ECOPOCALYPSE CH.2 - TO THE DELOREAN!

ECOPOCALYPSE CH.2 - TO THE DELOREAN! By Annie Evett

You pound the table for emphasis. “ Listen up here, you bunch of sissies. You get paid the big bucks to react to shit like this. Do your freaking job.”

Milo bites his hand to stifle a giggle. The stress has obviously gotten to him.

“Where the hell is the Marketing team?”

A manicured hand shoots up in the back. “Maria Britanny from Marketing.”

You point at her. “Get a spin on this; blame the Chinese for their poor work practices and child labor factories. India can’t withdraw their contract. Remind them that most of the online and phone support from a large proportion of tech companies are routed to them, and they will lose billions if they do withdraw. Korea has problems with its whole weirdo government and hairstyles. Do something with that, will you?”

“Uh, the hairstyles of the government?” Someone clears his throat. “Are you talking about North Korea?”

“What?” You bluster. “Aren’t they the same place? North, South, not that different surely.”

The boardroom shuffles uncomfortably as a dozen sets of eyes bore into the table in front of them.

“What about Sweden?” quavers a question from the sides.

“I hate them because they all look so damned healthy and happy outdoors.” You puff your chest out, filled with an unnatural confidence. You feel like J.R. from the old Dallas show.

Paul Poppins from Public Relations glares across the table at the head of Marketing. “I think you’ll find that Public Relations will do a better job at negotiating those areas, rather than the gloss and pomp department.”

A shriek cuts the air as Maria’s manicured hands find their way around Paul’s throat.

“I don’t give a rats ass who does it. Make it so.” You look off into the distance, wishing you’d mentioned number two or tried for a better Pickard voice.

Todd Brammers taps on his iPad, darkening the room and illuminating the wide expanse of one of the walls. You wish he would use up to date equipment. He projects several channels of live news reports into spots around the wall. Images of tattered humanoids stumble across the wall. Wide-eyed reporters breathlessly relate to their audiences what they are experiencing—that is, until the shit-covered masses reach the TV crew and the camera is dropped, the operator is dragged away or fled. Real life re-enactments of the Blair Witch Project are relayed on multiple screens. Screams are cut off into gurgling, pathetic drowning sounds. You gulp.

“There is no way of making this go away with marketing OR public relations. Environaut is the cause for all of this. We need to shut down immediately and regroup under Chapter 11.”

You push your hands through your hair. You don’t even know what Chapter 11 is.

“Fine!” You yell. “ Do the Chapter 11 thing. Shut down production—but I still want my spin happening.” You cling to the J.R. image.

“Will you be coming with us then?” Scott Black, the Head of Mergers and Acquisitions, asks you.

“What? Me? No, Milo and I need to check out the Flux Capacitors and gamma reactors in the proton isolators. Science geek stuff. You know.”

Nods from around the room confirm that none of them understand what that means, but they are all relieved that they have a plan to execute without the CEO breathing down their necks.

“Come on Milo, we need to go.” You grab Milo's coat jacket and shove him through the door.

He explodes with laughter. “What the hell was that in there? Flux capacitors? And you know you still have shit on your forehead.”

You wipe it off. “If you’re not with me, go back to the boardroom and do whatever Chapter 11 is,” you fume. “This shit has gotten serious. I can’t understand what’s come unraveled and how it's happened so quickly.” You both stride toward the exit.

“So what's the plan, Kimo Sabe?”

“Get back to the DeLorean and just drive. I do my best thinking when I'm on the road.” Your mind is rattling off possibilities, reformulating the plans of the Environaut.

You and Milo climb into the car and exit the carpark. Hal waves as you leave, not bothering to stand. You are sure he is laughing behind the magazine in front of his face. The outer perimeter of the security fence surrounding the Smart EcoGen HQ is slowly filling with picketers. You drive out as quickly as you can, hoping they won't notice you.

“It can’t be the recycling processors,” you mumble.”That had been tested for years in the earlier versions.” You steer the car onto the freeway and headed south. If nothing else, a trip to Mexico would clear the mind.

“What does this thing do?” Milo pokes a covered switch.

“Surely the diagnostic console didn’t reboot after the—”

“Hey, if I push this, will anything happen?” Milo doesn't wait for an answer and pushes the red, candy-like button. The DeLorean accelerates suddenly. The speedometer slowly creeps up to 88 miles per hour.

“Did you say something about a Flux Capacitor?” Milo grins. ‘Don’t thank me now. Let's go back in time and fix this mess. Then you can shower me with gifts and double my salary.”

The body of the car begins to shake as the inside glows blue. You take your hands off the wheel. You paid a mint for the car, and the previous owner stressed its authenticity. You grin, suddenly thinking of all the dumbass things you are going to fix up on your trip back in time. You decide you will scrap the Environaut and introduce either the Wii or Xbox to the market years before the original developers have a whiff of an idea of the gaming platforms. Hell, you may decide to do both.

Dials on the dashboard spin. “Shit. We need to set a date. Let's set it for when we met at college, convince ourselves not to bother and —”

“Just set the date, idiot. We are nearly at 88 miles per hour.”

“And running out of clear road.” The freeway ends, and you enter suburbia.

The speedometer slowly creeps around as the car surges forward. Tiny blue lights flash within the cabin. You cover your eyes. “It's 88 miles an hour. So long present day. You suck!”

The Delorean slams into the wall of a low set apartment block. Glass splinters as the steering wheel drives its way through your chest. Your ribs shatter as your lungs burst from the sudden impact. Your neck whips back and forth, breaking in the process. It flops to the side as blood seeps out of your nose and mouth. Milo’s body is ripped apart from the impact. Gore hangs in tendrils in what is left of the Delorean.

You seriously didn’t think a flux capacitor exists, did you? Back to the start.

Oops...Return to Chapter 2

TIME DOUCHE CH. 6 - DAWN OF THE DOUCHE

TIME DOUCHE CH.6 - DAWN OF THE DOUCHE

By Steven Novak

Napoleon smiles at you in that greasy-gross way only he and his weird little face can. For the first time since meeting him, you realize that he looks an awful lot like a used car salesman. History’s most feared general looks like he should be selling you a Honda Civic at a jacked up price.

“Is this what you are looking for, my friend?” Napoleon says with a snarl and an almost comical raise of his eyebrow.

The gesture makes you want to punch him right in his sweaty round face. Marie’s grip tightens on your arm and her head peeks out from over your shoulder. Napoleon is laughing now, chuckling to himself while he dangles the translator in his hand. You want to grab him by the little strand of hair hanging over his forehead, spin him around and slam him into a tree. At that same time, you are completely aware of the fact that you won’t be doing any of those things. Sure, Napoleon’s a five-foot-nothing pipsqueak, but you’re not exactly the world’s most intimidating dude either.

He also has the advantage of knowing how to use a sword.

You once needed six stitches after slicing open your finger while chopping broccoli.

Car salesman or not, you’d be smart to keep your distance.

At the same time, you’ve seen enough time travel movies, and watched and enough episodes of Star Trek, to understand that leaving the translator in Napoleon’s hands probably isn’t the brightest thing to do.

Oh, well.

Without warning you shove Marie backward and into the time machine. She trips over her own feet, clonks her head on the rear paneling, and yelps. You follow her inside and shut the door behind you, but not before flashing Mr. Honda Civic the finger.

He has no idea what the gesture means. You honestly don’t care.

Once you’re inside, the machine begins to honk and beep and flash and whir exactly as it did when you first stepped in at Nubleman’s place. A green light emerges from a bulb behind you, illuminates the back of your head, then begins to slide downward until it reaches Marie. You can hear Napoleon outside. He’s banging on the machine and whacking it with his sword.

Though you have no idea what you’re doing, you start pressing buttons. Marie is on her feet now. She’s standing behind you with her hands on your shoulders, pinching at your skin nervously and gnawing at her lower lip like a side of beef.

“What are you doing?” She screams at the top of her lungs as the machine begins to hum and rattle, and Napoleon’s sword continues to whack against it from the outside.

“I’m not . . .entirely . . .sure.” You answer respond honestly, because you aren’t—at all.

The chair you’re sitting in starts to wobble and the panels in front of your face flash like something out of a video game. Suddenly you feel Marie’s mouth on your neck. Her tongue bobbles your earlobe. She rips your shirt backward and mumbles something breathily into your flesh that sounds a little bit like, “This is so hot.”

This girl is a real freak.

By the time she has her hands down your collar and has begun tweaking your nipples, the beeps and boops crescendo into a sustained tone. The very instant she bites your neck there’s a flash of light a hundred times brighter than any of the ones prior. For a moment, everything goes black.

When you open your eyes, you realize that you’re sprawled out awkwardly on the floor of the machine. Your head is pounding and you’re covered in sweat. Someone is tugging at the waistband of your pants and your blood is rapidly rushing to your genitals. It’s Marie. She’s trying to get your pants off.

Oh yeah, she’s a freak and a half.

You’d like nothing more than to see just how freaky she really is, but you decide it might be in your best interest to take a look outside and see where Nubleman’s piece of junk has taken you. After successfully prying horny Marie, The Eighteenth Century Nymphomaniac, from your bloomers, you reach up and smack the door-opening button with your palm. The metal slides open with a whoosh.

Unfortunately, it jams half way.

There’s a black, foul smelling smoke rising up from under the machine, and the outside is covered in dents. Flashes of electricity occasionally spark from the areas where the dents look more like gashes.

It seems the little car salesman did a heck of a lot more damage than you thought he could.

The moment you step out of the machine it bursts into flames. The fire singes the hairs on the back of your neck and something explodes under Nubleman’s pile of junk. You snag Marie around the waist, pull her away from the fire, and tumble together to the ground.

A puddle of greenish colored goop softens your landing.

Despite the fact that you’re partially submerged in what is essentially Nickelodeon Gack, almost instantly Marie has latched onto your neck again. In between kisses, and licks, and full on slobbers, she’s mumbling something about the fact that she’s “waited long enough” and that she wants you to “spank her, ravish her,” and remind her what it’s like to be with a “real man.”

Not only is she freaky, she’s obviously confused.

Through Marie’s flailing strands of hair, you notice that the sky overhead is remarkably red—far redder than you’ve ever seen it, or than it ever should be. The air smells like sulfur. It’s a bit thicker than you’re accustomed to. The temperature is absolute sweltering.

Marie’s hand slides down your shirt and heads south.

The landscape on either side of you is mostly rocky. Everything seems to be covered in a layer of reddish sand and dirt and there’s not a single bit of foliage to be found. Though you can’t tell for sure with Marie’s limbs flailing the way they are, you think you spot a volcano in the distance.

Speaking of crazy-Marie: she shoves her tongue down your throat.

That’s when it hits you. Though your knowledge of earth’s history is rudimentary at best, you suddenly know where you are. Nubleman’s machine really did a number on you this time. You’ve gone almost as far back in earth’s history as you could possibly go.

The goop your sliding around might just be the very same goop from which life itself will eventually spring.

Marie climbs on top of you, rips open her shirt and flops out in all her glory.

Oh, well. Marie was right about one thing; this is going to be pretty hot.

THE END

TIME DOUCHE CH. 5 - TAKE ON NAPOLEON

TIME DOUCHE CH.5 - TAKE ON NAPOLEON

By MJ Heiser

The fires of a red-hot rage fueled by injustice and fatigue spread through your limbs. Damn it! This isn’t fair! You only wanted to eat some chicken. Instead you end up scrambling for a new wardrobe and getting blasted back to Revolutionary France to deal with a runaway royal and her douchebag boyfriend.

All you know is that you aren’t going to take this anymore. You frown. “Oh yeah, tough guy?” you say. There’s a strange, breathy, needling quality to your voice, and you realize that you sound a little bit like Sugar Ray Leonard. Or Mike Tyson. Through the scrim of your exhaustion, you’ve also noted that you’ve started the “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee” shuffle made famous by Muhammad Ali. The adrenaline in your system is making you giddy. I don’t know how to fight! you think gleefully to yourself. And I haven’t watched wrestling since Hulk Hogan’s day!

Napoleon watches you carefully. Suddenly, you see it: That strange twinkle in his eye that tells you that not only does he understand combat, he really, really enjoys it. He’s studying your moves for danger. A smile on his face makes it clear he knows there is no real danger.

“Monsieur,” he says politely with a deferential nod, “are you in need of a way to relieve your bladder?”

Marie giggles.

You stop shuffling and gape stupidly at him. “Huh?”

With a lightning quickness you can hardly believe, he draws his sword and draws a line across your guts. You feel warmth spreading down your abdomen. Blood. You also feel warmth spreading down your thighs. Piss.

“Or shall I do it for you?” he laughs, as the lights in your mental attic dim and go out.

The last thing you hear is the electronic squawk of Nubleman’s voice: “You ridiculous moron.”

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 5

TIME DOUCHE CH. 5 - Hold Marie Hostage

TIME DOUCHE CH.5 - HOLD MARIE HOSTAGE

By Mandy Ward

“Um… yes actually, that is what I’m looking for, thank you mon ami.” You dredge the high school French from your brain and hold out your hand. “Can I have it back, please?”

Napoleon tilts his head. “First you will tell me what you are doing with Marie.”

“Nothing. We were just taking . . .a walk.” She frowns at you. What else am I supposed to say? Sorry mate, I was just going to run away with your bird and take her back to my own time?

Napoleon snorts. “No one just walks with a lady, especially with one as beautiful and important as my Marie.”

“I do.” You shrug.

“I don’t believe you. You were going to steal her away from me.” Napoleon tosses the communicator from hand to hand.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” You look at Marie, trying to communicate to her that she needed to corroborate your story.

Napoleon looks at her as well. “Well, Marie? Is he right? Or were you about to leave me for some unknown foreigner?” The communicator makes another bounce from one hand to the other.

“Non, I would not do that, mon cher. He dragged me out here, muttering about finding something and leaving,” Marie tells him. She takes a step forward. “I want only to be with you!”

Napoleon’s face softens as she reaches towards him and takes another step. “I believe you, ma cherie.” He looks at you and you shudder at the rage in his eyes. “I will take this insult out of your hide!”

“Hey, I don’t care. I just want to go home.” You point at the communicator which still rests in Napoleon’s hand. “Give me that and you take your bitch of a princess back to your shack, where you can poke her all you want.”

Napoleon’s face turns puce. “You pig! How dare you insult her yet again? I would have merely let your blood a little. Instead I shall kill you!”

Drawing the dagger on your belt, you leap forward and grab Marie, holding the dagger to her throat. “You make one move towards your sword and your princess gains a new smile.”

Marie tries to scream and struggles against you. You push the dagger against her slender white throat and a drop of blood dribbles down, leaving a scarlet trail behind. “Don’t move sweetheart, I really don’t want to hurt you.” She stops moving. Thank God for that. I wouldn’t be able to hurt her, you think. I’d rather take her to heaven a different way. Marie’s perfume and the warmth from her body are making you wish that the two of you were somewhere private right now.

“Enough. What do you want, pig?” Napoleon’s tone is softer.

“Throw the communicator over here and I’ll let her go.” With you free hand you point to a spot to your right that is clear of stones.

“Dog. Pig. Let her go first!” the petite soldier spits, his face flushing puce again.

“What on God’s Green Earth are you doing now?” Nubleman shrieks from the communicator. “I told you to get back to the Time Machine and get out of there!”

The voice coming out of nowhere startles Napoleon and he literally jumps a foot into the air. The communicator flies out of his hand and drops hard onto a large rock, smashing into a hundred shreds of plastic, a scattering of computer chips and other electronic components.

You groan and drop the dagger from Maria’s throat, not caring that she dashes back to Napoleon as you wrench the door of the time machine open and start pressing buttons left, right and centre.

“What are you doing, you ignorant piece of filth? Come out of there and fight me like a man.” Napoleon shouts . . .except it comes out as "Que faites-vous, vous ignorant pièce d'immondices? Sortez de là et me batter comme un homme."

You ignore him and keep bashing buttons. Damn, without that translator I don’t understand a thing they are saying and without Nubleman, I don’t know how to work this thing! That red button looks promising, maybe it’s the starter? Jamming your thumb onto the red button, you are surprised to hear a genteel female voice say:

“Thank you for choosing the ten second self-destruct sequence. Please exit the Time Machine and retreat to a safe distance. This Time Machine will self-destruct in ten… nine…eight…”

Staring at the machine’s dashboard you mutter to yourself “Self-Destruct sequence? Nubleman, you really are crazy.”

“…seven…six…five…”

You back out of the machine and try to scramble up the hill as fast as possible, but Napoleon grabs hold of the back of your shirt and shouts at you again. “Où pensez-vous que vous allez? Revenez!”

I think I know what that means. I have to get out of here before the Time Machine blows up. You dredge your French language memory again. “Um…laissez-passer!”

“Non, chien. Le seul endroit où vous allez est en enfer.” Napoleon hauls you backwards with surprising strength for such a small man.

“…four…three…”

You land right in front of the time machine. You can smell acrid smoke drifting out from inside the dashboard and there are tiny sparks starting to flicker over the keys, so you try to roll away and Napoleon jumps on you, punching you hard in the face.

“…two…one… this Time Machine will now self destruct. Have a Nice day!” the voice says calmly and the dashboard explodes with a blast of flame, scattering glass and plastic like bullets.

Time slows down for you and you see Marie torn to shreds by glass, falling slowly to the ground as one piece of glass pierces her barely contained chest and kills her.

Napoleon is knocked off you by the detonation and comes crashing down onto the same rock that the communicator shattered on, his skull caving in, grey brain matter and red blood mingling as it flies out.

Above you, the machine rocks in the burst of energy and topples over. A torn steel strut twists and drops like a javelin towards you. Abruptly time speeds up again and you just have time to think Maybe I shouldn’t have threatened Marie after all… before it all goes black.

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 5

TIME DOUCHE CH. 5 - Caught With Your Hand In Your Pants

TIME DOUCHE CH.5 - CAUGHT WITH YOUR HAND IN YOUR PANTS

By Tomara Armstrong

“Okay.” You look around. How is it that you find yourself in a situation once again? Big French guys have busted in on your chance to score with a royal hottie in hiding, and you’re not supposed to be upset? You’re either incredibly unlucky or someone has had it out for you from the beginning—some sick, sick sadist is controlling your fate. Regardless, you’ve had enough.

“Dude, do I look like I know what’s going on here?” The brutes glance at each other and eye you up and down. They seem to have come to the general understanding that you are not French. “Look, I’m a guest of Napoleon. Yeah, I helped him out earlier, maybe saved his life and stuff, but I don’t have any idea what all of this is about. Who’s Marie Therese?” You shrug and shoot a wink at the girl. “And what’s with the entrance? Aren’t you on the same side? And you just come busting thru the door? If I was Napoleon, I’d be pissed.”

“Uh… um…” both men shift their weight, looking nervous.

“I know your type, throwing shit around, trying to be all tough. Napoleon’s in the other room; dude’s gonna come unglued when he sees you’re tearing shit up.”

You’re loving every second of making these men sweat. In all probability, they could stomp you into a pulsing mass of goo on the floor. “You know what? Let’s get Napoleon in here,” you smile, but notice that Marie looks nervous. “Strike that. Why don’t you two dipshits go and find him?”

The two share a look, shrug, and sulk out of the room.

You’ve got a goofy grin on your face, replaying the moment in your head: tough talk, ninja moves, and naked girl slathered in chocolate.

Slap.

You barely have time to cover the stinging handprint on your face when Marie grabs the front of your shirt. “Why did you do that? Are you out of your mind?”

She’s not really pissed—she totally digs you. Naked girl… chocolate…mmm.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Shaking your head, you grab Marie’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

She doesn’t resist. You’re feeling pretty confident as you head out into the night with Marie in tow. You just stole a girl from Napoleon Bonaparte. How cool is that? Of course, he would probably kill her if he knew who she really was, but still, pretty cool.

You’re overly zealous, jumping logs and lifting Marie over brush and puddles of mud. You’re pretty sure you’re getting close when she collapses to the ground in tears.

“Oh man.” Leave it to a woman to lose her cool at the worst possible time. You try to comfort her, but what started as a few tears has now turned into a full blown boo-hoo with accompanying snot bubbles. “Shush now,” you pat her on the back. “It’ll be okay.” She tries to speak but you can’t make out any of it. You glance around trying to determine how close you are to the time machine. “We’re close.”

“Close to what?” Finally the girl is making sense again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe,” you say as you heave her into a secure piggy back. She wipes her nose on your shirt and kisses the side of your neck softly. Does this make her my girlfriend? You smile and trudge on toward the machine.

You see the machine in the distance, slide Marie onto her feet, and hurry toward it. “What is that?” she asks.

“Never mind what it is, Marie, we need to get in it and get out of here.” You start pacing in front the machine trying to think what to do. “Damn it, Thomas. You’re being quiet.”

You reach in your pants, and look at Marie in shock. She blushes.

“Oh no,” you panic, running around the perimeter. “Where is it? Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“Oh god… I didn’t lose it, did I?"

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Napoleon steps from the brush holding the communicator in his hand. He looks pissed and your hands are still in your pants.

Will you...

A. Screw Nubleman--get in the machine with Marie and start pushing buttons.

B. Take on Napoleon. You’ve watched plenty of WWF, and he’s particularly puny. You can take him.

C. Pretend to hold Marie hostage and offer to trade the communicator for the girl.

TIME DOUCHE CH. 4 - Greatest Rouse Ever

TIME DOUCHE CH.4 - GREATEST ROUSE EVER

By Cathleen Holst

You open your mouth to speak, but the brutish men tell you to shut it, informing you that you’ve made a grave mistake by coming here. “Oh, really,” you say, sitting up in bed and suddenly you see a flash, and it’s over.

You’re dead.

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 4

TIME DOUCHE CH. 4 - Betray Marie

TIME DOUCHE CH.4 - BETRAY MARIE

BY Mandy Ward

You look from the brutes to Marie, wondering if you really ought to defend her. After all, she seems ready to sleep with just about anyone who takes her fancy and certainly doesn’t care about the common folk, despite her intention to live as one of them. So what if she’s sexy and curvy and everything you like in a woman? Underneath it all, she’s still as sluttish and unfaithful as a camp follower.

“I’m glad you guys turned up,” you drawl. “I discovered this bitch lying in wait for Napoleon. I think she was going to murder him.”

Three of them look at her and she whimpers, but stands her ground. The fourth frowns. “It looks more like she’s trying to seduce you.”

“Of course she’s trying to seduce me. She’s attempting to leave this place alive.” You bluster a little, hoping they’ll take it for anger when all of a sudden you’re actually rather scared.

“Why would a woman like this want to murder Napoleon?” the fourth man asks.

Great. Trust one of them to have brains and brawn. You were trying to get them to arrest her and then you were going to wake Napoleon to come to her rescue, but you’ll have to spill the beans now. “She’s a member of the royal family. I mean, for God’s Sake, look at her; the bearing, the accent, the figure!”

Marie draws in a deep breath and, almost as one, the men’s eyes are drawn to her ample assets. Yes, that’s right. Go on, scream for help and watch Napoleon appear to find four men smirking at your chest.

But you realise that only two of the men are leering. The other two have drawn their swords and, with only a second’s pause, they lop the heads off the two drooling brutes. Then they both drop to their knees, their sword points grounded and heads bowed. “De la naissance à la mort, que nous servons notre reine,” the brainy one says softly.

From Birth to Death, we serve our Queen. The translation makes you shudder. So she’s not given up on her birthright after all.

The blood from the slaughtered men pools out around their bodies. Marie delicately steps away from it, holding her skirts out of the crimson liquid.

“Thank you, gentlemen. It is a relief to know that I can count on such loyalty still. You may rise.”

They stand up. “What do we do with him, your majesty?” the brainy one says.

“He saved Napoleon’s life today, but was about to force himself on my person,” she says, her head tilting back slightly as if she’d smelled something rotten. “That is against the law and is punishable by death; but for the act of saving My Love’s life and returning him to me, I reward him with a quick death rather than being drawn and quartered.”

“Oh now, hang on! You were coming onto me, not the other way round,” you protest loudly as they advance towards you.

“What’s going on?” Napoleon emerges, chest bare and blinking sleep from his eyes. “Marie, is there a problem? Why are two of my men dead?”

Her lovely eyes go wide and her bottom lip trembles before she flies to his side, ignoring the blood that splashes up her skirts in her haste to reach him. “Oh Napoleon! This . . .this . . .thug tried to force himself on me!”

Lying bitch. You think fast, trying to come up with some reasonable explanation. In your pocket you can hear Thomas muttering something, but it’s not loud enough for you to hear properly. He’s probably just cursing me again.

“What?” Napoleon’s gaze drops onto you and you shiver at the fury in his eyes. “Captain, what is the truth of this matter?” his arm curls around Marie’s waist and pulls her to him protectively.

The intelligent one replies. “Sir, we were passing by your door when we heard muffled cries in here. We forced our way in and found this man—“ he points his bloodied blade at you, “—and his two confederates attacking Madame Marie. He insisted that she is the Fille de France and that she should be executed. His confederates suggested having some fun with her first and that was when we entered.”

The other man nods as Napoleon looks at him.

Oh come on, Napoleon, you’re smarter than that! Use your brain, they have blood all over them and are carrying bare blades, for Christ’s sake.

“We beheaded the brutes and were about to administer the same fate to their leader when you entered,” the Captain finishes.

You sigh as Napoleon looks at you. “You saved my life so that you could kill my love? How dare you.”

You try to appeal to his political side. “Look, I swear that I am innocent of this! She was trying to seduce me and she admitted to being Marie Therese, the French Princess. Of course she’s going to lie about it, she’s a noblewoman!”

He holds out his hand and the captain places his sword into it. “Stand back, my love, I must dispatch this ruffian!”

“A man in love is only as intelligent as his todger,” you mutter, sighing and attempting to put some distance between you and the enraged Napoleon.

The two soldiers place themselves between you and Marie, while Napoleon advances towards you. You back away and slip in the blood pool surrounding one of the bodies. Catching yourself against a chair, you pull yourself upright, turn and trip over the second body.

“Aha! I have you now.” Napoleon springs forward and lunges smoothly, the blade piercing your back, carving through your ribcage and as the point touches your heart. You think Oh, well, Nubleman isn’t going to get his time machine back.

Your heart bursts and blood flows out of every upper orifice, adding to the pool on the floor. Your last sight is of Marie. The damn bitch has a smirk on her face. What a nasty piece of work; I’m glad I didn’t do her now…

THE END

Oops...RETURN TO CHAPTER 4