Steampunk Octopus 12.2013


Strap in and take a look at more mindblowing pieces from Alex on his site.

Bumps were a part of the job. You didn’t go out to sea and not expect to have the boat dip and dive to levels that would upset the stomachs of folks on land. Captain Dominic knew this and was comfortable with it. So comfortable that he almost slept through and event that sailors and scholars would talk about for decades to come.

“Captain! Come quick! That bastard was right!”

Arvey checked his hands for splinters as he made it to the bottom of the stairs leading below deck. Without a thought he disobeyed the unwritten rule and slid down the set of stairs with his hands on the old wooden rails. As loud as he could he yelled to the captain fast asleep in his small out of the way cabin. Dreams of spending hard earned money comforted him most likely as the ship rolled and dipped. He could sleep through a hurricane and a half no doubt and a “little water” hitting port side wouldn’t wake him now. Waves the size of buildings crashed in and then sucked back out as they tried to keep afloat versus the massive unnatural beast. Deckhands ran about frantically grabbing all manner of hooks and weapons as they tried to make sense of what they were seeing. They couldn’t believe that the bastard was right.

Weeks earlier the crew caught the sight of a glint on the horizon. Thinking it was a buoy or some other floating salvage, they moved towards it. Only to find a debris field half a mile long and the near dead dried and salted body of famed explorer and adventurer Louis Flint. When he explained the situation they counted their lucky stars. Not only were they now talking to a living legend, they came about and rescued him after his ship was apparently destroyed by the Autono-pus. A monstrous construct conceived and built by the Phantom Hood. The worlds first super villain. Louis had been on his trail for years and at the risk of his notoriety, his fame fortune and even sanity he was going to unmask the Hood. He offered untold riches to the men aboard the ship if they would help him recover equipment destroyed when the Hood and his machine attacke his ship. When that equipment was safely aboard, secured and covered, they could began their new job of tracking down and confront the Hood. Captain Dominic agreed, fully believing the adventurer was crazed but not being able to pass up a chance at the money he offered.

So on that bright morning when one of Flints numerous devices began to beep, the crew paid no mind. They were more excited about receiving word from the nearby HMS Lockheed and the chance to resupply their whiskey casks. When the sky suddenly darkened, they continued their games of chess and loudly exaggerated stories of conquest. But when the sea boiled and tentacles the size of smokes stacks snaked forth their tune changed. With frightening precision the arms grabbed the vessel before them and began to rip it open, mere wrapping paper to a child. Smoke poured from other unseen gashes on the underside of the ship as the metallic beast conducted its brutal surgery. Suddenly, the rattle of gunfire competed with the sound of metal and wood being torn asunder. A heavy rain of bullets came from the smaller ship as Louis Flint pulled the tarp from his precious salvaged cargo and opened fire on the Autono-pus with his incomprehensible Gun-chair. A steam powered chimera of chair, gunship, automobile and tank. A device dreamed up to slay a creation of nightmares. Several of his shot found their mark in the side of the beast. It released its death grip on its target and dove beneath the waves.

“Abandon ship!” Louis shouted as the Captain made it up top.

“Wait a second Flint, that’s my call. And what for? You drove it off you crazy bastard, you did it”

Without looking at the captain Louis turned the gun chair towards the deck, straight down. “I’m sorry Captain, it is your ship, But If i’m right, in about 12 seconds there wont be much of it left. It doesn’t matter who gives the order but get them off. 10 seconds Captain. 9, 8….” The crew looked on in horror as Flint counted down. The whole time aiming and charging the Gun Chair straight at the deck of the ship. The Captain gave the order and understood what was happening at the same moment. He braced himself for both impacts.

The Undercity 01.2014



More superb work from Jake can be found on his Deviant Art page.

I used to look up at them and wonder what made them do it. What person in their right mind would choose to live above ground. I guess in past times it made sense. Things were different back then. But now it’s a death sentence. The suns aren’t held back anymore and those waves of pulsating radiation destroy almost anything they touch.

We made a good choice to save ourselves but it cost more than many could imagine. Dozens of generations ago when they came we had to make that choice. We couldn’t escape the message and the ultimatum the machines issued. Across all communications the message was heard. They gave us time to get things In order and we took that time to make a plan. Our plan? Destroy the atmosphere and expose our surface to the double dose of our suns. In months the radiation levels would be too high for their circuits to work properly. In years all of the resources they wanted would be contaminated. In a generation we would Be a vast wasteland that they would never visit again. We knew the consequences and the alternative so we chose what was best. After a few decades people ventured back out there. They said it was right. They said that out there was the true spirit of our world. Some misguided faith told them We were willing to sacrifice to make a stand back then. But from where I sit they’re crazy. They have death wishes and no common decency. The few people who truly understand about survival still hide from the double barreled suns. We live in the Undercity and down here is where the story really begins.

Search for Auriga 11-13


Some very impressive work on Aurelien’s Deviant Art.

“Quickly quickly people we must hurry.We must go deeper still.”

The Matron waived the people onward towards the lifts. By groups of ten and twelve they were pushed into the cars and as the doors closed the hum of repulsor engines could be heard. They were carried deep below the city and away from the rumbling above. It was the only way they could be saved from what was about to come.

The shaking began days ago as the first waves and scans reached the planet. The Matron council knew what was happening and without hesitation began to move quickly. For 7 generations they had avoided contact with the outer planets. Kept trade to a minimum and successfully shed their past. On a world in the zones deemed too barren to support life, they carved a living from nothing. When their first probes find the paradise they knew there was no turning back. A ship full of forced soldiers could recognize a tactical advantage when they saw it and jumped at the opportunity. None wished to do battle in the Gate Wars and when they were instructed to hide and hold for instructions they decided to follow half of their orders. Here on Torias-12 they could indeed hide from detection. Their enemies would never find them and neither would their war-blinded commanders. They could take their ship into the atmosphere, strip her communications devices and homing beacons and all but vanish from the war and their home. So for generations they did. They built trade and society and new technology. Enough knowledge was kept to speed up the process from scratch and help them become a society that truly understood the value of peace and one that repressed the violence of war.

But years later the war raged on. And when the High Command of Garnus once again decreed a ship was to seek refuge for a later sneak attack. The Auriga was discovered. Her halls were rocked from the violent scans and the remote reactivation of long dormant systems. The probes entered the atmosphere and gathered years of data in seconds. Soon they would return that information to the ships and then back to High Command. They had been found and the unintentional search for Auriga was at an end.

The Matrons did their best to evacuate the city to safe areas far away and below the old ship. As the last cars made their escape they readied themselves. In a matter of minutes they would again prepare for something they had not seen in years. Battle. Yet this time it was a battle they wished to fight. They would now fight for the peace of their people by fighting their forgotten past.

Sky Whales 12-13



One incredible gallery of work at CgHub.


We always heard that those who didn’t learn history were doomed to repeat it. Funny thing is, that’s not an all inclusive thing. For all of us that learned from our mistakes and tried to take care of the planet, there were just as many who did the opposite. The lands and forests were polluted beyond repair. And the waters took the worst of our harshness. But this time we just didn’t get close to losing the ocean life. This time, the whales simply had enough, and they left. Overnight, the oceans became a bit quieter. Whale songs vanished from listening posts. The clicks and deep whistles no longer echoed through the deep. The remaining science minded individuals searched for answers but any clues were long gone or eroded thanks to our ways. Yet somewhere out there were those of us who still had answers. Some who knew that the disappearance of the mighty whales was just the beginning of a countdown to their return.

So when the vibrations shook from the clouds to the very ground we lived on a few of us were not surprised. Some of us were ready for this day and were glad to witness the beginning of a new era.

“They were ancient before we were young and many stayed when their kind left. They stayed to watch and live beside us because of our great potential. Despair not when they leave, for it is only to return and help us reach a new plateau.” — The Whale Song, unknown.

Snow Flakes 12-13

More of Thomas’s work can be found on Deviant Art.

“But dad, why does it only happen now? What about the rest of the time?” Her voice was a bit more inquisitive than normal. She had good reason. Most things she learned from the haptic-lesson pod but whoever programmed them never saw a reason to add entries for snow. In fact, they missed a large number of entries and concepts when they set them up. Gilbert knew this and tried his best to fill in those gaps for the girl but there always seemed to be something new he missed.

“Its just weather Lilly. Sometimes it gets really cold and then the water that makes the clouds freezes. Then it falls down here, just snow.”

Her upturned helmet tried to track a single flake as it fell. With a little movement she caught it on her visor. it melted quickly leaving a faint outline. Gilbert was quietly relieved as it was the first time in ages their crosstown trek was so smooth. Luck would have it that it was also one of those rare times snow actually fell in New Toronto. He still remembered the old style history books, They had pictures of snow in big mountains. Blizzards and snowstorms were talked about and even old videos of them used to be available. But now those days were long gone. The only information available on history was in the pods. And only the most wealthy could afford the complete versions. That was one reason Lily had such an incomplete one. That and the fact that she had no use for all of that extra digitally stored knowledge. Not where she would eventually end up. Her pod times were best used learning useful skills.

As they made it to the train station it marked the halfway point of the weekly trip. Soon they would board and at least half of the prying eyes and hushed voices would stop. The people were never used to seeing Lily and it always bothered her. For a while the bear helped but soon even it failed to comfort her. Gilbert took to wearing the helmet so that she could see it was OK. And overtime, that too lost its affect. But today, the snow was a welcome distraction. Being so preoccupied by it she probably never even heard the names they were called.

“Come on Lilly, lets get on. Soon we will be at the center and you can take you helmet off. Just a little more to go.”

“Will there be snow at the center too?”

“Maybe, Lets hurry and find out.”

He knew it was nonsense, but for a moment he could feel her smile through the helmet.

Flash Fiction Challenge 2013 – Round 1 Submission

Round 1 challenge was: Write a 1000 word story in 48 hours with the following theme/setting/item Comedy, Amusement Park, Juice-box.  Below is my submission. Quite a challenge, but still fun with the deadline and the random assortment of things to pull together.

Green Friday
Big Glenn doesn’t really want to be at the Park on Friday or any other day for that matter. His only motivations besides the paycheck,  are avoiding the dreaded Yellow 311 and confiscating enough alcohol to drink the shift away.


They say Monday is the Moons day. Maybe that’s why people hate it so much. It could be that nobody wants to start out the work week thinking about some celestial body flashing its butt at them. Glenn secretly thought maybe that was the wrong kind of moon. But really, Mondays didn’t bother him nearly as much as Fridays, they were the bane of his existence. Worst of all the last Friday before school started back, what everybody at the Park called Green Friday. The Park owners thought the name was because of all the money they made. But really the workers picked it for other reasons. Mainly because the Park would be covered in a wonderful mix of vomit and cotton candy. Casting a never-occurring in nature green sheen over most surfaces by days end.  Luckily, screams of lost kids and frustrated parents would easily drown out the rickety clanging of the rides and sounds of hurling.  If there was a day on which he contemplated playing a severely bad game of chicken with a semi truck, this was it.

He rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers and a thumb as if  desperately trying to squeeze out the last bit of the conversation he just heard.

He stood towering over the arguing men. He never really had a commanding voice and hoped the fact his words came from up higher gave them that listen to me now quality. Usually, he was right.

“First of all , I don’t think anybody can really discriminate against a Carnie. It’s not a race of people. They don’t come from a Carnie-land or have a Carnie skin color or accent, so you’re wrong. This guy just hates you because you’re kind of a dick Randall. And secondly, and more importantly, you aren’t a Carnie anyway. Just like you weren’t a psychic last week when you guessed that birthday, or a chef the week before for accidentally mixing pretzels in the cookie dough. You’re a park employee working at the only amusement park that would hire you. So do you really wanna argue over this prize and risk getting fired?”

Having just misread his “quote of the day” app, Randall squinted as he saw his chance to make that 99 cents worth it.

“It’s the principle Glenn. He looked it up on Google. I know it’s the only way he was able to win that game. I can’t let this one slide.”

The games wrangler adjusted his cap. Glenn knew this meant he was either about to use a word incorrectly or spout another quote that had no purpose in this situation.

“Because If a man doesn’t have his principles then he has nothing left but bearing arms. –Benjamin Franklin.”

At least he tried.

“Franklin didn’t say that. Nobody said that. Anyway, Randall, you work here. You don’t have any principles.”

Glenn took a breath. His mind popcorning about as little explosions of thought fired in rapid succession. Running through scenarios to end this argument and get back on patrol. It was just five bucks, and the longer he bickered over who was right and wrong, he knew some kid was out there sneaking into an entrance with enough alcohol to drop this day into the time machine and set it to “I don’t care mode”. Surely, somebody needed to confiscate it, for the sake of the children.

“I’m not a cheater and this idiot insulted me. I want somebody in charge or my prize.”

The man didn’t even sound mad. Glenn guessed his size and uniform were working in his favor again. The man’s head only came to his chest. His weirdly muscled arms clashed horribly with his pronounced belly which would easily be at home on the frame of a late second trimester mother to be. At least he was alone and Glenn was thankful the dumbbell master had no entourage boosting his ego.

Just as he had mostly planned a way to keep everybody calm, Randall chimed in.

“If I get one straight no cheating, winning shot, he can have it”

“Fine. Give it here.” Glenn reached and grabbed the ball. Tossing the more cube than sphere whiffle ball  passed the metal rings. One shot, one win.

“Whoa! Not you!” Randall said standing in protest before remembering how big Glenn was.

“You said one shot, didn’t say by who.” Glenn smirked as he pointed at the prize.

“Either you give it to him or I do.”

Deflated, Randall jiggled his grabber and pulled down the cheaply made insult to toy designers everywhere.

The oddly smug and stoned face of the banana was covered by its dreadlocks as the man disappeared very pleased into the crowd.

The park workers shared an intense stare before a family walked up and ended the awkward standoff.

A chirp escaped from Glenn’s radio. Before he could pick it up his supervisor rattled off a message to the troops.

“We got a Yellow 311. Bumper Alley.”

He could almost hear the grin on Matt’s face.  The replies came like auctioneer calls before he could react.

“I’m on gate duty!” –Jody

“Escorting a drunk!” –Dave

“Lost kid!” –That new guy with the tiny feet

All of them pros at dodging the bullet.

He stumbled to form a convincing lie but that one second was too long.

Matt pounced on his indecision.

“That leaves you Glenn, whatchu got?”

“I’m..banana…ball, hat… Dammit!”

“Great! It’s all yours big guy.”

He swore he heard the laughter before the channel went silent.

If he hated Green Friday then Yellow 311′s had to be his personal hell. He even tried it once after his first Green Friday when professional curiosity got the better of him. But he couldn’t figure out how they did it. Leave it to bored teenagers to find a way to fill a juice box with urine and tie it to the bumper cars.

Yup. No question about it, Fridays were the worst.


Late one Night 10-27-2013


When somebody takes that chance and gives me money to make a movie, I’m contacting this guy for concept art. Be amazed at his body of work here.

Karl sat half dozing off for the last hour. Research for stories was the most boring part of the job. His head bobbed and dipped closer to hitting the desk each time he slipped closer to sleep. His lip still hadn’t recovered from the last serious bump he had taken. When the door buzzed he could almost hear the thick accent and see the pouty lips of some lost off world tourist asking for directions soaking wet. He was obviously still dreaming. As he opened the door he came fully awake to something even his half unconscious creative mind couldn’t come to terms with. The blue OCH punched him in the chest. A loud scream filled the quiet cluttered office and for a brief moment he couldn’t tell if it was his or the monkeys.

“What the fuck is going on he…”

A solid smack to the face shut him up mid protest. He fell back into a stack of notes and papers only to see the monkey on too of the mini fridge next to his feet.
His vision was blurred but he could still make out the small clip it wore and the Neural Cascade Gun the blue man carried. OCH’s didn’t need guns. What was happening? He had barely seen one out of a hospital let alone on the streets armed and like this. OCHs were Organ Cache Humanoids. Grown to be holding places for the replacement organs of the insanely rich. One conscious and aware enough to do this was unheard of.

“I have money. What do you want?!” His voice sounded strange in his own head. He was crying and honestly didn’t care. There was little doubt he was about to die.

“We don’t want your money. We want a favor Mr. Munroe. We need you to make a phone call.”

The sentence was punctuated with a kick to the gut. That’s when he realized the voice came from the now suddenly calm monkey. He rolled over to see it perched on a large black bag that wasn’t in his office earlier.

The OCH grabbed him by his collar and drug him to a seat. He adjusted his glasses and reached for the phone on his desk.

“Listen I don’t know what’s going on here or how this is possible or even who you are, but I’ll call whoever you want.”

The monkey shifted and looked at the OCH giving a silent command resulting in him knocking the phone from the desk. “Not with that phone, we need one away from the building. And truthfully speaking, it doesn’t matter who we are. You’re about to have the story of your life. You may thank us when this is all over.”

The rain at least covered the smell of the OCH. They were seemingly steeped in chemical baths to stabilize the organs and by all accounts they smelled like pickled meat loaves pumped with amoxicillin. The impossible kidnappers stuffed him into a phone booth across the street. He could feel his head swelling from the blow and his side ached with each breath.

“Who, who am I calling?”

He remained calm and had just a hint of defiance. They weren’t going to get the satisfaction of more tears now. After all the monkey said story of his life and who doesn’t trust a talking telepathic monkey. “We need you to call your contact at the New Trenton police station. Report a break in and possible murder.” “Wait, you can’t kill me! And why the cops? Why now?”

The body is already in your office you idiot. We just need you to call it in so that She can get word. We know she monitors the police band and she’ll beat them here easy.”

He thought back to the black bag in the office. It was easily big enough for a human body. But who? He swallowed hard as he picked up the phone to dial. “Then what? After I make the report, then what?”

“Then, things get a little, crazy. And then you get your story for the paper. You can thank me when it’s all over and you are making the headlines for the next twenty years.”

Karl’s night had just begun and if he had any doubts about trusting a talking telepathic monkey, they were about to be put to the test.


The Cloud Bearers 10-26-2013


Talk about some mind blowing pieces, check out Emault’s Cg Hub for more.


The crackle and hiss repeated across the fleet. Several Comms Attendants snapped to alertness and waited for the message. A tapping proceeded like in centuries past just to get their attention.

“This is Commander Raitia Tenner to the Seed Fleet. I have served with many of you since your first day in the GFP. That is something I am very proud of. Proud to work with such strong, smart and resourceful men and women. When we took this mission they called it stupid.There was almost no support back home when the scientist proposed it. But one thing changed the minds of the Council who finally voted for it. They were swayed by the ideas or the theoretical science behind it. They could care less that we could seed a planets upper atmosphere and bring water to a desert world. They never gave a second thought to us planting barren fields with genetically engineered plants that could one day cover a new ocean floor with kelp to feed all of Earth. The one thing that changed their minds was you. You made them sit up and take notice. You made them realize that if all of you were willing to give up your lives back home to travel the 5 years to Vesta for this project then maybe it had a chance. More than a chance, it had a force behind it. You may have noticed over the past few weeks we have succeeded in making clouds. We have made the first real steps in making this project work. But today I have other news for you. This may come as a shock, but this morning on Vesta we are not alone. Twelve kilometers North East of the Seed Fleet we have detected company. A real honest to god thunderstorm is heading our way. That’s right people. Today the Cloud Bearers bring rain. I hope you packed your umbrellas and raincoats, because today, you’ve done it.”

Lyssa the Shaman 10-25-2013



More stunning work can be found on Anna’s site here.

Tanna walked along the edge of the cliff more carefully than she ever had before. She knew that at this height a slip could quickly turn into something much worse. Rocks from above bounced and tumbled down causing her to hold her breath and stop dead in her tracks. Slowly she looked up to see a mountain fawn bounding almost straight up the sheer cliffs. Not a care in the world, doing what it did naturally. She clutched her bag hoping the roots inside would give her comfort. Hoping that maybe she would be able to find her today and her journey would be almost at an end.

Two weeks earlier she heard an old man say he saw her up here.

“It nearly scared me to my bones. I heard the whistling then I looked and saw her. Tiny as child and barefoot as a baby. She stepped on top of the snow she was so light and perfect. And as soon as I opened my mouth to ask her if she was well, she up and vanished.”

The others in the tavern laughed, But Tanna knew he was not drunk or mad or any other affliction they accused him of. He was lucky. Lucky enough to have seen the Shaman of the White Steps, Lyssa. It took almost another hour to reach the spot where she last saw the fawn and then anohther to reach the plateau he headed for. A dusting of snow accompanied her most of the way and she was glad she remembered to pack a heat stone before leaving on her journey.

Then she saw them. The tracks on top of the snow. Next to them deep mountain fawn tracks and she knew the stories were right. Somewhere close by Lyssa was near. She reached into her pouch and pulled the roots free and held them tightly in her hands as she searched the rocks. Then suddenly she felt a presence. She turned to see her and swallowed hard. She stood before her with bare feet above the snow. Her skin was smooth and that of a younger girl, but she knew by all accounts she was at least 200. Her hair was dark as night and stood out even more against the white snow. Her features spoke more than she ever could about her long line. The angles of elves and humans stood out and explained her clothes and the fringe of gold at the edges. She was old magic in this new age.

Quickly, Tanna fell to her knees in the snow and dropped the roots before her as she knelt down.

“My name is Tanna of the Crystal Dawn. I have traveled for many passings to find you and to ask to be your student. I bring to you my last possessions of worth in hopes that you will take it and understand and allow me to learn by your side.”

When she looked up, the shaman was gone. And so were her roots. In their place footprints with flecks of gold leading to a cave she had not seen before.

Writing Prompt 10-18-2013

Prompt: You are a trained sniper/assassin, your target is giving a speech and you have already took up position inside of the building, your crosshair is on her face as she begins her speech and

“You got him?” Bernie’s voice was a bit quieter than normal. Transmitting this deep into an overlap was difficult. And even though they both had many confirmed kills. This was going to be one for record books.

Crichton replied as calm as always. A semi could flip end over end behind him and long as it didn’t get between
him and the target, then it wouldn’t matter.
“Yeah everything looks good. Is the back out ready?”

“Y999oooou think you will nee____d it?”

“You’re breaking up Bernie. You still there?”

“Yeah, let me switch the repeater… OK, that should do it.” Bernie talked a little bit louder to make up for the boost. There was no need but old habits die hard.

Crichton tapped his earpiece once more to test.
“Great, I can hear you, and to answer your question. I don’t need the back out, I just like
to know its there. Trust me, I wont need it.”

“Fine, I’m gonna grab a drink. Don’t kill anybody til I’m back online.” Bernie dropped the earpiece loudly and
went in search for something to take the edge off. Crichton expected as much, not everybody had the stomach for the main event.
He lined up the sight and took another deep breath.
He was a bit grateful that the temp didn’t drop to what the weather man said this morning.
Any colder and his breath would be showing. Then he would have to put on that facecover. The one that smelled like old Honeycomb cereal. The Governor stepped up to the podium and waved a hello to the crowd.
Easily thousands of them stood and cheered back at the man that could pass for  a dad on any sitcom.
He calmed them down with two fingers and a grin before he began to speak.

His mic squealed before it leveled out for his words.
“I know its a almost a little too chilly today. But that’s alright, its fine. Its good weather for a good people. You good people of Show Low, Arizona.”

The crowd burst into applause and cheers again. He was good at this.
Perfect for whipping them up and pulling those strings. Crichton adjusted the scope a bit and scanned the crowd. He looked for any spotters or listeners and found nothing out of the ordinary.

“I didn’t come here today to talk about the weather, or breakfast this morning or the game last night. I came here to talk about you, and your rights. Your right to live and work in a city and not be bothered by those MONSTERS out there in the dark. Those abominations that slip into peoples homes and minds and take until there’s nothing left.”

Crichton felt the twinge at the base of his ear and tapped it quickly.
“Whats up Bernie?”

Bernie’s voice didn’t sound any better, but it was less shaky. He knew that meant a drink.”Is he at the part about the demons yet? I love that part.”

Laughing, he replied. “No, not yet, but its coming. I think hes going with the long version today, I know this speech way too well. A year is a long time to be at this shit.”
“…just like in the bible, just like in your nightmares, Demons are real. But we just call them Actives.”
The crowd began to get restless, booing and hissing and yells piped up and down before he put those fingers to calm them down again.

Crichton moved his lock mechanism into the final position.
“OK Bernie, I’m ready. Start recording.”

The speech was building and the Governor continued.
“…..and those are just a few of the reasons you deserve better. Why you deserve this law to be passed. We have the technology
to find them to discover them early and put a stop to them.”

When he heard the tiny recording beep, Crichton began.
“This is Agent Reese Crichton on Earth 2120. The date is October 18 2016 local time. Target has been located and nearing the end of the First Strike speech. All records indicate this is the correct date and time of the speech.”

The Governor went on
“I can’t tell you how to vote or who to vote for. But I can tell you what I will do if you vote for me. I will make sure we stop them, I will make sure you and your children are safe to be normal humans in your own homes.”

Seconds ticked away as Crichton continued to log the event.
“I have locked onto target. Agent Bernadette Richards is assisting with extraction and repair.”

…”do not take lightly. I take it as a privilege to serve this great country and you great people. No matter what happens to me next.”

At the same time the stomachs of the agents dropped into their knees. Fear, disbelief and shock hit them all at once.
“Wait, that’s not in the script. What the hell is happening? Bernie you getting this?”

“Yeah, and its totally knocking everything off sync. Does he, does he know whats up? Crichton, I got another
Time eddy. We got company. Shit, ABORT!”

“This morning before I came out here today, I signed a letter showing my intent. If anything happens to me today then
there is a record of my choice. My choice to make the First Strike against those psychic monsters and put an end to them.
My name is Reese Crichton and I will make sure you are protected from any threat. Any threat no matter from where, or when.” The Governor turned to the direction of the position Agent Crichton had set up. He was looking right at his would be killer.

There was no sound as the bullet hit Governor Crichton. A spray of mist followed the snap of his head. The screams from the crowd were instant and both bodies went down.

“This is Agent Richards. Both target and Mirror Agent confirmed dead. Beginning Time stream clean up and heading back to the Nest.”