Time Assassins, Inc.

This is my first attempt at a writing "game." The idea is to propose a subject and let others write a short story about it. It's an idea I've toyed with for some time, but someone(s) less lazy have already run with it, using pictures as the subject. This week's subject is from Tiff, who has been playing the game with Hyperion, et al.

This is a work of fiction. Copyright © 2006 Rumba Creative. All Rights Reserved.

No portion of this work may be copied, retransmitted, reposted, duplicated,

or otherwise used without the express written approval of the author.

Time Assassins, Inc.

“So what’s the assignment this time?” Wraith folded herself into an overstuffed chair, tucking her feet between the cushions. Behind the oak desk, Boss darted a furtive and appreciative glance at TAI's top agent. Wraith returned the look with indifference. Boss coughed, flipped the desk screen toward her.

“A routine job." He tapped the screen. “This is Doctor Archibald Preston, Professor of Experimental Physics, Cromwell University, circa 1948. What you see is the beginning of unlimited energy via temporal borrowing."

"You can't be serious. It looks like a giant robot vagina."

"Hm-hrrm.” Boss snugged his tie against his throat. “Well. Great inventions start small. The steam train started by watching a tea kettle." He averted his eyes as Wraith shifted. Just to spite him, she changed her position, taking advantage of the afternoon sun streaming through the window.

"So what's the job?" she asked, enjoying his discomfort.

"Standard termination. If Preston is allowed to complete his research, temporal energy borrowing will render our time untenable." Boss tossed a thick envelope toward her. "Here is everything you need. Clothing requisition, retroactive visitation warrant, appropriate currency. Good luck."

* * * * *

The assignment was no challenge for a seasoned time assassin. It was easy to charm the male authorities. A giggle here, a kiss there, Wraith found maneuvering the 1950’s no trouble. It was a simple matter to acquire a hotel room near the physics symposium. It was simpler yet to don a uniform, carry a tray, flirt the wait staff into complacency, and deliver the fatal needle to Doctor Preston’s neck. Before the good professor’s spasms could attract attention, Wraith was on the street. She pressed the embedded recall in her wrist.

* * * * *

"Well done." Wraith grasped at the bubble that was reality, tried to force her mind back to true time. "Bring her to my office," said the voice she thought she should know. She was shoved and dragged while her brain assimilated her being with her surroundings. She was deposited on a hard chair in a dark room. After a few moments, clarity returned.

"Welcome back," said Boss. "You took longer to return than expected." His tone was unfamiliar, cold, uncaring, offensive.

"How is that my responsibility? Don't talk to me like that. You know how hard it is." Wraith shook the last blurs from her head and looked about her. There was no soft chair, only hard plastic. The wooden desk was gone, replaced with a square of grey metal. The window admitted no sunlight, only a view of yellow smoke. Boss smiled and walked behind her.

"You have done well." He whispered close, licking her ear. Wraith shuddered, recoiled. She leapt to the door, found it locked.

"Get away. What the hell is wrong with you? "

"You were always my favorite." Boss smirked and slipped a hand down her blouse. "The part you play changes every time. But you can't change time, can you?"