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   Chapter 7 No.7

The Time Saving Agency By Christina Engela Characters: 5421

Updated: 2018-06-29 12:02

The Agency was protected by the Buffer and therefore normal time didn't exist there. There were no 'class of'' reunions, either. There were no calendars and no watches either (which made scheduling anything rather complicated). Relationships? Birthdays? He just didn't have the time.

Gary Beck got up from the table after finishing a sandwich and coffee and kissing Winter, and walked off towards the corner. So this was it. He started walking, crossing over to the other side and passing the tables. Winter was checking her lipstick in her compact mirror, performing finishing touches before leaving. Beck was ahead of him, walking casually towards a quaint wheeled vehicle parked at the side of the road. A man of medium build and brown hair had just turned a corner and was walking towards Beck from the front. He had to move quickly. He just managed to pass Beck in time to head off the other before he reached Beck. In one smooth unobtrusive movement, he gave the man a sharp jab in the ribs just as they drew level to each other.

"Hmmm!" The man graoned, doubling over. He'd managed to make it look like an accident, and Beck got into his Jeepo, shrugging off the whole incident as a wayward pedestrian collision. He quickly picked up the funny looking device the man had dropped on the pavement. Hmm, late 30th century Life Ender, he thought, mentally filing this little tidbit of information under the 'where did he come from?' section of the case file. Resisting the urge to try it out, he ejected the battery and put the thing in his pocket. As Beck drove off, he saw the guy in a plain-looking suit helping th

or you – and still probably make it in time."

He didn't laugh. No one did. Around here time jokes just weren't funny anymore. After the hundredth pun you just wanted to strangle the perpetrator – at least once, before going back to undo it just in case Internal Affairs came knocking on your door. The figure suspended between the burly agents in dark suits just groaned ruefully. After all, there was nothing for him to be cheerful about. After the stomach pump and a stiff regimen of antitoxins, he was facing a life term in the Limbo Practicale. No, it wasn't a badly named Latin style dance, it was that nasty chrono-spacial phenomenon where time ran in short loops and everything happened over and over again in different combinations of upside down, backwards and inside out, and sometimes even in purple. The Agency used it as a prison for time offenders. It was considered a just punishment and an ironically satisfactory one by TSA agents who had to face the same risks on a daily basis (although Scrooby couldn't recall ever seeing the 22nd century in purple before).

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