Time Killer (Co-written by L.B.)

[Mushroom_king]

His name was Jeff King, or at least that is what everyone believed. No one really knew if Jeff King was his real name or if it was just the name he had taken, that the government had given him.

 

Jeff King was a government-hired assassin; that is, hired by the U.S. government to take out jobs for them because they didn't want to do it themselves. It paid alright, but if anyone had known Jeff at the time, there'd be mixed feelings about whether he enjoyed it or not. Jeff was an eternal pessimist, and some called him insane; perhaps dangerously so. But Jeff was happy enough to carry out the jobs he was told to carry out.

 

Jeff had, like most people at the time, had never seen the higher-ups in the government face to face, and didn't even know what they looked like. He only knew the president's name-which was, or so he was told, to be Enon. Or maybe it was Anon. He didn't really know. But Jeff had only seen the lower, less important members of the expansive government, had heard the vice-president's voice and the voices of some of the secretaries over the phone when told to do a job; but he'd never seen or heard the President, Anon or Enon as he was called.

 

Anon or Enon, thought Jeff, either way it's a stupid name.

 

It was because Jeff, and indeed no one, had seen or heard the President before that had him very nervous for the first time. Jeff was not a nervous man by nature; certainly not, given his occupation, which took a great deal of nerve to do.

 

The President never spoke on the radio nor the television; rather just the Vice President did, while the President controlled everything. The Vice President would go on the radio, and you would hear his voice tell what the President had done recently; Jeff thought the Vice President, whose name also escaped him at the moment, sounded like a slimy businessman.

The television was another matter; on the television, when the Vice President was broadcasted, you never saw his face; you only saw his body. Sometimes his back was turned. But you never saw his face. This must have, Jeff mused, caused a bout of paranoia in more than one American, wondering if the Vice President was someone they knew-or if the Vice President was a criminal. Even more people thought this about the President. Jeff didn't care.

 

Jeff was on a high-speed airplane to the capital; he'd been called there by the Vice President, as the President wanted something very important from him, a very important job he must tell no one about. Not like Jeff had anyone TO tell things to. No friends, for his occupation, as well as his nature, had made him a loner and made it hard for him to get along with others. His family was either missing or dead. He didn't care either way.

 

Jeff rode the plane, though he'd been careful with hiding his weapons; the security was so tight you could barely get even your clothes on. Jeff hadn't brought anything, as he half-expected this to be a normal job. The other half was the part wondering why the #### the President, who no one had seen, wanted to see him.

 

Jeff wondered this for a long time, and eventually fell into a deep sleep.

 

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Jeff was awoken hours later, when the plane landed in the airport of the Capital; he had no luggage, so he slowly rose out of his seat, still very tired and bitter about being woken, and even more bitter when he knew he would not be sleeping for several hours as he was to go to the President right away. So no sleep for a great many hours, depending on how long this meeting was and how urgently the job must be carried out.

 

Jeff slowly walked, sandwiched between two slow-moving masses of flesh also coming off the plane. He breathed a sigh of relief when he got into the airport and was finally freed from the tightly packed crowd of people. He walked through the airport, to security, and waited calmly as he went through. His weapons were undetectable. He had long wished that he had a government badge so he didn't have to go through these security checks, which had gotten increasingly stricter over the past few years. But no matter, he was experienced at getting his weapons through, and he succeeded per usual. He left the airport and found himself in the Capital, a place he knew all too very well; he'd never exactly been in the White House before, but still been there before, to speak with the Vice President on more than one occasion.

 

But he knew where the White House was, and he made his way to it, as if he knew the path by heart.

He found it not too long after trudging his way through the city; trudging being the perfect word for it. He trudged through the grime of the city sidewalks and streets, which were littered with garbage and homeless people. Jeff marveled at how the Capital was even less well-kept than any hick town Jeff had been to. He was genuinely curious why, but he didn't let the thought plague him for very long. Jeff found himself in front of the White House; where The President, the Vice President, and all of the President's cronies lived and worked. He'd never been inside.

 

The building was surrounded by a fence; a fence that Jeff was seeing more and more often around buildings, a fence with incredibly heavy security. He had often wondered if these high-security fences were electric fences. He would not be surprised one bit if they turned out to be.

 

He walked up to the gate of the house, careful not to touch the fence, not wanting to test and see if the fence was electric. He looked around for a way inside, and noticed one of those security things that he didn't know the name of-where you talked into a box to say who you were, put your hand to it, the whole ordeal. He walked up to it carefully, and was only slightly taken aback when a voice came quietly cracking over it. He didn't recognize the voice. Probably just someone in the low ranks.

 

"Who is it?" The gruff voice whispered.

"Jeff King," He replied, and was about to say he was there to see the President when the gate opened slightly.

"Enter," The voice said. Jeff did so, walking across the lawn of the White House and up into the large doors. Before he could knock they were opened just a crack, and the same voice, now less gruff, ordered him inside. Jeff did so, and the door slammed shut behind him.

 

"I will lead you to The President's Office," Said the doorman.

"The Oval Office?" Jeff asked.

The man said nothing, but motioned for Jeff to follow him. Jeff did so, if reluctantly.

 

------------------------------------------------

 

Jeff was led to the Oval Office, where he presumed he would be meeting The President.

 

"He will be waiting for you, Mr. King." Said the man, who unlocked the door and left.

Jeff hesitated for a moment, and reached for the doorknob as though it would shock him should be touch it. He clutched the brass knob, slowly turned it, and pushed it, hearing the door click.

 

What he saw before him was a room almost entirely dark, save for two shafts of light which came from the small area where the blinds did not cover the windows.

<i>How cliche,</i> Jeff thought sourly. <i>Meeting a man no one else has whose office is entirely dark from covering the windows.</I>

Jeff shut the door behind him, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out a wooden desk and a spinning chair, which the back of faced him.

"Greetings, King. Have a seat."

Jeff looked and saw a seat was in front of the desk. He sat down; the large chair he believed held The President still did not turn around.

"Greetings, Mr. President."

The President turned his chair slightly, so Jeff could make out a suited sleeve in the darkness. He could see most of The President's body, and a head, but no face. A faceless government, Jeff observed, nearly scoffing.

 

"You must find it odd I called you to see me."

"Odd is an understatement," Jeff said, his teeth gritting.

"You are the only person in the entire country who has ever heard me speak."

"I understand that, sir, just please tell me why I am here. What do you want me to do?"

"This is no ordinary assassination job, Jeff."

"I think I realize that considering who I'm talking to," Jeff replied, growing impatient. "Now tell me who the #### I'm going to find and kill."

He heard a noise that sounded like a small laugh; this enraged Jeff, though he didn't make it known.

"Don't talk like that, King. You are assassinating a man, not merely killing him. A murderer would be killing, killing for no purpose whatsoever, a man like that is the kind of man you take out. You are to assassinate someone, you are giving him something akin to the death penalty!"

"Whatever, Mr. President, I understand. Tell me why this case is so unusual."

"King, what I am about to tell you may seem unbelievable, but you must believe me for the sake of your country, and perhaps the rest of the world."

"Stop making it sound so mystical and tell me already, Anon or Enon or whatever they call you."

The President scoffed again. "Just call me Mr. President, King."

The President's chair rolled back so the back faced Jeff and he no longer saw the well-tailored sleeve. The President suddenly stood up, his back facing Jeff, his hands behind his back.

 

"King, you have heard that history repeats itself. Correct?"

Jeff said Yes.

"Indeed. Good. That is essential for your understanding. Now, as I was saying."

 

"History repeats itself, or so they say; and it is true in what I am about to tell you. Once again I order you to keep an open mind about what I am to tell you."

<i>I order you?</i>

"Twenty years from now, in Russia, a country we are currently under good terms with, a man will rise to power. This man is thought by my Cabinet, The Vice President, and my Secretaries to be a descendent or distant relative of Joseph Stalin."

Jeff thought for a moment as The President paused. He wasn't too keen on History, but he was mostly sure Stalin had no descendent after he died. But he hadn't studied the matter in years, so what did he know.

 

"In this time, this man will quietly rise to power and reform the Soviet Union, and successfully turn many countries of the world under Communist control." The President walked closer towards the windows, reached for them, and pulled the blinds up. He put his arms back behind himself.

"You, Mr. King...must go and Assassinate this man."

 

Jeff was baffled and confused, though his face did not show it.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you wish for me to repeat myself, Mr. King?"

"No, Mr. President, it's just that..."

"Just what, Mr. King?" Said The President, his voice suddenly growing deep and threatening.

"How the #### am I going to twenty years from now to kill a second Stalin? How do you even know about this?"

The President scoffed. "My Secretaries and Cabinet have a way of learning things, Mr. King; such is how we learned of your great assassination skills and such is why you work for us."

 

Jeff was still confused, but he had the idea that The President was no longer going to answer that question.

"How am I getting there?"

"By Time Machine, of course."

Jeff's mouth hung agape. For the first time he showed genuine shock.

"A Time Machine?!"

"Precisely, Mr. King."

"As in HG Well's 'The Time Machine' Time Machine."

"Precisely, Mr. King."

There was a long silence.

"I ordered you to keep an open mind about this, Mr. King."

"I did, but it's unbelievable-"

"I am ordering you to believe, Mr. King."

Jeff was about to object to it-it was far too insane. But The President seemed dangerous enough to him, and he merely replied "I am, Mr. President."

"Good, King. Now. I want you to travel forward in time, to twenty years in the future, to assassinate Stalin II. It will not be simple. Time Travel is not as simple as the books would like you to believe. Time is unstable. It can be lost, gained, killed, and wasted, Mr. King. And time-traveling is dangerous, dangerous business. I have lost a number of men and women who tested the machine, who may have gotten stuck in a dangerous period of time."

"They were killed in another time?"

"Not in that time, Mr. King. They all came back."

Jeff paused.

"What happened to them?" He whispered.

The President said nothing for some time.

 

"I do not tolerate failure, Mr. King. Failure angers me. Failure is not an option when you are working for me, when you are working with me. Failure angers me, Mr. King, and when one of the Cabinet, or one of my Secretaries, angers me, I may or may not keep them. I never kill them, Mr. King. I am not a murderer, nor an assassin. That is why we have you, after all. No. I do something far worse in response to failure. When my Cabinet or Secretaries fail, it makes me angry, and the one who made me angry has their reputation slowly but surly taken apart until no one, not even their dearest family and closest friends, will stand to be around them. And this in turn, Mr. King, will slowly but surely seriously damage their sanity. I do not forgive, Mr. King, and I especially do not forgive failure. This includes you, Mr. King. I do not expect you to fail. You do not want to fail. If you fail you will not be able to hide it from me, for I have my ways of finding out things, and I will find out sooner or later. But I expect you to succeed in your mission, Mr. King."

 

Jeff sat in shock. He wanted to get up and run, but he was paralyzed by fear-a fear he had never felt from any horror movie, from any assassination job he had been assigned, nothing. And he knew, should he get up and run now, The President would have him in his iron, unforgiving grip. \

 

"Do you agree to take on this job, Mr. King?" It was the first time he had ever been asked that.

 

Jeff tried not to scream, not to sweat, not to shake, not to do anything. The President could smell your fear. The thought that this man controlled his country now terrified him.

 

"Yes, Mr. president."

"Good. Now let me explain your mission. As I said it is not as simple as you going twenty years from now, going to Russia, finding him, and killing him. There is a 1/1000000 chance you will actually get to the future on your first try at time travel, and the chance is even lower of even getting to Russia."

"Are you implying the Time Machine can change where I am physically?"

"Judging by how unstable it is. You could end up anywhere from New York to Tokyo, in any time period in History. It is a dangerous machine."

Jeff continued to hide his fear.

"But this does have a slight bonus. Stalin II also knows Time Travel, and there is an enormous chance he is out in history somewhere, looking for us, to kill you and I. It is hopeful you may find him or some clue to his hiding places from some Spy whom Stalin II has planted in Time. I have done the same with a select few Cabinet members. Each Cabinet Member has been given one of these," Said The President, motioning towards an object on the table. It looked like a watch.

 

"Another groundbreaking piece of technology," Said The President as Jeff fumbled with the device and attempted to put it on his wrist, "Is that. We like to call it the Chrono Communicator; a device that allows two or more people to communicate if they are in different times."

"How do you do it?"

"That, I can't tell you, Mr. King." Said The President, his voice growing low and secretive. "But what I can tell you is that you shall be using that to communicate with us. Do not lose it."

"I won't, Mr. President. I'm not a clumsy man."

"Good. That's why I hired you, King."

"When do you want me to go on this mission?"

"Tomorrow morning, Seven Sharp. Get a good night's rest and a good breakfast, King. Until tomorrow morning the Cabinet will be researching where Stalin II's current whereabouts in history may be at the moment, and tomorrow morning you will be told our results and sent to find him. We will go out of our way to make sure the Machine doesn't send you to a completely different period in history. Now go. You will have a room to stay in."

 

Jeff got up, as The President sat back down in his chair. He felt uneasy, taking orders from a man whom he had not even seen the face of, and taking orders to do something incredibly dangerous like this. But Jeff was not able to turn it down. The President's threats were too much.

 

"Remember, Mr. King," Said The President as Jeff was about to open the door, "I do not forget, nor do I forgive. Do not fail this mission lest you pay the steepest of prices for it."

"I will not, sir."

 

Jeff opened the door and carefully shut it on his way out.

[Horatio]

[ Genius!!! Mushroom_king... this story is stellar. Please do continue! ]

[Mushroom_king]

[ Genius!!! Mushroom_king... this story is stellar. Please do continue! ]

[My friend L.B. (Portal) is co-writing this with me, he is supposed to write the next chapter with me proofreading and posting it here.]

[Horatio]

[ I look forward to the next post. ]

[Mushroom_king]

this chapter supplied to you by Portal.

 

Jeff got up and got out of bed, shaved, and put on his usual attire, a black suit. He went down, ate what could barely be considered food, let alone breakfast, and looked down at the address he was given on his way out of the White House. What? He thought to himself, This cannot be right, this is in the warehouse district. He shrugged and hailed a taxi, which brought as far as a large concrete wall in front of the address. Two MP's marched to the taxi, helped him out, and leaned over to the taxi driver and stuck a needle in his neck. "What did you do to him?" Asked Jeff with mild interest. "Sir, we injected a special formula that inhibits the memory of this address, what we do here is top secret and nobody can ask questions." "Very well then, lead the way," King said and the three men marched towards a huge warehouse.

 

Jeff realized that this was no ordinary warehouse as soon as he stepped inside and let his eyes adjust. The two MP soldiers led him to a computer console that appears to be deserted, "Sir, this is Professor Webb, head scientist and special physics expert," apparently waving at nothing.

 

"Umm, who are you talking about?" asked Jeff, thinking the man had stood too many shifts. "I AM DOWN HERE, MORON!" shouted a childlike woman half his height. "Oh, I did not see you there," Said Jeff, immediately worrying that he had offended her. "Oh, that's fine I guess," she muttered "I am Webb, and you had better not act insulting again or I might ACCIDENTALLY send you to the wrong time and place!" she suggested, her eyes glinting like those of Jack Nicholson in THE SHINING.

 

Webb led Jeff to the center of the warehouse where there was a huge something covered in army mesh and netting. "Um, what is this?" asked Jeff, fearing the answer. "This, is the time machine you will be using." Webb answered and signaled to a crane that lifted the cloth and mesh. Before Jeff stood a long vehicle that resembled a Model T converted to a limo. Webb stepped forward and opened the door, "The machine is equiped with a full Amory for four people even though only you will be traveling in this machine, it's also equipped with a stocked kitchen and supplies to feed you for two years. Finally it is equipped with a shower, four hammocks, and a whole closet full of black suits." she finished with a smirk.

 

She led him to the cockpit, and wished him luck. "Wait, don't I need a preliminary report or something?" Jeff asked nervously, "Nope, I only have one request, my boyfriend Leon A. Mort was sent before you and never returned, there was an error with the machine. If you see him, help him out." She asked him with a serious look. She leaned over him and flicked on the music player which began blaring the BILL AND TED soundtrack. She jumped out, ran to her computer and typed in commands. The vehicle moved forward to face a ramp over-looking the river. "SEE YA SUCKER!" she yelled into the mike and hit enter on the computer. The Time Machine leaped towards the ramp, launched across the river and disapeared into thin air!

 

Jeff then saw a post-it note on the radio, it said "Oh by the way, you will have to wait about a week to reach the destination, which is about 20 years from now."

He rolled his eyes and moved to the restroom located next to the shower when it rattled. He pulled a gun from his inner jacket, moved forward slowly, and renched open the the curtan to the shower, to reveal what could only be described as a female paper boy. "WHO THE **** ARE YOU!" He exclaimed, and she replied, "I am Clyde Gordon."

[Horatio]

[ Stellar! Thank you Portal and MK!!! ]