"Lights, Camera, Action! The Movie RPG" Season I: IC Thread

Mart McFly
--->Part
1<---

I slide into Doc Brown's lab looking for him. He asked me to check on his clocks while he's off on one of his adventures.

I step through the doorway and look around.

"Hey, Doc? Doc. Hello, anybody home? Einstein, come here, boy.
What's going on?" I ask, hearing the dog food can opener going I glance over at Einstein's bowl.

"Wha- aw, god. Aw, Jesus." I mutter, as another dog food can gets emptied into a bowl that obviously hasn't been used for weeks.

"Whoa, rock and roll." I say, as I see a massive guitar amplifier sitting in the middle of the room.

I plug my guitar in and turn every switch all the way up.

I pull out my lucky, steel-tipped pick and play a single chord.

The power from the amp blows me off my feet and into a nearby bookcase.

I watch in horror as parts of the amp fall apart slowly.

The phone rings and I pull myself up and answer it, taking off my mirror aviator sunglasses.

"Yo?!" I holler into the phone receiver, covering one ear.

"Marty, is that you?" A voice on the other end of the line says.

"Hey, hey, Doc, where are you?"

"Thank god I found you. Listen, can you meet me at Twin Pines Mall tonight at 1:15? I've made a major breakthrough, I'll need your assistance." The doc says whispering feverishly.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. 1:15 in the morning?"

"Yeah."

"What's going on? Where have you been all week?"

"Working."

"Where's Einstein, is he with you?"

"Yeah, he's right here."

"You know, Doc, you left your equipment on all week."

"My equipment, that reminds me, Marty, you better not hook up to the amplifier. There's a slight possibility for overload. "

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind." I say, wishing I'd know this earlier.

"Good, I'll see you tonight. Don't forget, now, 1:15 a.m., Twin Pines Mall."

"Right."

Without warning, every clock in the room goes off. There are hundreds of clocks, simultaneously ringing their alarms.

"Are those my clocks I hear?"

"Yeah, it's 8:00."

"They're late. My experiment worked. They're all exactly twenty-five minutes slow."

Twenty-five minutes?

Twenty-five minutes.

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Doc. Are you telling me that it's 8:25?"

"Precisely."

"Damn." I scream into the phone. "I'm late for school!" I say, promptly hanging up.

I sprint out of Doc's lab and onto my skateboard. I ride into the middle of the road, past the Burger King and put on my cassette player. I grab hold of a passing Jeep's rear bumper. The driver looks back at me, giving me an exasperated stare.

I grin sheepishly and let go, sliding into the school's parking lot.

I kick my board up and sprint into the lobby.

My girlfriend, Jennifer meets me inside.

"Hello, Jennifer." I say.

She puts a hand on my shoulder, "Marty, don't go this way. Strickland's looking for you. If you're caught it'll be four tardies in a row."

After leading me through a maze of corridors and lockers, Jennifer lets go of my arm.

"Alright, c'mon, I think we're safe."

"Y'know this time it wasn't my fault. The Doc set all of his clocks twenty-five minutes slow." I tell her, peering around corners, looking for Principal Strickland.

"Doc?" I hear the unmistakable voice of our principal behind me. I freeze and turn around slowly.

"Am I to understand you're still hanging around with Doctor Emmett Brown, McFly?" Strickland asks, scribbling on two sheets of paper.

"Tardy slip for you, Miss Parker. And one for you McFly. I believe that makes four in a row." He says, handing us our respective passes. He leans closer to my face, his breath hot in my face.

"Now let me give you a nickle's worth of advice, young man. This so called Doctor Brown is dangerous, he's a real nuttcase. You hang around with him you're gonna end up in big trouble."

"Oh yes sir." I say, sarcastically.

"You got a real attitude problem, McFly. You're a slacker." Strickland says, jamming his finger in my chest.

"You remind me of you father when he went her, he was a slacker too."

"Can I go now, Mr. Strickland?" I ask, stepping back.

He steps closer, yet again, crossing his arms. "I noticed you band is on the roster for dance auditions after school today. Why even bother Mcfly, you haven't got a chance, you're too much like your own man. No McFly ever amounted to anything in the history of Hill Valley."

"Yeah?" I ask, with a slight hint of anger in my tone, "Well history is gonna change."

I put my arm around Jennifer and lead her away from the furious principal.

After a long day of school, the band auditions finally come around. The audition judge calls me and my band to the stage.

"Next, please." The monotone man says into the mega-phone.

"Alright, we're the Pinheads." I say, checking all of our equipment.

I lead the group off and we start playing the first few chords in the new song "Power of Love." The man in the seat waves his hands in front of him.

We stop playing and look at him in dismay.

"Okay, that's enough. Now stop the microphone. I'm sorry fellas. I'm afraid you're just too darn loud." He says.

Jennifer meets me backstage and we walk together into town.

"I'm too loud. I can't believe it! I'm never gonna get a chance to play in front of anybody."

She gives me some words of comfort, but I reject them.

"Nah, I just don't think I'm cut out for music."

"But you're good, Marty, you're really good. And this audition tape of your is great, you gotta send it in to the record company. It's like Doc's always saying -- "

"Yeah I know, If you put your mind to it you could accomplish anything..."

We talk some more and our conversation is interrupted by a crazy old lady who works with a charity.

"Save the clock tower, save the clock tower!" She says, shaking a coffee can in our faces. "Mayor Wilson is sponsoring an initiative to replace that clock. Thirty years ago, lightning struck that clock tower and the clock hasn't run since. We at the Hill Valley Preservation Society think it should be preserved exactly the way it is as part of our history and heritage."

Simply to shut her up, I give her some change. "Here you go, lady. There's a quarter."

"Thank you, don't forget to take a flier." She says, shoving the paper in my face.

"Right."

She leaves us alone, annoying other people in the town square.

"Where were we?" I ask Jennifer.

"Right about here." She says, leaning in for a kiss.

She stops only a centimeter before our lips touch when she hears a voice.

"Jennifer."

"It's my dad." She says, depressed.

"Right."

"I've gotta go."

"I'll call you tonight." I say, as she approaches the car.

She turns around and comes back. "I'll be at my grandma's. Here, let me give you the number. Bye."

She scribbles her number on the back of the flier, with an attached message of "I love you!"

I smile as I fold the paper into quarters and put it in my life-vest.

I ride my board the two miles back to my house and pull into my drive way as the sun sets.

I see our family car, totaled and wrecked being delivered by a tow truck in the drive way.

"Perfect, just perfect." I say, tapping the hood.

"I can't believe you loaned me a car, without telling me it had a blindspot. I could've been killed."

"Now, now, Biff, now, I never noticed any blindspot before when I would drive it. Hi, son."

I recognize the two voices in the kitchen before I'm through the front door.

The first, manly voice, belongs to Biff Tannen. Resident *******.

The second, timid voice, belongs to my father, George McFly. The town doormat.

A wave of shame flows over me to know both of them.

I wave sheepishly to my dad as Biff keeps ranting.

"But, what are you blind McFly, it's there. How else do you explain that wreck out there?"

My dad changes the subject, "Now, Biff, um, can I assume that your insurance is gonna pay for the damage?"

"My insurance? It's your car, your insurance should pay for it.
Hey, I wanna know who's gonna pay for this?" Biff says, pointing at his shirt, "I spilled beer all over it when that car smashed into me. Who's gonna pay my cleaning bill?"

I come dangerously close to pointing out to Biff that perhaps drinking alcohol and driving don't mesh well, but the fact that he can tear me a new one three times over stops me.

Grabbing some nuts, Biff continues to have a tantrum. "And where's my reports?"

Ah, yes. Biff's idea of work: push the weakest man in the office around until he's willing to do the work for you.

"Uh, well, I haven't finished those up yet, but you know I figured since they weren't due till-"

Biff promptly wraps his hand around my dad's tie, pulls him close to the ground, and knocks on his skull with his knuckles.

"Hello, hello, anybody home? Think, McFly, think. I gotta have time to get them re-typed. Do you realize what would happen if I hand in my reports in your handwriting. I'll get fired. You wouldn't want that to happen would you?"

He pulls my dad in closer, "Would you?"

"Of course not, Biff, now I wouldn't want that to happen. Now, uh, I'll finish those reports up tonight, and I'll run em them on over first thing tomorrow,
alright?" My dad says, pretending to run.

"Hey, not too early I sleep in on Saturday." Biff points to the ground. My father looks down, too.

"Oh, McFly, your shoe's untied. Don't be so gullible, McFly." Biff says, slapping my father's face. He prances through our home as if he owns it and opens the fridge.

"You got the place fixed up nice, McFly." "I have you're car towed all the way to your house and all you've got for me is light beer?"

"What are you looking at, butthead?" Biff asks, glaring at me. "Say 'hi' to your mom for me." He adds, leaving.

"I know what you're gonna say, son, and you're right, you're right, But Biff just happens to be my supervisor, and I'm afraid I'm not very good at confrontations."

"The car, Dad, I mean He wrecked it, totaled it. I needed that car tomorrow night, Dad, I mean do you have any idea how important this was, do you have any clue?"

"I know, and all I could say is I'm sorry."

After an uneventful dinner, I pull myself up the stairs and fall into bed.

I'm woken up by my cordless phone ringing.

I wearily answer it. If this is a prank call, I might just lose it.

"Hello?"

"Marty, you didn't fall asleep, did you?"

"Uh Doc, uh no." I say, waking up immediately. "No, don't be silly."

"Listen, this is very important, I forgot my video camera, could you stop by my place and pick it up on your way to the mall?"

"Um, yeah, I'm on my way."

After a quick trip to Doc's house, I skate into the parking lot of the mall. The clock outside reads 1:16 AM.



I skate next to Doc Brown's white van and see Einstein sitting next to it, panting.

I kneel down next to him and pet him.

"Einstein, hey Einstein, where's the Doc, boy, huh?"

My reuniting with Einy is cut short by the back of the van opening. Smoke pours out and I see the front end of a machine slide out.

Once the machine comes to a stop on the cold pavement and the smoke clears, I realize it's a car... a DeLorean to be specific.

Sure, it's got a few modifications, but I woke up at 1 in the Morning... for a DeLorean?

Doc emerges from the other side of in demand and runs towards me.

"Marty! You made it."

"Yeah." I say, half asleep.

"Welcome to my latest experiment. It's the one I've been waiting for all my life." Doc says, obviously thrilled.

Stating the obvious, I simply mutter, "Um, well it's a DeLorean, right?"

"Bare with me, Marty, all of your questions will be answered. Roll tape, we'll proceed."

I go to ask about the car again,"Doc, is that a De-"

"Never mind that now, never mind that now."

Adjusting the camera I say with a sigh, "Alright, I'm ready."

I press the "Record" button on the old, beaten up tape recorder in my hands and give the Doc a thumbs up. He straightens his jacket apprehensively and runs a hand through his hair. He's standing in front of the silver DeLorean.

"Good evening, I'm Doctor Emmett Brown. I'm standing on the parking lot of Twin Pines Mall. It's Saturday morning, October 26, 1985, 1:18 a.m. and this is temporal experiment number one. C'mon, Einy, hey hey boy, get in there, that a boy, in you go, get down, that's it." He says, opening the gull wing doors of the car, and puts his dog in the passenger seat.

He pulls a watch out from under his t-shirt and lab coat and compares it with one around Einstein's neck.

"Please note that Einstein's clock is in complete synchronization with my control watch." He says, as the numbers change from 1:20 to 1:21 AM in exact sync.

"Right check, Doc." I say, nodding with the camera.

"Good. Have a good trip Einstein, watch your head." He says, closing the door over his dog. He turns the car on and pulls out a remote control.

"You have this thing hooked up to the car?" Looking down at the RC controller.

"Watch this." I turn the camera towards him, but he shoos it away. "Not me, the car, the car." He turns a few knobs and flips a few switches and looks over at me.

"If my calculations are correct," He says. "When this baby hits eighty-eight miles per hour, your gonna see some serious ****."

He throws the car into park at the other end of the lot. I stand still, apprehensively waiting for Doc Brown to tell me something as the tires on the car smoke.

As soon as the Mile per hour gauge reaches 32 mile per hour, Doc Brown flips one more switch and the car is gliding down the pavement, headed straight for us. When the car is about thirty yards from us, I try to get out of the way, but Doc Brown wraps a hand around my arm and pulls me in closer to him.

"Watch this, watch this." He says, as the car reaches 55 miles per hour. In the next 30 yards, the car reaches 80 miles per hour and the undercarriage illuminates as if electricity is flowing through it.

Some lights glow in the car and when it's inches away from us, the car disappears in a blinding flash of light, leaving nothing more than a fire-trail from the tires and Doc Brown's novelty license plate that reads "Outta Time."

"Ha, what did I tell you, eighty-eight miles per hour!" He says, leaping for joy.

"Eighty... eight!" He repeats over and over again, running to and fro in the abandoned parking lot.

Then, as if he suddenly remember the eye of the camera was on him, he starts reciting scientific figures. "The temporal displacement occurred at exactly 1:20 a.m. and zero seconds!"

"Hot..." I say running a hand through my hair, "Jesus Christ, Doc. Jesus Christ, Doc, you disintegrated Einstein!"

"Calm down, Marty, I didn't disintegrate anything! The molecular structure of Einstein and the car are completely intact!"

"Well, where the hell are they?" I ask in confusion.

"The appropriate question is: "when the hell are they?" You see, Einstein has just become the world's first time traveler. I sent him into the future. One minute into the future to be exact. And at exactly 1:21 a.m. we should catch up with him and the time machine." The Doc says hurridly.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, Doc, are you telling me that you
built a time machine out of..." I pause, unsure if my next few words are going to make sense.

"...out of a DeLorean?"

 

Mart McFly
--->Part
2<---

“The way I see it, if you're gonna build a time machine into a car why not do it with some style. Besides, the stainless, steel construction made the flux dispersal…”

His speech is interrupted by the stop watch beeping from under his lab coat.

“Look out!” The Doc grabs me and heaves me out of the way.

With what sounds like three massive claps of thunder, the DeLorean tears along the pavement, appearing out of thin air.

The Doc and I stand, looking at the DeLorean, covered in smoke or steam.

Around us, there is a circle made of sheer ice. The pavement itself has turned to ice. We slip and slide over to the Doc's van.

"Jesus! What the hell was that?" I ask him.

“I must have miscalculated the ramifications the flux dispersal would have on the environment surrounding the event horizon.” Doc brown says, annoyed.

"English, Doc."

"According to my initial calculations, the manifold of circuitry and technology in the time machine equipment within DeLorean would strictly affect the steel body and everything inside it during the incursion into the destination time."

Doc takes out a model DeLorean to explain it more clearly.

"Forgive me for the crudity of this model, I didn't have the time to paint it or build it to scale."

"It's fine, Doc."

"Thank you, thanks. Now, when I designed the time machine and the components it contains, I calculated that only the time machine, the people inside of it, and the physical components of the car. Unfortunately, given the way that the machine works, it appears that the time-reaction the machine creates affects anything within a given radius of it."

Doc holds the small wooden car in his hand and makes an invisible circle around it.

"So... what?" I ask, "It makes everything outside of the car that's near it pretty freaking cold?"

"Precisely!" Doc exclaims.

He walks over to the car and puts a hand on it. He leaps backwards in surprise as soon as he touches the steel door.

“What, what is it hot?”

“It's cold, damn cold.”

He opens the door and hugs Einstein, who greets him with a few happy pants.

“Ha, ha, ha, Einstein, you little devil.”

I sprint over with the camera and zoom in on the stopwatches Doc holds in his hands.

“Einstein's clock is exactly one minute behind mine and still ticking!“

“He's alright.” I say in shock.

“He's fine, and he's completely unaware that anything happened. As far as he's concerned the trip was instantaneous. That's why Einstein's watch is exactly one minute behind mine.”

Doc Brown summons me to the driver's side door and opens his hand.

“He skipped over that minute to instantly arrive at this moment in time. Come here, I'll show you how it works.”

Doc flips a switch next to the gearstick.

“First, you turn the time circuits on.”

A display lights up. It shows three different readouts, each indicating a different time period.

“This readout tell you where you're going, this one tells you where you are, this one tells you where you were. You input the destination time on this keypad.”

Doc puts in a series of notable dates on the keypad next to the switch for the time circuits.

“Say, you wanna see the signing of the declaration of independence, or witness the birth or Christ. Here's a red-letter date in the history of science, November 5, 1955. Yes, of course, November 5, 1955.”

At the mention of the last date, Doc's eyes light up and he looks beyond the parking lot of the mall.

I can't help but ask him. “What, I don't get what happened.“

“That was the day I invented time travel. I remember it vividly. I was standing on the edge of my toilet hanging a clock, the porcelain was wet, I slipped, hit my head on the edge of the sink. And when I came to I had a revelation, a picture, a picture in my head, a picture of this. This is what makes time travel possible. The flux capacitor.“
Doc points to a device behind his head.



“The flux capacitor.“ I mutter under my breath.

“It's taken me almost thirty years and my entire family fortune to realize the vision of that day, my god has it been that long? Things have certainly changed around here. I remember when this was all farmland as far as the eye could see. Old man Peabody owned all of this. He had this crazy idea about breeding pine trees.“ Doc says to himself, getting out of the car, staring into town.

“This is uh, this is heavy duty, Doc, this is great. Uh, does it run on regular unleaded gasoline?“ I ask.

He turns around and waves his arms in the air.

“Unfortunately no, it requires something with a little more kick: plutonium.“

I stare at him from behind the lens of the camera.

“Uh, plutonium, wait a minute, are you telling me that this sucker's nuclear?” I say, taking the camera away from my face.

Doc reminds me to keep filming. “Hey, hey, keep rolling, keep rolling there.”

He steps into the view of the camera. “No, no, no, no, this sucker's electrical. But I need a nuclear reaction to generate the one point twenty-one giggowatts of electricity that I need.“

I stare at him.

“Doc, you don't just walk into a store and ask for plutonium.”

That's when I realize the only way Doc could have gotten his hands on plutonium.

“Did you rip this off?”

He answers with a grin on his face, “Of course, from a group of Libyan Nationalists. They wanted me to build them a bomb, so I took their plutonium and in turn gave them a shiny bomb case full of used pinball machine parts.“ He says, walking past me, chuckling.

“Jesus.” I mutter, taking the camera away from my face.

“Let's get you into a radiation suit, we must prepare to reload.” Doc says, handing me a yellow suit.

After we both put ourselves into our suits, Doc Brown opens a yellow case full of plutonium. He holds a glass cylinder in his hand and steps towards the back of the DeLorean.

He opens a pressurized chamber attached to the engine. He screws the glass

“It’s safe now, everything's lead lined.”

He takes a suitcase out and puts it in the trunk.

“Don't you lose those tapes now, we'll need a record. Wup, wup, I almost forgot my luggage. Who knows if they've got cotton underwear in the future. I'm allergic to all synthetics.”

I'm still not sure about if this experiment will work.

“The future, that's where you're going?”

“That's right, twenty five years into the future. I've always dreamed on seeing the future, looking beyond my years, seeing the progress of mankind. I'll also be able to see who wins the next twenty-five world series.“

This isn't goodbye.

“Uh, Doc.”

“Huh?”

I'm not going to let this be goodbye.

“Uh, look me up when you get there.”

“Indeed I will, roll em.”

Doc Brown straightens his lab coat and stands in front of the open door of the DeLorean.

“I, Doctor Emmett Brown, am about to embark on an historic journey.”

Letting out a chuckle, he slaps himself on the forehead and heads toward his van.

“What have I been thinking of, I almost forgot to bring some extra plutonium. How did I ever expect to get back, one pallet one trip; I must be out of my mind.”

As he's laughing, Einstein lets out a few barks.

“What is it Einy?” Doc asks, looking to the entrance of the mall parking lot.

He steps forward, staring at a Blue VW minibus that's pulling into the parking lot.

“Oh my god, they found me, I don't know how but they found me.”

Doc turns his back and sprints into his van.

“Run for it, Marty!” He says, from inside the van.

“Who, who?” I ask, in dismay.

“Who do you think?" He screams, leaning from the doorway into the van. "The Libyans!”

I turn around and see a man climbing out of the roof of the minibus holding a machine gun.

“Holy ****!!” I scream turning around.

“I’ll draw their fire!” Doc says, loading a revolver, sprint to the end of the van.

“Doc, wait!” I say, trying to convince him not to fight.

 

Mart McFly
--->Part
3<---

Saturday, October 26, 2007 (UNAWARE)
1:23 AM
Twin Pines Mall Parking Lot
​

I stand in my radiation suit staring at Doc Brown at the end of the van.

He drops his gun and gives a slight smile, showing how terrified he is.

Without warning, they unload the clip of the gun into his chest. The bullets tear through his suit and he falls backwards onto the ground.

I watch as Doc collapses and his eyes grow wide, staring into the sky...

Lifeless.

"Bastards!" I scream into the night.

The man who sprouted out of the roof glares at me and takes aim at me.

I duck in front of the van and sprint to the other side. The minibus pulls around.

Ah, Christ McFly, this is it. You're gonna get shot by terrorists in the mall of a parking lot. Holy ****... I tell myself, blinded by the headlights.

I peek at the van and see the man with the machine gun staring at me, aiming squarely at my chest.

I watch as he pulls the trigger.

CLICK

I open my eyes fully and stare at the minibus.

CLICK

CLICK

Jammed!

His gun has jammed.

I pivot, and sprint into the still open DeLorean.

I land in the driver's seat with a thud and slam the door.

I start the engine, ignoring the time circuits buzzing to life and plant my foot on the accelerator.

The car roars to life and plows forward.

"Go! Go!" I hear the terrorist screaming from his minibus.

I tear down a straight path of the parking lot in the DeLorean.

I see the bus pull up right on my ass and put my Nike hard on the ground.

"C'mon, c'mon." I say, shifting gears.

You're in a stick-shift car, you dork. If you needed to you could fly. Heh, a flying DeLorean, that'd be the day. Let's test these guys, let's get outta this god-damned mall parking lot, and

"Let's see if you bastards can do 90." I say, completing my own thought.

The car rockets forward, straight towards the mall exit.

I put my foot down even harder and watch as the LED illuminated speedometer on the dash reaches 80 miles per hour.

Saturday, October 26, 2007 (UNAWARE)
1:26 AM
Twin Pines Mall Parking Lot
​

 

Agent Smith Part 1

Agent Smith stands on the cold, dank, deserted street as the rain pours onto his face.

"Alive?" He asked to himself. "How?"

He heard a woman walking up behind him and turned around.

She is holding a bag of groceries in her arms and drops them as soon as she sees Smith.

He puts his finger to his ear piece and turns his head slightly.

"Pardon me ma'am, can you come here for a moment?" He says, removing the earpiece.

She steps towards him carefully and he puts his hand on her shoulder.

He takes the tips of the fingers on his right hand and jams them into her stomach. The woman's face goes pale and her arms go limp.

They both look down at Smith's hand, securely lodged in her torso.

He slowly withdraws it, covered in blood, finally aware that he is unable to copy himself.

He watches as the woman's body slumps down into a puddle.

Smith eases his jacket open and withdraws a handkerchief and wipes the blood from his hand.

The bloodstained handkerchief flashes green a few times and returns to its normal, white color.

"It seems that my program is fully functional."

Ah, yes.

He's here.

His presence in the Matrix has been noted, logged, and filed.

There is only one thing that remains.

"Extermination."

Smith released the body of the person he was previously occupying and took one directly behind the newly jacked-in "Neo."

"Mr. Anderson, you've become a thorn in my side. A thorn that must be removed quickly and sharply, and as promptly. Mr. Anderson, I am going to enjoy watching you die. I've sensed the glitch, whether you have or haven't, and I can only hope you notice it at the time of your demise."

"Stand still, Mr. Anderson. This won't hurt a bit."

 

John Anderton Part 3

Can you see?
Part III
​

I stand in the main room of the hover transport and look at my watch.

Time is ticking quickly.

"How long until we're at the mall?!" I scream to my pilot.

She sits, scared, fumbling slightly.

"I... I don't know, sir... 12 minutes at the fastest."

I look at my watch and hold my head in dismay.

10 minutes.

"That won't do! We'll be there two minutes after this man is dead."

I ignore her as she attempts to reply to me.

I turn my attention to my team and prepare to brief them.

"From what we can tell, these guys have heavy weapons. As far as the precogs could tell, they have at least one AK-47 Machine gun, and one rocket propelled grenade."

As I load my concussion rifle, I signal for the others to do the same.

"We're going to have one shot at this. We'll be there in..." I glance at my watch, "8 minutes, including a 2 minute landing procedure.

In order to stop this murder, we'll have to leap from the transport directly onto the sidewalk. This is a direct contact situation and there is evidence that one of the intended victims is going to attempt to make a temporal incursion. The prevention of the murder is a secondary goal at this point; the timeline must be kept intact. "

After suiting my team up, I hear my watch ring out, alerting me that six minutes have passed and we have 2 minutes to get to the crime scene.

I open the hatch and look down.

"****! We're too god-damned high! Bring us down!" I scream, watching the pilot.

I hear gas venting from either side of the transport and our descent slowly starts.

My watch beeps again, signaling that I have 1:30 until the murder.

Our descent is slow.

Slow and tedious.

My watch beeps again.

1:00.

This won't do.

I grab a long cable used for areal assaults, tie it to a chair in the transport, and tie it around my waist.

0:45

I look out of the hatch, blustering with wind and see the dim lights of the parking lot.

I hear a man scream something from the parking lot.

0:30

What the hell.

I never wanted to live forever anyway.

0:15

I sprint out of the transport, ignoring the cries from my colleagues.

The pavement approaches rapidly and I look at my watch.

0:10

I feel the line go tight, as I'm only about 20 feet from the ground.

0:09

I wrap my hand around a knife in my pocket and instinctively slice through the cable.

0:08

I fall hard on the ground a few dozen yards behind a blue minibus.

0:05

I draw my concussion rifle.

0:04

"By mandate of the..."

0:03
"District of Columbia...'

0:02

"I'm hereby placing you under..."

0:01

"arrest for the future mur--"

RATATATA.

Three clear shots echo from the gun through the parking lot.

I watch in horror as the old man falls to the ground, dead.

His companion tries to outrun the men in the van, eventually leaping into a car nearby, I can only assume it's the time machine.

I watch as the kid floors it, drives around the parking lot and tears down the side of the lot in the car.

I jam my finger on my earpiece.

"People, sit tight, this is the temporal incursion. Are we ready to block it?"

The reply I receive is anything but welcome.

"No, sir! We can't block it. The technology is unlike anything I've ever seen --"

I scream at him. "Are you KIDDING me?"

I tear out my ear piece and watch as the car begins to glow. The kid approaches what must be 90 miles per hour, leaving a pair of fire trails behind.

My ship lands and I watch as my crew gets out.

I look everyone of them in the eye.

"Tonight... was a disgrace. But... We can't win everyone of them. We've learned that. That is, however, the only positive that can come out of tonight. We can no longer simply expect to get the job done in a hurry. We have to be prepared and work as a single squadron."

I put my arm around my pilot, now in tears.

"We're a team. Nobody is to blame for what happened tonig--"

My words of comfort are interrupted by another, three letter word that rings out through the parking lot.

"Doc! Doc, doc, c'mon, buddy... Wake up."

I turn around to see the teenage boy, crouched over the murder victim.

The boy slaps the man's face.

"C'monnnn, doc!"

After a few twitches, the old man's eyes open wide, and he sits up.

The boy falls back, flat on his ass.

"Ho...How did you know?" he says, with a twinge of happiness.

The old man eases a taped-together letter from his radiation suit and shows it to the boy.

Opening his suit, the old man reveals a bullet-proof vest.

"Bullet-proof vest..." The boy says, dumbfounded.

They come together and hug each other like old friends.

"What the hell is going on here?" I say to myself and my team quietly.