Travelling in time is not a natural thing to do for a human being. I sat here, in this room that I didn’t recognise since I jumped back to my native timeline. The standard procedure was to put the traveller on quarantine for an undisclosed duration. As usual, this empty room had no doors, windows, just a dimply lit light bulb on the ceiling that stared at me. I couldn’t tell you how long I’ve been crouched down in this corner, could be seconds, could be days. I just pray to God at this moment that I completed the task. It was hell of a job. My fists were bloodied from that last minute scramble with two goons that jumped at me from nowhere. All missions were planned out meticulously based on intel, they were one hundred percent waterproof. Some one knew we were coming, someone knew that we were there to kill the agent known as The Mean Man. Impossible.
A door should have appeared and opened by now and the tech should have greeted me with a cup of coffee and a hug. Something didn’t feel right.
I wasn’t sure if I got the job done. I did double tap the Mean Man but the memory was fuzzy. I’m pretty sure that the first bullet reached his chest but can’t be certain that the second reached forehead. Well, I will soon know if I was successful or not. I failed a mission couple of years ago that changed the flow of time that most people would never even notice. One of the upsides of being a time travelling assassin was that any mess you make are never even felt by anyone, but you. The world could be in a nuclear fallout and no one even questions it.
But that’s enough of that. I was getting a little tire of this room and couldn’t wait to see Dr Jones, the pretty little PhD that was tasked to monitoring me before and after each job. I’m quite sure that she should have been here by now. I remember the first time I travelled time for a job. It made me nauseous for weeks when I returned. I ended up in a room like this a small four by four feet room that resembled a cheap computer rendered surface. After a few moments, a door appeared like I was tripping. Then Dr Jones came in with a blanket and a cup of coffee and help he get out to the lab. I’ve never sat here for this long without Jones greeting me with her warm smile.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door actually appeared. I was cold and was looking forward to seeing Jones’ face again. The door slowly opened. It was Dr Jones. I let out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t smiling. A cold thing hit me like a hurricane. She had a terrified expression on her face as blood dripped down from her neck. Everything happened in slow motion. As her lifeless body dropped to the floor, I saw the tall nightmarish figure behind her, the Mean Man holding a bloodied hand holding a nasty looking knife.