 
 
 `` It's the fabric of time, kid. I do n't know what to tell you.'' 
 
 `` That's not the- alright. You know what? How much can I buy with a thousand dollars?'' 
 
 `` A hundred square feet. Actually, you know, you're my first buyer.'' 
 
 The man opened the steel vault. Stood directly in front of it as if to prevent anyone from seeing the inside. 
 
 A solid deep blue fabric, wrapped in iron chains. `` Careful. Time flies when you're not paying attention.'' 
 
 The street rat thought that the man was using far too many puns. At the same time, those iron chains looked like serious business. 
 
 The hoodlum kicked a briefcase open in front of the dealer. They looked at each other distrustfully, both reaching gingerly and snapping up their items as they received them. 
 
 And then there was a snap, like the bong of a clocktower. The dealer was just gone. 
 
 There was a note, though. 
 
 *That's the fun thing about it. You always either have too much or not enough. When you use it is as important as how you use it. * 
 
... Huh. 
 
 -- - 
 
 In another place, a shady man with a six-o-clock shadow and a dirty snapback sat in front of a sewing machine. 
 
 Doing nothing. 
 
 Like most things, the easiest way to harness time was by killing it. 
 
 -- - 
 
 A/N: I wanted to do more about the person who bought the fabric of time, but maybe later.
