The Three-in-One, pt. 4


“Our jump was perfect,” he said. “But it was only after I saw the woman did I realize the mistake I had made. I suddenly became imperative that I correct the error before the time-lines became irreparably tangled and distorted.”

He paused for some time before continuing.

“As I approached him, he could see the look of fear in my eyes,” he offered. “I grabbed him and tried to drag him away, but she withdrew a can of hair spray from her purse and, with a lighter, turned the spray into a small flame thrower, melting the flesh from my face.”

“Severely injured, panicked, and in pain, I ran away and then transported myself to the agency seeking medical help,” he concluded.

“So you had to have plastic surgery,” I said.

“It was during my recovery that I told a councellor what I had done, what I had discovered and how I needed to correct the mistake,” he said.

“Later, I overheard their plans to erase my memory and retire me from service,” he said. “I escaped before they had the chance to do so.”

“And now, you’re on the run, right?” I asked.

“Correct,” he said.

“So why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“Because I am my only family, and I have no one to share it with or grieve for me when I’m gone, and I want my history to be told,” He said.

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