Love Beyond Time: A Blueprint to Time Travel, Part II

Join Johnson #2 on his quest through time, and discover the true power of love in this unforgettable tale of loss, hope, redemption, and the enduring bonds that transcend time itself.

Love Beyond Time: A Blueprint to Time Travel, Part II

A Novel by: Johnson MaganaXX

Now… let’s begin.

The night was warm, a gentle breeze wafting across the quiet suburban street. Johnson #2 pulled into his driveway, a smile spreading across his face as he cut the engine. Johnson #2 glanced down at his watch, its steady pulse reminding him of the moment he had left, leaving the love of his life, his wife Xara, alone inside the house. Brimming with anticipation, he exited the car, the door closing softly behind him, his heart buoyant with excitement.

But as Johnson #2 turned towards the house, a shadow moved behind him. Johnson #2 felt a sharp prick on his neck. His hand instinctively reached up, but it was too late. A powerful sedative coursed through his veins, spreading a heavy numbness through his body. His vision blurred, and his legs gave way beneath him. The world tilted and spun, and then everything went black. Agent Thomas stood over the crumpled figure of Johnson #2, his expression unreadable. He knelt down, his movements precise and efficient.

“I’ll take that watch, pal,” he murmured, unfastening the watch from Johnson #2’s wrist with a swift motion.

The watch gleamed in the fading light as Agent Thomas slipped it into the inside pocket of his suit. Rising to his feet, Agent Thomas glanced at his own watch. He pressed a few buttons, the device emitting a soft, almost imperceptible beep.

Placing a hand on Johnson #2’s chest, he took a breath, steeling himself. In an instant, a shimmer enveloped them, and with a faint hum, both men vanished into thin air, leaving the quiet street undisturbed, save for the gently rustling leaves and the distant hum of life moving on.

When Johnson #2 opened his eyes, he realized he was lying on the floor inside a vacant, unfurnished, bare apartment unit in a dilapidated apartment complex. Standing above him were Agents Thomas and Davidson. Johnson #2 had a massive headache.

Holding his head, he said, “Who the hell are you guys? What… what do you want from me?”

Johnson #2 looked around at the empty apartment unit.

“And… where the hell am I? Look, I just want to go home. I have… I have to go home.”

Agent Davidson grabbed Johnson #2 from the floor and forcefully stood him up.

“Listen to me, you piece of shit. You aren’t going nowhere. You’re staying right here… with us. You understand me?!” he said.

Agent Thomas pushed his partner away from Johnson #2 and then looked Johnson #2 in the eyes.

“Listen to me… you can’t go back home, pal,” Agent Thomas said as he showed Johnson #2 a tablet.

“Can’t you see… you’re already home.”

Johnson #2 looked down at the tablet and saw himself in his own house, sitting at his desk, looking through some unopened mail.

“Hey,” Johnson #2 asked Agent Thomas, “who the hell is that in my house? And where’s my wife?”

Agent Thomas tapped the screen of the tablet, and Johnson #2 saw his wife sleeping in the upstairs bedroom. Agent Thomas tapped the screen again, and Johnson #2 saw himself again, sitting at his desk, looking through his unopened mail.

“What… you put cameras in my house?! Man, who the hell are you guys?”

Agent Davidson looked at his partner, then at Johnson #2.

“As you can see for yourself, you can’t go back home, asshole, because you’re already there,” Agent Davidson said, forcefully pushing Johnson #2 back a bit.

“What do you mean I’m already there? That’s impossible! Can’t you both see… I’m right here!”

Agent Davidson looked at his partner and said, “Thomas, I told you, this guy doesn’t know what the hell is going on. I think I’m going to have to do something drastic to refresh and jump-start this chump’s memory.”

Johnson #2 looked at the door in front of him, and without warning, he made a dash towards it. His idea was to try to run out of the apartment unit when the agents weren’t paying too much attention to him. But that idea was just a very bad idea. For it angered Agent Davidson more than he already was.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” asked Agent Davidson as he went inside his suit and pulled out a firearm.

Agent Davidson rushed up to Johnson #2, and before Johnson #2 could even grab the door handle, Agent Davidson knocked him out cold with the butt of the weapon slammed onto his head. Johnson #2 dropped onto the floor, and then his body started to shake uncontrollably for a few seconds before it stopped. Johnson #2 slowly breathed, in his slight, momentary, comatose state.

Agent Thomas looked at his partner and asked, “Hey, man, relax. How the hell are we going to talk to him now?” as he punched him away from Johnson #2 to take a closer look at him.

“Talk to him?” asked Agent Davidson.

Agent Davidson kicked Johnson #2 in the stomach, and still no major movements came out of Johnson #2’s frame.

“Man, I should’ve blown his fucking head off… as soon as he went for the door!”

“Davidson, don’t forget our mission… what we actually came here for,” Agent Thomas’ advice was more of a warning than advice.

“Look, pal, I’m getting a little tired of hearing you telling me what I should or should not do. Tell me… because I want to know, Thomas? How many fucking times do we have to go back to change shit that we both shouldn’t be changing? I say we stop this fake-ass mission and go back to where the fuck we came from… right now! And I know, just like you, I’m fucking tired of this life. Come on, Thomas. Let’s get the fuck out of here… right now. The both of us. All we have to say is that we just couldn’t find Johnson #2 here.”

“No, Davidson, we have a job to do. We’re on a real mission here. I’m sorry, but you know we can’t do that. We can’t just walk away now and suddenly abort the mission because you decided that you want to all of a sudden quit this life,” Agent Thomas said as he looked down at Johnson #2 moving, but barely.

“Tell me… what’s your problem, man?”

“What’s my problem?” Agent Davidson asked as he kicked Johnson #2 in the stomach again.

“What’s your fucking problem?! Look, partner, this guy obviously doesn’t even know what the fuck is going on. Besides, how the hell is he even going to go back to make these crucial changes… in his own life? Because, that’s the only way that you and I can accomplish our mission. Am I right, partner?” Agent Davidson asked.

“Look, we’ll have to give him a watch, so he can do his thing. And that’s that.”

“Are you fucking nuts? Are you crazy? And suppose he decides to fall short of our perfect expectations, Thomas, and he decides to take the watch… and vanish into fucking thin air! Then what, partner? Then what? Besides, what could possibly stop him from betraying us… and himself?”

“Real, true love. You see, unlike you, I read his files, not just looked at them. Our mission is written in stone. You, as well as I know, exactly what we both have to do to make this happen,” Agent Thomas said as he tried to convince Agent Davidson to stay on board.

“And, it all starts by giving him a watch.”

Agent Davidson thought that the idea of giving Johnson #2 a watch, was out of the question. To him, it was not going to happen.

“Impossible,” he said as he looked down at Johnson #2, and then he looked up at his partner.

“He’s already acting erratic, he’s uncontrollable. You give him that much power, God only knows, what he’ll do. No… it’s impossible.”

“No… it’s not. All we have to do is tell him what he has to do, and as soon as he does it… mission accomplished. And then, and only then, do you and I go back home. Do you understand that, Davidson?”

Agent Davidson shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“Wake up, Thomas! Does this guy look like he’s going to cooperate? No! When this prick gets up, he’s going to make another dash for the door, and I’ll have to take him down again. And even if we do get him to comply, if he messes up even once, who knows what could happen… to him and to us,” he said.

“Man, he only wants to get back to his life, just like the two of us. He’s not our prisoner, Davidson,” Agent Thomas said.

“Are you sure? Are you sure that he’s in love?” Agent Davidson asked.

Agent Thomas nodded his head.

“What other reason but real, true love could have driven him to risk everything to change things, only to practically hand us the watch in the end and end up with it again? And, the question is… how did he even get a hold of the watch in the first place?”

Agent Davidson paced around the room, frustration evident in his every step.

“Risked everything… to change things?” he asked incredulously.

“Then why the fuck are we even here trying to make him change things again? Look, partner, we have the watch. That’s what we came here for. We have it, and now you’re telling me we have to give it to this guy lying on the floor so he can go back in time and fix things? And if we don’t give him the watch, and someone from his past dies, the watch you took from Johnson #2 will glitch out and disappear, and the watches we have will vanish too? And eventually, there will be no way for you and me to get back to our timeline?”

“Correct,” Agent Thomas nodded.

“This man here has to traverse countless timelines to reach his main target, the old man he must save. And if Johnson #2 doesn’t deviate from his actions, this old man from his past will live. If he lives, the watches will be created in the far future by his great-grandson, Bob, allowing us to come back to this timeline to give Johnson #2 one, after we take it from him. Can’t you see? No matter what, it all starts over again because the watch I took from him outside his house, before I drugged him, eventually has to be given back to him so he can do his thing… naturally.”

Agent Davidson cut him off.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Man, fuck that shit. We’re not giving this fucking asshole a fucking watch. Are you fucking for real? But… my question is, how do we still have the watches now, if this old man from his past was killed?” he said.

“It makes no sense to me.”

“Davidson, it’s simple,” Agent Thomas said, “can’t you see? Wherever this Johnson #2 got the watch from, or whoever gave it to him, the moment he activated it and tried to go back to his house, he created a massive paradox when he showed up before Johnson #1 had left the house. Do you understand what I’m trying to say here?”

Agent Davidson looked at his partner and nodded.

“Look, I’m not stupid. I understand what the fuck you’re saying. But what’s a fucking paradox? Man, what does that shit even mean? Break it down for me,” he said.

Agent Thomas looked down at Johnson #2, then at Agent Davidson.

“Davidson, a paradox is a logical contradiction or inconsistency that arises when a time traveler attempts to change the past or future. And these paradoxes could show the complexities and limitations of time travel.”

“Any other fucking paradoxes we need to worry about?” Agent Davidson asked, eager to understand the situation better.

“Yes,” Agent Thomas said, focusing on Agent Lee, “there are two more important paradoxes. The first is the Bootstrap Paradox. This occurs when an object or information is sent back or forth in time, and it’s unclear where it originated from. For example, a time traveler gives a book to their younger self, but the book was written by their younger self.”

“And the fucking second one?” Agent Davidson asked.

“The second is the Novikov Self-Consistency Principle. This proposed solution to the grandfather paradox states that any events that occur through time travel have already occurred and are therefore predetermined. And that’s why Johnson #2 eventually has no choice but to follow a predetermined course of events, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“And… what about the fucking watch, that he had on? The one that you took off his wrist?” Agent Lee asked, as curiosity peaked his soul.

“I don’t know. That’s a real good question, which I have been asking myself.”

“Well, Thomas, somebody must’ve given him the watch he had on him… but who?”

“Maybe… maybe he, himself, gave it to himself. It’s like these iterated versions of himself, from different parallel timelines, are helping him… to help themselves.”

“Look, I really don’t know what you’re talking about, but the person that gave him the watch, or wherever he even got it from, shows that the minute he gave himself the watch and activated it, it was like starting the game all over. Why? He has a beautiful home, a beautiful, loving wife. Why?”

“Why what?” Agent Thomas asked.

“Look,” Agent Davidson replied, “say he found the watch, but something went wrong. Very wrong. So he used the watch to adjust things, to make things go back to normal before everything went wrong. So…”

Agent Thomas interjected, “So, after he managed to change things back to normal, he got the beautiful house, the love of his life, so why give himself the watch… again, after he had everything he could possibly wish for?”

“Exactly. Why? Why would he do that if that’s what he exactly did? You see… it doesn’t make any sense to me. And I know it doesn’t make any sense to you either,” Agent Davidson said.

“No. You’re right. He had a perfect life,” Agent Thomas said, as he looked down at Johnson #2.

“Now… look at him now. This guy, when he finally wakes up, doesn’t even know what he will have to go through, just to be together with the love of his life again. No. He gave himself the watch for another reason. And I believe that reason is because he wanted Johnson #2 here to find a way to save this old man who had died in his past.”

“Or maybe, because whoever gave him the watch knew, or thought somehow, that if this old man died, he wouldn’t have the watch himself to go back and fix what went wrong, to set things back to normal,” Agent Davidson interjected.

“So he was trying to make sure, not only to secure his happiness with the love of his life, but he was trying to ensure the safety of this old man,” Agent Thomas said.

“Ah, how sweet and kind of him,” Agent Davidson said.

“So he decided to use this guy, on the floor here to risk his life once more to secure the old man’s safety, ensuring the creation of these watches, so he can keep fucking repeating this cycle over and over. So… what’s the point?”

Agent Thomas looked at Agent Davidson with a resigned expression.

“The point is, it’s obvious, we’re part of a loop. A necessary, intricate loop. Without Johnson #2 here doing what he needs to do, we wouldn’t have these watches. And without these watches, none of this would even be possible. We’re here because all of this has to happen. And until it does, we’re stuck in this cycle… just like him.”

Agent Davidson sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“And if he fucking fails?” he asked.

“Then everything collapses. The watches, our mission, maybe even our existence, and his. So, we can’t afford to let him fail.”

Agent Davidson looked down at the unconscious Johnson #2, then back at his partner.

“Fine. We do it your way. But the moment he tries to run again, I’m fucking taking him out. No more second chances,” he said.

Agent Thomas didn’t agree with Agent Davidson. He felt compelled to express his true feelings at that moment.

“Man, I sure hope not. We need him. Look, let’s wake him up and get this over with,” he said.

Agent Thomas sighed deeply, his eyes reflecting the weight of their task.

“And besides,” he said, “maybe the point was to finally get it right. Sure, he had real, true love and genuine happiness, a beautiful home, but it was at the cost of those losing their lives, which they shouldn’t have. No. This iterated version of this man here, lying on the floor, is on a real mission. I now believe that he gave this man here the watch because he wants this man to go back… and do the right thing, not only for himself but for those he had failed along the way to changing things, to get the perfect results… the perfect outcome that he wound up with. And he wants those that couldn’t have it to finally, once and for all… have it.”

Agent Davidson nodded reluctantly.

“Yeah, I get what you mean. But trying to finally convince this guy to get busy, even for his own good, it’s not going to be easy, partner.”

“Well, then he’ll have to keep trying again and again, until he gets it right… just like before.”

“Before? Jesus Christ, Thomas, how many times… how many times has he done this before?”

“The question is, how many iterated versions of him… are still actually out there?

Moments later, Johnson #2, in pain, started to move a bit. Agent Davidson looked down at Johnson #2, then back at his partner.

“Are you ready?” Agent Davidson asked as he went down and forcefully picked Johnson #2 off the floor, standing him up.

Agent Davidson pushed Johnson #2 against the wall and then tapped his face several times with the back of his hand.

“Wake up, Johnson,” Agent Davidson said, applying more pressure to prevent Johnson #2 from moving.

As soon as Johnson #2 opened his eyes, he tried to struggle against Agent Davidson’s strong grip, but Agent Davidson held him in place, forcing him to stay still.

“Let me go,” Johnson #2 said, momentarily giving up and struggling no more.

“Let me go!”

Agent Davidson pointed his index finger at him.

“Sorry, Johnson, we can’t let you go. You’re not going anywhere, pal,” he said firmly.

“Man, who are you guys? And how do you even know my name?” Johnson #2 asked, looking between the two agents.

Agent Thomas stepped between his partner and Johnson #2.

“Wait… let me talk to him, Davidson,” he said, looking at Johnson #2.

Agent Thomas kept a light hand against Johnson #2’s chest, signaling Agent Davidson to ease up.

“Listen, Johnson,” Agent Thomas began, his tone gentler but firm, “we know this is very confusing and terrifying. But you need to understand that you have a crucial role to play here. Believe it or not, you’ve done this before, God knows how many times. Each time, you’ve made sacrifices, you’ve faced dangers, and you’ve altered the course of many, many timelines, as well as history itself. But it’s always been for a greater good. To set things right, not just for you, but for everyone who was affected around you.”

Johnson #2’s eyes darted around, panic and confusion clear on his face.

“Look, it’s obvious that you both have the wrong guy. I don’t understand what you’re even talking about. What are you talking about? I just want to go home to my wife. Trust me, the guy you’re talking about… is surely not me,” Johnson #2 said, trying to convince the agents.

Agent Thomas nodded, maintaining eye contact.

“No. We know that we have the right guy. And you’re him, pal. And, no matter what, you will help us. But first, you need to help us fix things. Change things back to the way they should be. Look, the watch you had on, it’s not just a device. It’s a tool that allows you to travel through time, to correct mistakes, to ensure that the future remains intact. Right now, you’re the only one who can do this. You’re the key to making everything right,” Agent Thomas said, trying to convince Johnson #2.

Johnson #2 looked at Agent Thomas, desperation in his eyes.

“But… why me? Why do I have to go through this?” he said.

“Because,” Agent Thomas replied softly, “you’re the only one who’s ever succeeded. The only one who’s gotten close enough to fixing absolutely everything. And we believe in you. And you need to believe in yourself too.”

Agent Davidson, still holding Johnson #2 but with a slightly softened grip, added, “We’re here to help you, Johnson #2. But you need to trust us. We need you to do this, one last time. You have no fucking choice, man.”

Johnson #2 took a deep breath, feeling shaken but beginning to understand the seriousness of the situation.

“Alright… alright. What do I need to do, man?” Johnson asked, reluctantly seeking guidance.

Agent Thomas smiled faintly, a look of relief washing over his face.

“We’ll explain everything to you very soon. Just know that we’re here to help you. Trust me… we’re in this together. You’re not alone here, pal,” Agent Thomas said, attempting to reassure Johnson #2.

With that, the agents began to mentally outline the mission, focusing on the critical moments that needed correction and the immense responsibility that lay ahead for Johnson #2. As the weight of his task settled on his shoulders, Johnson #2 did not feel a sense of purpose nor was he ready to face the challenges that awaited him in this mysterious quest to set things right.

“Come on, man… let me go,” Johnson #2 said, momentarily giving up and struggling no more.

“Let me go!”

Agent Davidson pointed his index finger at him.

“Listen, you piece of shit, we already told you. We can’t let you go. You’re not going anywhere. You hear me, pal,” he said firmly.

“Man, who are you guys? And how do you even know my name?” Johnson #2 asked, looking at both agents with confusion and fear.

Agent Thomas stepped between his partner and Johnson #2.

“Wait… let me talk to him, Davidson,” he said, looking at Johnson #2 with a more measured gaze.

Agent Thomas kept a light hand against Johnson #2’s chest.

“Don’t move, pal. I just want to ask you a few questions. Okay?” Agent Thomas said calmly.

“And then… you’ll let me go?” Johnson #2 asked, staring deep into Agent Thomas’s eyes, searching for a glimmer of truth.

“I mean… tell me, what’s this all about? I never even seen you guys in my entire life. So… what did I do to you guys to have me all hemmed up, against the wall… like this?” Johnson #2 asked, managing to stay calm despite his rising panic.

Johnson #2 tried to take a step forward, but Agent Davidson pushed him back hard against the wall.

“We’re asking the fucking questions here… not you, pal. Not you,” Agent Davidson said, his tone harsh and unyielding.

Agent Thomas held Johnson #2 in place and reached into his inside suit pocket, pulling out the watch he had taken off Johnson #2’s wrist, dangling it in front of Johnson #2’s face.

“First question. Where the hell did you get this watch from?” Agent Thomas asked.

Johnson #2 stared at the watch, as if seeing it for the first time.

“Look, that’s not my watch,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

“Yeah, we know it’s not yours. But where the fuck… did you get it from? Where did you find it at?” Agent Davidson demanded, his patience wearing thin.

Johnson #2 shook his head, his expression defiant and resolute. He was clearly not going to say anything to the relentless agents who had him pinned to the wall by force.

“Answer the question,” Agent Thomas said, his voice growing more insistent.

“Where did you get the watch?”

“Look, I’m not telling you guys shit,” Johnson #2 said defiantly, looking both agents in the eye before glancing at the exit door, a flicker of hope and desperation in his gaze.

Agent Davidson’s grip tightened, his frustration palpable.

“Listen, you piece of shit, you’re only making this harder on yourself,” he warned, his voice low and menacing.

But Johnson #2 remained silent, his jaw set in a firm line of resistance. He wasn’t about to give these men any information, not until he understood what was really going on and why they were so desperate to know about the watch.

Agent Davidson, seething with frustration, delivered two quick, swift, fast punches to Johnson #2’s stomach. Johnson #2 took the hits like a champ, barely flinching, even as both agents held him firmly against the wall. Johnson #2’s eyes darted to the door again, calculating his chances of breaking free, reaching it, and finally making a dash for freedom. Agent Davidson noticed Johnson #2’s intent and leaned in, his voice a threatening growl.

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing… don’t do it, man,” he warned.

“You try to pull some James Bond stupid shit on us, and I swear to God, I’ll make this fucking really painful for you. I’m serious, pal. I know what you’re thinking about. So… don’t do it. Think of the love of your life.”

At the mention of his wife, Johnson #2 visibly calmed down, his tense muscles relaxing slightly. He momentarily gave up, but his eyes still showed dissatisfaction with his current situation.

“Okay… okay. Relax. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Anything,” Johnson #2 said, hoping to defuse the tension and avoid more pain.

“Okay, then,” Agent Davidson said, leaning back slightly but still ready to pounce.

“Start talking, or I will fuck you up. And if you lie to us, I’m personally going to seriously fuck you up… badly.”

Johnson #2 took a deep breath, his mind racing as he wondered what he could possibly say to satisfy these relentless agents. He decided to start with the main question of the night.

“Look, the truth is, if you’re talking about the watch, I got it on one Halloween night,” Johnson #2 said, more nervous now than if he had said nothing at all.

“Yeah, but where did you get it from?” Agent Thomas asked, leaning in with a glint of hope that Johnson #2 would finally reveal something useful.

“Or better yet… who gave it to you, pal.

“Look, I didn’t get it from anywhere,” Johnson #2 replied, his tone calm and serious.

“For real. The watch was delivered by a messenger, on a Halloween night. My wife signed for an envelope, and the watch was inside the envelope. That’s the truth… honest.”

“Yeah, we believe you got the watch, but who the fuck gave it to you?” Agent Davidson asked, applying more pressure on Johnson #2 to keep him pinned against the wall.

“I just told you guys. Some messenger came and dropped off a black envelope. My wife told me he was dressed in a doctor’s costume, with a black surgical mask, a lanyard around his neck, with his ID on it, wearing a lab coat, scrubs, the whole nine yards,” Johnson #2 replied, his voice maintaining a calm, truthful demeanor.

“Okay, great. Now, who do you know, who could have possibly sent you that envelope?” Agent Davidson asked.

“And think very carefully before you answer me.”

Johnson #2 shook his head, his shoulders slumping.

“Man, how the hell should I know? I mean… who would ever give me… me, something like that? Look, you both have to believe me. I really don’t know anything!” Johnson #2 replied, stealing several glances at the exit door, then focusing on both agents, wondering what they were going to do to him next.

Agent Davidson smiled, shaking his head as he looked deep into Johnson #2’s eyes, then at his partner.

“I told you, Thomas, this man doesn’t know shit. He can’t even change his socks. We’re wasting our time here with this chump. I think we should get the fuck out of here before I start losing my patience all over this fucking guy,” Agent Davidson said, stealing several glances at the exit door himself.

Agent Thomas caught his partner’s glances but decided to keep it to himself. It was just another reminder that Agent Davidson had had enough and didn’t want to stick around to see the mission through to its ultimate conclusion. Agent Thomas put his arm between Johnson #2 and Agent Davidson, signaling his partner to step back.

Agent Davidson reluctantly let go, taking both hands off Johnson #2’s chest, and took a step back to give Johnson #2 some room to breathe. The agents exchanged a look, silently debating who would break it all down for Johnson #2 in layman’s terms. Recognizing his partner’s volatile nature, Agent Thomas decided to take the lead.

“Look, Johnson…” Agent Thomas began, his tone calmer but firm.

Johnson #2 eyed both agents warily as they took a few steps back, giving him more space to think clearly.

“Shit, man… how do you guys know my name?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion and frustration.

“Never mind that shit. Just listen to me carefully. Something happened, some kind of a glitch, and the reason you can’t go back home is because you’re already there,” Agent Thomas said.

“You’re already in your house… right now.”

“What? Why… that’s impossible. How can that be?” Johnson #2 asked, his mind struggling to grasp the situation.

“Look, whoever gave you the watch, gave it to you for a good damn reason. And we just want to know why. Why did he give it to you?” Agent Thomas pressed.

Johnson #2 shook his head, trying to think but clearly at a loss.

“Look, I don’t know… really. All I know is that I had the watch until you guys came into the picture. And besides that, who the hell is that guy in my house with my wife?” Johnson #2 demanded.

Agent Davidson glanced at his partner, then back at Johnson #2.

“Look, you might as well know the truth now,” Agent Davidson said.

“That guy that’s in your house with your wife… is you, pal. And you better believe it. Somehow, someway, when you left the house and activated the watch, by the time you came back, you came back to another alternate, parallel universe. One where you are now in your house with the love of your life, and at the same time, you are here with us. Man, you should’ve never activated the watch. The minute you did that, it’s obvious that you created all that is happening to you right now.”

Johnson #2 looked at the agents with a confused, sad expression.

“Guys… please… with all due respect, you can’t possibly make me believe any of this shit. You guys are kidding. Am I right?” he asked, desperately hoping it was all a joke.

“Listen to me, you piece of shit! I really don’t give a shit if you don’t believe us or not. All I give a shit about is that you do exactly as we tell you to do! Now, if you don’t, then you’re going to have a big fucking problem with us, pal. A really huge one,” Agent Davidson said, his tone dripping with menace.

Johnson #2 took a deep breath, his mind racing with the absurdity of the situation. He was trapped between disbelief and the hard reality these agents were presenting. With no clear way out, he nodded slowly, realizing he had no choice but to play along. Agent Thomas tapped his partner on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Davidson, let me talk to him.”

“Okay, okay. But, what are you going to tell him that I can’t tell him?” Agent Davidson asked.

Agent Thomas looked at his partner, put his hand up, and then turned his focus to Johnson #2.

“Davidson, let me handle this. Give me a moment. Maybe I can get through to him,” Agent Thomas said, redirecting his attention to Johnson #2.

“And finally make him understand.”

“Understand what, partner?” Agent Davidson asked, skeptically.

Agent Thomas ignored the question and directed all his energy towards Johnson #2.

“Look, Johnson, my partner here and I are from the far future. Now don’t say a word, just listen to me. I can’t tell you what happened. And neither can you. But what I can tell you is that the only way you are ever going to be back with the love of your life is if you follow our orders and do exactly as we both tell you. Otherwise, the love of your life, your wife, is going to prefer to be with this other you, instead of you,” Agent Thomas said, more as advice than a threat.

“Okay, okay. Then all of this can be fixed… right? Is that what you’re telling me?” Johnson #2 asked, hoping for the best.

“Correct,” Agent Thomas replied, nodding his head up and down.

“There is a way to fix everything, but you have to get on board with us. Believe me, there is no way you can do this alone. Trust me, you have no other choice.”

Johnson #2, worried and trying to think straight, imagined a life and a world without the love of his life. That thought alone made him fall in line with the agents quickly.

“You guys… you’re really serious about this. So, if I do whatever you say, will everything be okay in the end?” Johnson #2 asked, seeking reassurance from the agents.

“In the end, I’m back in my home, with my wife, and everything will be okay? Everything will go back to normal?”

“If you agree to do everything exactly as we tell you to do, I promise you’ll get everything you want by the end of our mission,” Agent Davidson assured Johnson #2.

“But, if you fuck with our commands, if you screw up and decide to alter these timelines that you must be in to change everything, so in the end you can be happy, in your own house, with the love of your life, and accomplish your mission, so my partner and I can get the hell out of here and go back to our timeline, you will surely glitch out, and you will cease to completely exist. And everything that you have done until that point… will no longer matter at all. None of it.” Agent Davidson fully advised him.

Johnson #2, still struggling to understand, looked between the two agents.

“So, what are you both trying to tell me here? What are you really trying to say? Tell me again, so I can understand it better,” Johnson #2 said, his voice tinged with confusion and urgency.

Agent Thomas sighed and leaned in closer.

“What we’re saying, Johnson, is that you’re in a situation where your actions determine not just your future, but ours as well. You have to trust us and follow our lead. If you do exactly as we say, you’ll get back to your life, your home, your wife. But if you deviate, if you try to do this on your own, everything will fall apart, and you’ll lose everything. Do you understand me, pal?” Agent Thomas said, his tone serious and emphatic.

Johnson #2 swallowed hard, the weight of their words sinking in.

“Alright. I understand. I’ll do what you say. Just… just help me get back to my life,” Johnson #2 said earnestly.

Agent Thomas nodded, relieved.

“Good. Now, let’s get started. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Agent Thomas was about to speak when his partner tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hold on, Thomas. Let me talk to this guy,” Agent Davidson said, stepping forward with a determined look.

Agent Thomas nodded, though he was apprehensive about what Agent Davidson might say. He knew his partner was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. Despite this, Agent Thomas stepped back, giving Agent Davidson the floor, while keeping a close watch on the situation. Agent Davidson took a step closer to Johnson #2, his face a mask of frustration and intensity.

“So, like I was saying… and I also speak for my partner here, if you do anything, and I mean anything to mess this mission up, trust me, pal, if you even dare to change, or alter the timelines, in which you must be in to change them as we see fit, you will surely cease to exist. And the love of your life? You can also kiss her goodbye. If you fail your mission, she will no longer be the love of your life… because she will be his,” Agent Davidson said, his voice menacingly low.

“You’ve gotta be freaking joking, man. Look, just let me go home. I can talk to them. I can explain everything to them,” Johnson #2 pleaded desperately.

“It’s going to be alright. Trust me.”

Agents Thomas and Davidson exchanged a glance, realizing that Johnson #2 was utterly clueless about the gravity of the situation. Agent Thomas knew that Agent Davidson was about to make Johnson #2 understand, forcefully if necessary.

“Listen to me, you piece of shit. Are you fucking crazy, man? Go back home? Can’t you see? You can’t go back home, because your dumb-ass is already home!” Agent Davidson yelled, trying to drive the point home.

Agent Davidson snatched the tablet from Agent Thomas, tapped on the screen, and shoved it in front of Johnson #2’s face.

“You see that? That’s you, you piece of shit, doing the same thing before you left the house and activated the fucking watch! How much more proof do you fucking need?!” he demanded, his tone firm and insistent.

Johnson #2 focused on the screen and saw the man in the house performing the exact actions he had done about an hour before he left his house.

“Shit… he’s doing exactly what I was doing. I mean… what I have already done… same as I did… exactly,” Johnson stammered.

“Of course, he is doing exactly as you have done,” Agent Davidson began.

Agent Thomas cut in, trying to keep the situation under control.

“Like you were told before, the minute you activated the watch and traveled back in time, you created some kind of paradox. And even though it seemed like you just traveled back for a little bit of time, the paradox was caused the minute you came back home before you, yourself had actually left the house. You see, once you activated the watch and went back in time, back to your house, you became nothing more than an iteration of the man that is in your house right now. Kind of like a Johnson #2,” Agent Thomas explained.

Agent Davidson’s desperation and frustration were evident. His face turned red with anger.

“And the messed up thing is that you knew what the fuck you were doing… and you still did it! Didn’t you? Didn’t you?!” he shouted, his voice shaking with rage.

Johnson #2 looked at them, his face pale and bewildered. He began to grasp the severity of his actions.

“And that’s why you’re seeing yourself right now in your house. You piece of shit, you still can’t see? You have traveled to a time where you are still in your house. And that’s why we had to snatch your dumb-ass up from in front of your house before you went in. God only knows what would’ve happened if you had gone in. God only knows,” Agent Davidson said, his voice cracking with anger.

Agent Thomas stepped in, placing a calming hand on Agent Davidson’s shoulder.

“Calm down, Davidson. We need him to understand, not scare him to death,” he said.

Agent Davidson took a deep breath, trying to rein in his fury.

“Alright, Johnson. You get the picture now? You see why this is so important? You follow our instructions exactly, and we can set things right. Mess up, and it’s game over. For all of us,” he said.

“Okay, okay. I admit it. I messed up. So what am I supposed to do now, stay here with you guys while that bastard is in my house, with my wife?” Johnson #2 said, his voice thick with frustration and fear.

“Wake up, Johnson #2. That bastard you’re talking about… is you. Just remember that, pal,” Agent Thomas said calmly.

“Don’t worry, everything will be solved as long as you do as we tell you to do… always. And once the mission is done, we’ll never, ever see each other again.”

Agent Davidson kept his gaze fixed on Johnson #2, then glanced down at his watch. He broke his gaze to give all of his focus to his partner.

“Thomas, we can make this happen… right now. But we have a problem. We have less than an hour before Johnson #1 decides to do what Johnson #2 right here did and activate the watch that he has in his possession,” Agent Davidson advised, urgency creeping into his voice.

“Jesus Christ, Davidson, how many watches are out there? You have one, I have one, the one we snatched off Johnson right here, and now we have to deal with Johnson #1 having his own watch? And you and I know that he can’t leave the house with that watch. I mean… if he does…” Agent Thomas trailed off, the weight of the situation sinking in.

“Yeah, I know. We’re all messed up. Look, we know exactly when Johnson #1 is going to come out of the house. And all we have to do is put a bullet in his head, and take the watch off his wrist,” Agent Davidson said, pulling out his firearm from inside his suit.

He pressed the gun to Johnson #2’s forehead.

“Then we kill this motherfucker right here, and then… we both get the fuck out of this timeline!” he shouted.

Agent Thomas quickly put his hand on Agent Davidson’s shoulder, his eyes wide with alarm.

“Davidson… Davidson!” he shouted.

“What?! You don’t think it can’t be done? I’ll end this motherfucker’s life, right here… right now!” Agent Davidson shouted, his hand trembling slightly with rage.

“Davidson! That’s enough!” Agent Thomas said, his voice rising in a rare show of assertiveness.

“I’ll tell you… when that’s enough!” Agent Davidson snapped, pressing the gun harder against Johnson #2’s forehead.

Johnson #2’s eyes darted between the two agents, his face pale and sweat beading on his forehead. He could barely breathe, feeling the cold steel of the gun against his skin and the palpable tension between the two agents.

“Davidson,” Agent Thomas said more calmly, but with a steely determination, “put the gun down. We need him alive to fix this. Killing him solves nothing.”

“What?! You don’t think it can’t be done? I’ll blow his fucking head off, right here… for the quickness, pal!” Agent Davidson retorted, his voice laced with anger and frustration.

“Davidson! That’s enough!” Agent Thomas interjected firmly.

“I’ll tell you… when that’s enough!” Agent Davidson snapped back, his eyes ablaze with fury.

Agent Davidson then pushed Johnson #2 hard up against the wall, causing him to gasp in shock.

“Hey, chill out, man,” Johnson #2 pleaded, his voice trembling with fear as he covered his face with his hands.

“Listen, you piece of shit. I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me?!” Agent Davidson shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the room.

“Do you think my partner and I would travel all this way from the future to tell you fucking jokes?! You think this fucking gun is a joke. You think I’m a joke… We’re a joke! Dude, I should blow your fucking head off… right now!” he exclaimed, his words dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

Agent Thomas stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Agent Davidson’s shoulder.

“Davidson, calm down. This isn’t helping anyone.”

Agent Davidson’s anger simmered, but he reluctantly stepped back, his eyes still burning with intensity. Agent Thomas turned to Johnson #2, his expression softening.

“Johnson, listen to me. We’re not here to hurt you. We need your cooperation to fix this mess. Can you do that?” he said.

Johnson #2 nodded weakly, still reeling from the intensity of the situation.

“Y-yeah, I’ll do whatever you say. Just… just don’t hurt me, man.” he said.

Agent Thomas nodded reassuringly.

“We won’t hurt you, Johnson. But we need to act fast. Time is running out.”

“Man, fuck this Harlequin shit,” Agent Davidson said, as he cocked his weapon back, the metallic click echoing ominously in the well-lit room.

He pressed the barrel of the weapon against Johnson #2’s neck. The cold steel made Johnson #2 wince. But as soon as Agent Thomas saw his partner’s finger moving to the trigger, ready to shoot Johnson #2, he swiftly pulled his own firearm from inside his suit holster. He pointed it directly at Agent Davidson.

“Davidson… Davidson, put the fucking weapon down! Davidson! Do it! Do it now!” Agent Thomas’s voice was firm, but laced with urgency.

Agent Davidson’s face twisted in rage.

“Tell me… tell me again that I’m fucking telling you jokes! Tell me that fucking shit again!” he yelled at Johnson #2, his voice shaking with fury.

“That’s enough! Davidson! Put the fucking weapon down! Relax. Calm down, partner,” Thomas pleaded, trying to diffuse the situation.

“No. You calm down! This fucking chump thinks everything is a fucking joke. And I’m tired of his stupid shit!” Agent Davidson’s eyes burned with intensity as he glared at Johnson #2.

Agent Davidson had taken many orders from Agent Thomas over the years, but this was one order he refused to take seriously. With quick reflexes, he turned the weapon away from Johnson #2 and pointed it at Agent Thomas.

“You want to kill me?! Over this fucking piece of shit?! Then do it! Do it!” Agent Davidson shouted, his hands trembling as he kept the weapon aimed at his partner.

“Davidson, please, listen to me. This isn’t the way. We must stick with our mission, at all cost,” Agent Thomas said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a flicker of fear.

“I can’t allow you to do this, pal. But, I don’t want to kill you either. So… listen to me.”

“No, you fucking listen to me, partner! I’m done with this crap! Right now! Fuck you, fuck both of these Johnson’s, and fuck the fucking mission!” Agent Davidson’s voice broke, his anger giving way to desperation.

The room was tense, the air thick with anticipation. For a moment, it seemed like time stood still. Then, in a blur of motion and sound, both agents fired at each other. Gunshots echoed violently, and Johnson #2 ducked away, seeking cover for his dear life. In the chaotic exchange, Agent Thomas’s aim proved true. Davidson fell to the floor, his weapon clattering beside him. Blood pooled around his lifeless body, the rage in his eyes replaced by the emptiness of death.

Johnson #2 stayed far back, crouched down on the floor, his heart pounding in his chest, as Agent Thomas slowly lowered his weapon, staring at the fallen figure of his partner. Agent Thomas took a few steps forward, and as he looked down, he saw his gleaming white shirt turn into a red bloody mess.

Agent Thomas took his hand to press down on his wounds, but the blood rushed out of his body, completely covering his hand with blood. Agent Thomas looked at Johnson #2 and knew he was still alive. As he took another step, Agent Thomas dropped to the floor, as a puddle of blood started to pool and accumulate around his motionless body.

Johnson #2, adrenaline surging through his veins, grabbed Agent Thomas and half-dragged, half-carried him to his vehicle. The agent was barely conscious, his breathing ragged and labored.

Johnson #2 got Agent Thomas into the passenger seat, then slid behind the wheel and floored the gas pedal, speeding towards the home of Johnson #2’s friend, a male nurse who might be able to help. Agent Thomas groaned, clutching his side, blood seeping between his fingers.

“Hang in there, Thomas,” Johnson #2 urged, eyes darting between the road and the injured man beside him.

“Just hold on a little longer.”

Agent Thomas’s eyes fluttered open, pain etched across his face.

“Johnson… why… why are you helping me?”

“Because you saved my life back there, pal,” Johnson #2 replied, his voice tight with emotion.

“And because I owe you.”

Agent Thomas coughed, grimacing as a fresh wave of pain hit him.

“You… you owe me nothing… I’m… I’m the reason you’re in this mess…”

“Shut up and save your strength,” Johnson #2 snapped, his tone harsh but his eyes soft with concern.

“We’re almost there.”

Agent Thomas’s head lolled back against the headrest, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“Tell… tell my wife… I’m sorry… for everything…”

“You’re going to tell her yourself,” Johnson #2 said fiercely.

“Just stay with me, Thomas. Stay with me!”

The vehicle skidded to a halt in front of a modest house.

Johnson #2 jumped out, rushing to the passenger side to help Agent Thomas. He pounded on the door, his heart in his throat. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal a tall man with a concerned expression.

“Help him,” Johnson #2 pleaded.

“Please, he’s dying!”

The male nurse quickly assessed the situation and nodded.

“Okay… bring him inside,” the male nurse said.

They moved Agent Thomas into the house and laid him on a couch. The male nurse immediately went to work, grabbing medical supplies and working to stabilize the wounded agent. Johnson #2 hovered nearby, his hands trembling. Agent Thomas’s eyes met Johnson #2’s one last time.

“Thank you… my brother…” he whispered, before losing consciousness.

Johnson #2 watched as his friend fought to save Agent Thomas’s life, praying silently that it wouldn’t be too late.

“Johnson, this man is going to die on my fucking couch! We need to get him to a hospital… right now,” the male nurse said, his voice filled with urgency.

“No, no, no! No hospitals. You have to save his fucking life, man! You have to save him yourself…” Johnson #2 insisted, knowing very well that Agent Thomas didn’t have much time left.

Johnson #2 hurried up to his friend, grabbing his arm just as he was about to walk away.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Get in there and help him!”

The male nurse yanked his arm free, needing some space to think. He forcefully pushed Johnson #2 against the wall, looking him dead in the eyes.

“Get your fucking dirty hands off me. Look, back the hell up! Wake up! I’m not a fucking doctor, Johnson. I’m just a male nurse!”

“This man is going to die right here on your fucking couch if you don’t act! Now, do something!”

“Do what?! Do what?! He’s got three fucking bullet holes in him. Look, Johnson, I’m not a surgeon! And this man needs real medical attention! Otherwise…”

Johnson #2, desperate, grabbed his friend again and pinned him against the wall.

“Listen to me… this man saved my fucking life! If you don’t get in there and help him, I’m going to seriously fuck you up!”

The male nurse forced his way out of Johnson #2’s grip and shoved him back hard.

“Okay. You want to fucking fight me… let’s go! Come on… let’s go! Let’s get down, James Brown! Now… put your fucking hands up!”

Johnson #2 raised his hands, ready to fight, but then he glanced at Agent Thomas lying motionless on the couch. He lowered his hands and looked at his friend with pleading eyes.

“No. I don’t want to fight you. But please, please help him,” he said.

The male nurse looked from Johnson #2 to Agent Thomas, his resolve softening. He sighed deeply.

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

The male nurse rushed into his bedroom and came out with everything he thought could save Agent Thomas’s life: scalpels, morphine, bandages, and more. For several hours, he worked tirelessly, extracting the three bullets and stitching the wounds with the tools he had. Johnson #2 hovered anxiously, handing over supplies and trying not to get in the way. His heart pounded with every minute that passed, fearing the worst.

Finally, as dawn broke, the nurse finished the makeshift surgery. Agent Thomas lay still, but his breathing was steadier, and the bleeding had stopped.

Several days later, Agent Thomas was resting on the couch, recuperating from his vital injuries. His color had returned, and his wounds were healing. Johnson #2 and his friend sat across from each other, a chessboard between them and a bottle of liquor on the table. They laughed and talked like old friends, the tension and anger of the previous days forgotten.

“Your move,” Johnson #2 said, moving a knight and taking his friend’s bishop.

The male nurse chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“You always were a sneaky bastard.”

They both looked over at Agent Thomas, who gave them a weak thumbs-up from the couch. The room was filled with relief and gratitude.

“You saved his life,” Johnson #2 said, clinking his glass against his friend’s.

“I owe you everything.”

“Nah,” the male nurse replied, moving his rook, “just don’t ask me to do this shit again.”

They both laughed, the weight of the past days lifting off their shoulders. They were best friends again, bonded by the life they had saved and the battles they had fought together. After the chess game, Johnson #2 walked up and nodded at Agent Thomas.

“You’re going to be alright, Thomas. Get some rest. You’re going to need it, pal,” Johnson #2 said, trying to accommodate the agent as best as he could.

As Johnson #2 was going to walk away, he turned back, when he saw Agent Thomas rise up off the couch.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Johnson #2 asked, as he tried to convince him to lay back down.

“You need to lay back down. Get some rest, or something.”

But Agent Thomas refused to get back on the couch.

“No. We have to get out of here,” Agent Thomas advised, as he took slow step forward.

All of a sudden, Johnson #2 remembered everything. It was like an avalanche that engulfed his memory, for the quickness.

“Holy shit… oh God. What about the other me? Johnson #1? Shit… it’s too late now. We messed up. Big time! Now… we can’t go back. It’s been days already, Thomas,” Johnson #2 said, knowing very well that Johnson #1 walked out of the house a long time ago.

Agent Thomas smiled, reached into his inside suit pocket, and pulled out the watch he had taken from Johnson #2.

“Who says we can’t go back, brother?” Agent Thomas asked, handing the watch to Johnson #2.

Johnson #2 looked down at the watch and instantly felt a sense of completeness.

Johnson #2’s male nurse friend walked up to Johnson #2 and Agent Thomas, and then he put one hand on each of their shoulders.

“Guys… it’s been a pleasure. I’m going to get some rest now. You guys be safe. And lock up, when you guys leave,” the male nurse said, as he shook both Johnson #2’s and the agents hand.

Agent Thomas walked up to the male nurse and he gave him a humble hug.

“Look, I don’t know what to say, my brother. I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I’ll never forget you, my friend,” Agent Thomas said, looking deep into the male nurse’s eyes.

The male nurse shook his head, back and forth.

“Trust me… same here. I did what I could possibly do. And thank God you’re still alive, my friend. Thank God,” the male nurse said, as he turned and hugged Johnson #2 tight.

“You… stay out of trouble. I guess… I’ll see you soon, my friend,” the male nurse said, as he took a step back, and looked at Agent Thomas and Johnson #2.

“My friend, get some rest. You really deserve one. Trust me… I’ll see you soon,” Johnson #2 said, as he put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

The male nurse smiled at Agent Thomas and then he looked at Johnson #2.

“Sure, no problem. Just don’t come tomorrow,” the male nurse said, as he calmly waked away from the both of them.

And as Johnson #2’s friend entered his bedroom and closed the door, Agent Thomas and Johnson #2 momentarily laughed to themselves. Seconds later, everything went silent, as Johnson #2 and Agent Thomas stared into each other eyes.

The silence that engulfed them was overwhelming to the maximum. It was as if they each were waiting for the other person to say something… in order to brake the ice. And then it happened. Johnson #2 looked at the watch in his hand, as it lightly pulsed in his hand.

“Okay. I’ll go first. Now what? What do we do now? What do you and I have to do so as I can get back inside my house, with my wife, and accomplish this supposed mission?” Johnson #2 asked, knowing that from here on, there was no going back, until what ever mission he had to accomplish, was accomplished.

Agent Thomas nodded his head, reassuring Johnson #2 that everything was going to be okay, from here on.

“Look, brother. I’m very grateful for what you, and your friend did for me. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve been dead by now. Trust me. I’ll never lie to you. Now, all you have to do is do exactly as I tell you to do, and I guarantee you, that everything will be just fine… for the both of us,” Agent Thomas said, trying to convince him that everything will be perfect.

“But this other me… this other Johnson #1… he already left the house a long time ago. Can’t you see… the game is over, pal,” Johnson #2 said, not fully understanding the complexities or the tremendous power of the watches they each had in their possession.

Agent Thomas pointed his index finger at his own watch, and then he looked at Johnson #2.

“Yes. The game is over, but not with this,” Agent Thomas said, as he tapped on his watch.

Johnson #2 looked down at the watch that he was holding on to, and then he looked up at Agent Thomas.

“What do you mean, Thomas? It’s already been days now,” Johnson #2 said, as curiosity peek his mind.

“Trust me… it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you and I, with the help of these watches, we can go back,” Agent Thomas said.

“Go back? And do what?” Johnson #2 asked.

Agent Thomas thought for a second.

“Simple. All we have to do is go back to the timeline, before you even left the house, and got into your car,” Agent Thomas said, suggesting his possible mental blueprint.

Johnson #2 took some time to think himself, and then he turned and looked at Thomas.

“And then what? What else do we have to do?” Johnson #2 asked.

“Brother, in order to accomplish this mission, we have to do more than just go back, before you walked out of your house, and entered your car. We have… well… you have to go to many, timelines. And in these timelines that you will go to, you must change something… something very important,” Agent Thomas said, trying to convince him of what eventually he will have no choice, but to do.

“I’m down. So… when do we start?” Johnson #2 asked.

“My brother, we started the minute I stopped you from going inside of your house. Look, this is not going to be easy, but if you follow directions, I’m pretty sure you’re not going to have any problems. No problems at all,” Agent Thomas advised.

“Okay, then. Let’s do this. So, what do I have to do first?” Johnson #2 asked, thinking that he can do just about everything.

“First, we have to get out of here, and go back to that empty apartment unit. Second, once we get there, we must get rid of my partner’s body. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that. And once Davidson is out of the way, then and only then can we begin,” Agent Thomas said, as he mentally prepared himself to help Johnson #2 accomplish his mission, at all cost.

“Aright, Thomas. Let’s go to the apartment unit,” Johnson #2 said, as he nodded his head, up and down.

“Come on… Let’s go. Let’s get out of here,” Agent Thomas said, as he and Johnson #2 walked out of the apartment, and pushed the door closed.

Agent Thomas and Johnson #2 stood in front of the empty apartment unit. Agent Thomas reached into his inside suit pocket and pulled out a lock pick gun. Within seconds, he picked the lock, and the two men entered the apartment. Agent Thomas closed the door behind them.

The sight that greeted them was grim. The motionless, dead body of Davidson lay on the floor, surrounded by a dried, caked-up pool of blood. His weapon was still beside him.

“This place is gonna be rotten. We got to clean it up, brother. We have to get rid of him before he starts to decay and stinks up this whole apartment,” Agent Thomas said, walking up to Davidson’s body.

Agent Thomas picked up his partner’s weapon and tucked it into his waistband. Glancing at his watch, an idea formed in his mind.

“Johnson, do me a favor,” Agent Thomas said, looking intently at his companion.

“I need you to really stay put. Listen to me. This will only take a few. Whatever you do, don’t leave this apartment unit.”

“Okay… do your thing, Thomas. I’ll wait for you till you get back,” Johnson #2 replied, nodding.

Agent Thomas pressed several buttons on his watch and stood over Davidson’s lifeless figure, his expression unreadable. He knelt down, his movements precise and efficient.

“It didn’t have to be this way, partner,” he murmured, looking at Johnson #2 and then down at his partner.

Rising to his feet, Agent Thomas glanced at his watch again. He pressed a few more buttons, and the device emitted a soft, almost imperceptible beep. Placing a hand on Davidson’s chest, he took a breath, steeling himself. In an instant, a shimmer enveloped them, and with a faint hum, both men vanished into thin air.

Johnson #2’s mouth dropped open in shock, and he took a step back.

“Now, that’s what the hell I’m talking about!” he said with a huge grin on his face, the quiet internal shock slowly giving way to excitement.

The distant hum of life moving on in the air filled the room.

Agent Thomas and the lifeless body of Davidson materialized in a desolate, overgrown graveyard. The air was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Ancient headstones, some toppled and others worn smooth by time, dotted the landscape.

Agent Thomas took a moment to survey the surroundings, then set to work. He retrieved a shovel from a nearby shed, its handle weathered but sturdy. With each shovelful of dirt, memories of his fallen partner flooded his mind.

The hours passed, the exertion leaving Agent Thomas drenched in sweat and streaked with dirt. Finally, the grave was deep enough. Agent Thomas gently lowered Davidson’s body into the earth, his movements tender and respectful. He stood over the grave for a long moment, then began to fill it in, the rhythmic thud of the shovel a somber cadence. When the last of the dirt was in place, Agent Thomas knelt beside the freshly turned earth.

“I’m sorry, Davidson,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

“I never wanted this. You were my partner, my friend. But you left me no choice.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, sliding down his dirt-streaked face.

“I hope you find peace, wherever you are, pal,” he murmured, bowing his head in a silent prayer.

After a few moments, Agent Thomas wiped his tears away, forcing himself to his feet. He dusted off his suit, now a filthy, ruined mess. Glancing at his watch, he pressed a series of buttons. With a shimmer and a faint hum, he vanished from the graveyard.

Back in the apartment unit, several minutes after Agent Thomas vanished into thin air, Johnson #2 jumped back as Agent Thomas reappeared before him.

“Jesus Christ, Thomas, you scared the shit out of me. So, is everything okay?” Johnson #2 said, his heart racing at the sudden and abrupt reappearance, which initially had him thinking he’d seen a ghost.

Agent Thomas’s presence quickly reassured him, calming his frantic heartbeat. Agent Thomas, covered in dirt and looking exhausted, nodded.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just have to do one more thing,” he replied, wiping the dust off his suit.

“Sure, man… do your thing,” Johnson #2 said, sounding more like a new partner than just an acquaintance.

Agent Thomas’s fingers tapped against the sleek surface of his watch, each press a silent plea for assistance in the face of looming danger. Johnson #2’s eyes flickered between Agent Thomas and the pool of blood staining the floor, a silent testament to the peril they found themselves in.

“Johnson,” Thomas began, his voice low but firm, “we can’t handle this alone. We need backup, and we need it now.”

Johnson #2’s brows furrowed in concern.

“But how, Thomas? Who can we possibly trust?”

Agent Thomas met Johnson #2’s gaze, a flicker of determination in his eyes.

“There’s someone I know. Someone who owes me a favor. I’m calling it in.” Agent Thomas said.

With a final press of the button, Agent Thomas stopped the incessant tapping on his watch. He looked up at Johnson #2, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Help is on the way, my friend. I promise.”

Johnson #2 nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. But as Agent Thomas stepped closer, standing by his side, a tension lingered in the air. Something was about to happen, but neither of them knew what. They waited in silence, the only sound the faint hum of electricity in the air. Agent Thomas’s watch remained silent, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness.

And then, suddenly, a burst of static filled the room, causing both Agent Thomas and Johnson #2 to startle. Thomas’s watch sprung to life, a holographic display materializing above it with a soft glow. A voice crackled through the static, distorted but unmistakably urgent.

“Agent Thomas, this is HQ. We’ve got your signal. Backup is en route. Hold tight.”

Relief flooded through Agent Thomas as he exchanged a glance with Johnson #2, their shared tension dissipating in an instant. Help was on the way, just as Agent Thomas had promised. But as they stood together in the well-lit room, surrounded by the echoes of their own uncertainty, they knew that the real challenge was yet to come.

Agent Thomas and Johnson #2 stood in the well-lit living room, the air thick with tension and uncertainty. Johnson #2’s brow furrowed in confusion as he struggled to make sense of Agent Thomas’s cryptic words.

“Thomas, I’m totally confused here,” Johnson #2 began, his gaze fixed on his partner.

“You said that if Johnson #1 left the house the same way I did, and if he activates the watch, all hell might break loose. But he’s been gone for a long time now. So, what’s the deal with that?” Johnson #2 asked, his confusion deepening.

Agent Thomas met Johnson#2’s gaze with a knowing look, his expression unreadable.

“Who cares about that now, Johnson?” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with urgency.

“I was just trying to get you to see the truth. Time doesn’t really exists. It doesn’t matter. It’s all happening at once.”

Johnson #2’s confusion deepened, his features contorting with uncertainty.

“So… time doesn’t matter?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Agent Thomas nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Johnson #2’s.

“No, time doesn’t matter. It’s not real. And as long as we have the watches in our possession, we can make that a reality.”

A sense of understanding washed over Johnson #2 as he processed Agent Thomas’s words. Time, a concept he had always taken for granted, suddenly seemed insignificant in the face of their newfound knowledge.

“But how do we do it?” Johnson #2 asked, his voice filled with a newfound sense of determination.

Agent Thomas smiled, a glimmer of excitement dancing in his eyes.

“We just have to believe, Johnson. Believe that we can control time and not allow time to control us. Believe that we can make our own reality.”

Together, they clasped hands, their grip firm and unwavering. For in that moment, they held the power to reshape the very fabric of time itself. And as they stood side by side, united in purpose, they knew that nothing could stand in their way.

In the midst of the well-lit apartment unit, the air seemed to shimmer as if reality itself were bending. Suddenly, Agent Lee, of Asian descent, materialized out of thin air, his presence both unexpected and commanding. He set down two sleek briefcases with determined purpose, his eyes locking onto Agent Thomas with a sense of respect and camaraderie.

“Agent Thomas, I’m here at your service,” Agent Lee announced, a humble smile gracing his lips.

His gaze then shifted to Johnson #2, who returned the nod with a relieved smile. Agent Lee’s eyes swept across the apartment before he approached Agent Thomas, extending his hand in greeting. With a firm shake, Agent Thomas welcomed him with a genuine smile.

“It’s really great to see you, Agent Lee. It’s been a while,” Agent Thomas greeted warmly, gesturing towards Johnson #2.

“This here is Johnson. Also known as Johnson #2.”

“Yeah, I know what happened. I know everything about it,” Agent Lee said, glancing at Johnson #2 before turning his gaze back to Agent Thomas.

Agent Lee turned his attention to Johnson #2, their handshake firm and respectful.

“Pleasure meeting you, Johnson #2,” Agent Lee said, his tone sincere.

As Agent Lee scanned the empty apartment once more, a question lingered in the air.

“Agent Thomas, where is Agent Davidson?” he inquired.

Agent Thomas’s expression darkened as he recounted the events that led to Davidson’s demise.

“Agent Davidson is dead,” he stated bluntly.

“He tried to abort from the mission, pulled his firearm, and attempted to kill Johnson and myself. It was either him or the mission.”

Agent Lee nodded in understanding, his expression grave.

“You had no choice, Thomas. Davidson was a liability,” he acknowledged.

Agent Thomas’s jaw clenched with resolve.

“Look, Davidson’s death changes nothing. The mission remains. Johnson here already knows what needs to be done. And… I promise you… he won’t let us down,” he asserted firmly.

Agent Lee nodded in agreement.

“Then all we have to do is make sure Johnson follows through. We have no room for error,” he affirmed.

Turning to Johnson #2, Agent Thomas locked eyes with him, his hand resting reassuringly on Johnson #2’s shoulder.

“Johnson, are you sure you’re ready to get back to the one you truly love?” Agent Thomas asked, his voice filled with sincerity.

Johnson #2 met Agent Thomas’s gaze with unwavering determination.

“Yeah, I’m ready, because… I have no choice. So… I’m ready to right the wrongs I’ve made,” he declared, his resolve unwavering.

With a nod from Agent Lee, the trio prepared to embark on their mission. Opening the briefcases, they revealed their tools for the task ahead, each item meticulously arranged for their journey back to their timeline. As they prepared to face the challenges ahead, their unity and determination would be their greatest strength.

Agent Thomas, Agent Lee, and Johnson #2 stood in the sparse apartment unit, surveying the empty space before them. Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the window, casting long shadows across the brand new floorboards.

“We’re going to need to make this place livable,” Agent Thomas declared, his gaze sweeping across the room.

“Chairs, a desk to work at, a bed to take turns sleeping…”

Agent Lee nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful.

“And cleaning products,” he added, his eyes flickering towards the dried pool of blood staining the floor.

“We can’t leave that mess untouched.”

Johnson #2 shifted uncomfortably, his eyes lingering on the crimson stain.

“I’ll take care of it,” he volunteered, his voice determined.

“It’s the least I can do after everything that’s happened.”

Agent Thomas clapped a hand on Johnson #2’s shoulder, his grip reassuring.

“We’ll help,” he stated firmly.

“No one should have to face that alone.”

As they began to brainstorm a plan of action, their voices filled the apartment unit with a sense of purpose and determination. Together, they would transform the empty space into a sanctuary, a place where they could regroup, strategize, plan, and, most importantly, heal.

With renewed resolve, they set to work, knowing that their bond as a team would see them through even the darkest of times. And as they mentally tackled each task with unwavering determination, they knew that no obstacle was too great to overcome when faced with the strength of their unity.

Agent Thomas’s fingers danced across the buttons of his watch, each press sending a surge of energy through the air. With one hand resting on Johnson #2’s chest and the other on Agent Lee’s shoulder, the trio stood poised on the brink of time itself. The air crackled with anticipation as reality itself seemed to bend and warp around them. In a breathtaking display of power, they vanished into thin air, their forms swallowed by the swirling vortex of colors that surrounded them.

For a fleeting moment, the world fell away, and they were suspended in the swirling chaos of temporal currents. Colors danced and swirled around them, the fabric of time contorting and stretching with each passing moment. It was a sensation both electrifying and disorienting, as though they were caught in the tumultuous embrace of time itself. But amidst the chaos, there was a sense of unity, of purpose, as the trio braved the unknown together.

And then, as swiftly as it had begun, the swirling vortex of colors began to fade, and reality began to coalesce once more. With a final surge of energy, they emerged from the temporal currents, standing once again on solid ground. But they were no longer in the empty apartment unit.

Instead, they found themselves standing inside of a huge department store, their mission accomplished, their bond stronger than ever before. The trio stood in the bustling department store, their eyes wide with anticipation as they took in the array of goods before them.

“Now… let’s go shopping, guys,” Agent Thomas declared with a grin, his excitement palpable.

Their first stop was the cleaning supply department, where they each gathered the essentials, ensuring they had everything they needed to tackle the aftermath of their recent ordeal. With their arms laden with cleaning supplies, they made their way to the furniture department, selecting chairs, a desk, and a comfortable bed with bedding to match.

As they moved through the store, laughter and banter filled the air, the trio enjoying their impromptu shopping spree. Johnson #2 marveled at the size of the bed they selected, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“God damn, you got a king-size bed,” Johnson #2 exclaimed, turning to Agent Lee with a grin.

Agent Lee chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Gotta have somewhere comfortable to sleep,” he replied with a wink.

With their shopping list complete, they gathered their purchases in a secluded spot away from prying eyes. With a few presses of their watches and a touch of the items, they vanished into thin air, reappearing moments later in the empty apartment unit.

As they unloaded their haul, the excitement of their successful mission filled the room. They laughed and joked as they set up their new belongings, the camaraderie between them stronger than ever.

“And that, my friends, is how you go on a shopping spree,” Agent Thomas declared with a grin, a sense of satisfaction evident in his voice.

With everything in place, they stood together in the newly furnished apartment, a sense of accomplishment washing over them. As they exchanged knowing looks and shared laughs, they knew that no obstacle was too great when they worked together as a team.

The three men sat around a small table, each cradling a cup of coffee in their hands, as various snacks littered the table. The tension in the room was palpable, each man deep in thought as they prepared for the mission ahead. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that only comes before a mission of immense importance. Agent Thomas and Agent Lee exchanged a glance, silently debating who would break the silence first. After a moment, Agent Lee took the lead.

“Look, Johnson,” Agent Lee began, leaning forward slightly, “just remember, as soon as you go back to these different timelines to make these changes, you become nothing more than what you already are: an iterated version of Johnson #1 from another timeline. Just do as we tell you, and there won’t be any problems. Mess things up, and you might just glitch out completely.”

Agent lee took a relaxing sip from his coffee, eyes never leaving Johnson #2’s.

“Don’t worry. I got this. I totally understand,” Johnson #2 replied confidently, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Just tell me where I have to go and what I have to do. I won’t let you guys down. Really.”

Agent Thomas took several sips from his coffee before asking Agent Lee, “So, what do you think?”

“What do I think? I really think we won’t have any problems at all,” Agent Lee responded with a nod.

“Don’t worry, Agent Thomas. While Johnson #2 here is doing what he has to do in these many timelines, you and I will always be there, watching him, just to make sure absolutely nobody interferes in Johnson’s mission to change these key moments in time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Agent Thomas said, setting his cup of coffee down on the table.

“Okay, then. Let’s begin,” Agent Lee declared.

He opened one of the briefcases and pulled out a black leather folder, holding it above his head for a moment before laying it down on the table.

“Inside this folder, I have all of the crucial, vital information of the timelines where Johnson #2 here needs to be, and everything in these timelines that he must change in order for him to quickly head on to the next timeline. Here I have the dates, times, and all of the locations that he needs to be at in order for him to pull this shit off,” Agent Lee explained, putting his cup of coffee down.

Agent Lee continued, “All the way until Johnson #1 is back in the house with the love of his life, and ultimately decides, one night, to walk out of his house so he can activate the watch. And that is where you and I will be waiting for him, outside of his house, to take back the watch that he thinks he is about to use and start this dumb game all over again.”

“Correct,” Agent Thomas said, nodding his head.

“Yes, of course, we will be there, waiting for him. And as soon as Johnson #1 comes out of the house, we will be outside, waiting to take the watch away from him. Then, and only then, you and I will go back to our timeline… back home.”

“Any questions?” Agent Lee asked, his eyes shifting from Johnson #2 to Agent Thomas and back again.

Johnson #2 shook his head.

“No questions. I’m ready,” he said.

Agent Thomas smiled.

“Good. Let’s get to work,” he said.

Johnson #2 looked at Agents Thomas and Lee, then focused all of his attention on them.

“Look, just tell me what I have to… and I swear to God… I’ll do it. Anything… whatever you guys say,” Johnson #2 said, as he simultaneously looked at both of the agents.

“Okay, pal. We believe you,” Agent Lee said.

“So, what do I have do do, Agent Lee?” Johnson #2 asked, as he anxiously waited for Agent Lee to reply.

“We, the three of us here, need to go back to 1959. But first, you Johnson need to go to 1999 to handle a few tasks. Before all that, though, you’ll need to make a simple phone call,” Agent Lee replied, nodding his head slowly.

“Wait… hold on. Stop right there. A phone call? You want me to travel back in time to 1999 just to make… a stupid phone call?” Johnson #2 asked, his face reflecting confusion as he looked at the agents.

“You mean… you guys knocked me out, drugged me up, and knocked me around a bit, so as you can make me go back to the year 1999… just to make stupid a phone call. I mean… couldn’t you have just brought me here, and told me to make the call,” Johnson #2 said, still with a confused look on his face.

Agent Thomas looked at Agent Lee, and then at Johnson #2.

“Look, Johnson, there was no way that we were going to start there. I mean… look at all we had to go through, before Agent Lee arrived, just to get to where we are at… right now,” Agent Thomas said, trying to convince Johnson #2 that everything was going to be okay.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right, Thomas,” Johnson #2 said, as he nodded his head.

“So… are you ready to make this painful call, pal?” Agent Lee asked Johnson #2, as he looked down at his watch, and then at Johnson #2.

Johnson thought about it for a few seconds, and then he realized that he had no reason to think about it twice.

“Okay, then. Fuck it. Let’s make this happen. Just tell me where I have to go, and everything that I have to do. Look, I’m drowning in a sea full of tears here. Being without the love of my life, and watching this other me with her, inside my house, is more pain than I could possibly bare. No, no, no. I’m taking her back… from this Johnson #1. I have to do this. I must… I will. Trust in me. Whatever I have to do… I will get it done,” Johnson #2 said, feeling lonely, as a few tears slid down his sad face.

“Johnson, need I remind your strong, courageous will, that this first trip that you’re about to make… like I said, it’s going to be pretty painful. Are you sure you’re ready, Johnson? Ready to put this work in, for the sake of the love of you life? Or does Johnson #1 get to take… what belongs to you… what is all yours,” Agent Thomas asked, as he looked down at his watch, and then at Johnson #2.

“The most powerful things that you posses now is the watch, and this powerful immense real, true love, that your have for the one you truly love. If you lose the watch… you will lose it all. And, if you get caught out there by Johnson #1, which also believes that the love of your life, and that house of yours… is his, you will, if he ever sees your face, immediately glitch out, and he will be the only one that exist, because you will simply vanish into thin air, and you will no longer exist in the same timeline anymore,” Agent lee said, trying to give him a bit of real, helpful advice.

“Wow… that’s some deep shit. But, I totally get it. He can’t see my face… at all. Don’t worry, I got this… really,” Johnson #2 said, as he nodded his head at both agents, with a smile that said, “I’m ready… now.”

Agent Thomas looked down at his watch, as well as Agent Lee looked down at his watch. Seconds later, Johnson #2 also looked down at his watch.

“We also got you several lab coats, some scrubs, a box of black surgical masks, and a blackjack, just in case you need it. There’s also a lanyard with an ID identifying you as a bona fide doctor. It’s fake, but it looks completely official,” Agent Thomas said, a warm, calm smile on his face.

“We also got you a cell phone, so as you can take pictures, and all the video footage that you want. This is the same cell phone that you will have to leave behind, in one of the many timelines that you will be going to. Because after you have taken all of the pictures, and videos, you must make sure that you leave that cell phone in that particular timeline, before you vanish into thin air, and escape out of that timeline… with your life intact,” Agent Lee said, as if he was training him to make it happen.

“So, please, don’t lose your watch, your cell phone, and whatever you do, don’t let Johnson #1 see your handsome face. Because if he does, you will immediately glitch out of the timeline that you are in, and that will be the end of you… and our mission to finally get you back home to the one you really, truly love, so as Agent Lee and I can both do the same,” Agent Thomas said.

Johnson #2 was more than ready. By now, he was in a real deep, unadulterated spell that locked him in, no different than locking someone inside of a prison cell. And Johnson #2 knew exactly how he can break out of this perpetual, mental prison cell. And he obviously knew that the only way out, was by truly putting that work in. For nothing less could penetrate the many, many layers, that kept him and the love of his life Xara apart.

“Okay, guys, enough talk. Tell me, where do I have to go… and what do I have to do to get my house back, and be next to the love of my life, my wife… one again?”

Both agent looked at each other, and then they each looked at Johnson #2, and shook his hand.

“Okay, Johnson. As you wish. I’ll tell you everything you need to know. But, don’t ever let us down. Are you ready?” Agent Thomas asked, as he kept on looking down at his watch.

“Yeah, pal. I’m ready,” Johnson #2 replied, as he also looked down at his watch, knowing very well that it was show time!

“Okay… let’s get it done,” Agent Thomas said, as he, Agent Lee, and Johnson #2 got up of their chairs, and walked into one of the two bedrooms, and then they closed the door behind them.

Back in 1999, after a refreshing shower, Johnson #1 settled onto the living room couch, savoring the taste of a Pop-Tart. A content smile played on his lips as he held the remote control, ready to turn on the TV. However, his plans took an unexpected turn when the phone’s insistent ringing disrupted the tranquility. Intrigued, Johnson #1 rose from the couch, driven by curiosity to answer the call.

“Hello… hello,” he said.

Meanwhile, from an apartment across the street, Johnson #2, disguised as a doctor and representing an iterated version of Johnson #1 from a different timeline, was determined to deliver an urgent and critical warning to Johnson #1.

“Listen to me carefully,” Johnson #2 urged.

Perplexed, Johnson #1 asked, “Who the hell is this? How did you get this number?”

“I implore you, whatever you do, please don’t activate the watch. Don’t do it, man!!!” Johnson #2 advised, his urgency palpable.

Johnson #1 approached the window and scanned the empty street outside, puzzled by the mysterious call. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant was about to unfold.

Meanwhile, across the street, Johnson #2, dressed as a doctor, watched intently from the shadows, his heart pounding with urgency. He knew that this moment was critical, that the warning he had to deliver could alter the course of their intertwined destinies.

Johnson #1 continued to scan the empty street outside, puzzled by the mysterious call. His eyes narrowed as he searched for any sign of movement, trying to make sense of the stranger’s cryptic warning.

“What? What watch? Hey… who the hell are you?” he demanded answers.

Without warning, Johnson #3, the iterated version of Johnson #1 and Johnson #2 from a different timeline, also known as the doctor, suddenly materialized out of thin air. He sneaked up behind Johnson #2 and delivered a powerful blow to the back of his head with a blackjack. Johnson #2 crumpled to the kitchen floor, unconscious. The phone slipped from his grasp, clattering and breaking into pieces upon impact. Simultaneously, Johnson #1 heard the sound of the caller’s phone crashing to the floor.

Reacting swiftly, Johnson #3 snatched up the phone from the floor and cautiously answered, “Hello…”

Peering out the window once more, Johnson #1 repeated, “Hello… hello. Yeah, who the hell is this calling?”

Johnson #3 froze, his in-shock confused gaze shifting between Johnson #1’s voice and the motionless form of Johnson #2 sprawled on the kitchen floor. In a fit of rage, Johnson #3, slash the doctor forcefully smashed the phone into irreparable pieces against the hard surface of the kitchen floor. Seconds later, he rushed out of the apartment, as if nothing… ever happened.

And a few seconds after that, outside, in the midst of the dimly lit hallway, the air seemed to shimmer as if reality itself were bending. Suddenly, Agent Thomas materialized out of thin air, his presence both unexpected and commanding. And in a quick motion, he opened the apartment door, and walked in.

As soon as Agent Thomas saw Johnson #2 on the kitchen floor, moving but barely, he rushed up to him, and got down on one knee. Agent Thomas placed his hand in the back of Johnson #2’s head, and when he looked at his hand it was covered in blood.

“A shit… damn!” Agent Thomas said, as he took out his handkerchief out of the inside pocket of his suit, and pressed it up against Johnson #2’s wound.

“Don’t worry, pal. I’m going to get you out of here… right now,” Agent Thomas said to the unresponsive Johnson #2.

Rising to his feet, Agent Thomas glanced at his own watch. He pressed a few buttons, the device emitting a soft, almost imperceptible beep. Placing a hand on Johnson #2’s chest, he took a breath, steeling himself. In an instant, a shimmer enveloped them, and with a faint hum, both men vanished into thin air, leaving the quiet apartment undisturbed, save for the gently rustling leaves outside of the opened kitchen window and the distant hum of life moving on.

When Johnson #2, still dressed as a doctor, opened his eyes, he found himself back inside the apartment unit, lying in the bedroom, neatly tucked in. The whole room was spinning, and the pain in his head was the accumulation of a never-ending horrible toothache. The bedding was gleaming white, except for the accumulated blood spot under Johnson #2 that had seeped through the pillow. Agents Thomas and Lee stood, one on the right side and one on the left side of the bed.

“Where the hell am I, Thomas?” Johnson #2 asked, cupping his head with both hands, the pain evident on his face.

Johnson #2 looked at both of the agents as the whole bedroom slowly, slowly stopped moving, until everything settled and stopped completely.

“What the hell just happened?” Johnson #2 asked, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands.

“We told you, pal,” Agent Lee said, looking at Agent Thomas and then at Johnson #2.

“This shit is not going to be easy. But it leads us to further investigate the clues.”

“The hell with the clues! Who fucked me up like that? All I saw was his shadow… and Baaaammm!!! In a blink of an eye… it was lights out for me,” Johnson #2 said, with a tone of regret that he ever went back to 1999.

“No, really,” Agent Lee said.

“Whoever did this to you, how did he know that you were going to be there in the first place?”

“And why did this man that put your lights out walk out of the apartment without taking the watch off your wrist?” Agent Thomas asked, more curious himself.

Agent Thomas looked at Agent Lee as both agents got into a mild, several-second stare-down.

“Agent Lee,” Agent Thomas asked, looking down at his watch, “are you thinking… what I’m thinking?”

Agent Lee broke his stare away from Agent Thomas and then gazed at Johnson #2, still holding his head in obvious pain.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking, Agent Thomas. He let Johnson #2 here live on the watch and let him keep it because he either has one himself and simply doesn’t give a shit, because he doesn’t need it, or he knows that without it, he, himself, this other Johnson #3, can’t or won’t be able to do what it is that he thinks he has to do… for himself.”

Johnson #2 looked at both of the agents, still holding his head, pain evident on his face.

“So… there you have it,” Johnson #2 said, feeling the pain even more.

“The guy… the weird messenger guy. The one that came to my house on that Halloween night. The night he delivered the black envelope, wearing a stupid doctor costume. The watch was inside that envelope. For sure… it was him. I can feel it in my bones. Yeah… it was him.”

“Holy shit… oh shit. So, this other iterated version from another timeline, let’s call him Johnson #3, tried to stop you from giving Johnson #1 that crucial message you were sent back to give him. But why?” Agent Lee asked.

“Can’t you both see?” Agent Thomas asked, making sure he made eye contact with both Johnson #2 and his partner.

“This Johnson #3 tried to stop you from warning Johnson #1 because this Johnson #3 didn’t want him to know about the existence of the watch…”

Agent Lee cut Agent Thomas off, “Until Johnson #1 found it himself.”

Agent Thomas looked at Agent Lee and said, “Exactly. And that only means that Johnson #1 does not have the watch yet.”

“But he will… eventually,” Johnson #2 looked at both of the agents and said.

“Yes… eventually he will. And most likely, most likely… that is when the real games begin. Don’t worry, I got this Johnson #3 on my radar and on my shit list. So… let the games begin!” Johnson shouted, as both agents agreed, with blissful smiles on their faces.

Now, in the unforgiving embrace of a blistering Monday morning in 1999, we find ourselves back at the genesis, where it all began—the scorching heat pressing down relentlessly on the town of Bushwick, Brooklyn. Within this scorching backdrop, as seen before, the old Asian landlord strolled alongside Johnson #2, with a Band-Aid on the back of his head, looking like he had gotten bashed in the back of his head hard.

The wound was still fresh, because it had recently occurred. A bit of blood soaked by the Band-Aid told a tale of its own. Johnson #2 donned in a gleaming white lab coat over scrubs, his face concealed by a black surgical mask, projecting an illusion of a doctor. They navigated through one of the landlord’s vacant apartments, assessing its potential.

And draped around Johnson #2’s neck was a lanyard, proudly showcasing his identification card. However, a deliberate twist kept the card facing backward, shrouding his true identity from prying eyes.

As they both entered the hallway, she inquired, “So, what do you think about the apartment, doctor?”

“Is there anything wrong with it?” Johnson #2 replied.

“No. It’s perfectly ready, doctor. And we have really great tenants in this building.”

She intently gestured towards the door across the hall.

“Except for the man who lives in this apartment…” she said.

“What’s wrong with him?” Johnson #2 asked, fully aware that the Asian landlord was referring to him.

“What’s not wrong with him? For starters, he owes me six months’ worth of rent. And, for some reason, other than not wanting to be responsible, he always seems to keep away from me. I’ve tried many times to ask him for the rent, but he just doesn’t open the door.”

“Why don’t you just change his lock? That way, he won’t have any way of getting inside the apartment.”

“You know something, I might just do that. Well, let me know if you’re interested in the apartment. If you are, the key is under the mat. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll see you in a few days, doctor.”

With that, she walked away, and Johnson #2 quickly exited the building.

As soon as Johnson #2 exited the building, he was greeted by the sight of a sleek, black vehicle parked at the curb, its rear door open in a silent invitation. Johnson #2 scanned the area cautiously, his eyes darting to the driver’s seat where he spotted Agent Thomas. The agent’s familiar face was a reassuring sight amidst the chaos. Johnson #2 took a quick look around to ensure he wasn’t being followed or watched.

Once he confirmed that the coast was clear, he made his way to the waiting car. He slid into the back seat, the cool leather interior a stark contrast to the tension outside. The door closed with a solid thud, sealing him in the relative safety of the vehicle. Agent Thomas glanced at Johnson #2 through the rear-view mirror, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and determination.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice steady but tinged with urgency.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Johnson #2 replied, his voice breathless but steady.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Without another word, Agent Thomas pressed down on the accelerator. The vehicle’s engine roared to life, and they peeled away from the building, the tires squealing as they sped down the street. Johnson #2 watched the building recede into the distance, a sense of relief washing over him as he left the accomplished task behind.

As they navigated through the town of Bushwick, Agent Thomas kept a vigilant eye on the road and the rear-view mirror, ensuring they weren’t being tailed. Johnson #2 leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady his racing heart. The mission was far from over, but for now, they were safe.

“We’ll regroup at the safe house,” Agent Thomas said, breaking the silence.

“Agent Lee is already there, preparing everything we need.”

“Good,” Johnson #2 replied, his resolve hardening.

“We have to figure out our next move. There’s too much at stake.”

Agent Thomas nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“We’ll get through this, Johnson. Together.”

As the car sped through the town of Bushwick, the two agents shared a moment of silent understanding. They knew the road ahead would be fraught with danger, but they were ready to face it head-on, determined to see their mission through to the end.

Now, the warm breeze rustled the leaves, providing a pleasant backdrop as people flow in and out of Avenue A, a well-known lounge bustling with life. The neon lights flicker, casting a vibrant glow on the street. Inside, the atmosphere is lively. The bar is fully stocked, bartenders expertly mixing drinks, and waitstaff busily attending to the patrons enjoying a variety of meals.

Moments later, a sleek, black vehicle pulls up in front of Avenue A and parks. Agent Thomas rolled down his window, observing the bustling scene. He then turned to Agent Lee, who sits beside him.

“This is the place,” Agent Thomas said, looking at the crowd.

“Are you sure?” Agent Lee asked, uncertain.

Both agents turn to look at Johnson #2 in the back seat, now wearing a crisp suit similar to theirs.

“You look good in a suit, Johnson,” Agent Lee said, with a warm smile on his face.

“Yeah, well… so do you guys. So… are we going to do this, or what? Johnson #2 said, as he nodded at both of the agents.

“Are you ready?” Agent Thomas asked.

Johnson #2 adjusts his tie and responded with determination, “Yeah… I’m ready. Let’s get this shit done.”

In a synchronized motion, Johnson #2 and both agents stepped out of the vehicle, with Agent Lee carrying a briefcase, moving with the confidence of rock stars. They each reach into the inside pocket of their suits, pulling out sleek sunglasses and putting them on in unison. Their movements were swift and purposeful, matching the energy of the bustling Avenue A. And as quickly as they exited the vehicle, they enter Avenue A, the lively atmosphere momentarily pausing as the trio makes their entrance.

As heads turned, the crowd parted slightly, creating a path for the agents and Johnson #2 as they made their way confidently through the lounge, weaving past people who were either taking their seats or exiting. The trio headed straight to the fully stocked bar, their presence commanding attention. Their mission was underway, and the trio was ready to face whatever awaited them inside.

“Where can I find the boss?” Agent Lee asked one of the bartenders behind the bar.

“He’s in his office,” the bartender replied without looking up.

“He’s in his office?” Agent Lee repeated.

“Yeah, that’s what I said, didn’t I? He’s in his office,” the bartender said, finally glancing at Agent Lee with a hint of irritation.

Agent Lee, Agent Thomas, and Johnson #2 walked away from the bar and headed towards the boss’s office. They navigated through the lounge, making their way to a door marked “Office” at the end of a dimly lit hallway. The hallway was quieter, with a sense of anticipation in the air. Agent Thomas glanced at Agent Lee, who nodded in affirmation. Johnson #2, still adjusting to his new role, took a deep breath.

“Remember, follow our lead,” Agent Thomas whispered to Johnson #2.

“Got it,” Johnson #2 replied, nodding.

Agent Lee reached for the door handle, pausing for a moment before opening it. They stepped inside, ready to confront the boss and uncover the next piece of their mission.

As they stepped inside the boss’s office and closed the door behind them, the boss, looked up and said, “Gentlemen, can I help you?”

Agent Lee, Agent Thomas, and Johnson #2 walked up to the boss’s desk, made out of the finest oak.

“Yeah, you can help us,” Agent Lee said, as he looked down at his watch and then at the boss.

“Help you guys in what?” the boss asked with a curious tone.

“We want to buy Avenue A,” Agent Thomas said, looking down at his watch and then at the boss, waiting for his reply.

“Gentlemen, are you nuts? This lounge is not for sale. No. I’m not selling Avenue A,” the boss said with irritation in his voice.

Agent Lee looked at Agent Thomas, at Johnson #2, and then focused all of his attention on the boss.

“Look, we’re not asking you to sell us Avenue A, boss man. We’re telling you that you’re going to sell us Avenue A. Whether you want to… or not,” Agent Lee said.

The boss stared at the well-dressed men in front of him, getting the thought that they may be some kind of underworld figures, coming in to take his lounge by force.

“Do you punks know who the fuck I am, and who the fuck I know?” the boss asked as he opened a drawer and pulled out a sleek silver firearm, pointing it at them.

“I’ll kill the three of you, before any of you… can even make a move. If you think I’m fucking around with any of you… just try me. Go ahead… and make a fucking move!”

Agent Lee looked at Agent Thomas, then at Johnson #2, then back at the boss, still pointing the weapon at them. The boss cocked the weapon in mid-air, ensuring he had them covered.

“Are you serious… right now?” Agent Lee asked the boss as he looked down at his watch and pressed a few buttons.

“You see, boss man, the problem here is that… you don’t know who the fuck we are,” Agent Lee said, with a slight grin on his frustrated face.

And as soon as Agent Lee pointed his watch at the boss, a green burst of light hit the boss’s eyes, making the boss pause as if he was suspended in animation. The boss’s eyes dulled, his expression vacant. He was now completely under Agent Lee’s control.

“Boss man, please hand me the weapon,” Agent Lee commanded.

Without hesitation, the boss handed over the firearm. Agent Lee took it and placed it on the desk, then pulled out several papers from his briefcase.

“Now, sign these papers,” Agent Lee instructed, placing the documents in front of the boss.

“These will transfer ownership of Avenue A to us.”

The boss, now under the spell, took the pen and started signing the papers with a smile on his face.

“I’m so happy to sell Avenue A to you fine gentlemen. It’s truly the best decision I have ever made,” the boss said, his voice filled with an unnatural cheerfulness.

Agent Thomas watched intently, nodding in satisfaction.

“Just a few more signatures, and it’ll all be done,” he said.

The boss continued to sign, completely compliant.

“Man, it’s such a relief to know Avenue A will be in good hands. Honestly, you guys don’t even have to pay me. Take Avenue A… free of charge! Really. Don’t worry. I’ll be out of here soon. The place is all yours. Now, let’s shake on it,” the boss said, extending his hand.

Agent Lee looked at Agent Thomas, then at Johnson #2, and finally at the boss.

With a smile on his face, he said, “Yeah, let’s shake on it.”

They shook hands, sealing the diabolical deal.

Before they exited the boss’s office, they took his weapon, a lot of money that the boss had stored in his desk, and, most importantly, Avenue A.

As the trio walked out of Avenue A, Agent Thomas, Agent Lee, and Johnson #2 took off their shades and simultaneously put them back into their inside suit pockets. They got inside the vehicle, and then Agent Thomas peeled out of the scene.

“Okay. We now own Avenue A. Let’s see how Johnson #1 feels when he finds out that he is completely out of a job,” Agent Lee said.

Now, in the heart of the bustling mid-afternoon, Johnson #2, now dressed as a doctor, burst into a small, impeccably organized office tethered to an aging apartment complex undergoing a dramatic transformation. The entire complex echoed with the symphony of renovations, but Johnson #2 paid no heed. He stormed in with the urgency of someone about to pull off a heist, taking the property manager completely by surprise.

Frozen momentarily by a confused cocktail of fear, shock, and disbelief, she watched as Johnson #2 commandeered a seat in front of her meticulously maintained desk. It was Johnson #2’s pristine white lab coat draped over scrubs, the lanyard with his ID hanging strategically backward to conceal his true identity, and the black, surgical mask veiling his face that snapped the property manager out of her mental stupor.

As she regained her composure, the words spilled out, “Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You almost gave me a Goddamn heart attack.”

“I’m so sorry. Why, I’m just here to rent one of your vacant apartment units,” Johnson #2 said.

“Remember…”

“Yes, of course,” she said.

“I have all the paperwork… right here.”

The property manager went and grabbed a folder off her desk, and handed it to Johnson #2.

His urgency mixed with curiosity painted a vivid scene, as he looked down at his watch and pressed a few buttons. And as soon as Johnson #2 pointed his watch at her, a green burst of light hit the property manager’s eyes, making her pause as if she was suspended in animation. The property manager’s eyes glazed over, and her expression turned vacant. She was now under Johnson #2’s control.

“Hand me a pen… will you,” Johnson #2 commanded.

Without hesitation, she handed over her pen. Johnson #2 took it, opened the folder up, and he started to sign all of the papers, inside the folder, then he handed her back the folder and the pen, with a slick smile on his face.

“Now, you sign these papers,” Johnson #2 instructed.

“This will make everything official.”

The property manager, now under the spell, took the pen and started signing the papers, next to his signatures, with a smile on her face.

“I’m so happy to know that you’re moving into our apartment complex. It’s really the best decision, you will ever make,” the property manager said, her voice filled with an unnatural cheerfulness.

Johnson #2 watched intently, nodding in satisfaction.

“Just a few more signatures, and it’ll all be done,” she said.

The property manager continued to sign, completely compliant.

“It’s such a relief to know that one of our newly renovated apartment units will be in good hands,” she said.

“Oh, don’t forget that I already paid you in full,” Johnson #2 said, as he waved his hand in front of her face, and Obi-Wan Kenobied her.

“You already paid me?” she asked.

“Yes… I already did. I already paid you in full,” Johnson #2 said.

“Well… of course you did, Doc,” she said.

“I’m sorry… it must’ve slipped my forgetful mind. Honestly, the place is all yours, free of charge.”

“That’s right. I already paid you, in full, for the entire apartment unit,” Johnson #2 said, with as slick smile on his face.

Johnson #2’s eyes darted towards the door, eager to exit her office urgently. In a bid to shift the atmosphere, Johnson #2 flashed a warm smile.

“Look, I’m so sorry. I’m really in a hurry. I have to do surgery in less than an hour from now.”

Understanding his predicament, the property manager smiled back, nodding sympathetically.

“I’m sorry to hear that, doctor. I understand.”

“So, am I all set? Is that what you’re saying here, lady?”

Johnson #2 pressed for a swift resolution.

“Call me, Barbara. And, yes, you sure are. You’re all set, Doc.”

Her calm assurance signaled his green light.

“Thank you so much,” Johnson #2 said, expressing gratitude, as he aimed to expedite the process.

“By the way, most of the building complex is under repair, so we don’t have any tenants yet,” she informed him.

Grinning discreetly, Johnson #2 quipped, “So, I’m your first tenant?”

“Yes… you sure are, Doc.”

“Anything else?” Johnson #2 emphasized his urgency.

“Nope. You’re all set.”

“Thank you very much.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, and before she could say, “You’re welcome, doctor,” he stormed out of her office with the same urgency with which he had entered.

On the following day, within a New York University classroom, Agent Thomas, posing as a quantum physics professor, wrapped up his lecture on quantum mechanics.

“That concludes today’s talk on the topic of quantum physics. Tomorrow, we will delve into the intriguing subject of Time Travel. Is it truly possible? This class is dismissed…”

The bell echoed, marking the end of the class, prompting students to gather their belongings and head for the exit. Amidst the departing crowd, Agent Thomas’s voice broke through the commotion.

“Johnson…”

Pausing in his departure, Johnson #1 looked back at Agent Thomas and approached his desk.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked.

“The administration office on the sixth floor wants to speak with you about something,” Agent Thomas revealed.

Johnson #1 left the classroom, his thoughts swirling with curiosity about the nature of the discussion awaiting him in the administration office. As he exited, Agent Thomas’s parting words lingered in the air.

“See you soon, Johnson.”

Now, Agent Lee, in disguise, stood at the administration office window. He slid it open, his gaze fixed upon Johnson #1.

His words pierced the air, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Johnson. You seem to be a very nice guy. But there seems to be a problem here, with your outstanding non-paid tuition bill. Could you please explain yourself?”

Johnson #1 interrupted, his frustration evident in his voice, “Look, I’m trying to get more hours at work and even get a second job, but…”

“Let me finish,” Agent Lee insisted, determination in his tone.

“Yes, I heard that you did say that. And you was told good, maybe a second job will help you catch up on all of these outstanding non-paid tuition bills.”

Agent Lee’s eyes scanned the computer monitor, disappointment evident on his face.

“It says here that all your credit cards are maxed out, and we’ve received not one, but three checks from you, all of which have bounced. Is there something going on in your life that’s preventing you from keeping up with these unpaid tuition bills?”

Exasperated, Johnson #1 pleaded, “Look, who ever you are, I’m trying my best. What do you want me to do here?”

“I want you to do what you have to do to stay in school and be a good responsible person,” Agent Lee replied firmly.

“But, I must regrettably tell you that if you fail to pay these outstanding non-paid tuition bills, you will not be able to attend this university anymore.”

Johnson #1’s frustration peaked as he demanded, “Is there anything else you want to tell me, Mister?”

With a serious look in Agent Lee’s eyes, he nodded, his message clear.

Before sliding the window closed, Agent Lee uttered, “No. That’s all you need to know. Have a nice day.”

The weight of his words hung heavily on Johnson #1’s shoulders as he turned away, his mind racing with the consequences of his financial struggles.

Outside Johnson #1’s apartment, the landlord relentlessly pounded on his door, each knock growing more forceful than the last. The echoes reverberated through the hallway, amplifying the atmosphere of mounting frustration.

“I know you’re in there, Johnson,” she exclaimed, her voice filled with exasperation.

With a disgruntled expression etched across her face, she stormed off, leaving behind a trail of unresolved tension. In the pulsating rhythm of the moment, Johnson #2 emerged from the neighboring apartment, dressed impeccably as a doctor, exuding an enigmatic energy that transcended the mundane. Purposefully, he crossed paths with the distressed landlord, the air thick with anticipation.

“Hi there,” he greeted warmly, his voice tinged with myriad possibilities, a gentle smile dancing on his lips as he offered her an envelope.

Within it rested more than mere currency; there lay a promise, a significant sum with the power to alter futures. With a blend of curiosity and appreciation, she took the envelope. The weight of what was inside conveyed much, a silent assurance of Johnson #2’s purpose. The secretive exchange infused their meeting with an electric thrill, veiling it in mystery and fascination.

“Here you go,” Johnson #2 announced, his eyes darting to the door opposite his own.

It was a door that held secrets, an entryway to a realm where time itself might dance to a completely different tune. He glanced down at his watch, then back up at the landlord.

“Hello, doctor,” she greeted in return, a glimmer of appreciation sparkling in her eyes.

With an eagerness bordering on exhilaration, she tore open the envelope, unveiling a revelation that transcended the ordinary. The sight before her was nothing short of astounding, a cascade of bills that represented not just currency but a lifeline, an unexpected twist in the narrative of her struggles.

“That’s six months, in advance,” Johnson #2 exclaimed, his voice a symphony of surprise and gratitude that echoed through the corridor.

The convergence of their paths at that moment held the intensity of a cosmic alignment. Johnson #2, with his impeccable demeanor, had become a harbinger of change, injecting vitality into a situation fraught with tension. In the heartbeat between exchanges, the air crackled with potential.

The landlord, now armed with both financial means and a newfound resolve, felt the winds of transformation stirring. Johnson #2’s presence had not just delivered currency; it had unleashed a cascade of possibilities that promised to reshape the very fabric of their shared reality.

And as the echoes of their encounter lingered, the corridor bore witness to a subtle shift—a shift that hinted at alliances forged, destinies entwined, and the promise of a future yet unwritten. In that charged moment, the ordinary had transformed into the extraordinary, and the journey ahead seemed to pulse with the rhythm of an epic tale waiting to unfold.

“And a little bit more for all the troubles this Johnson guy across the hall from me is putting you through. Hey, with that extra cash, now you can use it to change his lock, for good.”

Her admiration for Johnson #2 grew, as she marveled at his neat impeccable, glowing appearance and considerate nature.

“If only other tenants were more like you,” she remarked, a tinge of longing in her voice.

Johnson #2’s presence offered a glimmer of hope in an otherwise challenging situation. Assured by his words and his presence, she nodded with determination.

“Don’t worry, I will change his lock as soon as I possibly can,” she promised, her commitment resonating in her voice.

The conversation held the promise of a newfound alliance, a shared understanding in their quest for resolution. In that moment, the possibilities seemed endless, and with Johnson #2’s support, she felt empowered to take decisive action. The extra cash in her hands symbolized the means to create a safer and more peaceful living environment for all. And, with renewed purpose, she set her sights on transforming the troublesome neighbor’s fate, ready to seize the opportunity that lay before her.

“I’m sorry, but I must get to work. You have a good evening,” he said.

“Good night, dear…” she said.

She ascended one flight of stairs, her steps deliberate yet laden with thoughts. Arriving at her own apartment, she inserted the key into the lock and turned it, the door swinging open to reveal her sanctuary. Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her, shutting out the world and the weight of the day. The familiar surroundings offered solace, a haven where she could momentarily find respite from the challenges that awaited her.

In a parallel universe, Johnson #2 also entered his own apartment. As he closed the door, a sense of solitude settled upon him, a stillness that contrasted with the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded just moments before.

Now, under the cloak of the descending night, Johnson #1, fueled by a surge of determination, seized the opportune moment to embark on his clandestine mission. The air crackled with anticipation as he skillfully slipped out of his apartment window, a shadow in the tapestry of the urban landscape, eluding the gaze of prying eyes.

With the grace and stealth of a panther navigating its terrain, he descended the fire escape. Each calculated movement echoed the rhythm of a heartbeat pulsating with purpose. The cooling breeze whispered secrets of the night, providing a shroud of anonymity for Johnson #1’s mission.

And unnoticed by the world below, Johnson #1 traversed the metal rungs with the finesse of a seasoned acrobat, his every motion a testament to the gravity of his purpose. The urban symphony played on, unaware of the protagonist orchestrating his destiny in the cloak of darkness.

Descending into the labyrinth of the night, Johnson #1 turned the cityscape into his canvas, with the night as his ally. The intensifying excitement fueled his resolve, propelling him further into the unknown with every step. Johnson #1 was driven by the promise of change and energized by the clandestine atmosphere enveloping his actions.

Against the backdrop of city lights, he moved swiftly and purposefully, his silhouette a testament to his urgency. His journey through the night felt like a clandestine odyssey, an exhilarating dance with destiny under the watchful celestial gaze.

In the embrace of the night, Johnson #1’s mission unfolded with an intensity that mirrored the heartbeat of a metropolis alive with secrets. The city held its breath, unaware of the transformative events about to unfold beneath the cloak of darkness. As Johnson #1 ventured into the unknown, the night bore witness to a narrative pulsing with intrigue, suspense, and the electrifying energy of a protagonist seizing his moment in the cosmic theater of life.

Now, in the pulsating heart of AVENUE A, a Japanese lounge throbbing with life, Johnson #1 toiled as a busboy, navigating the whirlwind of chaos and camaraderie that defined each bustling night. Amidst the chaos and camaraderie of each bustling night, he stood shoulder to shoulder with competitive colleagues, not just serving food but orchestrating table-clearing symphonies, deftly maneuvering dirty dishes toward the dishwasher’s sanctum.

As the crescendo of clinking glasses and laughter reached its peak in the nocturnal atmosphere, Johnson #1 seized a moment to confront his boss—the arbiter of his fate. Summoning every ounce of courage, he approached the helm of authority.

“Boss,” he ventured, his words cutting through the cacophony, “I’m in dire straits. Any chance of a raise or more hours to weather this storm?”

The boss, an enigmatic figure in the tumultuous realm of the lounge, regarded Johnson #1 with a cocktail of annoyance and disbelief. The revelation, shared just the night before, about the impending sale and closure of the establishment seemed to slip through the sieve of Johnson #1’s consciousness.

“Are you really out of your mind?” the boss retorted, a note of exasperation underscoring his words.

“Didn’t I make it abundantly clear? We’re shutting down. New owners stroll in tomorrow, and that translates to the exit for all of us, including you. I’m sorry, but your rough times won’t alter this fate, Johnson.”

Attempting to interject, Johnson #1 found himself cut off by the boss, whose patience seemed to wane with each repetition of the stark reality.

“Look, the one failing to grasp the situation here is you,” the boss admonished, his words a stern decree.

“Consider this the final warning. This ship is sinking, and you’re not expected to sail on it tomorrow, pretending our conversation never happened. Otherwise, I’ll have to question your sanity, more seriously than I already have.”

“So, that’s it?” Johnson #1 questioned, his voice echoing with a blend of disbelief and resignation.

“It’s really over, boss?”

Recognizing Johnson’s desperate need for reassurance, the boss placed a consoling hand on his shoulder, bridging the gap between authority and empathy.

“Johnson, it was over the moment I signed off and sold this place. I hope you can truly grasp that now.”

As Johnson #1 exited the vibrant yet doomed sanctuary of AVENUE A, the glimmer of hope that had clung to the recesses of his mind was brutally extinguished, leaving behind a cavernous void filled with the echoes of a future undone.

So, in the heart of the night, Johnson #1 navigated the shadowy labyrinth of a dimly lit alley, a narrow passage cloaked in an otherworldly silence. The ambient glow cast eerie shadows that danced along the brick walls, painting a chiaroscuro tapestry. The air crackled with an intensity as Johnson #1 pressed on, unaware that fate had an unexpected encounter in store.

Suddenly, a spectral figure emerged from the shadows, a homeless man materializing like a phantom from the depths of the night. Johnson #1 was jolted by the unexpected appearance, his senses heightened by the mysterious aura of the alley.

“Jesus Christ, where the hell did you come from?” Johnson #1 exclaimed, taking a defensive step back.

The homeless man, unfazed by the reaction, wore a weathered smile and gently wiped the grime off his face.

“Can you spare some change for a man in need?” he asked, his voice a soft echo against the alley’s cold walls.

“Look, man, I just lost my job. I can’t even pay my own rent. So, what can I possibly do for you when I can’t even do anything for myself? Sorry, I’m really broke. Maybe next time, pal,” Johnson #1 explained, the weight of his own troubles echoing in his words.

The homeless man, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of the streets, maintained his enigmatic smile. He gracefully stepped aside, allowing Johnson #1 to continue his journey through the alley.

“Next time is fine with me,” the homeless man replied, a cryptic undertone lingering in his words.

As Johnson #1 walked away, the alley seemed to absorb their encounter, returning to its shroud of mystery.

With a parting nod, Johnson #1 uttered, “Later,” the echo of his footsteps fading into the night, leaving behind the homeless man and the secrets that clung to the alley’s hidden corners.

As Johnson #1 strode away, leaving the homeless man behind, the unexpected happened. A tap on the shoulder jolted the homeless man, and there stood the doctor, slash Johnson #2.

“Hey, man!” the homeless man exclaimed, a mix of surprise and irritation on his dirt-streaked face.

“What are you trying to do? Give me a fucking heart attack or something?”

Johnson #2, unperturbed, posed a question, holding out five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.

“Do you want to make some clean honest money?”

Eyes fixed on the money, the homeless man hesitated, as if questioning the reality of the situation. He looked up, meeting Johnson #2’s gaze.

“Sure,” he muttered, his attention now fully captured.

“What do you really want me to do for you? Look… I got a place nearby where we both can be alone.”

“Just follow me, you sick, twisted bastard,” Johnson #2 commanded, striding away without a glance back at the homeless man’s reaction.

With a quick rush, the homeless man caught up, uttering, “Hey, doctor… wait for me!”

Now, in the relentless surge of the following morning, Johnson #2 strode down the apartment building’s hallway with a renewed sense of purpose. Draped in a pristine white lab coat over his scrubs and a black surgical mask concealing his features, he projected an aura of unwavering determination that eclipsed the mundane surroundings. Every step echoed with intent as Johnson #2 closed the distance between himself and the landlord.

With a swift and purposeful motion, he handed her an envelope, its contents promising a cascade of possibilities. The cash within whispered promises of security, the transaction itself a clandestine dance between two enigmatic figures.

“Here’s another six months in advance,” he uttered in a voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone, his gaze fixed on the exchange unfolding.

The landlord, taken aback by the unexpected generosity, accepted the envelope, her surprise momentarily masking the realization that there was more to Johnson #2 than met the eye. As the landlord handed over the lease, a silent agreement unfolded. Johnson #2’s true identity remained shrouded, a secret pact maintained within the folds of the exchanged documents. A warm smile played on the landlord’s lips, seemingly oblivious to the enigma she now found herself a part of.

“Here is your lease, doctor,” she chimed, her smile radiating hospitality and trust.

In that charged moment, Johnson #2, caught between the worlds of obligation and intrigue, hesitated. A year-long commitment lay ahead, and uncertainty lingered in the air.

“Thank you so much. I guess I’ll see you in a year?” Johnson #2 replied, his words carrying a blend of gratitude and a subtle undercurrent of uncertainty.

The hallway, witness to this clandestine transaction, held its secrets close, becoming a silent accomplice in the unfolding drama of hidden identities and unspoken compacts. In the pulse-quickening aftermath of the exchange, the landlord eagerly delved into the envelope, her smile expanding in delight at the sight of the substantial payment.

“Have a nice day, doctor,” she chimed, her departing footsteps echoing in the hallway, leaving Johnson #2 to grapple with the intricate tapestry of deception he had masterfully woven.

Yet, Johnson #2 couldn’t resist seizing the moment to unveil a shard of his true identity.

“By the way, I’m not actually a real doctor!” he called after the retreating figure, a hint of urgency in his voice as he sought to inject a note of clarification into the clandestine affair.

The landlord, now turned around, wore an expression of real genuine confusion.

“You sure look like a real doctor to me,” she remarked, her surprise adding an unexpected layer to the enigma.

With that, she sauntered away once more, leaving Johnson #2 standing solitary in the hallway, entangled in the enigmatic dance of truth and illusion. Inhaling deeply, Johnson #2 summoned the courage to step into his newfound sanctuary. The door, a barrier between secrecy and revelation, closed with a soft click behind him.

Surveying the uncharted expanse of his new abode, he felt a surge of anticipation and trepidation intermingling, creating a charged atmosphere pregnant with the promise of secrets and revelations yet to unfold.

As Johnson #2 settled into the unexplored territory, the blank canvas of his apartment awaited the strokes of a narrative yet to be written. What had he embroiled himself in? The question lingered, hanging in the air like an unresolved chord, as Johnson #2 embarked on a journey where the boundaries between truth and fiction truly blurred into a captivating narrative yet to be really unraveled.

On the next day, as Johnson #1 walked inside New York University, he was stopped by Agent Thomas, disguised as a security guard who was inspecting the incoming students’ identification cards. Johnson #1 handed his identification card to Agent Thomas, who examined it for a brief moment.

“This card expired three days ago,” Agent Tomas informed him, returning the card to Johnson #1.

Surprised, Johnson #1 looked down at his card, realizing he had overlooked the expiration date.

Johnson #1 raised his gaze to Agent Thomas and inquired, “So, what should I do now?”

Agent Thomas shrugged his shoulders, emphasizing his limited authority.

Before allowing Johnson #1 to proceed, he offered a suggestion, “Look, I’m new here, but if you ever want to come through these doors ever again, I advise you to go to the sixth floor, administration office, right now, so as they can issue you a new ID card.”

Johnson #1 nodded, acknowledging Agent Thomas’s advice without uttering a word. With a determined expression, he turned away, his mind already set on resolving the dire issue and obtaining a new identification card.

Agent Lee, in disguise, stood at the administration office window. He slid it open, his gaze fixed upon Johnson #1.

His words pierced the air, “Look, Johnson, like I told you the last time you were here, you seem to be a nice guy. The last time we spoke, you said that…”

Johnson #1 interrupted, his frustration evident in his voice, “Look, how am I supposed to pay you guys if now I don’t even have a job?”

“Let me finish,” Agent Lee insisted, determination in his tone.

“First, you said that you were going to get a second job so you could finally pay your outstanding non-paid tuition bill. Now, you are telling me that you don’t even have a job? Are you serious, pal?”

Agent Lee’s eyes scanned the computer monitor, disappointment evident on his face.

“Now, you know that the only way you can possibly get a new identification card so you can keep going to your classes…”

Exasperated, Johnson #1 interrupted him and pleaded, “Look, Mister, like I told you before, I’m trying my best. What do you want me to do here?”

“I’m sorry, but if you want a new ID card, you must pay the $6,400 that you owe. And like I said before, if you fail to pay this outstanding non-paid tuition bill, you will not be able to attend this university anymore.”

Johnson #1’s frustration peaked as he questioned, “Anything else you want to tell me, Mister?”

With a serious look in Agent lee’s eyes, he nodded, his message clear.

Before sliding the window closed, he uttered, “No. That’s all you need to know. Have a nice day.”

Like before, but even worse, the weight of Agent Lee’s words hung heavily on Johnson #1’s shoulders as he turned away, his mind racing with the consequences of his financial struggles.

Now, as Johnson #1 stood amidst the bustling crowd at the JFK terminal, awaiting the arrival of his girlfriend Xara Martinez, a myriad of emotions swirled within him like a tempest in his heart. The mere thought of Xara’s return from a prolonged vacation stirred a whirlwind of anticipation and sentiment. Xara’s name, a graceful variation of Sara, exuded an aura of royalty, akin to that of a princess. This regal essence resonated deeply with Johnson #1, reminding him of the grace and charm inherent in her very being.

Despite the tumultuous nature of his thoughts and the pervasive feeling of everything crumbling around him, the prospect of reuniting with the love of his life ignited a spark of hope within Johnson #1. Excitement and joy coursed through his veins, intermingled with an overwhelming sense of longing that tugged at his soul. Each passing moment felt like an eternity as he eagerly awaited the sight of Xara, his heart yearning to be enveloped once more by her presence.

Each passing minute without Xara felt like an eternity, as Johnson #1 eagerly counted down the moments… until her arrival. Despite the challenges Johnson #1 was facing in his life, the mere thought of being reunited with Xara brought a rush of happiness and a profound sense of completion. It was as if her presence had the power to heal the fractures in his otherwise chaotic existence.

As Johnson #1 stood at the terminal, waiting with bated breath, the profound love he felt for Xara allowed him to see beyond the chaos of his life. It offered a renewed perspective and reminded him that, no matter how challenging things may seem, the power of their love can conquer it all. And, with each passing second, Johnson #1’s heart raced with anticipation, knowing that their reunion would bring a sense of peace and contentment that only the presence of the one you truly love can provide.

And although everything in Johnson #1’s life seemed as if it was simply falling apart, the mere thought of being reunited with Xara brought a rush of overabundant happiness and a sense of completion in his otherwise, overwhelming life. In the presence of Johnson #1’s true love, all the troubles and worries that burden him can fade away.

The true love and affection that Johnson #1 and Xara shared together, created a sanctuary, a safe haven of actual real love bonded with trust, where they both can escape from the challenges of life. It’s as if their love acted as a soothing balm, healing the wounds of stress and offering solace in the face of adversity. In that precious moment of togetherness, the troubles that seemed insurmountable shrank in comparison to the boundless real love they shared together.

Xara, the love of Johnson #1’s life ultimately became a source of strength, a beacon of hope that helped them both face their challenges with renewed determination. Johnson #1 and Xara found comfort and reassurance in knowing that, no matter what hardships they may both encounter, they will always have someone special by their side who will truly support and love them unconditionally.

Being in the presence of the one they truly love brought a sense of peace, contentment, and a renewed perspective on life’s struggles. It reminded them of what truly matters the most. And this alone was what actually reinforced their belief that love can conquer all obstacles.

So, as Johnson #1 anxiously stood near the gate, his heart pounded with anticipation as he waited for Xara’s arrival. And, as the passengers streamed out of the plane, he spotted her, and time seemed to slow, slow, slow down. Their eyes locked, and in an instant, all the distance and time apart completely vanished.

With an exuberant leap, Xara rushed towards Johnson #1, throwing her arms around him. Their lips met in a romantic, passionate embrace, as if they hadn’t seen each other for many, many years. The air around them buzzed with pure excitement, joy, and unrestrained love.

As they finally pulled apart, Johnson #1 revealed a bouquet of flowers he had hidden behind his back. With a beaming smile, he handed them to Xara, who accepted them with loving delight. She showered him with more kisses, their love filling the air around them.

Filled with a profound sense of happiness and excitement, Johnson #1 took Xara’s hand in his and declared, “Let’s get out of here, sweetie.”

She responded with a warm, loving smile and whispered, “Let’s go, baby…”

So, as their hands intertwined, they walked away from the bustling airport, ready to embark on new adventures together, cherishing the precious moments they had both been yearning for.

Now, as Johnson #1 and Xara stood outside Johnson #1’s apartment, eager to finally be in each other’s arms after a long separation, Johnson #1 inserted his key into the lock, but to his surprise, it didn’t turn. He jiggled it, trying to force it to work, but it was clear that something was wrong.

As Johnson #1 examined the lock closely, he noticed that it was shiny and new, indicating that the landlord had followed through on her promise to change it. A mix of frustration and embarrassment washed over Johnson #1. He had forgotten about the lock change, and now his key was useless. Before he could utter a single word, Xara, always quick to find a solution, stepped in.

With a warm smile, she said, “Your key seems to be stuck, sweetie. Let’s not worry about it. We can go to my place instead.”

Johnson #1’s embarrassment turned into gratitude as he realized that love had once again saved the day.

Johnson #1 nodded, his face still flushed, and replied, “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go to your place.”

In that moment, they both knew that no matter the challenges they faced, as long as they were together, everything would be alright. Hand in hand, they left the apartment building, their hearts filled with excitement for the moments they would share in Xara’s place. Love had triumphed over a minor setback, reminding them that their bond was strong enough to overcome any obstacle.

Outside, Johnson #1 and Xara hailed a taxi and climbed into the backseat together. The taxi driver was none other than Agent Thomas, disguised as a cab driver, diligently recording every word spoken. As they both settled in, Johnson #1 couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nervousness.

He turned to Xara and said, “Your father is going to be very mad when he sees me with you. I don’t think he believes I’m capable of marrying you.”

Xara looked at him with a reassuring, warm, pleasant smile.

“Sweetie, my dad doesn’t really hate you, and maybe you’re right, he might not have any love for you, but… all that could change, starting with you and me,” she said, as she slowly caressed his face, with the back of her four soft fingers.

“Look, sweetie, he just has his doubts, waiting for you to prove yourself and pop the question. I mean… he did say that he would pay for our entire wedding, and he would buy you and me a really big house, if only you can come up with the money… to buy me a really nice pretty wedding ring.”

Johnson #1 sighed, his eyes filled with determination.

“I will, Xara,” he said earnestly.

“I promise. I just need to get the right amount of money to get you the ring you actually deserve. And the ring I really want to get you, in order to impress your parents, it’s not like I’m just gonna find something like that on the ground, sweetie. Please… give me some time. I promise you… I will get you a very beautiful ring.”

Xara leaned closer, placing a tender kiss on his lips.

“I know you will, sweetie,” she whispered, her voice filled with unwavering faith.

“I know you will. Don’t worry. I truly believe in you. And besides, you never, ever let me down, an I know you never will. And, I know now that you are really in love with me, as much as I’m really in love with you. So, who cares about a stupid ring? Surely… not me, sweetie.”

In that moment, as a tear slid down his face, Agent Thomas felt a surge of emotion and carried them forward, their love and hope shining brightly. Despite the challenges ahead, Johnson #1 knew he had the unwavering support and belief of the woman he truly loved. With that knowledge, he felt a renewed sense of ambitious purpose and determination to create the future they had always dreamed of.

In the bedroom, while Agents Thomas and Lee were outside in their vehicle, diligently recording every word spoken, Johnson #1 and Xara settled in for the night, lying close to each other. Their embrace provided warmth and comfort. Meanwhile, Thomas and Lee stayed vigilant in their sleek black car, ensuring every word was captured. Xara looked into Johnson #1’s eyes, her voice filled with earnestness.

“Promise me one thing…” she said softly.

“Anything for you…” Johnson #1 responded, his voice filled with love.

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, their connection deepening. Breaking away slightly, Xara spoke, her eyes locked in with Johnson #1’s.

“Promise me you will never, ever leave me, sweetie,” she pleaded.

Johnson #1 returned the kiss, his smile radiant.

“Why would I ever leave you… if I love you so, so much?” he asked, his voice filled with sincerity.

A real sense of relief washed over Xara’s face.

“Yeah, why would you, sweetie?” she replied, her voice filled with assurance.

Johnson #1 then shared some news with Xara, his tone tinged with concern.

“Oh, by the way, the owner of the lounge I work at sold the place, so, as of now, I think I’m out of a job,” he revealed.

“But, I’m going to see if I can get my job back.”

Xara smiled warmly, dismissing his worries with a gentle brush of her hand.

“A job… a job? Who cares about a stupid job, sweetie?” she said.

“As long as we have real trust and really, truly love each other, why worry about anything else? Especially a job…”

Johnson #1’s concern shifted to the topic of money.

“Yeah, but we need money…” he pondered.

Interrupting him, Xara reassured him with a playful tone.

“Silly, we have lots of money. Remember… my parents are wealthy,” she reminded him.

Johnson #1 raised a valid question, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

“So… are we both supposed to live off your wealthy parents, forever?” he inquired.

Xara couldn’t help but crack a smile, her eyes sparkling with affection.

“Basically…” she replied, her voice filled with lightheartedness.

“Look, if I don’t work, why should you go out there, and waste your time… getting a stupid job, sweetie?”

Johnson #1 delved deeper into the discussion, voicing concerns about the feasibility of depending solely on Xara’s parents’ wealth.

“Look, sweetie, I’m not accepting a single dollar from you. I never did, and I never will. And besides, it’s not like we can just go to a store and buy whatever we want with actual, real, true love… or tasty Pop-Tarts. And sooner or later… someone is bound to ask us for money. Don’t you think, sweetie?” he questioned.

With unwavering confidence, Xara reassured him, her voice laced with real conviction.

“Trust me. Don’t you worry about money, sweetie,” she insisted.

“All you have to worry about is making me truly happy, and make sure you never, ever leave me… alone. Especially, when I truly need you the most. And if anything, and I mean anything, ever happens to me, make sure you use all of your magical powers to bring me back from the dead.”

Johnson #1’s smile widened, his true love for her evident.

“Now… how can I bring you or anyone back from the dead if I don’t have any magical powers?” he playfully mused.

Xara responded lovingly, her words filled with tenderness.

“I’m joking, sweetie. With you always by my side, absolutely nothing can possibly ever happen to me. Am I right, baby?” she assured him.

Johnson #1’s voice exuded confidence as he made a heartfelt declaration.

“Absolutely nothing, because I will never, ever leave you alone, sweetie,” he vowed.

“I’ll always be there for you, even when you will need me the most. I promise, sweetie. I will never, ever let you down.”

Xara changed the mood, offering a last reassuring thought before they both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

“Besides, my father will always protest and disagree on many things when it comes to me and you. But my mother, being her only child, loves me to death… more than anything in this world. She always wants the best for me,” she said with a smile, kissing his face.

“And, prior to someone with ill intentions forcing it upon me, she firmly establishes her boundaries like a caring, loving and compassionate mother. She willingly grants all my requests under the sun, ensuring my safety and absolute happiness.”

Johnson #1 accepted her words.

“I guess it’s fine with me, as long as you don’t mind,” he said.

Xara expressed her love and commitment.

“Look, sweetie, we’re together. We’re happy. And we’re in love. Why would I ever mind? Don’t forget, sweetie, real, true love never dies…”

A tear ran down her face, and Johnson #1 responded with hope.

“I sure hope not…” he said.

The room fell into a peaceful silence, their love and commitment enveloping them as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

In the heart of the bustling mid-afternoon, the doctor, slash Johnson #3, burst into a small, impeccably organized office tethered to an aging apartment complex undergoing a dramatic transformation. The entire complex echoed with the symphony of renovations, but Johnson #3 paid no heed. He stormed in with the urgency of someone about to pull off a heist, taking the property manager completely by surprise.

Frozen momentarily by a confused cocktail of fear, shock, and disbelief, she watched as Johnson #3 commandeered a seat in front of her meticulously maintained desk. It was Johnson #3’s pristine white lab coat draped over scrubs, the lanyard with his ID hanging strategically backward to conceal his true identity, and the black, surgical mask veiling his face that snapped the property manager out of her mental stupor.

As she regained her composure, the words spilled out, “Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You almost gave me a Goddamn heart attack. This is the second time you do that shit.”

“Second time? Why, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you… in my life,” Johnson #3 retorted, suspecting a ruse.

“No,” she contradicted, bewildered by Johnson #3’s apparent lapse in memory.

“You were here before. Remember, doc.”

Johnson #3’s urgency mixed with confusion painted a vivid scene.

“Me… you’ve seen me before?” he asked.

“Of course, Doc. How do you think you paid me for the apartment unit… with cash,” she remarked casually, indifferent to whether he remembered or not.

Johnson #3’s eyes darted towards the door, eager to exit her office urgently. In a bid to shift the atmosphere, Johnson #3 flashed a warm smile.

“What? I already paid you?” he asked.

“Look, I’m so sorry. I’m really in a hurry. I have to do surgery in less than an hour from now.”

Understanding his predicament, the property manager smiled back, nodding sympathetically.

“I’m sorry to hear that, doctor. I understand.”

“So, am I all set? Is that what you’re saying here, lady?”

Johnson #3 pressed for a swift resolution.

“Call me, Barbara. And, yes, you sure are. You’re all set, Doc.”

Her calm assurance signaled his green light.

“Thank you so much,” Johnson #3 said.

Expressing gratitude, Johnson #3 aimed to expedite the process.

“And, like I told you before, before you forgot, most of the building complex is under repair, so we don’t have any tenants yet,” she informed him.

Grinning discreetly, Johnson #3 quipped, “So, I’m your first tenant?”

“Yes… you sure are.”

“Anything else?” Johnson #3 emphasized his urgency.

“Nope. You’re all set.”

Barbara handed over a set of keys and the lease for his apartment unit within the complex.

“Thank you very much,” Johnson #3 said.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Johnson #3 swiftly seized the keys and the lease, swiping a black Sharpie marker when Barbara wasn’t looking. Without a moment’s hesitation, before she could say, “You’re welcome, doctor.” with a quick smile, he stormed out of her office, the same way he stormed in.

Now, in a whirlwind of unyielding determination, Johnson #3 plunged headlong into his relentless quest. Days seamlessly blurred into nights as he toiled tirelessly, dedicating every waking moment to constructing a secret haven within the walls of his newly acquired apartment. His passion manifested with meticulous precision, ensuring every facet of the clandestine chamber testified to his unwavering commitment.

The pulsating heart of this hidden realm lay behind a concealed panel, adorned with a four-digit code keypad. Each deliberate keystroke resonated with purpose, a symphony of digits unlocking the wall to unveil the secret room in all its glory. A strategically placed watch, cradled on a velvet-lined pedestal, became the focal point. Bathed in the calculated glow of precisely positioned lights, the watch’s every detail was accentuated, casting a luminous sheen that elevated its significance.

Satisfied but propelled by an insatiable drive, Johnson #3 emerged from the secret enclave, sealing it off with a decisive entry of the code. As the wall slid back into place, the room vanished from sight, a mysterious sanctuary hidden within his living space.

Sitting on the living room floor, Johnson #3 delved into the creation of a detailed map, a cartographic masterpiece holding the key to unraveling the enigma within. With unwavering focus, he meticulously replicated the labyrinthine layout, ensuring the second map mirrored every contour of the hidden room. Only when both maps stood as flawless duplicates did Johnson #3 shift gears.

Extracting his cell phone, he documented his creations with a series of photographs, capturing the essence of the maps that held the secret to the clandestine realm he had fashioned. The intensity of his purpose echoed in the clicks of the camera, immortalizing the culmination of his fervent endeavor.

In the wake of Johnson #3’s enigmatic actions, a whirlwind of speculation and curiosity engulfed those who witnessed his swift and purposeful maneuvers. The clandestine dance of deception left onlookers bewildered, their minds echoing with a singular question: What drove Johnson #3 to weave his mysterious web? The air pulsated with intrigue as the motives behind his mesmerizing acts remained veiled in ambiguity.

One can only whisper with speculation, the enigma of Johnson #3’s actions weaving a tapestry of fascination and bewilderment. In the hushed corridors of conjecture, every move by Johnson #3 resonated like deliberate strokes on the canvas of the unknown. Each action left an indelible mark on the collective consciousness of those fortunate—or perhaps unfortunate—enough to witness the unfolding drama.

It was as though every step was purposeful, a masterful orchestration adding layers to the enigma, inviting observers to delve deeper into the mystique of his unfolding tale. The stage was set, characters poised in anticipation, as Johnson #3’s enigmatic saga continued to unravel, leaving a trail of unanswered questions and electrifying mystery in its wake.

But in the aftermath of Johnson #3’s mind-bending escapades, reality itself seemed to waver, teetering on the edge of the truly extraordinary. For the once-motionless body of Johnson #2, an iteration from an alternate timeline, lay sprawled on the kitchen floor—a testament to the surreal nature of the events that transpired.

The air crackled with an otherworldly energy, each moment pregnant with inexplicable phenomena. The true purpose behind this enigma dangled tantalizingly in the embrace of mystery, leaving onlookers questioning the very fabric of their reality.

And then, there was Johnson #3—a maestro orchestrating the symphony of the unknown. His actions defied the boundaries of reason, leaving a lingering question: What drove him to such desperate measures, striving to prevent Johnson #2 from unleashing an immediate, warning call to the unsuspecting Johnson #1?

The very fabric of existence seemed to pulse with anticipation, as if the universe itself held its breath, waiting for the revelation of Johnson #3’s inscrutable motives. But the saga did not end there; it truly unfurled into the secret recesses of Johnson #3’s dwelling.

Behind the nondescript living room wall, an elaborate hidden room emerged—a clandestine chamber crafted with cutting-edge technology. A next-gen numerical keypad and an alienesque hidden panel guarded its secrets, ensuring that only Johnson #3, with his unique presence and fingerprints, could unlock its mysteries. The purpose of this covert chamber danced in the shadows of Johnson #3’s psyche—an enigma that not even he fully comprehended.

As the conundrum deepened, the air resonated with the echo of unanswered questions. Each twist and turn in the narrative added layers to an already perplexing tapestry. Johnson #3 himself stood at the center of a cosmic puzzle, surrounded by riddles without solutions, leaving the very essence of his actions shrouded in the nebulous folds of enigma.

In a feverish crescendo of urgency, Johnson #3 burst from the apartment unit—a man teetering on the precipice. Propelled by an unseen force, he fled as if a relentless inferno nipped at his heels. His departure wasn’t merely a retreat; it was an escape, a frenzied dash for survival. The very fabric of his existence hung in the balance.

The enigmatic dance of his actions wove a tapestry of mystery, inviting scrutiny that left onlookers questioning the boundaries of sanity. Unraveling the enigma behind his unconventional, story-like endeavors became an obsession. The air crackled with intensity, echoing the palpable energy of a protagonist impostor racing through the unfolding chapters of a narrative yet to be fully revealed.

Now, in the opulent confines of Xara’s lavish condo, Johnson #1 sprawled on the couch, his gaze locked onto the news flickering across the TV screen. Abruptly, the phone’s insistent ring cut through the room, seizing his attention. As he lifted the receiver, the familiar voice on the other end enveloped him in a comforting warmth—it was Xara.

“What’s up, sweetie? What are you up to?” Xara asked, her voice flowing like honey.

Johnson #1 replied, “Just watching the news, relaxing, and waiting for you. I’ve been missing you lately. It gets a little lonely when you’re not by my side. So, when are you coming back, sweetie?”

Xara reassured him, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be back home in a few days. I’m spending some time with my cousin who just returned from vacation. I love you, and you know… I’ll be back soon.”

Johnson #1 sighed contently, “Take your time, baby. I’ll be here waiting for you. Oh, by the way, who else has the number to this place?”

Xara replied, “Nobody, but you and I. The phone was just connected, remember?”

Johnson #1 persisted, “Are you sure? I mean, are you sure that only you and I have the number to this place?”

Xara assured him, “Of course I’m sure. You’re the only one I gave my number to. So, only you and I have the number. Why? Did someone call?”

Johnson #1’s mind raced, considering all possibilities.

He responded, “Yeah… it was probably just a wrong number.”

Xara chuckled, “Of course it was, sweetie.”

Johnson #1 focused on the sweetness in her voice and eagerly anticipated her return, “Anyway, I love you, and I’ll see you when you get back, sweetie.”

With a tender tone, she reciprocated, “I love you too, baby. See you soon.”

Before Johnson #1 could say another word, she hung up, leaving him with a mix of emotions and lingering questions.

Now, as the night’s grip tightened, enveloping the last traces of daylight, the doctor, slash Johnson #2 stood in a dilapidated apartment, exuding authority over the homeless man seated on a makeshift throne—a humble milk crate.

“Rise, Mr. Homeless,” Johnson #2 thundered, catching the man’s wandering attention.

Startled, the homeless man snapped back to awareness, meeting Johnson #2’s unwavering gaze.

“It’s time,” Johnson #2 announced.

“Are you ready? Do you remember your straightforward mission?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it a hundred times, Doc. I might be sleeping rough, but I’m not dim-witted. I know exactly what I gotta do and what I have to say,” the homeless man retorted, pulling a crumpled photograph of Johnson #1 from his grubby pocket.

“Do you remember your lines?” Johnson #2 inquired.

“Sure, Doc. I’ve got your script memorized. No worries. I know the drill,” the homeless man affirmed, brandishing a flash drive as collateral.

“So, that’s $500 now, and another $500 when I’ve delivered the message and hand him this.”

The homeless man sensed Johnson #2’s unwavering resolve. Johnson #2’s tone turned stern.

“Stow that away. And if you value your life, you better make sure he gets that flash drive,” Johnson #2 warned, revealing a concealed firearm from his lab coat.

“Otherwise, you and I are gonna have a colossal problem.”

The homeless man eyed the firearm and replied, “No… no need for threats, Doc. I know my job. Trust me. I’ve got this. Anything else?”

“One more thing,” Johnson #2 retorted, retrieving a nondescript black grocery bag.

Unveiling its contents, he revealed a baseball cap cocooned in aluminum foil.

“Put this on. Keep your face in the shadows,” the doctor instructed.

“Solid plan,” the homeless man concurred, pulling the cap low.

“Am I all set?” he queried, meeting Johnson #2’s gaze.

“Yeah, you’re ready. Trust me,” Johnson #2 reassured, stealing a glance at his watch.

In a flurry, Johnson #2 darted out, flashing the firearm one last time as a grim reminder. Five crisp $100 bills rained onto the cluttered table. The homeless man sprang from his perch, hastening to the door and into the corridor.

“Wait! Hold on…” he muttered, noticing the Johnson #2’s sudden disappearance.

“What the hell…” he exclaimed, his grimy face mirroring bewilderment and disbelief.

“Where the hell did he go?!”

In the pulsating heart of a state-of-the-art surveillance van, positioned clandestinely to the rhythm of an impending showdown, Agents Thomas and Davidson found themselves locked in a cerebral chess match. The tension in the air was palpable, their strategic moves mirroring the complex dance of the imminent operation. Abruptly, the syncopated rhythm of the game was shattered by a resounding beep, echoing through the confines of the van—a signal both agents had anticipated with bated breath.

“Holy shit… he’s on the move,” Agent Thomas declared, his watch pulsating with urgency—a beacon heralding the long-awaited moment.

Agent Davidson’s eyes widened, the gravity of the situation settling in.

“Do you have a fix on him?” he pressed, his eagerness laid bare.

Agent Thomas, consumed by the vital information streaming from his watch, responded with unwavering focus.

“Three blocks away,” he stated, a steely determination underscoring his words.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Agent Davidson exclaimed, a cocktail of disbelief and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“No jests here,” Agent Thomas asserted, a sly smile playing on his lips.

The elusive target they had pursued tirelessly was now within their grasp.

“We’ve got him. Let’s move. It’s time to nail this son of a bitch,” Agent Davidson declared, the raw determination in his voice reverberating within the confines of the van.

Agent Thomas nodded, a mirror of resolve in his expression.

“Absolutely. Let’s bring this guy down,” he affirmed, both agents mentally steeling themselves for the impending confrontation.

The surveillance van’s door swung open, a portal to the imminent clash of justice. The armed agents stepped out, adrenaline coursing through their veins, poised to confront the long-awaited climax of their mission.

In a sudden whirlwind of change, AVENUE A—the Japanese Lounge—once a familiar sanctuary for Johnson #1, transformed into an alien landscape. As he stepped into his role as a busboy, the air crackled with an unfamiliar energy. The ambiance shifted, the staff now a chorus of Japanese voices, rendering Johnson #1 a foreigner in his own workplace.

Desperation and frustration clawed at him as he attempted to decipher the rapid-fire conversations around him, each word an enigmatic puzzle piece. The camaraderie he once shared with familiar faces evaporated, replaced by an impenetrable barrier of language. It was a sea of incomprehensibility, leaving him adrift in isolation.

Johnson #1’s coworkers, the anchors of his daily routine, were conspicuously absent. The new proprietors, Agent Thomas and Agent Lee, had swiftly dismantled the old order, bringing in an era of unfamiliar faces and unintelligible exchanges. Johnson #1’s sense of belonging crumbled, replaced by a stark awareness of his status as an outsider.

And as the weight of these realizations settled on his shoulders, Johnson #1’s initial anticipation for the workday morphed into a palpable defeat. The language barrier loomed like an insurmountable wall, obstructing effective communication and leaving him stranded in a realm of isolation.

With a resigned exhale, Johnson #1 navigated his way to the exit, each step echoing the heavy cadence of disappointment. The once-familiar doors of the Japanese Lounge closed behind him, shutting the door on a chapter of his life unexpectedly. A mixture of frustration and uncertainty clung to him like a stubborn shadow, casting doubt on the road ahead.

Outside the lounge, Johnson #1 leaned against the cool wall, the outside air doing little to alleviate the simmering turmoil within. The world beyond the doors held an uncertain future, and Johnson #1 grappled with the weight of unanswered questions. The rhythm of defeat echoed in his steps as he contemplated the daunting task of rebuilding in the face of unexpected change.

In the heart of the dimly lit alley, Johnson #1 treaded cautiously, the weight of his recent encounters pressing on his every step. Suddenly, a symphony of rapid footsteps shattered the foul-smelling, eerie silence. Johnson #1 pivoted, only to find a bloodied and desperate man hurtling towards him, at tremendous speed—a tragic spectacle of survival. Before Johnson #1 could grasp the unfolding chaos, the man collapsed in his arms, his body bearing the brutal scars of multiple gunshots.

In a breathless plea, the man whispered, “Please… please, you have to take this. Look inside it, man. Look… inside it.”

With trembling hands, he pressed a small, blood-soaked flash drive and five crumpled $100 bills into Johnson #1’s grasp. The once-pristine bills mirrored the wretched state of the dying man.

“This could ultimately change your future, man,” the dying man uttered, his voice barely audible.

Johnson #1 recognized him as the same homeless soul who had crossed his path before, seeking spare change. Caught in a maelstrom of uncertainty, Johnson #1 glanced down at the ominous flash drive. But, before he could fathom the gravity of the situation, thunderous footsteps approached, drawing nearer with each heartbeat. In a dramatic twist, Agents Thomas and Davidson materialized at the alley’s end, fury etched on their faces and firearms drawn.

“He’s here!” Agent Thomas bellowed, pointing into the shadows.

“We have to find him!”

Fueled by a sense of urgency and the homeless man’s mysterious plea, Johnson #1 moved with lightning speed. Filled with determination, he tucked the flash drive and the crumpled, blood-stained money into his pocket, swiftly guiding the dying man behind a nearby garbage container. The agents arrived at the location just as Johnson #1 and the homeless man disappeared from their line of sight. Curses and shouts echoed through the alley as the agents desperately scoured for their elusive target.

“Where the fuck is this guy?!” Agent Thomas roared.

“We hit him with twelve damn shots, and we still lost him!”

Agent Davidson gestured down the alleyway.

“This way! He had to run this way. Let’s find him already!”

For an agonizing stretch of time, Johnson #1 clung to the dying man, their concealment a fragile sanctuary against the relentless pursuit. And, as the agents’ footsteps faded, a profound stillness settled, leaving Johnson #1 alone in the shadows with the flash drive and five crumpled, bloody bills—a chilling token of an encounter with the unknown. The homeless man’s final breath resonated, a haunting reminder of the grave promise he sought.

“Promise me one thing,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Promise me… you’ll use whatever you find inside that flash drive to change your life for the better. For you… and the one you truly love the most. Make your world a better place, one you’ll both be proud to truly live in. And, please, whatever you do, don’t you ever forget about real, true love… for that should always come first. More… more than anything in the whole world.”

With those weighty words, the homeless man took his last breath and slipped into eternal silence, leaving Johnson #1 immersed in darkness. He grappled with the enigmatic message, slash gift, and the harrowing journey that lay ahead.

Burning with an adrenaline-fueled urgency, Johnson #1 burst forth from the concealment of the dumpster, propelled by the weight of the homeless man’s dying wish. The narrow alleyway offered little refuge as he sprinted away, the clatter of his footsteps echoing the drumbeat of fear pulsating through his veins.

Questions, like relentless ghosts, haunted Johnson #1’s mind. Why did the homeless man meet such a violent end? What sinister forces lurked behind the shadows, orchestrating this deadly pursuit? The flash drive, tucked into his pocket, became a symbol of enigma and danger—a Pandora’s box carrying secrets worth killing for.

Each stride carried Johnson #1 farther from the alley, yet deeper into a web of uncertainty. Who were these faceless agents, and what malevolent agenda drove them to silence the homeless man? The quest for answers fueled his desperate sprint, the cityscape blurring as he navigated the labyrinth of streets, a fugitive in his own reality. The bloody flash drive, a tiny repository of intrigue, burned in his pocket. Its secrets were an ominous whisper, enticing yet foreboding.

The homeless man’s plea echoed in Johnson #1’s mind, an urgent call to action that reverberated with a cosmic significance. The weight of responsibility bore down on him, a reluctant hero thrust into a narrative of intrigue and danger.

As Johnson #1 hurtled through the urban landscape, the world seemed to shift around him. He was no longer a mere bystander in his own life; he had become a player in a real high-stakes game with consequences that really rippled through the fabric of his existence. The air crackled with a heightened sense of purpose, the unknown stretching before him like an uncharted frontier.

In the midst of fear and uncertainty, Johnson #1 sensed an electrifying opportunity for transformation. The alleyway escape marked not just a flight from danger but the blood initiation of a journey that could reshape his destiny. The flash drive held the key, unlocking a realm of possibilities that extended far beyond the boundaries of his mundane existence.

As the cityscape blurred in his sprint, Johnson #1 felt the real tremors of destiny beneath his feet. What lay ahead was unknown, dangerous, and exhilarating—a thrilling plunge into a world where every step carried the weight of revelation. The homeless man’s legacy, etched in the digital contents of the flash drive, beckoned him toward a destiny far grander than anything he had possibly ever imagined.

Now, upon bursting into his apartment, Johnson #1 was immediately enveloped in the aftermath of chaos. Bloodstains marked his clothes, a visceral reminder of the perilous journey he had undertaken. His mind, a whirlwind of confusion, found solace only beneath the soothing cascade of a shower. The water, tainted with the residue of the alleyway, served as a cleansing baptism, washing away both tangible and intangible stains that clung to him.

Stepping out of the shower, refreshed yet alert, Johnson #1 changed into fresh clothes. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, he retrieved the blood-stained flash drive from his pocket. Placing the small, ominous device on his desk, it rested there as a harbinger of mysteries yet to unravel. Unsure of his next steps, Johnson #1 left the flash drive untouched, its dormant enigma silently demanding attention. Exhaustion, his constant companion, lured him to the comfort of his living room couch.

In the haze between dreams and reality, Johnson #1 surrendered to sleep, his consciousness enveloped by vivid illusions. Images pulsated with otherworldly intensity, weaving a tapestry of surreal visions. Upon waking abruptly, a pounding headache greeted him—a tangible echo of the surreal journey etched in Johnson #1’s memory.

Changing into a fresh shirt, he still felt haunted by the dream’s lingering tendrils. Driven by an urgency beyond reason, Johnson #1 packed his belongings, stuffing his backpack to capacity. Seeking refuge at Xara’s condo beckoned as a beacon of respite.

Stepping out of his apartment, a magnetic pull compelled him to glance back. There on the desk lay the bloody flash drive, an ominous artifact refusing to be ignored. Seated behind his desk, Johnson #1 hesitated briefly before yielding to curiosity. The flash drive, akin to Pandora’s box, found its way into the laptop’s slot. A digital portal opened, revealing concealed secrets. Urgency surged as he sought to decrypt its contents.

Swiftly, Johnson #1 retrieved a new flash drive from a drawer, deciding to preserve the encrypted data. With unwavering determination, he copied the mysterious files, sparing no time for scrutiny. The urgency pressed him onward, urging him to depart.

Deleting the files from the bloody flash drive became perfunctory—an automated response to the ticking clock of fate. In the silence of his apartment, Johnson #1’s actions carried the weight of destiny, setting in motion a chain of events that would unravel the fabric of his reality.

A heartbeat later, inside the cutting-edge surveillance van, tension crackled in the air as Agent Thomas and Agent Davidson engaged in a ruthless game of chess. Each move echoed a silent dance of strategy, the stakes heightened by imminent events. Suddenly, an electrifying beep pierced the confined space, emanating from Agent Thomas’s watch—an audible herald of the anticipated moment.

“Rise and shine, pal,” Agent Thomas declared, fixing his gaze on his watch before meeting his partner’s eyes.

Agent Davidson’s eyes widened, anticipation surging through him.

“We got a hit?” he inquired, excitement palpable in his voice.

Agent Thomas, absorbed in the data on his watch, affirmed with unwavering determination, “Oh, we got more than a hit.”

Agent Davidson leaned in, curiosity piqued.

“Give me the location,” he demanded.

With a hint of surprise, Agent Thomas grinned, “You won’t believe this—we’re practically standing on it.”

A moment of incredulity hung in the air before Agent Davidson exclaimed, “What? Give me the damn address!”

Thomas, with a wry smile, revealed, “Look out the window.”

As realization dawned on Agent Davidson, he stared at the familiar surroundings, recognizing that the elusive target was within arm’s reach.

“Get the hell out of here,” Agent Davidson uttered in disbelief.

“Believe it,” Agent Thomas asserted, a glint of determination in his eyes.

“Are you ready, partner?”

With swift precision, both agents retrieved their firearms from concealed holsters, the metallic clinks adding a note of finality to the impending confrontation. As they cocked their firearms, a synchronicity of readiness enveloped the van.

Agent Davidson, meeting Agent Thomas’s gaze, affirmed, “Ready as ever, you know that. Now, let’s hunt down this piece of shit down.”

Suppressors screwed onto their firearms, a silent agreement passed between them.

“Let the games begin,” Agent Thomas murmured, a mantra laden with purpose.

The van’s doors swung open, and with the stealth of shadows, they emerged into the night, poised for the confrontation that awaited them. The urban landscape transformed into a battleground, and as they ventured forth, the air pulsated with the resonance of a showdown on the horizon.

As they ascended the steps to the building, a surge of energy radiated from them, an unstoppable force in pursuit of their elusive target. Agent Davidson, ever the pragmatic partner, acknowledged the locked door with a casual query.

“Fancy doing the honors?” he proposed, stepping back to grant Agent Thomas the lead.

In response, Agent Thomas, the embodiment of precision, retrieved a lock-picking tool gun from the depths of his suit. Without hesitation, Agent Thomas manipulated the device, the subtle clicks resonating like a countdown to revelation. The door yielded to his expertise, swinging open to admit the agents into the clandestine world beyond.

The threshold marked the beginning of a relentless pursuit, and with the door closing behind them, the outside world faded away, leaving only the echo of footsteps in the corridor. Agent Thomas consulted his watch, a beacon guiding them to the heart of the mystery. His focused gaze absorbed the information, and in an instant, a kinetic force propelled both agents into action.

“This way, upstairs,” Agent Thomas directed with unwavering confidence, a conductor orchestrating the crescendo of the pursuit.

Agent Davidson, a silent companion in the unfolding drama, echoed the sentiment.

“Let’s go, partner,” he affirmed, ready to follow the trajectory set by Agent Thomas and the cryptic guidance of the watch.

The blinking red dot on Agent Thomas’s watch quickened its tempo, a pulsating rhythm syncing with the urgency of their approach. As they reached Johnson #1’s door, the convergence of fates seemed imminent. Agent Thomas, with practiced finesse, swiftly picked the lock, the metallic whisper of tumblers aligning like a symphony of inevitability. With firearms drawn, the agents stood poised before Johnson #1’s door, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Thomas, meeting Agent Davidson’s resolute gaze, posed the question, “You ready, pal?”

The response, a simple nod and the echo of affirmation, set the stage for the impending revelation. Carefully, Agent Thomas eased the door open, each creak a herald of the clandestine encounter awaiting them. The apartment, a canvas of secrets and uncertainties, beckoned them into its depths.

As they stepped across the threshold, the air crackled with tension, and the pursuit entered a new chapter of intensity and intrigue. The instant the door closed, Agent Davidson, fueled by the rush of the chase, carelessly overlooked the crucial act of securing it. firearms brandished and adrenaline surging, the agents found themselves in an apartment devoid of its elusive occupant.

“There’s no one here,” Agent Davidson declared, his eyes sweeping every corner, dissecting the shadows of Johnson #1’s silent abode.

A tense anticipation lingered in the air, the promise of revelation hanging suspended. Spotting the telltale sign of the mission’s focal point, Agent Thomas homed in on the laptop where the bloody flash drive protruded from a port. Seizing the moment, he hastily settled into the chair, fingers dancing over the keys to unlock the enigma held within the drive.

Minutes ticked by, the room shrouded in an expectant hush. Abruptly, Agent Thomas slammed his hand against the desk, the resounding impact jolting the stillness. His frustrated exclamation cut through the air like a blade.

“A shit—there’s nothing in here!” Agent Thomas exclaimed, the force of his words punctuating the disappointment that rippled through the room.

The desk, already teetering on instability, absorbed the brunt of his frustration. The sound reverberated through the apartment, prompting Agent Davidson to instinctively retreat a step, the unexpected outburst unsettling the equilibrium of the room. Undeterred, he rallied, urging his partner to reassess the situation.

“Check it again, partner,” Agent Davidson advised, his measured steps closing the distance as he steadied himself physically and mentally.

Despite the futility of the gesture, Agent Thomas, driven by a lingering hope, subjected the flash drive to a second scrutiny. Yet, like the initial inspection, the truth remained unaltered—every file erased, a digital void echoing the magnitude of their failure.

“God damn it! Everything is gone! Fucking deleted!” Agent Thomas exclaimed, the frustration etched across his face mirroring the weight of their collective disappointment.

Doubt crept into the room as Agent Davidson sought confirmation.

“Are you sure?” he inquired, his gaze meeting Agent Thomas’s, an undercurrent of dissatisfaction and anger swirling between them.

In that charged moment, the reality of their fruitless endeavor hung heavy, leaving them to grapple with the repercussions of an elusive truth slipping through their fingers.

“Of course, I’m fucking sure!” Agent Thomas barked, his frustration etched across his features, the tension in the room reaching a fever pitch.

Agent Thomas locked eyes with Agent Davidson, a scowl twisting his expression into one of disdain and anger. In that charged moment, the camaraderie built over many years seemed to dissolve, replaced by the urgency of their precarious mission. Agent Davidson, accustomed to the ebb and flow of his partner’s moods, attempted reason, seeking a path forward.

“So, what do you think we should do now?” he inquired, the urgency of the situation casting a shadow over their interaction.

“Nothing! Can’t you see that someone deleted everything?!” Agent Thomas thundered, his voice slicing through the air, leaving no room for the nuances of friendship.

It was as if this were the first night they had ever met, the weight of their failure amplifying the raw edges of their real emotions. Yet, amid the echoes of Agent Thomas’s shout, a slight subtle noise breached the silence, a whisper of uncertainty in the air.

“Davidson, what the hell was that noise?” Agent Thomas demanded, his attention momentarily diverted from the tempest within.

Agent Davidson, his gaze shifting from the laptop to the source of the disturbance, replied, “I don’t know, man…”

“Go… go fucking check it out,” Agent Thomas commanded, the urgency in his voice demanding immediate action.

“Okay… okay,” Agent Davidson affirmed, a nod signaling his readiness.

Agent Davidson raised his firearm, determined to unravel the mystery that lingered in the apartment. As he ventured forth, the seconds stretched into an uneasy silence, broken only by the muffled sounds of his investigation.

Then, an abrupt, jarring noise shattered the quiet—a metallic crash that reverberated through the confined space, as if a bag of potatoes had collided with the kitchen floor. Agent Thomas, propelled by intense curiosity and a growing sense of unease, leapt from his chair.

“Davidson… Davidson, are you okay?” he called out, his words slicing through the silence.

Yet, no answer came. The absence of a response heightened Agent Thomas’s concern, a flicker of worry dancing in his eyes. While confidence in Agent Davidson’s battle-tested abilities lingered, the ominous hush that enveloped the apartment underscored the uncertainty that now gripped them both.

Unfazed by the chaos brewing in the room, Agent Thomas stepped into the kitchen, his senses heightened, firearm poised for any threat that might materialize. As he advanced, the air thick with tension, a sudden jolt of disbelief gripped him. There, sprawled on the floor, was Agent Davidson’s lifeless form, blood seeping from a vicious wound on the back of his head.

A surge of shock coursed through Agent Thomas, freezing him momentarily. Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee, his hands slowly reaching out instinctively to inspect his fallen partner. Yet, in the deafening silence that enveloped the apartment, a new menace emerged.

Swift as a phantom, the doctor, slash Johnson #2, having navigated the shadows with uncanny precision, materialized out of thin air behind Agent Thomas. In a heartbeat, a powerful blow from a blackjack connected with the back of Thomas’s head.

The impact reverberated through his skull, and with a graceless descent, Agent Thomas crumpled to the unforgiving kitchen floor, unconscious. The room, now a battlefield of uncertainty, held its breath as the once vigilant agents succumbed to the unexpected onslaught.

Now, in the relentless grip of time, Agents Thomas and Davidson found themselves ensnared, shackled to chairs with a vice-like grip on the unyielding floor of Johnson #1’s living room. The ticking seconds mocked their once-formidable selves, reducing them to mere formal captives.

Johnson #2, an enigma concealed in a pristine lab coat over his scrubs, and wearing a black surgical mask, wielded authority like a malevolent puppeteer, toying with the ominous gleam of a suppressed firearm.

As Agent Thomas, fueled by a volatile concoction of anger, frustration, and an overwhelming surge of unbridled, straight hatred, cast a fiery gaze upon Johnson #2, the air crackled with tension. His voice, a thunderous cascade of disbelief and rage, erupted in the confined space.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up! What the hell… what in the world are you doing, man? Are you hopped up on some mind-altering substance? I can’t even… I can’t even feel my legs! Who the hell are you? Springing upon on us like a phantom and knocking us out?! You’ve got to be kidding me, pulling this shit on us,” he growled, the sheer intensity of his voice mirroring the internal tempest that raged within him.

Agent Davidson, driven by an electrifying surge of desperation and rage, shot a discreet, venomous glance at his partner’s watch. The firearm, now a formidable weapon against them, fueled a sense of powerlessness that ignited a fierce anger within both agents.

“What? Trust me, fake-ass Doc. I know real doctors. No, no, no. You’re not a fucking real doctor! Man, you’re a fake poser, a fake-ass doctor, or you’re a fucking clown? Do you even know who the fuck you are? Or who the fuck we are?! We hunt down weird-ass, costume-wearing, motherfuckers, like your fake-ass,” Agent Davidson bellowed, futilely attempting to rise against his restraints while stealing quick glances at his partner’s watch.

Johnson #2, with rapid mental reflexes, caught Agent Davidson in the act, his curiosity now fully piqued. It was unmistakable—Johnson #2’s curiosity confirmed as he observed Agent Davidson stealing several more quick glances at his partner’s watch.

“Man, who the fuck do you think you are? You have to be out of your Goddamn mind… tying us up like this! I can’t even move… you fake-ass doctor bastard! And I can’t even feel my Goddamn fingers,” Agent Davidson declared, rage burning in his eyes, refusing to surrender to Johnson #2’s authority.

“You… you fucking tied us up real good, fake-Doc. Real tight. Yeah, you! You fucking fake trick-or-treating, Halloween, fake-ass doctor. Your ass is mine! Oh, I’m beyond love here… I’m mega-pissed! We’re going to find you, doctor, or whoever the fuck you think you are, and we’re going to put a bullet, or two, in your Goddamn head! And that’s a fucking promise, Doc. Believe it!”

Johnson #2, his fingers tracing the loaded firearm with a chilling calmness, aimed it directly at Agent Davidson.

“Now,” he said, a sinister smile playing on his lips, “why did you have to go and say some real depressing shit like that to me, the doctor? Come on, man. Can’t you both see, I’m working here. You know… that shit really, truly hurts the doctor’s feelings. Besides, I’m only here to cure the both of you because, in my professional opinion, you both are really sick now, and, you’re trying to hurt my feelings?”

“Man, look at you!” Agent Davidson said, with anger in his tone.

“You’re the one that’s fucking sick and twisted! fuck you and your fucking fake-ass doctor feelings! You’re dead… fucking dead!”

Agent Davidson spat at Johnson #2, defiance etched across his features. Johnson #2’s gaze turned frigid.

“No… the hell with you, agent man,” he retorted.

And with the swiftness of a viper, Johnson #2 aimed the firearm at Davidson’s forehead and discharged a single, lethal round, snapping his head back with brutal force. Agent Thomas, forced to witness the merciless act, felt the chill of fear grip his heart. The lifeless form of his partner cast a shadow of desperation in his eyes.

“Now, how about you, Mr. Secret Agent man? Are you a gambling man? Because, I’m really not. Tell me, are you sicker than your partner here?”

Johnson #2 taunted, redirecting the firearm toward Agent Thomas.

“Because, trust me, inside this weapon here, I have the actual cure for your sickness too. So, tell me… are you really that sick too? Come on, man… talk to me! Or so help me God, you won’t have to go to the hospital, because I’ll take care of your fucking sickness, right here, right now!”

Agent Thomas looked at Davidson’s motionless body, then at Johnson #2.

“And cut,” Agent Thomas said, as if they were filming a blockbuster movie.

Johnson #2 kept taunting, redirecting the firearm toward Agent Thomas.

“I said cut… cut!” Agent Thomas screamed.

Johnson #2 lowered his weapon.

“Sorry, Thomas, did I take it too far? Hey, man, I was just acting,” he said, walking over to untie Agent Thomas.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?”

Johnson #1 felt a pang of guilt in his racing heart.

“You said to make it look real, and that’s just what I did.”

As Agent Thomas got up off the chair, he touched the back of his head, looked at Davidson, then back at Johnson #2. He placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m good. How about you? Are you still ready to put in that work?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. So… where am I headed to, Thomas?”

“June 4th, 2063, sixty-four years from now, in the far future…”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am. I’m dead serious.”

“Are you coming?” Johnson #2 asked.

“No, you’re on your own. I’ll see you back at the apartment unit when you’re done. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything you have to do before you go,” Agent Thomas said, making it all feel like a walk in the park.

“So… let’s make this happen, Captain.”

Now, in the distant future, within an ultra-modern laboratory housed in a highly secured facility, the brilliant scientist Bob wielded his extraordinary scientific prowess to meticulously craft a groundbreaking watch. This technological marvel possessed the astounding power to traverse time, offering its wearer the unprecedented ability to journey to any point in the past or future. Beside him on the table lay Johnson #2’s cell phone, worn but intact.

While time travel remained a privilege for the elite and government agents in this advanced era, this particular watch stood as the first of its kind. Bob, accompanied by his trusted sentient robotic assistant Bennii, stood in awe next to his creation. After years of relentless effort, the watch was finally perfected. Its capabilities left both Bob and Bennii astonished, recognizing its immeasurable value—worth more than a mere fortune.

On June 4th, 2063, the highly anticipated unveiling of the watch took place at a secret auction. Shielded from the public eye, this exclusive event showcased the star of the show—the revolutionary time-travel watch. With a starting bid set at an astonishing one trillion dollars, the room hummed with the presence of wealthy and powerful individuals, all eagerly vying for the chance to possess this extraordinary device.

Among the captivating items up for sale, two remarkable pieces drew significant interest: a pocket comb with the ability to render anyone invisible for 10 seconds when run through the user’s hair, and a pair of Bausch and Lomb men’s Tortoise Eyeglasses from the 1950s vintage collection, rumored to have the power to literally explode a man’s head. The allure of these extraordinary items added to the palpable excitement in the room.

Now, as the bidding commenced, precisely at 6:40 PM, Johnson #2, dressed as a doctor wearing a black surgical mask, materialized out of thin air, appearing in the midst of the unsuspecting crowd. With lightning speed and deadly precision, Johnson #2 shot every bidder in the head and body, causing chaos to erupt in the room. The air crackled with the acrid scent of gunpowder as bodies dropped to the floor, and the symphony of screams and panicked shouts crescendoed in a cacophony of terror.

Johnson #2, a phantom of destruction, moved with an otherworldly grace, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake. The room transformed into a battlefield of pandemonium, a surreal dance of life and death orchestrated by the enigmatic figure in their midst. In the blink of an eye, the once-lively auction turned into a macabre spectacle, a theater of violence that unfolded with chilling speed and efficiency.

Johnson #2’s actions defied comprehension, each gunshot a punctuation mark in a narrative written in blood and fear. As the room descended into madness, Johnson #2 stood a harbinger of chaos, a force of nature that had disrupted the carefully laid plans of those who thought themselves completely untouchable.

The shadows clung to Johnson #2 like loyal allies, and his eyes, gleaming with an unsettling resolve, surveyed the havoc he had wrought. The auction, once a symbol of opulence, now bore witness to the ruthless intrusion of two malevolent forces, leaving behind a tableau of twisted bodies and shattered illusions.

Bob, entering the scene, witnessed Johnson #2 ruthless assault on the bidders. Frozen with fear and shock, he watched the horrifying spectacle unfold before him. Johnson #2 moved with an eerie calmness, a phantom in the chaos, as he seized the coveted watch, the mysterious comb, the glasses, and two briefcases filled with unimaginable wealth. The glint of malevolence in Johnson #2 sent shivers down Bob’s spine, rendering him powerless in the face of this nightmarish intrusion.

The air crackled with tension as the enigmatic figure of Johnson #2 loomed over the spoils of his ruthless conquest. In that moment, the boundaries between predator and prey blurred, and Bob found himself an unwilling witness to a surreal heist orchestrated by a force beyond his understanding.

As Johnson #2 was about to make his exit, leaving behind a scene of mayhem and despair, Bob grappled with the haunting images etched into his memory—the ruthless efficiency, the calculated violence, and the inexplicable aura of the enigmatic figure who had plunged their world into darkness.

Fixing his gaze on Bob, Johnson #2 warned, “Don’t you fucking move,” pointing his firearm menacingly.

“Look… I don’t know who you think you are or how you even got in here, but walking out with all that won’t be as easy as you think. They will find you, and when they do, they will eliminate you and everyone you know, everyone,” Bob declared, his voice unwavering, filled with conviction.

“If I wasn’t in such a hurry, I’d kill your dumb ass,” Johnson #2 said, striding up to Bob. He snatched the baseball cap off Bob’s head and gave him a hard shove, sending Bob stumbling back a few steps.

“Listen, you pretender,” Bob warned grimly, understanding the severity of the situation, yet compelled to deceive him, “don’t be foolish. Everything you attempt to take out of here has RFID tags. They’ll hunt you down like a stray dog. Push your luck… you’re only aiding them in pinpointing your sorry self.”

“Good… I’ll be ready for them,” Johnson #2 declared, swiftly extracting the flash drive from the host’s laptop and slipping it into his lab coat pocket.

The room crackled with tension, the air heavy with imminent conflict.

More than confusion clouded Bob’s face as he demanded, “Tell me… why are you doing all of this?”

Johnson #2’s retort cut through the charged atmosphere, “Because… because I can!”

His voice boomed, the pressure of the firearm against Bob’s forehead intensifying. The exchange carried the weight of an impending tempest, a clash between two forces hurtling towards an inevitable collision.

“They’ll track your sorry ass down and they’ll kill you… for real, man. You don’t want to go through with this. Just walk away now, before it’s too late,” Bob pleaded, emphasizing the grave consequences of Johnson #2’s actions.

“Too late for what, huh?” Johnson #2 shot back, delivering a brutal smack across Bob’s face.

The sound of the blow reverberated in the room, a harbinger of the chaos to come. The echo of the powerful strike lingered in the room, a prelude to the chaos about to unfold. Sporting the baseball cap, Johnson #2 exited the room, absconding with the watch, the pocket comb, the glasses, the flash drive, and the briefcases brimming with unknown wealth.

The atmosphere crackled with suspense as Bob swiftly drew a firearm from his ankle holster, cocking it back, and charged after Johnson #2. However, as Bob burst out of the room, he confronted the harsh reality—Johnson #2, along with the pilfered items, had vanished into thin air.

The abrupt disappearance left Bob truly bewildered and enraged, his voice echoing through the empty space, “What the… where the hell did he go?! God, damn it!”

The air hung heavy with the aftermath of a supernatural heist, and Bob stood alone in the chaos, grappling with the mysterious forces that had disrupted his world.

In an instant, Agents Thomas and Davidson, stationed in a secure section of the building, received an urgent call about Johnson #2’s rampage. The revelation triggered a swift response, and they were immediately deployed to apprehend the rogue intruder. Agent Thomas swiftly checked his watch, manipulating a series of buttons until a red dot illuminated the screen.

“Ready to nab this guy?” he asked, eyes shifting between his watch and his partner.

“You know his location?” inquired Agent Davidson, determination gleaming in his eyes.

“Yeah. I’ve got his exact location,” Agent Thomas replied with unwavering confidence, fingers deftly working over his watch’s controls.

“Alright then. Let’s move in and take him down,” declared Agent Davidson, poised for action.

“There are RFID tags embedded in the flash drive and the baseball cap he stole from Bob. We’ve got him tracked,” Agent Thomas assured, his focus razor-sharp.

“Let’s ensure he doesn’t slip away,” Davidson added, matching his partner’s resolve.

“Let’s go.”

With a final sequence of button presses on Agent Thomas’s watch and a firm grip on Agent Davidson’s shoulder, the agents vanished into thin air. Their mission: to locate Johnson #2 and ensure he faced justice for his audacious deeds.

Now, within the confines of Xara’s upscale condo, Johnson #1 found himself seated behind a sleek, modern desk, diving into the digital treasure trove stored on the flash drive. As he navigated through the files, Johnson #1’s initial disbelief morphed into a potent mix of awe and urgency.

The contents were nothing short of astounding—intricate blueprints outlining the construction of the groundbreaking watch, coupled with a comprehensive manual detailing the intricate process of activating its unparalleled time-travel capabilities.

To Johnson #1’s astonishment, an unexpected addition awaited him on the flash drive—an enigmatic file meticulously curated by the audacious doctor, slash Johnson #2 himself. This hidden gem held a carefully crafted map, a portal to the clandestine sanctum where the coveted watch lay dormant.

The gravity of the revelation fueled Johnson #1’s determination. His mind, now swirling with possibilities and perils, raced to grasp the magnitude of the information at his fingertips. A decisive resolve crystallized within him—he would seize control of destiny, wresting the reins from the hands of fate.

With unwavering determination, Johnson #1 meticulously combed through each file, his gaze fixed on the screen as though unraveling the mysteries of the cosmos. With each document, his comprehension deepened until he felt intimately connected to the profound knowledge woven into the digital maze. Realizing the critical importance of this revelation, Johnson #1 swiftly formulated his next move.

With a whirlwind of efficiency, Johnson #1 translated the ethereal contents of the flash drive into tangible reality. Every blueprint, every line of code, and every nugget of insight were meticulously transcribed onto physical paper. The instruction manual and the coveted map, now materialized in a flurry of printer pages, were methodically stowed away in Johnson #1’s backpack.

Time, the elusive currency he sought to master, now became his ally. Armed with this meticulously printed arsenal of knowledge, Johnson #1 embarked on a journey into the unknown. The watch, a beacon of temporal power, awaited his arrival, and he was ready to assert his place in the ever-shifting sands of destiny.

Under the veil of night, a canvas washed in muted hues with sporadic passing cars, Johnson #1 surged forward with a resolve that resonated in every stride. The air hummed with anticipation as he unfurled the map, a cryptic guide pulsing with the promise of discovery. Boldly marked with an ‘X’, it pinpointed the clandestine destination—a building looming sentinel-like just blocks away from his girlfriend’s sanctuary.

The allure of curiosity proved irresistible, and Johnson #1 willingly succumbed. Armed with the map, his journey through the urban maze became a dance between shadows and enlightenment. Streets and alleys blurred into a backdrop as he chased the secrets whispered by the inked ‘X’.

The designated building, an ancient monolith echoing tales of bygone eras, materialized before him. The ‘X’ etched onto its entrance door, a symbol of clandestine significance, seemed to bleed through reality’s layers, challenging Johnson #1 to unlock the mysteries within. A black Sharpie marker had birthed it, an emblem of enigma.

Unfazed by the obstacle of a locked door, the map held the literal key. Johnson #1, a contemporary explorer driven by the thrill of discovery, uncovered a set of keys cunningly hidden. With a metallic symphony, he conducted the unlocking ritual, the tumblers surrendering to his resolve. The entrance groaned open, inviting him into the depths of the unfamiliar.

Each footfall reverberated through the silent corridor, heralding the revelations that awaited in the building’s hidden chambers. Deep within its confines, Johnson #1’s heart raced in sync with the staccato rhythm of his steps. The map, now an animated guide, pinpointed a second ‘X’—a clandestine glyph marking a specific apartment unit.

Each stride propelled him closer to the epicenter of discovery. The door stood before him like a portal to the unknown, adorned with yet another ‘X’—a covert symbol etched in mystery. Undeterred, Johnson #1 wielded the keys as instruments of ingress, their metallic harmony resonating through the hushed hallway. With a creak, the door yielded, swinging open to reveal the enigma concealed within.

A surge of adrenaline surged through Johnson #1 as he crossed the threshold. The air crackled with potential, and the apartment unfolded before him like a treasure trove awaiting revelation. Securing the door behind him, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for the journey ahead. Each breath whispered of secrets yet to be uncovered, and the room seemed to pulse with anticipation, urging him onward.

In the heart of the vacant apartment unit, Johnson #1’s initial disappointment morphed into a fervent determination. The map, his guiding light through this labyrinthine puzzle, hinted at untold truths yet to be unveiled. His focus honed on another ‘X’, discreetly etched into the living room wall. With cautious steps, the air thickened with anticipation.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Johnson #1, driven by an unrelenting curiosity, uncovered a concealed panel. A marvel of technology, invisible until summoned by proximity. The panel, a mystical sentinel, teased with a soft luminescence, inviting him to decipher its enigmas. Drawn by an unseen force, Johnson #1 pressed his hand against it, igniting a dance of illumination. The gentle blue glow unveiled a keypad, a gateway to the unknown, demanding a numerical code.

With the resolve of a warrior, Johnson #1 consulted the map, his cipher to unlock the arcane. The digits beside the ‘X’ served as his key, guiding him to the threshold of this clandestine sanctuary.

Fingers moved swiftly across the keypad, entering the code with unwavering precision—a symphony of determination in the silent room. Then, with a breathless exhale, the wall yielded. It acquiesced to his command, parting with a whisper, revealing a hidden chamber pulsing with the echoes of long-guarded secrets.

The room beckoned, and Johnson #1, poised on the brink of revelation, steeled himself for the wonders and perils that awaited within. With a surge of adrenaline, Johnson #1 stepped into the clandestine chamber.

The room, bathed in an ethereal glow, immediately captivated his senses. Johnson #1’s eyes widened as they fixated on the centerpiece—an elegant digital wristwatch, resting regally on a velvet-lined pedestal. Above, a celestial spotlight cast a reverent glow, as if the room itself recognized the sacred artifact it cradled.

Approaching the watch, Johnson #1 felt his heart quicken. Its appearance seemed deceptively simple—a mere digital timepiece. Doubts crept into his mind, questioning the extravagant claims of the activation manual. Could this unassuming watch truly possess the power to manipulate time? The enormity of the situation threatened to overwhelm him.

In the silence thick with secrets, the room held only this unassuming timepiece. Johnson #1, grappling with the inconceivable, sifted through the layers of information gleaned from the flash drive provided by the enigmatic homeless man. The line between skepticism and awe blurred, teetering on the edge of disbelief.

Yet, amidst doubt, a revelation struck Johnson like a thunderclap. The watch before him held the potential to rewrite the very fabric of existence. The implications of its power, once dismissed as fantasy, now loomed tantalizingly real. For a fleeting moment, Johnson #1 wrestled with the incredulity of it all. Could a mere mortal wield such a profound artifact? But in the next breath, doubt surrendered to unwavering conviction.

Grasping the watch with hands both reverent and resolute, Johnson #1 felt the pulse of destiny coursing through its seemingly ordinary exterior. In that hallowed space, he embraced the weight of the extraordinary. This unassuming watch, now cradled in his hands, became a vessel for the impossible—a key to realms untouched by mortal hands.

Johnson #1, having secured the secret room, sat in the now-empty living room, enveloped by a hallowed silence that mirrored the weight of the moment. The watch’s unassuming exterior masked its extraordinary potential, resting on his palm like a talisman of destiny. The enigmatic artifact, once hidden away in the chamber, was now his to fathom and wield.

As Johnson #1 contemplated the watch, a beacon of temporal power, he shifted his attention to the backpack beside him. With meticulous care, he unzipped it, revealing the tangible manifestations of the incredible journey that had led him here. From the depths of the backpack emerged a printed-out manual—a cipher to unlock the mysteries of time—joining the watch on his lap.

The room, devoid of furniture and distractions, became a sanctum for revelation. Johnson #1, a mere mortal entrusted with the custody of the extraordinary, immersed himself in the intricate details laid out in the manual. Page by page, he navigated the complexities of activating the watch, committing each nuance to memory.

As Johnson #1’s eyes traversed the manual’s pages, he marveled at the sophistication woven into the fabric of the wristwatch. The technology surpassed comprehension, captivating him with the genius encoded within its seemingly simple facade. The watch, an unassuming digital timepiece, now held the clandestine power to rupture the boundaries of time itself.

In the solitude of the living room, Johnson’s mind absorbed the magnitude of his discovery. The watch, humble in appearance yet profound in potential, was a portal to the temporal unknown. With each passing moment of study, the ordinary transformed into the extraordinary, and Johnson #1 realized he stood at the crossroads of history, holding the key to rewrite its narrative.

Delving into the activation manual, Johnson #1 found the words dancing before his eyes, each read amplifying the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The manual became an arcane scripture, and with every repetition, its contents etched themselves into the core of his being. Hours passed in an intense communion with the manual, transforming Johnson #1 into a maestro of temporal manipulation.

The room crackled with energy as Johnson #1, now a savant of time-bending knowledge, felt an irresistible urge to seize the moment. The printed manual, a road map to the extraordinary, found its way back into the backpack, a mere prelude to the spectacle about to unfold.

In the charged silence, Johnson #1 lifted the watch, a vessel of temporal might, off his lap. The moment hung in the air, pregnant with anticipation. This was the culmination of his journey, the instant where belief met real action. Confidence radiated from Johnson #1 as he fastened the watch onto his wrist. It was more than an accessory; it was a conduit to the uncharted realms of time.

With the precision of a seasoned pilot readying for liftoff, Johnson #1 sensed he stood on the brink of a transcendental experience. In the quiet expanse of the room, he stood resolute. The watch, now an extension of his very being, beckoned him to unleash its dormant power. Like a virtuoso tuning an instrument, Johnson #1, armed with intricate knowledge of the activation process, embarked on the exhilarating journey of activating and operating the watch.

The air pulsated with energy, and the room seemed to tremble in anticipation. The watch, an unassuming companion moments ago, now thrummed with latent power. With unwavering determination, Johnson #1, the maestro of time, was ready to conduct a symphony that defied the boundaries of the temporal continuum. The stage was set for a performance that would echo across the corridors of history.

Yet, amid the charged atmosphere, Johnson #1 glanced around the empty apartment unit and felt a deep sense of emptiness. The enduring silence prompted his thoughts to crave a livelier environment, a different atmosphere, and a new location. However, the knowledge that he possessed the most advanced piece of technology, with capabilities surpassing anything in existence, anchored him in a mysteriously captivating spell.

It wasn’t mere greed; it was a profound curiosity that overshadowed his natural instincts of gratitude, responsibility, consequences, and genuine love. In this moment, Johnson #1 found himself entranced by the allure of the watch, its power clouding his judgment and erasing his natural memories.

Caught in the grip of this powerful spell, Johnson #1 remained oblivious to the profound changes unfolding within him—physically, psychologically, and emotionally—throughout his journey. Devoid of his natural instincts of gratitude, responsibility, consequences, and genuine love, he failed to perceive the stagnation that had overtaken his thoughts and existence.

His gaze lingered on the silent emptiness surrounding him. Yet, gradually, the very spell that had ensnared Johnson #1 began to fracture. His previously clouded mind, suspended in a state of mental inertia, suddenly sparked with clarity. In an instant, Johnson #1’s eyes and entire being snapped back to life. A glance at his wrist, at the reflection on the watch, ignited a renewed sense of purpose within him.

Little did Johnson #1 realize, from this pivotal moment onward, there would be no retreat. Regardless of his beliefs or doubts, they became inconsequential the moment he inputted the date, time, and year he wished to travel to. The air crackled with anticipation as Johnson #1 stood on the precipice of time, the world around him throbbing with an unearthly energy.

In a heartbeat, reality itself seemed to twist and distort. With an overwhelming surge of intensity, Johnson #1 vanished into thin air. The transition was breathtaking. Colors swirled around him in a vortex, and the fabric of time stretched and contorted. It was an electrifying yet disorienting sensation, as though Johnson #1 had plunged into the turbulent currents of time itself.

And then, as swiftly as the transition began, Johnson #1 found himself standing on the sidewalk of a bustling street, but the landscape was radically different. The air was charged with the vivacity of an era long past, and the distant sounds of vintage cars and lively chatter filled the atmosphere. Johnson #1 had successfully traversed forty years into the past, and the world around him bore witness to the temporal leap.

As he took in the sights and sounds of this bygone era, a realization dawned upon Johnson #1—he had become a time traveler, a wanderer in the corridors of history. The weight of the unknown pressed upon him, and the choices he made in this temporal realm would surely echo across the fabric of time itself. The journey had just begun, and the thrilling uncertainty of what lay ahead gripped Johnson #1’s very soul.

In disbelief, Johnson #1’s eyes darted around the bustling streets filled with vintage cars and outdated technology. The vivid tableau of a bygone era unfolded before him, and the sheer intensity of the temporal shift sent a jolt through his entire being. The vibrant events happening around him demanded his attention, and the abrupt change in environment made him jump back slightly, as if he had stepped onto the stage of a living, breathing history.

As several people passed by, immersed in the rhythm of a late 50’s scene, Johnson #1 couldn’t suppress a wide smile. The authenticity of the era was undeniable, confirming that he had indeed successfully traveled back to the year 1959. It was a surreal spectacle, and Johnson #1, caught between awe and exhilaration, felt the palpable energy of a time long past coursing through the air.

For a fleeting moment, Johnson #1’s wild imagination entertained the notion that this might be a dream, a figment of his overactive mind. However, as the sights and sounds of 1959 enveloped him, the realization struck with unyielding certainty—he wasn’t dreaming. The fabric of time had responded to his command, and he now stood in an era he had only read about in history books.

To dispel any lingering doubt, Johnson #1 approached the first person he encountered walking towards him, an old man with a newspaper tucked under his arm. The streets echoed with the lively chatter of an era he had only known through stories, and the air was charged with the excitement of the unknown. With each step, Johnson #1 embraced the intensity of his newfound reality, ready to unravel the mysteries of the past that lay before him.

“Excuse me, can I ask you a question?” Johnson #1 said to the old man, who stopped walking and looked up at him.

Locking eyes, Johnson #1 continued, “Do you mind if I look at your newspaper for a second? I left mine on the seat of the train. Man, I’ll lose my head if it was not attached.”

The old man grinned, pulled out the newspaper, and handed it over to Johnson #1.

“Sure, why not, son. I’m always losing things myself. So, I understand,” the old man replied, nodding his head.

Johnson #1 unfolded the newspaper and quickly looked at the date.

“It’s 1959?!” he asked the old man.

“Yeah, July 13, 1959,” the old man confirmed.

Johnson #1 looked at the newspaper once more and locked eyes with the old man again.

“Quick, who’s the President of the United States?” Johnson #1 asked, eager to validate the authenticity of the time period.

The old man, perhaps thinking Johnson #1 was intoxicated or playing some kind of joke, decided to play along.

“President Dwight D. Eisenhower,” he replied, knowing that was the answer Johnson #1 was seeking.

Johnson #1 handed the newspaper back to the old man, and quickly stepping out of his way.

“Thank you so much. Have a nice day,” Johnson #1 said politely.

“You have a nice day also,” the old man replied, turning and walking away.

Johnson #1, his expression resolute, took a brief moment to absorb the sights and sounds of the past. However, when he spotted Agent Thomas, disguised as a police officer, approaching him, a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. As Agent Thomas walked past, noticing Johnson #1’s unfamiliar attire, Johnson #1 momentarily froze.

Unperturbed, Agent Thomas inquired, “Is everything alright there, pal?”

“Absolutely, officer,” Johnson #1 replied smoothly, exuding a magnetic confidence with every word.

“Everything is peachy, man.”

His warm, inviting smile seemed to carry an intensity, a secret knowledge that only he held. Agent Thomas smiled, seemingly satisfied but still curious, nodded.

“Alright, then. You take care, and remember, go back to the one you truly love, Mr. Peachy man,” he said with a knowing grin.

Agent Thomas walked away, the atmosphere crackled with an electrifying energy, as if Johnson #1’s journey through time had imbued him with an aura of undeniable intrigue. The encounter lingered in the air, leaving behind a trail of suspense and untold adventures waiting to unfold.

As Agent Thomas kept walking forward, he turned his head and looked at Johnson #1. Johnson #1, with a confused smile on his face, nodded at Agent Thomas. Agent Thomas nodded back, smiled, and kept on walking. Johnson #1 looked down at his watch, as if checking the time, but he had a different plan in mind. He was ready to do something extraordinary, something like a Harry Houdini in public.

When he thought the moment was right, he entered the date, time, and year he wanted to travel to on his watch. Instantly, the world around Johnson #1 dissolved into a blur of colors as he vanished into thin air, reappearing in the living room of the empty apartment unit, forty years ahead in the future.

Now, in the aftermath, consumed by thoughts of the love of his life, Johnson #1 exploded into Xara’s condo like a tempest, each stride echoing the furious cadence of his pounding heart. The backpack collided with the living room table, the impact a thunderous prelude to the storm gathering within him. With a visceral thud, it heralded the impending chaos.

His descent onto the couch was a collision of emotions, a cacophony of love, fear, and urgency. The air thickened with anticipation, the calm before the impending tempest. Yet, tranquility was a relic of the past, shattered by the insistent and ominous ring of the phone, its shrill tones cutting through the charged atmosphere like a knife. The phone, a harbinger of chaos, shattered the stillness. Johnson #1, a warrior in the silent battleground, seized the lifeline, the metallic voice slicing through the air.

“Hello,” Johnson #1 answered, the single word laden with the weight of the unknown.

A pregnant pause, the silence a canvas waiting to be painted with dread. Then, like an explosive thunderclap, Johnson #3’s voice erupted, a tempest of true madness tearing through the phone.

“Do you know who the fuck I am?!” Johnson #3’s roar reverberated through Johnson #1’s curious core, an unwelcome symphony of chaos.

Johnson #1, phone in hand, stared into the abyss of uncertainty. His grip tightened, knuckles turning white. There was a familiarity in the voice, a haunting echo from the past, but recognition remained simply elusive.

“Who the hell is this?!” Johnson #1 demanded, his voice a rising tide of defiance.

“Hey, how the hell did you get this number, man?!”

Johnson #3’s sick, twisted, and demonic laughter, a malevolent crescendo, broke the silence with a jarring, demonic rhythm. The air crackled with tension, Johnson #1’s composure teetering on the edge.

“I’m coming over to you right now, motherfucker!” Johnson #3’s declaration, a promise of impending doom, resonated like a sinister drumbeat.

“Man, who the hell are you?!” Johnson #1’s voice, now a defiant roar, cut through the chaos.

“I’m coming over, and I'm going to fucking kill you! You hear me?!” Johnson #3 threats, a venomous litany, echoed with a relentless conviction.

Johnson #1’s heart pounded, but his spirit remained unbroken.

“Look, you crazy bastard, whoever the hell you are, I’ll be waiting for you!” Johnson #1’s defiant proclamation, a beacon of resistance in the encroaching darkness.

Without a second thought, Johnson #1 slammed the phone down, the metallic clang marking the commencement of a battle for survival. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he bolted towards Xara’s father’s inner sanctum, the door bursting open in a burst of urgency.

The bedside table yielded the arsenal of Johnson #1’s defense–a firearm and two loaded magazines. The metallic click as he armed himself resonated, a solemn oath sworn in the face of impending peril.

Back in the living room, behind the desk, shaken up, but also real calm, Johnson #1 assumed his position, a fake-ass, non-battle-tested, lone sentinel armed and ready for the storm’s inevitable onslaught. The minutes stretched like eternity, each tick of the clock a thunderous drumbeat. With nerves wound tight, Johnson #1 braved the ominous silence, the loaded firearm still in his tight grip an emblem of unwavering resolve.

Fear clawed at the edges of his consciousness, but Johnson #1, resolute, held fast against the encroaching darkness. Johnson #1’s nerves stretched towards their limit. He strained to listen for any signs of the intruder, but all he could hear was the rapid, fast pounding of his own heart, being jockeyed by the strenuous situation at hand.

The next day, early in the morning, Johnson #1 woke up. He had slept sitting down on the chair, still holding the loaded firearm in his hand. The once agonizing silence around him had transformed into a smooth, peaceful moment. However, Johnson #1 was determined not to let his guard down. He remained armed and ready, prepared to do whatever it took to ensure his safety.

Now, with the firearm in one hand and the remote control in the other, Johnson #1 sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. He scrolled through the channels, seemingly uninterested in anything specific. Slowly, slowly, his eyes started to close, and soon his tired thumb fell asleep along with him.

Just as Johnson #1’s eyes were about to completely shut, he heard a slight noise coming from behind him. Startled, he jumped up, his exhausted mind playing tricks on him. Convinced of his safe surroundings, he resumed scrolling through the TV channels. However, the effects of exhaustion were evident as his eyes once again began to slowly, slowly, slowly close, and he drifted back to sleep. As Johnson #1 fell asleep, an episode of The Twilight Zone played on the TV. The episode was titled “The Last Flight.”

As Johnson #1 woke up, he looked up at the TV and saw a commercial for The Nationwide Lottery game. Curious, he turned up the volume and placed the firearm on his lap. At the end of the commercial, Johnson #1 was struck with a great idea, or so he thought it was, at the time. Johnson #1 turned off the TV and pondered for a slight moment. With the advanced technology on his wrist, he realized he could make a lot of money.

But, of course, you guessed it. Johnson #1’s plan was simple: he would travel several days into the future, retrieve the winning lottery numbers before they were announced, and come back to his timeline. He had a strong sense of determination and believed it would be an easy mission. At least… that’s what he thought it would be.

When Johnson #1 felt prepared, he got up from the couch, and he discreetly tucked the firearm under one of the cushions. Taking a moment to think, Johnson #1 glanced at the watch on his wrist. When he felt the timing was right, he entered the desired date, time, and year on his watch. In an instant, the world around Johnson #1 dissolved into a whirl of colors, and he vanished into thin air, only to reappear on the sidewalk of a bustling street three days into the future.

Now, after Johnson #1 vanished into thin air, seconds later, the doctor, slash Johnson #3, materialized out of nowhere inside the living room. It was so instantaneous that even a real ghost would have taken a step back. Without wasting any time, Johnson #3 walked over to the desk and opened up the laptop. He searched for the files that Johnson #1 had downloaded off the flash drive given to him by the homeless man. When Johnson #3 found the files he was looking for, without any hesitation, he quickly deleted every single one of them.

Afterwards, in quite of a bit of an unnatural hurry, Johnson #3 searched the entire place until he found Johnson #1’s backpack. He opened the backpack and pulled out all of the printed-out pages pertaining to the wristwatch and the map, which led Johnson #1 straight to the location of the secret hidden room. Once Johnson #3 was satisfied, he zipped up the backpack and put it back where he found it.

With all of the printed-out pages now in Johnson #3’s possession, he took a moment to think. He walked over to the couch, pulled up the cushion, grabbed Johnson #1’s firearm from under it, and then uncocked the weapon, then he put the weapon in safety mode, so as it won’t fire. He didn’t want to make any mistakes, so he swiped Johnson #1’s remote control off the couch and slipped it into the outside pocket of his lab coat, as if it was all a part of finally ending his conquered mission.

With calculated perfection, Johnson #3 breezed through the completion of his mission, yet it would not be his last. Johnson #3 was definitely on a questionable mission, and the million-dollar question was why? Why was Johnson #3 so helplessly determined to change every single thing around him with precise detail?

One would think that this interesting, ultra-unique, weird-ass Johnson #3 would use the watch for way more profitable reasons, but it just seemed as if Johnson #3 wasn’t interested at all in letting any kind of real greed interfere with what mattered to him the most. And at the moment, it surely wasn’t money. But… why? And, if Johnson #3 wasn’t doing all that he was doing with conviction for money, then what in the world was he doing it all for? And right there lies the unsolvable mystery of the million-dollar question.

Without wasting any more time and without giving it a second thought, Johnson #3 glanced at the watch on his wrist. When he felt the timing was right, he entered the desired date, time, and year on his watch. In an instant, the world around Johnson #3 dissolved into a whirl of colors, and he vanished into thin air.

Now, with Johnson #1 three days ahead into the future, he thought for a moment on how he was going to get his hands on the winning lottery numbers from the day before. As Johnson #1 walked around, he kept his head down and decided not to make eye contact with anyone passing by.

Suddenly, a huge rat jumped out of a garbage can in front of him, startling both Johnson #1 and his spirit. The rat quickly scurried away, more frightened of Johnson #1 than he was of it. It took a moment for Johnson #1 to compose himself, as there was nothing he hated and feared more than rats.

The thought alone momentarily made him forget why he was there in the first place. Then it all came rushing back to him, like an avalanche, as he looked down into the garbage can and saw a newspaper. Not just any newspaper, but yesterdays newspaper.

Johnson #1 quickly grabbed the food-stained newspaper and opened it up, turning the pages one by one until he found the section that contained the winning lottery numbers he needed. He ripped out the section of the newspaper with the winning numbers, putting it in his pocket, and threw the rest of the newspaper back into the garbage can.

He walked away with a slight greedy grin on his face. When he thought the moment was right, he entered the date, time, and year he wanted to travel to on his watch. Instantly, the world around Johnson #1 dissolved into a blur of colors as he vanished into thin air, reappearing back in the living room of his girlfriend’s condo.

Johnson #1 stood in the familiar living room of his girlfriend’s condo, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He had successfully traveled to the future and obtained the winning lottery numbers. Now, all he needed was to carefully plan his next moves. So, Johnson #1 reached into his pocket and pulled out the dirty ripped-out section of the newspaper that held the coveted numbers.

He studied them intently, memorizing each digit, determined not to let his guard down. This was his chance to change his life, to secure a future of financial freedom. With a sense of purpose, Johnson #1 put the newspaper section back in his pocket and made his way to the kitchen. He needed a pen and paper to write down the numbers, ensuring he wouldn’t forget them.

As he rummaged through the drawers, a sudden thought struck him. Johnson #1 had until tomorrow, in the daytime, to play the lottery numbers, so that in the nighttime, when the drawing of the National Lottery game was shown on TV throughout the nation, the numbers he played would surely be drawn and revealed to the entire world, making him an instant multi-millionaire… overnight.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Johnson #1 found a pen and paper and meticulously wrote down the winning lottery numbers. He folded the paper and placed it securely in his pocket, close to his heart. This was his ticket to a better future, a chance to rewrite his destiny.

As Johnson #1 walked back to the living room, Johnson #1 couldn’t shake the true feeling that time was actually running out. But, as long as he was in possession of the watch… it wasn’t. Instead, he had all the time in the world to do… everything he ever desired to do. But, what would Johnson #1 truly do? What would you do? Think… think about it.

Because, all Johnson #1 just had to do was mentally act quickly and decisively. The watch on his wrist always seemed to pulsate with a subtle energy, reminding him of the power he truly possessed. It was as if, once Johnson #1 put on the wristwatch, he became somebody else. Time was irrelevant to him as long as he possessed the watch.

Whether he knew it or not, by now, greed had completely blinded Johnson #1 from his natural instincts of gratitude, responsibility, consequences, and real, true love. He should’ve stopped the minute he obtained the winning lottery numbers from the future and brought them back before they were even announced. But, when he saw the true capabilities of the watch, guided and blinded by real unadulterated greed, Johnson #1 believed that winning the lottery was just not enough for him.

Tell me? Was it actual, real, true greed that controlled Johnson #1’s actions, like a marionette doll, or was it his deep-rooted belief in the ability to actually traverse time, that was jockeying around his body, mind, spirit, as well as his non-battle-tested soul, at will?

Whatever the real reason, it just didn’t matter, at all. For it just added to the spell he was already up under, carelessly making him think he could play with time without any consequences. Eventually, chasing greed through time, was what pulled the strings, making all the moves and decisions for him.

Johnson #1, believing that nothing can possibly stop him now, glanced at the watch, reaffirming his greedy determination to make the most of this opportunity. Taking a few deep breaths, Johnson #1 entered the desired date, time, and year on his watch. In an instant, the world around Johnson #1 dissolved into a whirlwind of colors, and he vanished once again, diving deeper into the rabbit hole, unprepared for the challenges and uncertainties that truly awaited him.

Once again, like before, Johnson #1 looked around at the bustling streets filled with old cars and outdated technology. His eyes focused on the lively events happening before him, but the sudden shock of the change in environment, which once made him jump back slightly, completely vanished. Like before, as several people passed by without acknowledging him, Johnson #1 couldn’t help but smile.

The clothes they wore had a late 50’s look, confirming that he had indeed traveled back to the year 1959. For a moment, Johnson #1 waited and waited until once again and like before, he spotted the old man walking towards him with a newspaper tucked under his arm.

“Excuse me… excuse me. Do you remember me?” Johnson #1 asked the old man, who stopped walking and looked up at him.

Locking eyes, Johnson #1 continued, “Remember, you let me see your newspaper because I had left mine on the seat of the train. Do you remember now?”

The old man grinned.

“Sure, of course I remember. You said that you would probably lose your head if it wasn’t attached. Hey, your pretty fast, man. What did you do? Did you just run around the entire block, just to walk up to me again, and ask me, if I remember you?” the old man replied, nodding his head.

“Man, of course I remember you. I just talked to you, not one minute ago. Remember? So, how are you doing? It’s pretty good to see you… again.”

Johnson #1’s smile widened as the memories flooded back. The encounter with the old man was just as he had remembered it. The familiarity of the situation brought a sense of comfort a midst the uncertainty of his time-traveling journey.

“Well, it’s good to see you… again,” Johnson #1 said with a chuckle, relieved that the old man remembered their previous interaction.

“I hope I didn’t cause you any bother.”

The old man waved his hand dismissively.

“Nah, it was no trouble at all. Just glad to help someone in need. So, what brings you back… back to me? Back to this point?”

Johnson #1 hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal.

“Well, lets just say I have some business to take care of.”

The old man raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Business, huh? Well, if there’s anything I can do to assist you, just let me know.”

Johnson #1 nodded appreciatively.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. I might need your help finding some specific information. You see, I’m looking for something… something very, very important.”

The old man’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Very important, you say? Well, you’ve piqued my interest. What exactly are you searching for? And, what’s so very important about it?”

Johnson #1 put his hand on top of the old man’s shoulder.

“Have you ever heard of The Preakness Stakes thoroughbred horse race?” Johnson #1 asked.

The old man raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Yes, of course. Who hasn’t. The Preakness Stakes is an American thoroughbred horse race held annually on the third Saturday in July at Pimlico Race Course in Long Island.”

Johnson #1 was glad that the old man knew about the race.

“Do you know when is the next race going to take place?” he asked, hoping the old man knew the answer to his question.

The old man nodded, with a smile on his face that grew larger as he continued to nod his head.

“Sure. Of course, I know. Everybody knows. The Preakness Stakes thoroughbred horse race is in two days. It’s this Saturday. Two days from today,” the old man replied.

Johnson #1’s mind raced with possibilities. He had stumbled upon the perfect opportunity to make a fortune. However, he felt he needed the old man’s help to turn his plan into reality.

“Man, if I knew the name of the horse and who the horse is being jockeyed by, before the race begins, I can win like over $100,000 easily,” the old man revealed.

The old man looked at Johnson #1, his curiosity piqued.

“Like I said, I would put all of the money I have saved up on the race.”

Johnson #1 knew that the old man could help him, but he also knew that he had to offer something in return.

“Look, I not only know the name of the horse but who the horse will be jockeyed by. Now, you said the race is in two days. Maybe, you and I can do this together,” Johnson #1 proposed with a convincing look on his face.

The old man had heard many things in his life, but he never heard anything like this.

“Man, if you actually give me all the information I need to win, whatever I win, I will give you half of it,” the old man said.

Johnson #1 raised his hand.

“So, do we have a deal? I give you the information you need to win, and when you win, you and I split the money, half-and-half. Do we have a deal, old man?”

The old man looked at Johnson #1 for a moment, and then he nodded his head.

“Are you serious?” the old man asked.

“Of course, I am. I’m very serious,” Johnson #1 replied.

The old man, without a second thought, shook Johnson #1’s hand.

“Then, you and I got a deal,” the old man said, as he shook Johnson #1’s hand again.

Johnson #1 nodded his head and smiled at the old man.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” Johnson #1 said, not knowing where all of this unnecessary greed was going to take the both of them, especially him.

“Look, is there a place that we could talk privately?” Johnson #1 asked, wanting to discuss their plan discreetly.

The old man thought for a second.

“I live across the street. We can talk privately in my place,” he suggested.

Johnson #1 nodded his head.

“Okay, let’s go to your place to talk,” he agreed.

“Okay, let’s go,” the old man said.

Johnson #1 and the old man walked together, crossing the street and entering an apartment building.

As they stepped inside the old man’s apartment, the smell of coffee greeted them. Johnson #1 couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted by the comforting aroma. They both went into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table. Compared to the time Johnson #1 had traveled from, the old man’s kitchen was outdated but well-maintained for the year 1959.

“I like your apartment. Looks like you keep it nice and clean,” Johnson #1 complimented.

“Oh, it’s just nothing but, smoke and mirrors. I just moved in not too long ago. As you can see, everything in this apartment is brand new, except me,” the old man said with a warm grin.

“My friends call me Old Man. What’s your name, pal?”

“My name is Johnson… Johnson Alexander,” Johnson #1 replied.

“Alexander… what a beautiful, enchanting last name. And, what a coincidence. For my late wife’s name happens to be, Alexandra. Yes. I loved her… so much, with all my heart. Man, I truly hope… you’re in real, true love with someone who really, truly loves you. For, there’s nothing quite like it. Is there, Johnson? Well, Johnson Alexander, it’s really a pleasure meeting you. Would you like some coffee?” the old man offered.

“Yes, thank you,” Johnson #1 said, his mind wandering to the love of his life, Xara.

“Give me a minute,” the old man said, rising from the chair and strolling over to the stove.

The old man filled up two cups with coffee, took a sip, and returned to the kitchen table. Handing Johnson #1 a cup of coffee, he sat back down, and as they both sipped their coffee, they continued their discussion.

“So, how are we going to make this happen, Captain?” the old man asked.

“Simple. You said the race is in two days, two days from now. Tomorrow, I will give you all the information that you will need to make sure that the horse you bet on the following day will, for sure, win the race,” Johnson #1 explained confidently.

“But, Johnson, tell me, how can you be so sure that the information you give me tomorrow… is even valid?” the old man asked skeptically.

“Come on, man. Look at me, Johnson. I’m just a wrinkled old man, jealous of your fine, pristine youth. But, I do, and always will admit my jealousy towards your youthful coming years. That intense, wild, flame of ambitious passion you have in your eyes, driven by something you truly love the most, is what balances… absolutely everything.”

“Please,” the old man continued, with a warm smile, combined with a gleam in his eyes, “don’t you ever let something as greed change the way you truly feel about real, true love. Yes. No matter how much I truly wish to be you, to just be young again, I prefer knowing that I truly lived my life to the fullest. I’m sorry, pal. For me, telling you the truth, like this, but it makes me truly forget about how truly jealous I actually am of you… even at this very moment. But, you tell me, how many years do you still think I have left, son? Johnson, I’ll be betting all the money I have, so, man, I can’t lose. I can’t.”

The old man talked and talked and talked as a single tear slowly flowed down his wrinkled face.

“When you get older,” he continued, “you’ll understand, son. You just can’t lose… at my age. But, if we both win, I will take my half of the money, and I will find a real island someplace, get juiced up, and spend the rest of the time I have left… soaking up some real sunshine. So, Johnson Alexander… convince me here.”

Johnson #1 leaned in closer and whispered, “Let’s just say I have a little advantage when it comes to knowing the outcome of future events.”

The old man’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You mean to tell me you have the ability to see into the future?”

Johnson #1 nodded with a sly smile.

“That’s right, old man. And with that ability, we’re going to make sure you win big at the Preakness Stakes. It’s a win-win situation for the both of us.”

The old man leaned back in his chair, processing the information.

After a moment, he chuckled, “For real? Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d be making a mysterious, occultic deal like this with a person with your tremendous skills and abilities. Man, this is even better than, selling your soul to the devil.”

Johnson #1 chuckled as well, relieved that the old man was on board with their plan.

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, isn’t it, old man?”

“You bet it is,” the old man said with a grin.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

Johnson #1 leaned back, confident in his strategy.

“Well, tomorrow, I’ll give you the name of the winning horse and the jockey riding it. With that information, you can, without any problems, place your bet, and we split the winnings. Easy as that.”

The old man raised his coffee cup in a toast.

“Well, here’s to a profitable partnership then.”

“To a profitable partnership,” Johnson #1 echoed, clinking their cups together.

In that decisive, non-communal moment, the wheels were set in motion for a daring plan that might ultimately change both of their lives forever… or not. The future was uncertain, but both Johnson #1 and the old man knew that their journey truly had only just begun.

The next day in the afternoon, sitting at the kitchen table, the old man was reading his newspaper when there was a knock on his door. The old man got up and walked up to the door and opened it. When the old man saw that it was Johnson #1, a smile grew on his face.

“Johnson, please come in,” the old man said.

Once again, as he stepped inside the old man’s apartment, the smell of coffee greeted him. And, Johnson #1 couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted by the comforting aroma.

“What’s going on, old man?”

“Oh, nothing much, Johnson.”

“Please, let’s take a seat.” the old man said, as he walked to the kitchen table and sat down.

Johnson #1 followed suit, and also sat down. As Johnson #1 was about to say something, the old man put his hand up.

“I’m sorry. I forgot my manners. Would you like a cup of coffee?” the old man offered.

“Yes, thank you,” Johnson #1 said.

“Give me a minute,” the old man said, getting up from the chair and walking over to the stove.

The old man filled up two cups with coffee, took a sip, and returned to the kitchen table. The old man handed Johnson #1 a cup of coffee, and sat back down. As they both sipped their coffee, they continued their discussion.

“Okay, old man, I have all the information you need,” Johnson #1 said eagerly.

“The victorious horse goes by the name ‘Royal Orbit’ and will be guided by jockey William Harmatz. You can confidently place your bet on this one… without any concerns.”

The old man’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Royal Orbit, ridden by William Harmatz, huh? I can feel it in my bones; tomorrow is going to be our fucking day!” he exclaimed.

Johnson #1 smiled, glad that the old man was extremely excited.

“I have no doubt that you’ll win big,” Johnson #1 assured him.

The old man leaned in, looking serious for a moment.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Johnson. I’ll be betting all of my life savings on this race. Look, I don’t know why, but, for some reason, I really trust you, Johnson.”

“I understand the risks, but I know what I’m doing,” Johnson #1 replied confidently.

“Besides, I’m doing this to help us both. This is an opportunity… we just can’t pass up.”

The old man nodded, satisfied with Johnson #1’s response.

“Alright then, I’m in. Let’s do this. I’ll place the bet tomorrow… and get ready for our big win.”

With their plan set in motion, Johnson #1 and the old man clinked their coffee cups together, and shook hands, sealing their newfound partnership. Little did they both know that their journey was about to take a real twist that neither of them could have possibly foreseen.

Now, the day of the Preakness Stakes had arrived, and the old man was at the race track, ready to place his bet. He made his way to the betting window and confidently placed all his money on ‘Royal Orbit,’ the horse Johnson #1 had told him about.

As the race was about to begin, the old man took his seat in the stands, eagerly waiting for the horses to take off. The crowd erupted in cheers as the race started, and the horses bolted from the gates. The excitement in the air was palpable as the powerful thoroughbreds raced against each other, thundering hard down the track.

The old man’s heart raced with anticipation as he watched the horses jostling for position. He held his breath as ‘Royal Orbit’ surged forward, leading the pack. The horse was fast, strong, and determined, just as Johnson #1 had predicted. As the race reached its thrilling conclusion, ‘Royal Orbit’ crossed the finish line first, victorious. The old man couldn’t believe his luck. He had won!

A broad grin lit up his face as he approached the betting window to collect his winnings. As the elderly man counted the cash, a figure in a dark suit loomed nearby, watching him with intense scrutiny. The old man paid little heed to the stranger and gathered his winnings, stowing the money neatly into a duffel bag. However, Agent Thomas, Agent Lee, and Johnson #2 were keeping a vigilant eye on the mysterious figure, poised like hawks, ready to strike their prey.

As the elderly man walked away and headed towards the bathroom, the mysterious man kept a watchful eye on him, trailing with a sense of urgency, his interest piqued by the substantial amount of money the old man had just won.

The old man walked inside the bathroom, his footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor. Moments later, the mysterious man followed him in, his eyes darting around the room with keen interest. The old man entered one of the bathroom stalls, the lock clicking shut behind him. The mysterious man sauntered over to the sink, turning on the tap and whistling a tune as he began to wash his hands.

The bathroom door creaked open again, and Agent Thomas swiftly walked inside. His gaze locked onto the mysterious man, who turned towards the door, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Suddenly, a shadow moved behind the mysterious figure. Before he could react, he felt a sharp prick on his neck.

His hand instinctively reached up, but it was too late. A powerful sedative coursed through his veins, spreading a heavy numbness through his body. His vision blurred, and his legs gave way beneath him. The world tilted and spun, and then everything went black.

Agent Thomas stood over the crumpled figure of the mysterious man, his expression unreadable. He knelt down, his movements precise and efficient.

“You’re coming with me, pal,” he murmured.

Agent Thomas glanced at his own watch. He pressed a few buttons, the device emitting a soft, almost imperceptible beep. Placing a hand on the mysterious figure’s chest, he took a breath, steeling himself.

In an instant, a shimmer enveloped them, and with a faint hum, both men vanished into thin air, leaving the quiet bathroom undisturbed. Outside the open bathroom window, the gently rustling leaves and the distant hum of life moving on were the only signs that time, and reality, continued their relentless march forward.

The old man walked out of the bathroom, his mind still reveling in the thrill of his winnings. He clutched the duffle bag full of cash tightly, a wide grin spread across his face. Unbeknownst to him, two more mysterious figures had been tailing him since he left the race track. These figures moved with a calculated precision, their eyes never leaving their target.

Agent Lee and Johnson #2, masters of blending into the shadows, trailed the two strange men from a distance. Their primary objective was the old man’s safety, ensuring he made it home without incident. They exchanged quick, silent signals, maintaining their vigilance and readiness to act if necessary.

The old man, feeling triumphant and blissfully unaware of the lurking danger, headed home with a spring in his step. He navigated the bustling streets, the weight of the duffle bag a pleasant reminder of his newfound fortune. The urban landscape around him blurred into a backdrop as he focused on his destination, the promise of security and comfort just within reach.

But, the two mysterious figures kept a careful distance, their intentions hidden behind impassive faces. They communicated through subtle gestures, coordinating their movements to avoid detection. As the old man turned down a quieter street, the tension in the air thickened.

Agent Lee and Johnson #2, still concealed in the shadows, moved with silent efficiency. Their eyes never left the two strange men, their senses heightened to any potential threat. They were a silent, protective force, ensuring the old man’s journey remained undisturbed.

The old man finally reached his apartment door, a sense of relief washing over him. He fumbled for his keys, eager to get inside. The mysterious figures paused, evaluating their next move. It was in that moment of hesitation that Agent Lee and Johnson #2 made their presence known.

As the old man walked inside his apartment and was about to close the door, one of the two mysterious men forced his way in, shoving the old man aside. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the second mysterious man waiting outside as a lookout.

Once inside, the intruder swiftly pulled out a firearm and pressed it against the old man’s back, steering him towards the bedroom.

“Move!” he commanded, his voice cold and menacing.

In the dimly lit bedroom, the man barked, “Drop the fucking bag on the bed, and get on your fucking knees, old man.”

The old man, terrified, did as he was told. He tossed the duffle bag onto the bed and then sank to his knees, his frail body shaking with fear.

“Please, don’t kill me. I’m just an old man,” he pleaded, tears streaming down his wrinkled face.

Outside in the dimly lit hallway, the lookout leaned against the wall, his eyes scanning the corridor. He lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag, oblivious to the approaching danger. Suddenly, Agent Lee appeared from the shadows.

With silent precision, he aimed his firearm and fired, the silenced shot taking the lookout in the head. The cigarette fell from the man’s lips as his body crumpled to the ground. Without wasting a moment, Agent Lee used his watch to vanish into thin air, taking the lifeless body with him.

Inside the apartment, the mysterious intruder maintained his weapon aimed at the elderly man. Suddenly, the front door creaked open, and Johnson #2, disguised as a doctor, entered. He closed the door with a composed, deliberate action, pulling a black surgical mask over his face to conceal his identity. The intruder, momentarily distracted, turned his head towards the noise.

“And who the fuck are you supposed to be?” he snarled.

Johnson #2, his expression unreadable, took a step forward.

“I’m the motherfucking doctor,” he said, his voice steady, “in the flesh!”

The intruder lunged at Johnson #2 with force, screaming, “Doctor… my ass! You ain’t no fucking doctor!”

He wailed on Johnson #2 with his fists, each blow landing with brutal force until his knuckles were bloody. In the commotion, the intruder had dropped his weapon when he lunged at Johnson #2.

Johnson #2 tried to fight back as much as he could, but the intruder, taller and heavier, was delivering damaging blows to Johnson #2’s body and face. Each punch landed with thunderous force, striking Johnson #2 across his thin black surgical mask.

When Johnson #2 could no longer endure the beating, he reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out a blackjack. With a swift, desperate motion, he struck the intruder over the head multiple times. The intruder shook off the powerful hits as if they were mere breezes passing by.

He took the shots like a champ, but moments later, a strong trickle of blood began to drip down his face from a two-inch gash on his head. Seeing his own blood, the intruder erupted into a forceful, angry demeanor. He grabbed Johnson #2 by his lab coat and gorilla punched him repeatedly until Johnson #2 was in a real dazed glaze. Johnson #2 dropped to the floor, barely conscious.

The intruder walked up, grabbed Johnson #2, and picked him up, pinning him against the wall. His hands wrapped around Johnson #2’s throat, strangling him with terrifying strength. Johnson #2’s vision began to blur as he struggled for breath, the world around him dimming.

And just as the intruder’s grip tightened and Johnson #2 was on the brink of passing out, he mustered the last of his strength to drop the blackjack onto the floor. With a trembling hand, he reached into the outer pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a pair of Bausch and Lomb men’s Tortoise Eyeglasses from the 1950s vintage collection, rumored to have the power to literally explode a man’s head.

These glasses, acquired from a highly secreted auction in the year 2063, now represented his true chance at survival. Desperation fueling his actions, Johnson #2 slid the glasses onto his face. The world sharpened into a surreal clarity, and as he looked directly into the intruder’s eyes, he felt an immediate surge of power from the glasses.

In an instant, the intruder’s eyes widened with terror, recognizing the sudden shift. Before he could react, a violent, invisible force exploded outward. The intruder’s head erupted in a gruesome burst, sending blood and fragments splattering across the room.

The force of the explosion knocked Johnson #2 back, gasping for breath as he slumped against the wall. The intruder’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor, the grisly scene painted in stark contrast to the quiet apartment. And as the echoes of the explosion faded, Johnson #2 struggled to steady his breathing.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins began to subside, replaced by a profound sense of relief and horror. He removed the glasses carefully, placing them back into his pocket, the weight of their deadly power now a sobering reality. The old man, still on his knees by the bed, was frozen in shock, his wide eyes staring at the aftermath.

“What… what just happened?” he stammered, his voice shaking.

Johnson #2, his lab coat drenched in blood from head to toe, his voice hoarse but steady, said, “It’s over. You’re safe now, old man.”

The old man, trying to process everything, suddenly said, “Hey… just wait a second, Doc!”

As Johnson #2 tried to make a dash out of the bedroom, he dropped in pain onto the floor, unable to muster the strength to get up. The old man struggled to get up off his knees. As he took one step, he slipped and fell on the brain and blood matter that was all over the floor.

His hands, covered in blood, trembled as he tried to steady himself. By the time he managed to get back on his feet, Johnson #2 had vanished, leaving only an empty spot where his body had once lain in pain.

Panicked, the old man dashed out of the bedroom. He looked up and saw a huge smear on the bathroom door, which was closed.

Racing to the bathroom door, the old man began to bang on it as hard as he could, shouting, “Please, whoever you are, let me in… let me talk to you for a minute, man!”

Inside the bathroom, Johnson #2 lay on the floor, his body wracked with pain. He had locked the door, trying to catch his breath and gather his strength. The sound of the old man banging on the door echoed in the small space, but Johnson #2 couldn’t respond. He needed time to recover, to think, to plan his next move. The old man continued to bang on the door, desperation in his voice.

“Please! I need to understand what’s happening. Just talk to me!”

His pleas were met with silence, the only sound in the apartment the dull thud of his fists against the wood.

Inside the bathroom, Johnson #2 clenched his jaw, every movement sending waves of agony through his body. He knew he couldn’t stay there much longer, but he also couldn’t face the old man in his current state. He needed a plan, a way out, and he needed it fast. The old man’s banging grew weaker, his voice hoarse from shouting.

“Please… I don’t know what’s going on. I need to understand.”

His words faded into the silence as he slumped against the door, his strength nearly spent. For a moment, the apartment was eerily quiet, the tension hanging in the air like a heavy fog. Johnson #2, drawing on every ounce of his willpower, forced himself to sit up. He couldn’t stay hidden forever. He had to find a way to finish what he’d started and ensure the old man’s safety.

Outside the bathroom door, the old man, still not giving up, banged on the door with force, now trying to force it open by kicking it down. But his frail legs felt like they were kicking iron.

“Look, I’m grateful that you saved my life and all, but who the hell are you? Come on, man. Open this door!”

Inside the bathroom, Johnson #2, in pain, tried to finally get up off the floor, but he kept falling back down. When he realized that the old man was trying to kick the door down, he knew he had to make a crucial choice. The door splintered under the old man’s kicks.

It was now or never. With no choice left, Johnson #2 went into the outside pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a pocket comb. Yes, the same comb with the ability to render anyone invisible for 10 seconds when run through the user’s hair.

This simple pocket comb, acquired at the highly secret auction in the year 2063, now represented his only chance at survival. Desperation fueling his actions, Johnson #2 ran the comb through his hair. Instantly, he became invisible, and the clock started ticking: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6…

The old man mustered all his strength and finally kicked the bathroom door open with a loud BAAAMMMM!!! 5, 4… The old man rushed into the bathroom and realized Johnson #2 had vanished into thin air.

“Shit… he’s gone! Where the fuck did he go!” he muttered, yanking the shower curtain aside, finding nothing.

3, 2, 1… Johnson #2, covered by his invisibility, ran right past the old man and out of the apartment.

As Johnson #2 rushed into the hallway, his invisibility faded away. Agent Lee joined him, his expression grim but determined.

“Let’s get out of here, pal,” he said, leading the way.

“Yeah… come on,” Johnson #2 said, glancing down at his blood-soaked lab coat as Agent Lee held his limp body up.

Agent Lee glanced at his own watch, pressing a few buttons. The device emitted a soft, almost imperceptible beep. Placing a hand on Johnson #2’s chest, he took a breath, steeling himself. In an instant, a shimmer enveloped them, and with a faint hum, both men vanished into thin air, leaving the quiet hallway undisturbed, save for the gently rustling leaves outside the opened hallway window and the distant hum of life moving on.

Seconds later, the old man rushed out of the apartment, but saw no sign of Johnson #2. Frustrated and bewildered, he went back inside and locked the door shut behind him, securing his sanctuary from the chaos that had just unfolded.

The next afternoon, Johnson #1 was eager to collect his half of the winnings from the old man. He knocked on the old man’s door. When there was no answer, a sense of unease crept over him. But his unadulterated greed had blinded him to any thoughts of danger or consequences.

He felt invincible, confident that he had it all figured out. In retrospect, he might have gone wrong by not ensuring the safety of the money and themselves the previous day.

Johnson #1 waited for a moment before knocking again. With greed mixed with curiosity, he grabbed the doorknob and turned it. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. It struck him as odd that the old man would leave his door unsecure. Not knowing what else to do, Johnson #1 stepped inside the old man’s apartment. He couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted by the absence of the usual coffee aroma that typically filled the space.

“Hello,” Johnson #1 called out as he noticed the kitchen table was neatly untouched, yet the old man was nowhere to be seen.

Johnson #1 looked around and saw a door that was slightly ajar. As he approached it, he repeated, “Hello, hello.”

When there was still no response, he pushed the door wide open. His first sight was of a desolate, well-kept bedroom. It seemed as if the old man had taken off. But Johnson #1 trusted the old man, and vice-versa.

He couldn’t believe that the old man would have left without giving him his cut. But, Johnson wasn’t bitter. He knew about the winning lotto number waiting for him in his girlfriend’s domain. So he wasn’t worried or mad. In fact, he was happy, and grateful to have made the old man’s dreams come true.

Johnson #1 took one last look around the apartment, a mix of curiosity and nostalgia washing over him. Despite the sudden disappearance, Johnson #1 felt a strange sense of closure. He knew the old man had his reasons, and he totally respected that.

As he turned to leave, Johnson #1 couldn’t shake the feeling that the old man was somewhere out there, living the dream they had both chased. And for now, that was enough for him.

Johnson #1 didn’t know what to do next. So, without wasting any more time, he entered the date, time, and year he wanted to travel to on his watch. Instantly, the world around Johnson #1 dissolved into a blur of colors as he vanished into thin air, reappearing back in the living room of his girlfriend, Xara’s condo.

In total shock, Johnson #1 stood in the familiar living room of the condo, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Now, without a shred of strength left to carry on, Johnson #1 collapsed onto the plush couch.

As he wiped the glistening beads of sweat from his forehead with a swift, determined motion of his shirt cuff, he couldn’t help but feel that the oppressive silence enveloping the entire condo was holding a grudge against him, too angry, hurt, or overwhelmed to voice its emotions about his actions that had led to the old man’s mysterious disappearance.

A midst the chaos of his mind, Johnson #1 sought refuge in distractions. The moment Johnson #1’s mind cleared up a bit, he decided to fill his thoughts with anything but the old man’s mysterious disappearance. Maybe turning on the TV would help him escape those haunting thoughts that threatened to consume him. However, as his eyes looked on the couch and also scanned the living room for the remote control, it was nowhere to be found, as if it had vanished completely.

Puzzled, Johnson #1 turned the living room and kitchen upside down, searching every nook and cranny, yet he still could not find the remote control. As Johnson #1 gave up looking for the remote control, he wondered, where could the remote control be?

Before Johnson #1 left the kitchen, he looked down on the floor, and his eyes fell upon two blue sticky notes on the floor, in front of the refrigerator. At closer inspection, Johnson #1 imagined that the sticky notes on the floor were placed on the refrigerator, and they must have fallen off due to the adhesive on the back of the sticky notes losing its stickiness.

Curiosity piqued, Johnson #1 picked them up, and as his eyes scanned the heartfelt words written by his girlfriend, Xara, he felt an overwhelming sense of joy washing over him, momentarily dispelling the relentless, painful silence that had surrounded him, which had evaporated completely.

Johnson #1 realized that Xara had arrived home from visiting and spending time with her cousin, yet when she got home and saw that he wasn’t there, she, according to the writing on both sticky notes, decided to go for a ride in her father’s car, hoping that by the time she came back home, Johnson#1 would be waiting for her with open arms. Johnson #1 put both sticky notes on top of the kitchen table, and then he walked back inside the living room, with a deep joy in his heart and a real happy smile on his face.

Convinced of the love he felt deep within his heart, and the love he actually felt deep inside his mind, spirit, and soul, Johnson #1 approached the sleek TV and manually powered it on, the soft hum of the screen breaking the eerie silence.

As Johnson #1 scrolled through the channels, seemingly uninterested in anything specific, his mind wandered aimlessly, seeking solace in the glowing images before him. As Johnson #1 kept manually scrolling through the channels, in the background, the news channel caught his attention. Satisfied, Johnson #1 turned up the volume of the TV.

He then sat down on the couch to watch the news, anticipating the imminent reunion with the love of his life, Xara. A future filled with real hope and happiness awaited him. Well, at least, that is what Johnson #1 expected. It was what he obviously hoped for, more than anything in the whole world.

As Johnson #1 watched the news, he looked up at the clock on the living room wall. The time was 8:08 PM. By the time Johnson #1 put all of his focus back on watching the news on TV, he heard the newscaster talking about a terrible fatal car accident that had occurred earlier in the afternoon.

Moments later, after the newscaster finished talking, they showed the actual accident scene. The car in the accident scene looked like it had been hit by a truck, head-on in a powerful collision. The impact of the crash totally and completely destroyed both vehicles to where it was nearly impossible for anyone to have simply walked away unscathed from the accident. Then, the male journalist telling the news outside near the accident scene started to talk.

“At 4:33 PM EMC Fire responded to this accidental crash on Fresh Pond Road, in the section of Ridgewood, Queens,” the journalist said, as he pointed at both of the demolished vehicles in the accident scene behind him.

“Units arrived to find a Ford F-150 pickup truck had slammed into a 1999 Mercedes Benz SL500. The driver of the Mercedes Benz, Xara Martinez, went into cardiac arrest on the scene.”

They showed a picture of Johnson #1’s girlfriend, Xara, on the TV screen. The moment Johnson #1 heard her name and saw her picture on the TV screen, he could not believe what he was seeing or hearing. As Johnson #1 watched on, his heart sank as he heard the newscaster’s last words.

“The Wyckoff Hospital Medics initiated CPR on the scene and transported the 24-year-old female to Wyckoff Hospital where she passed away at exactly 6:40 PM. DPS investigated the crash…” The journalist said, as he said all he had to say.

And seconds later, they went back to the newsroom, as their topic of news changed to something totally different.

“No, no, no, Xara, Xara! Nooooooo! It can’t be! Oh, man, what the hell did I do? Oh, shit… oh, shit. What have I done?!”

Johnson #1 cried out, tears streaming down his face. The weight of guilt and sorrow pressed heavily on Johnson #1 as he realized he was responsible for the chain of events caused by the time-traveling watch. The love of his life was now gone, and it was all his fault.

“Noooooooo, it can’t be! This is not happening to me!” Johnson #1 shouted, his hands covering his face as he wept uncontrollably.

“Noooooooo, Xara! Xara! God… what did I do?! What did I do! What have I done!”

Johnson #1 knew that if he had waited for Xara in the condo, as he had promised, instead of chasing greed through time, she would still be safe and alive. And this acknowledgment alone was what devastated him the most.

Xara’s words echoed tremendously, as they bounced, back and forth at tremendous speed through his head, like a high caliber bullet, bouncing, back and forth, tearing, breaking and shattering apart his mental stability by force, without his approval or permission, which was momentarily, mentally incapacitating.

On and on, and over and over, Xara’s words inside of Johnson #1’s head, seemed to get desperately louder and louder and louder, making him cover his ears, with both palms of each hand, pressing them up against his ears, hoping that it would drown out the desperate and relentless voices.

“Whatever you do, don’t ever leave me. And if anything ever happens to me, make sure you use all your magical powers to bring me back from the dead.”

The haunting words played on an endless loop, driving Johnson #1 to the brink of madness. He couldn’t escape the guilt, and the pain became unbearable. On and on, and on and on. It got to the point where Johnson #1 couldn’t hear himself think. Johnson #1’s final realization was like an endless curse, reminding him of how he had been so focused on using the watch to make a lot of money, in such a short time, that he completely neglected the ones he actually, really, truly loved.

No one had to tell Johnson #1 that he had lost the one person who mattered the most to him, for the voices in his head did nothing, for his disturbed sanity, but the voices kept reminding him by permanently tattooing itself onto his already disturbed sanity. In reality, Johnson #1 knew with absolute certainty that he could never, ever bring Xara back from the dead, compounding and adding more problems to his already problematic situation at hand.

But, even though Johnson #1 knew, believed, and came to the realization that time travel was not the solution to all of his problems, he did possess the ability to use the watch to completely change reality. It took a while for Johnson #1 to snap out of it. And, in that moment, he knew he had no choice. He couldn’t bear the thought of living in a world without, Xara. He had to go back in time and prevent the accident, even if it meant changing the course of history itself.

With determination in his heart, Johnson #1 knew he had to act quickly. But, because he knew that this was his chance to make things right, he didn’t want to make any more mistakes, or end up killing someone else. So, he decided that from here on, he would take his time, as well as perfectly plan everything out.

No matter what, somehow, someway, Johnson #1 was going to find a way to save Xara, to rewrite their destiny, and to undo the mistakes he had made, so far. With the whirlwind of time travel enveloping him, Johnson #1 was prepared to do whatever it took to bring Xara back to life and create a future filled with hope and happiness. Johnson #1 would face any challenge, overcome any obstacle, and fight against fate itself to be with her again. Love would guide Johnson #1, and he would stop at nothing to change their tragic past.

But, even though Johnson #1 knew that he had the power to change reality with the time-traveling watch, he had this deep feeling that he had to act quickly, but this time he would plan everything carefully. He had to find a way to rewrite their destiny and bring Xara back to life. So, with determination in his heart, Johnson #1 prepared to embark on another journey through time, guided by love and a desperate desire to undo the tragedy he had caused.

Johnson #1 got up off the couch, turned off the TV, and walked into the bathroom. Johnson #1 took out the piece of paper with the winning lottery numbers, stared at it for a moment, and without hesitation, flushed it down the toilet. He knew that wealth meant nothing without Xara by his side.

Back in the living room, tears continued to flow down his face as Johnson #1 realized he couldn’t bear to live without Xara. He felt as if life had lost its meaning. His mind was tormented by demonic voices, pushing him to the darkest edge. Without a second thought, Johnson #1 reached for Xara’s father’s firearm hidden under the couch cushion. He placed it up against his head, ready to end his pain and be with Xara in death.

“I’m so sorry, Xara. I’m such a failure… I really am. Don’t worry, sweetie… I promise not to let you down… in heaven,” he whispered with his eyes closed.

And then… Johnson #1 pulled the trigger! But… destiny had other plans. In a twist of fate, for some unusual, heaven-sent reason, Johnson #3 had intervened. Before vanishing into thin air, Johnson #3 had ensured the firearm was not cocked, switching it to safety mode.

When Johnson #1 opened his eyes, he realized he was still alive. The shock of his survival washed over him, and he recognized his own cowardice and stupidity. Now, with newfound determination, Johnson #1 knew he had to create a flawless plan.

Somehow, someway, Johnson #1 needed to travel back to a specific moment and change things for the better, to save Xara’s life, rewrite their destiny, and undo his mistakes. Johnson #1’s imagination soared as he closed his eyes, mentally seeking the perfect moment in time to save Xara and carve out a secure timeline for their love.

Determination burned within him, a fierce commitment to battle against the odds. Johnson #1 was resolute in his quest to reunite with Xara, the love of his life, and reshape their destiny, regardless of the sacrifices it might demand.

Now, the funeral home hung heavy with grief as friends and family gathered to bid their final farewells to Xara. Johnson #1 stood at the back, devastated, witnessing tears in every eye as mourners approached the casket one by one. A profound guilt and sorrow settled within him, knowing that he bore responsibility for the tragedy that claimed Xara’s life.

With each person approaching the casket, offering prayers and bidding farewell to Xara, Johnson #1’s heartache deepened. The sight of her lifeless form weighed heavily on him, the awareness that he could have averted this tragedy gnawing at his soul. Suddenly, Xara’s father strode toward him, eyes filled with tears and simmering anger. Without uttering a single word, he delivered a thunderous, reverberating slap across Johnson #1’s face, the physical pain echoing the emotional turmoil within.

“Look at me… If I ever catch you inside or near the condo, I’ll have your bum-ass arrested, on the spot!” he bellowed with fury.

Remorseful tears welling in his eyes, Johnson #1 met the gaze of Xara’s father.

“I’m so sorry. Please… forgive me,” he pleaded, a tear tracing down his face.

Another forceful, reverberating slap met his cheek, accompanied by a vehement shout, “Not now… you bum-ass looser… not ever!”

Xara’s father forcefully shoved Johnson #1 aside, leaving the funeral home with his wife, the weight of grief and guilt clinging to Johnson #1. Waiting until everyone had paid their respects, Johnson #1 approached the casket. Tears streamed down his face as he gazed at Xara’s serene expression for the last time.

A gentle kiss on her cheek, and in a tearful whisper, he confessed, “I lost you when I was somewhere else, instead of waiting for you to come back to me. I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t there, when you needed me the most. Don’t worry, Xara. I’m not going to ever stop trying… until you are back in my arms… forever. I promise you… I promise.”

His male nurse friend, patiently waiting, approached Johnson #1 and softly said, “It’s time to go, my friend.”

In a daze, Johnson #1 seemed momentarily disconnected, his friend’s words not registering until a gentle grip on his arm snapped him back to reality. With a nod, Johnson #1 reluctantly stepped away from the casket.

Exiting the funeral home alongside his friend, the weight of the world pressed heavily on his shoulders. Aware that he couldn’t rewrite the past, Johnson #1 was nevertheless resolute in his determination to find a way to set things right. Walking away from the somber scene, Johnson #1 made a silent vow to undertake whatever challenges lay ahead. He was committed to altering their tragic history and bringing Xara back to life, even if it meant challenging the very fabric of fate itself.

Hours later, in the heart of the tempest, where the night was a symphony of thunder and rain, Johnson #1 and his male nurse friend stumbled out of a bar, drenched by the deluge that mirrored the turmoil within. The wind howled around them, a savage force seemingly conspiring with the elements to match the intensity of Johnson #1’s stormy emotions.

“I just Can’t believe she’s gone, man,” Johnson #1 slurred, his words carried away by the tempest, his mind a tempest of thoughts about Xara and the audacious plan to manipulate time with the watch.

His friend nodded sympathetically, battling the elements to steady himself.

“I know, buddy. I know you loved her. Don’t worry, my friend. Everything is gonna be okay,” he said.

Seconds later, they parted ways, leaving Johnson #1 to traverse the chaotic cityscape alone.

In the torrential downpour, Johnson #1’s mind became a maelstrom of emotions. Lost in thought, he accidentally collided with a man and his intoxicated entourage, a collision that sparked an electric tension in the air.

“Hey, buddy, why don’t you watch where you’re going?” the man growled, anger etched on his face.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t seeing where I was going,” Johnson #1 mumbled, sensing the imminent storm brewing in the confrontation.

“Well, then, you’re not even going to see this either,” another man declared, and without warning, the group unleashed a barrage of hard punches and kicks on Johnson #1.

Each hard strike felt like a cosmic retribution, the universe venting the pent-up frustrations Johnson #1 had carried within. The inebriated assailants departed, leaving Johnson #1 sprawled motionless on the rain-soaked ground, a testament to the merciless dance between karma and coincidence.

They snatched his wallet, stained with bloody hundred-dollar bills, and heartlessly tossed a photograph of Xara onto his battered form. Lying there, the rain washing over his bruised and bloodied face, Johnson #1 clutched the picture of Xara, his whispers of apology lost in the storm.

“I’m so, so sorry, Xara,” he choked, “I’ll find a way to make things right, I promise. I promise…”

In that dark moment, battered and broken, Johnson #1 was left in the merciless embrace of a world seemingly conspiring against him. Yet, as the storm raged on, so did Johnson #1’s determination. Amidst the chaos, he knew he had to change his fate, rewrite the turbulent history, and emerge victorious in saving the love of his life. But… how?

Now, in the heart of the night, with the city cloaked in shadows, Johnson #1’s male nurse friend lounged in his house, captivated by the glow of the television. A sudden, resounding knock echoed through the quiet space, jolting him from the screen.

“Who the hell is knocking at this hour?” he grumbled, irritation etched across his face.

With reluctant curiosity, he approached the door, oblivious to the extraordinary encounter awaiting him. As the door swung open, shock gripped him–there stood Johnson #1, a disheveled silhouette bearing the scars of a brutal confrontation, rain-soaked and defeated.

“Help me… please. I need your… help.” Johnson #1 implored, his eyes reflecting a mix of desperation and conviction, collapsed into the arms of his friend, a silent plea for solace and refuge.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to you?” his friend exclaimed, cradling Johnson #1 and ushering him into the sanctuary of the apartment.

“Come on… come inside. Let’s get you all cleaned up.”

Navigating through the tumult of emotions, Johnson #1’s friend guided him to the couch. Johnson #1 slumped, his body a canvas of pain from the relentless assault he endured. Swiftly, his friend procured a towel, methodically wiping away the rain, blood, and the remnants of the brutal encounter etched on Johnson #1’s face.

“I got into a fight,” Johnson #1 managed to rasp, the words bearing the weight of his ordeal.

“A bunch of guys attacked me… I don’t know why.”

A tapestry of concern painted his friend’s expression as he tended to Johnson #1’s injuries.

“Look, I don’t know what to say. Johnson… you’re starting to really scare me, man. Really… I never felt this way… in my whole life. I know you and Xara are soulmates… but, this is getting way, way out of hand.”

Johnson #1’s friend tapped his forehead with both his extended index finger and middle fingers, as if he was using both fingers as a heavy hammer, going up and down, up and down.

“But you’re freaking losing it, man… up here, in the head. Okay… I get it. Maybe… maybe I became a male nurse because when you and I were younger, little kids… you and I used to go trick-o-treating around the neighborhood, dressed like doctors… black surgical masks, gleaming white lab coats over our scrubs, IDs hanging from lanyards on our necks, and always kept backward. We actually looked like two little cute doctors… the whole nine yards.”

Johnson #1, in the worst pain ever looked up at his friend and said, “Do you have anything to kill the pain, my friend? Some real good shit? I just… can’t take this pain any longer… anymore.”

Johnson #1’s friend pulled out a syringe from his pocket and took his time with Johnson #1’s arm as he wiped it with a tiny alcohol pad before he inserted the syringe into one of his many starving veins. Starving to kill the pain physically that he was feeling because of the abrupt sudden beat down that karma decided to join in on.

And most of all, starving to kill the mental excruciating pain that he obviously felt for losing the love of his life, Xara, due to the horrible, terrible car accident. A fatality not only for the drunk driver of the F-150 pickup truck and Xara but for Johnson #1 as well.

“Somehow… I even felt like you pushed me. You actually, really truly pushed me to become the man that I am today, instead of me being that junkie that I used to be, sleeping on your bed,” the male nurse said, as he looked down at his arms, and recollects the daily and nightly drinking and heroin abuse, which led him to the point of no return, until Johnson #1, one Halloween night, supposedly, found him, as he was about to overdose.

Thanks to Johnson #1’s male nurse friend, karma was paying Johnson #1 a trillion fold, for what he had possibly done for his childhood friend. Johnson #1 took his childhood friend in, never judged him one bit. And even when Johnson #1 caught him a few times injecting himself in the bathroom. Johnson #1 always tried to cheer him up.

“You gave me everything. And you never, ever left my side… ever. You force me to get clean… for what!… for a better life,” the male nurse bursted out, with gentle respect towards his real, true human companion, slash counterpart… for life… and for all time.

“You saved my life… so I can have a better life. And even when I didn’t want it… when I didn’t want a better life, you did not leave my side… until I got it. Until… I got it right, my friend. And, that’s some real, true love shit.”

The male nurse wiped off the rain, slash caked in like mud, the blood that made the scene even more overly exciting with the already bloodied towel. Straight out of a movie scene, but this time… no one was filming… the greatest show… on Earth.

“I got it, man. You’re in love. The same way I was in love with the needle… for many, many years! You saved my life, once in the gutter. It was you, one Halloween night. Yes, it was you… dressed in that gleaming white lab coat, over your scrubs… with your black surgical mask on. Oh, yes, God it was you, but you looked much, much older.”

Johnson #1 shook his head, “Are you sure the doctor that you saw in that alley… was me. Because, I only saved your life one time… and it was when you almost overdosed in my bathroom. Trust me… whoever saved you outside in the gutter, was surely not me, because I got drunk that specific Halloween night, and I fell asleep… on the couch. When I woke up… you were already… sleeping on my bed… like a baby. So… I never ever thought to even imagine on, how the hell did you even get in my house, or the fact that you were sleeping on my bed.”

“Are you sure?” the male nurse asked.

“Of course I’m sure. Look… I was always on your side, my friend. And as long as you quit doing them drugs, and all that excessive drinking yourself to death, I knew that you was going to be alright. And that was what truly mattered the most to me. You get it, my friend?”

“Look… you’re not in here by yourself, man. And I know you never ever left my side. Yeah… you were always there… even when I needed you the most. You let me even sleep on your bed for many months, till I quit doing drugs, sobered, and got my shit together, while you always slept on the couch. And for that I’m very grateful. But, we’re not little kids anymore. I have a life now, and you want to be what… now? What do you want to be now? Some kind of time traveler?”

The male nurse put the same two fingers up to his own eyes, each finger pointing to one of his eyes.

“Look at me, Johnson. Look at me. Look… look me in my eyes. Man, what are you going to do? You need to go to the hospital. You look terrible. And you really need to stop dwelling on Xara’s demise. It’s not healthy, man.”

Johnson #1 looked up at his friend, and then he dove his face hard into the palm of his hands, as if the realization of Xara’s absence brought him back to life. It was the burst of enlightenment that lit his curious enchanted wonderment. But it hit Johnson tremendously, BOOOOMM! as he imagined the F-150 bursting through and smashing Xara’s vehicle to bits and pieces, along with his and her real bonded true love.

The moment Xara drew her final breath, reminiscing about the love of her life—holding him tight, cherishing the lingering kisses, and reflecting on the long extensive letters they exchanged during the days when they shared a loyal, tranquil journey, sustained by Pop-Tarts and genuine, profound love… it all vanished.

“Oh, man, Xara. What… what have I done! Look… I’ll be fine, my friend. I just want to thank you so much… for helping me,” Johnson #1 insisted weakly, summoning resilience.

“I just… I just really need to go back to save Xara. Somehow… someway. Look… I needed to come here. I didn’t know where else to go. Thank you, my friend.”

Understanding passed between them–unspoken bonds forged in the crucible of friendship.

“Okay, but you need to rest and let me take care of you. We’ll figure everything out in the morning.”

Gratitude echoed in Johnson #1’s whispered thank you, his eyes revealing the depth of his pain and appreciation. A reassuring smile and a firm pat on the shoulder from his friend spoke volumes–an unspoken pact of solidarity.

“No need to thank me. You’re my friend, and I’m here for you… always.”

As the night unfolded, the apartment became a sanctuary where wounds were tended, and hearts laid bare. Johnson #1 bared his soul, sharing the weight of guilt he carried for Xara’s demise. In the quietude, with his friend by his side, Johnson #1 realized the profound fortune of companionship.

The night, with its shroud of exhaustion, eventually cradled Johnson #1 into a peaceful silence. In that moment, the bond of friendship became a glimmer of hope, a beacon guiding him through the storm, promising that, just maybe, he could rewrite the cruel script of fate and bring Xara back to life. His friend sighed, watching Johnson #1’s futile attempt to rise. The determination in Johnson #1’s eyes clashed with the harsh reality of his battered state.

“Look, Johnson, I get it. Xara was the love of your life, and, you were hers. I get it now, really. You’re hurting, and you’re looking for a way to really fix things. But, going back in time? It’s not possible. This ain’t no God damn movie, man. This is real life… for real! You need to let go and face the truth,” the male nurse urged, his voice a mix of compassion and frustration.

“Xara… she’s dead, man. Remember… remember?!”

Johnson #1’s gaze remained fixed on the picture of Xara, the embodiment of his undying love and the catalyst for his relentless pursuit of the impossible. The watch, tucked away safely in his backpack, held the key to a reality he was unwilling to abandon.

“Noooooo! No, no, no! You don’t understand. This watch… it can change everything… everything. It can take me way back before that horrible moment, and I can save her,” Johnson #1 insisted, his eyes pleading for understanding.

“I could actually, really save her, man.

The male nurse said, “Man… are you freaking nuts? I know your feeling the effects of the morphine, now… it’s taking effect. Love or not, but you’re talking about doing the impossible, man. What the hell are you talking about… going back? Go back to where?! These delusional thoughts of yours are going to drive you insane, Johnson. You need to forget about Xara, the past, and, you need to move on with your life, buddy. But you’re freaking losing it, man… up here… in the head.”

The male nurse tapped his own forehead again with both his extended index finger and middle finger, as if he was using both fingers as a heavy hammer, going up and down, up and down. The male nurse shook his head, struggling to comprehend the depth of Johnson #1’s insane, out-of-this-world belief.

“Look, Johnson, let’s just say… even if you could go back, meddling with time like that… it’s dangerous, man! You might make things even worse. And, buddy, Xara is gone… she’s dead. Going back won’t bring her back. And, I don’t have to tell you that… because you know it. You know it’s true. Admit it! And, you need to get a grip of yourself… because your freaking loosing it, man.”

Johnson #1 winced at the painful truth, but a spark of defiance remained.

“No, no, no! I have to try. I can’t live any longer with the regret of not doing everything I can possibly do to save her. Man, I fucking love Xara! And she loved me. She… she loved me! No, no, no. I have to go back to save her… because I know, she would surely do it for me! She would do it for me!”

His friend sighed again, torn between empathy and a growing concern for Johnson #1’s broken-down psychological well-being.

“Johnson, you really need help, man. Professional help. I know you still love her, but this ambitious obsession with Xara, the past… and some fantasy watch… it’s not healthy, man. It’s not going to work out. From here on… this delusional journey of yours… it might get really, really painful. You can’t keep living like this, man.”

But Johnson #1, gripped by grief and an unwavering determination, wasn’t ready to heed the advice. He clutched the picture of Xara tightly, as if the intensity of his grip could alter the course of destiny.

“Let me get my backpack, please. I have to do this. I have no choice… I gotta go back. I just have to,” Johnson #1 implored, his eyes reflecting a mix of desperation and conviction.

The male nurse, torn between loyalty and the need to intervene, hesitated. The battle between reason and Johnson #1’s fervent hope played out in the small house, setting the stage for a fateful decision that could shape the destiny of both men.

“Your backpack? Are you out of your God damn mind? You heard what Xara’s father, the slap master, told you at the funeral. If he ever catches you inside or near his condo, he’s going to call the police and have you arrested,” the male nurse warned.

“Yeah, I know all that. I know what he said. But no matter what, I still have to get my backpack. It’s the only way. The only way I can go back… and save Xara,” Johnson #1 said, resolute in his decision.

“Hey, man, that’s your dream… not mines. And I will not interfere or intervene in any of your sick, twisted, delusional dreams,” the male nurse said, a look on his face indicating that he wanted no part in Johnson #1’s risky plan.

“Thank you. That’s all I wanted to hear, my friend,” Johnson #1 replied, a lone warrior smile forming on his battered face.

Moments later, Johnson #1 regained a moment of strength within himself. Without saying another word, he got up off the couch, dusted himself off, and exited the apartment. He wondered and imagined how he was going to retrieve his backpack from his girlfriend’s father’s condo without getting caught. So, determined to face whatever obstacles lay ahead, Johnson #1 set out on his mission, knowing that time was running out and he had to now act quickly.

Several hours later, Johnson #1, with a devious plan in mind, stormed into the lobby of the secured building, his focus singular: undo Xara’s tragic fate. With determined resolve, he raced past Agent Lee, disguised as a security guard. His footsteps echoed loudly through the corridor.

“Hey, you! Where the hell do you think you’re going?! Come back here!” the alert Agent Lee shouted, his voice reverberating.

Despite the abrupt intrusion, Agent Lee, momentarily taken aback, made no move to physically intervene. Instead, he swiftly retrieved his cell phone and dialed the police, reporting the unexpected and suspicious intrusion.

“Hey, we’ve got some lunatic running wild in the building. He blitzed past me like a bat out of hell, maybe a minute ago, and hopped into the elevator. No, I didn’t see any weapons. I’m telling you, he just sprinted past me and dove into the elevator,” Agent Lee urgently reported, describing the chaotic situation.

Meanwhile, Johnson #1 swiftly ascended to the floor housing Alex’s father’s condo. Exiting the elevator, he propelled himself forward, quickly sprinting towards the condo door. Summoning all his strength and determination, he crashed through the entrance with a resounding “BAAAMMMM!”.

The momentum of Johnson #1’s entry propelled him forward, and he landed forcefully on the elegant, cold-tiled floor. Swiftly recovering, Johnson #1 sprang to his feet and darted toward the kitchen. Swinging open the pantry door, he quickly seized his backpack. With a fluid motion, he slung the backpack over his shoulders and calmly exited the condo, his desperate, motivated, ambitious mind singularly fixated on his mission.

Back inside the elevator, Johnson #1 pressed the button for the lobby and bravely braced for what awaited him. As the elevator descended, he unzipped his backpack and quickly checked inside. Relief washed over him as he confirmed the safety of the watch. Zipping the bag shut, he slung it over his shoulder with a small, relieved smile. The elevator doors opened, revealing a daunting sight—six police officers standing in front of him, firearms drawn and pointed straight at Johnson #1.

“Slowly, put your bag down, step out of the elevator, and get on your knees,” one of the officers commanded, the gravity of the intense, commanding situation sinking in for Johnson #1.

In shock, he complied with the officer’s orders, finally realizing that the consequences of his ambitious, unavoidable actions had finally caught up with him. Big time!

In due course, Johnson #1 found himself handcuffed and confined to the back of a police car, with Agent Thomas, disguised as a police officer, driving him to the station.

“Keep quiet, Johnson, or it’ll only get worse for you,” Agent Thomas advised sternly, steering away from Xara's condo.

“Hey,” Johnson #1 asked, “How the hell do you know my name?”

“Shut up,” Agent Thomas snapped, focusing on the road ahead as they headed to the police station.

Yes, Johnson #1 was terrified. Despite his overwhelming love for Xara, it couldn’t quell his fears and doubts, nor could it erase his profound regrets—the ones that haunted him the most.

The police vehicle raced through the city streets, sirens blaring, while Johnson #1’s mind raced even faster, desperately concocting a plan to reclaim the watch—the only hope he had left. The officers had meticulously searched through Johnson #1’s backpack, finding nothing suspicious or raising questions about its contents. Little did they know, hidden within was the watch—a device with the power to change the course of… well, just about everything.

As they arrived at the police station, Johnson #1 was escorted to the processing area, where handcuffs restricted his movements, and the imminent prospect of a thorough search loomed over him. Meanwhile, Agent Thomas, fully decked out in police uniform with badge, gun, and a confident demeanor, calmly proceeded to the back of the police car. Opening the trunk, he retrieved a bulletproof vest with practiced ease, as he carried it with him, before making his way into the station.

Passing through the precinct, Agent Thomas nodded at officers who cast curious glances his way. Some wondered if he was a new transfer from another precinct, while others felt a vague sense of familiarity. Amidst this, Agent Thomas made his way past Johnson #1, who was being questioned by the officer in charge. Their eyes met briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

Approaching the counter, Agent Thomas set the bulletproof vest down next to Johnson #1’s backpack, which was sitting beside another officer’s gear. With a nonchalant demeanor, he moved onward, passing fellow officers, and eventually slipped into the bathroom.

One observant officer noticed the unusual movement and decided to investigate. Leaving his conversation with a colleague, he headed towards the bathroom to see what Agent Thomas was up to.

As Agent Thomas stepped into the bathroom, he immediately glanced at his own watch. With practiced precision, he pressed a few buttons, causing the device to emit a soft, almost imperceptible beep. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he prepared for what was to come. In an instant, a shimmer enveloped him, and with a faint hum, he vanished into thin air, leaving the quiet bathroom undisturbed. Outside, the leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and the distant hum of life continued unabated.

As the officer burst into the bathroom, expecting to find Agent Thomas, he was puzzled to discover it empty.

“Where the hell… did he go?” he muttered to himself, scanning the room with a furrowed brow.

He approached the sink and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face to clear his thoughts.

Outside the bathroom, the tension in the air was palpable, and Johnson #1’s heartbeat raced, the urgent rhythm of uncertainty drumming in his chest.

“Tell me… what were you doing in that condo, son?” the officer in charge demanded, suspicion etched across his stern expression.

“I was just only trying to get my backpack,” Johnson #1 replied, aiming for an air of innocence.

“Backpack? What’s so important in that backpack that you had to break into the condo to get it? Damn, son… there’s barely nothing in that bag,” the officer’s tone grew more intense, drilling into Johnson #1’s resolve.

Johnson #1 hesitated, contemplating how much to unveil. His backpack sat on the counter, next to an officer’s gear, providing an opportunity for a sick, ambitious, mental diversion. Something never, ever seen… or never, ever told in history!

“Look, my girlfriend passed away in a terrible car crash. Her father, the owner of the condo, told me to keep away, but I just wanted to get my backpack. I didn’t steal anything… I swear,” he confessed, a strategic move in the complex game unfolding in his mind.

“Breaking and entering sound familiar to you? Son, you entered a building through force, without authorization,” the officer explained sternly.

“But I didn’t steal anything. So, what crime did I actually commit?” Johnson #1 questioned, his mental escape plan perfectly taking shape, deep in his inner desperate thoughts.

“Listen carefully, son. I know you’re not stupid. You know what’s going on… even at this very moment. I can see it in your eyes… your mentally planning something. Aren’t you? Am I right? But, as you can see… there’s no where to go… no where to run to. And, whether you know it or not… a person can be charged with breaking and entering even if they didn’t commit an additional crime while on the premises they entered illegally. I’m sorry, son. Breaking and entering is a serious offense. Prepare yourself because you’re going to jail. Now, turn around,” the officer declared firmly.

As Johnson #1 spun around, the officer released the handcuffs, unknowingly granting him a brief moment of freedom. Seizing the opportunity, Johnson #1 swiftly delivered a powerful front kick to the officer’s chest, sending him crashing to the ground. With a surge of adrenaline, Johnson #1 dashed towards the counter, grabbed his backpack, and swiftly snatched the bulletproof vest that Agent Thomas had left there earlier, beside another officer’s gear. The officer on the ground shouted for someone to stop Johnson #1, but he was already inside the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

Inside the bathroom, Johnson #1’s emotional stress peaked. Sweat dripped down his face as he hastily put on the bulletproof vest, opened his backpack, and with determined desperation, retrieved the watch. He entered the desired date, time, and year, activating the device. In an instant, the world around Johnson #1 dissolved into a blur of colors as he vanished into thin air, leaving behind the chaos of the police station.

Outside the bathroom, the police officers, fueled by urgency and frustration, relentlessly battered the door.

“Get in there! He’s trapped! He’s not going anywhere!” one officer bellowed, the urgency resonating through the hallway.

With a collective effort, they finally managed to kick down the bathroom door, fully expecting to find Johnson #1 cornered and apprehended. Yet, to their astonishment, the bathroom stood empty, devoid of any trace of Johnson #1. It was as if he had dissolved into the air, leaving behind nothing but lingering bewilderment.

“Where did this motherless prick go?” one officer questioned, their disbelief palpable.

“I don’t know,” the other officer replied, their frustration matching the confusion that hung thick in the air.

“But one thing’s for sure, he’s got some serious explaining to do when we finally catch him.”

The atmosphere teetered between confusion and determination as the officers grappled with the sudden disappearance, resolved to track down Johnson #1 and unravel the mystery behind his elusive escape.

Now, Johnson #1 had been in seclusion in the vacant apartment unit for weeks, an ever-watchful eye on the alert for any signs of law enforcement each time he ventured in or out. The once-empty space now bore the semblance of a makeshift home, with a bed, a desk, and a few chairs scattered around. However, any sense of comfort was overshadowed by the relentless drive that consumed him.

Around the clock, Johnson #1 toiled ceaselessly, his every waking moment dedicated to an intricate plan that dominated his every thought. The living room became a canvas for his desperation, a blueprint etched on the walls, mapping out his lifeline. This plan wasn’t just a scheme; it was his lifeline, his sole chance at rescuing the love of his life from the cruel clutches of a fatal car accident.

At times Johnson #1 cried and cried, but though his tears rapidly kept flowing down his face, he still added and added onto his blueprint, with ever more precision. Sleep became a rare commodity for Johnson #1, his moments of rest reduced to occasional naps on his desk. His mind, an unyielding battleground, was consumed by the singular idea of reversing time to prevent the accident that took Xara away.

Every tiny little detail, every conceivable scenario was meticulously dissected, and every potential outcome was anticipated. And Johnson #1, still weeping his ass off, played the scene over and over, in his head, until he believed in his heart, that his well-crafted plan, his mission to go back and save the one he truly loves the most, was non-other than perfectly crafted.

Johnson #1’s drive was relentless, fueled by an unyielding determination to reshape the past and defy the fate that had callously snatched Xara from him. And the day of reckoning arrived, a day when Johnson #1 deemed himself ready, convinced that he had unraveled every major detail of his intricate plan.

It was time to act, to assume the role of a temporal architect and rewrite history. Yet, the moment had to be chosen with utmost precision—the exact time, before he himself had initially activated the time-traveling watch to journey into the future and procure the winning lottery numbers before they were announced.

It was a perilous gambit, born out of sheer true love and desperation, but Johnson #1’s unwavering love for Xara propelled him to embrace the risks, driven by the conviction that he would do whatever it took to save her. It was worth noting that, aside from utilizing the watch, Johnson #1’s journey was also the first time he used the device to alter a crucial, pivotal event that led to the tragic loss of his beloved.

The watch, a beacon guiding him down an endless, desperate, and lonely road, was now his tool to navigate through intense, unadulterated greedy thoughts and rewrite the sorrowful script of his past. Johnson #1 immersed himself in the process, allowing his imagination to soar, fueled by the unwavering strength of his commitment and the unbreakable bond he shared with Xara.

Despite her physical absence, the love Johnson #1 harbored for her remained resolute—an enduring force that propelled every action, surpassing the influence of mere greed. In Johnson #1’s heart, there existed an unwavering certainty that their love was authentic and reciprocated.

Crucially, in his newfound clarity, Johnson #1 harbored no doubts; he knew, as steadfastly as he believed, that on the precise moment he ventured back in time—thirty seconds before his other self activated the time-traveling watch to obtain the lottery numbers—that he would inevitably transform into Johnson #2. This version of himself would be an iteration from an alternate timeline, a realization that didn’t stir doubt but strengthened his resolve.

The absence of Xara inflicted a profound pain upon Johnson #1, pushing him to the very edge of his determination and dedication. Beyond the pain, he grappled with haunting memories of their shared past, fully cognizant that their love had been genuine and profound. Johnson #1 committed himself to rewriting their history, ensuring that their love story would be granted the opportunity to flourish anew.

As Johnson #1 stared, and studied, the elaborate written blueprint on the wall, he took a deep breath, a mixture of hope and mild desperation filling his heart. With a determined look in his eyes, he knew that he was ready to take the plunge, to use the time-traveling watch for a purpose far greater than personal gain. The journey back in time to save Xara was about to begin, and Johnson #1 was prepared to traverse the complexities of time itself to rewrite their tragic tale.

With determination etched into his features, Johnson #1 mentally geared up for the pivotal moment. The time-travel watch rested heavily on his wrist, a conduit to altering their fate. He took a deep breath, his fingers poised over the buttons. The exact date, time, and year he desired were etched into his mind, a lifeline to their shared history.

In a swift motion, his fingers danced across the watch’s surface. A surge of energy enveloped him, and the world around Johnson #1 transformed into a whirlwind of colors. Time itself seemed to stretch and bend, and in an instant, he vanished from his reality.

The space between seconds was a kaleidoscope of sensation–a symphony of sights and sounds merging into a singular experience. Johnson #1’s form wavered, then dissolved, leaving behind an echo of his presence. As the colors blended and merged, Johnson #1 felt the tug of temporal currents, carrying him through the fabric of reality.

The sensation was both exhilarating and disorienting, a whirlwind journey through time’s vast tapestry. In the span of a heartbeat, he was gone, leaving behind a room bathed in the inspiring aftermath of his departure. The world continued to spin, unaware of the extraordinary journey that had just unfolded within its midst.

Though formerly Johnson #1, now Johnson #2—still disguised as a doctor—yes, the very same Johnson #2 we encountered at the beginning of this tale, an iteration from an alternate timeline—had journeyed back through time to thwart his earlier self, Johnson #1, from activating the time-travel watch, the sight of his own reflection in the other Johnson #1 left him utterly frozen in shock.

Johnson #2’s gaze locked onto Johnson #1, who stood up and prepared to activate the watch. A sense of urgency surged through Johnson #2–he knew he had to intervene, no matter the cost. However, before he could react, his other self, Johnson #1, brandished a firearm and opened fire at him without hesitation.

As Johnson #2 covered his face with his hand, so as he would not be recognized, bullets struck his chest and back, igniting searing pain that surged through him. The impact was unbearable, each shot like a hammer blow against his resolve.

“How the fuck did you get in here?! Because, I swear to God… you’re not getting out of here!” Johnson #1’s voice boomed, his gunshots punctuating the sentence.

Staggering back, Johnson #2 felt the on-coming onslaught of bullets with brutal force. His body was a canvas of agony, yet determination blazed within his eyes. Amid the onslaught, he managed to dodge and weave, the pain intensifying with each hit.

“You said you were gonna fucking kill me! Am I right! Well, here I am! I’m right here! Come on… come and get me. Come on, kill me!” Johnson #1’s shouts blended with the barrage of gunfire.

Johnson #2 seized the momentary distraction, making a desperate dash towards the bathroom. Bullets whizzed past him as he ran, Johnson #1’s relentless assault echoing in his ears. In a swift motion, Johnson #1 reloaded his firearm and resumed his relentless pursuit, bullets carving through the air as he shouted threats and obscenities.

“You crazy bastard!” Johnson #2’s scream mixed with the sound of gunfire, pain acting as a cruel reminder of his dire situation.

Fueled by agony and fear, Johnson #2 pushed forward, collapsing near the bathroom door. His resolve remained unbroken, and with a final burst of strength, he crawled into the bathroom and locked the door just as Johnson #1’s boots struck it.

With each thunderous kick, Johnson #2 knew his time was running out. He was trapped, wounded, and the weight of his actions pressed upon him. The bathroom door splintered under the relentless assault, and Johnson #2 knew he had seconds left before bullets would tear through him.

Summoning every ounce of his will, Johnson #2’s bloody fingers danced across the watch’s surface, entering the date, time, and year he prayed would be his salvation. Immediately, an electric surge engulfed him, colors swirling around his form. Time warped and contorted, and then, in an instant, he was gone. The fabric of reality shifted, and Johnson #2 vanished, leaving behind an empty room crackling with the tension of his departure.

Finally, Johnson #1 kicked in the bathroom door, as his furious assault struck only air, his confusion and frustration echoing within the room’s confines.

“What the… where the fuck did he go?!” Johnson #1’s scream reverberated, a mixture of anger and bewilderment.

In a split moment, Johnson #2 had vanished, leaving the bathroom to the echoes of his actions and the mysteries of time itself. The world spun on, oblivious to the intricate dance of fate that had played out within its walls.

Now, Johnson #2’s male nurse friend was sitting on the couch, drinking a beer and watching some television when he heard a faint knock on the door.

“Who the hell is this now?” he asked himself, getting up to open the door.

As soon as he opened it, Johnson #2 collapsed in his arms, a painful look of desperation on his bloody face.

“Please, help me,” Johnson #2 whispered, his voice barely audible.

His friend brought him in and locked the door, then carefully laid Johnson #2 on the couch. The male nurse quickly sprang into action, grabbing his medical kit and checking Johnson #2’s vital signs.

“Jesus Christ, man, you don’t look so good. You really don’t look good,” the male nurse said, feeling Johnson #2’s weak and irregular heartbeat.

He worked swiftly, and Johnson #2 slowly regained consciousness. The male nurse carefully removed Johnson #2’s blood-soaked lab coat and bulletproof vest, then examined the bad, bruised-up grazes on his body.

“Look, you took about ten… fifteen direct shots. I don’t know how you managed to avoid getting hit by any bullets, but if you weren’t wearing this vest, you and I, wouldn’t be having this conversation now,” the male nurse said, cleaning and dressing Johnson #2’s wounds before administering some strong pain medication.

“What the hell happened?” Johnson #2 asked, looking up at his friend.

“Man, how the hell should I know? You simply, just showed up at my door like this,” the male nurse replied, shaking his head.

“Please… can you help me?” Johnson #2 whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Help me, please.”

“Do I have any choice, my friend?” the male nurse responded, offering him a glass of water.

“Listen to me… just don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Before the male nurse could leave, Johnson #2 attempted to quickly get up, but the world started to spin around him. Overwhelmed by dizziness, he fell back onto the couch, unconscious.

“I told you not to move,” the male nurse muttered.

Over the next few hours, Johnson #2’s friend tended to his wounds and monitored his condition. As the night wore on, Johnson #2 regained his strength.

“Look, I know you have nothing to wear, so I brought you these scrubs from the hospital,” the male nurse said, showing him the items he had brought.

“I also got you three lab coats, several black surgical masks, this lanyard with my ID card. Keep it hidden at all times—just turn it backwards when you’re wearing it. Like when we were little kids. This way you can always hide your face and your identity in plain sight. And, I also got you this blackjack, so as you can defend yourself, out there. Hey, you never, ever know, pal.”

“Thank you very much. You’re a true friend,” Johnson #2 said, taking his friend’s hand and shaking it.

As the sun rose over the town of Bushwick in Brooklyn, Johnson #2’s friend watched him depart with a mixture of worry and awe. Even though Johnson #2 looked like a bona fide doctor, his friend knew that Johnson #2 was facing incredible danger. But he also knew that Johnson #2 had the strength and determination to see it through. With a final wave, Johnson #2 disappeared into the morning mist, leaving his friend behind to wonder what condition he would return in the next time, or if he would ever come back at all.

Without wasting a single heartbeat, Johnson #2 burst into the secluded apartment unit, a whirlwind of ambition propelling each determined step. The atmosphere crackled with an electric tension, and any notion of relaxation became an unaffordable luxury.

In this pivotal moment, the stakes soared to unprecedented heights, and cosmic forces—like the Universe and Destiny—observed, indifferent yet intricately entwined in the gripping drama of Johnson #2’s unwavering odyssey through the corridors of time.

It wasn’t a question of whether Johnson #2 could be halted; it was a matter of whether he could defy his own relentless momentum, steering away from the precipice of his increasingly audacious plan.

A rescue mission long overdue, Johnson #2 acknowledged the irreversible reality that Xara, the love of his life, was beyond salvation. He bore the weight of this truth, but a stubborn determination fueled his refusal to heed any voice contradicting his chosen path.

Now, with no more room for negotiation, the Universe, Destiny, and Johnson #2 found themselves ensnared in the clutches of a newfound, potent enchantment. The cosmic forces were at a crossroads, entangled in Johnson #2’s desperate bid to reclaim all he had lost. It was a high-stakes gamble, a cosmic poker game where the chips were Johnson #2’s desires, and the dealer was an indifferent fate.

The Universe and Destiny, like greedy, cosmic puppeteers, held the strings of Johnson #2’s destiny. They could both either grant him everything he desired or ruthlessly strip away the fragments of his future, and the past, a past he willingly sacrificed when he chose the pursuit of greed through the corridors of time. Johnson #2, once a master of his own fate, now found himself entangled in a complex web of his own making.

For, on the moment Johnson #2 entered the date, time, and year on his watch, he triggered a major cascade of events that echoed through the cosmic fabric. His absence when Xara needed him the most had created a dilemma, a harrowing circumstance with no escape.

The Universe and Destiny played their roles, perhaps as wardens or guards, in this metaphysical prison that Johnson #2 had constructed for himself. He was both prisoner and architect, trapped in the confines of a mental, perpetual prison of his own making.

The notion that he could alter the course of events, rewrite the narrative, and ultimately save Xara seemed almost delusional. The mental, perpetual prison, fueled by regret and longing, was now Johnson #2’s constant companion.

Every thought of rewriting history was a haunting reminder of the choices he just couldn’t truly undo. In this pivotal and desperate moment, devoid of any viable escape or tangible choice, Johnson #2 plunged into his most ambitious plan with an intensity that eclipsed all prior endeavors.

With an almost feverish determination, he sketched a colossal, detailed blueprint on another section of the living room wall, tears streaming down his exhausted face like a relentless cascade. Yet, propelled by his unwavering love for Xara, Johnson #2 refused to yield.

His planning and labor persisted, tears flowing faster than his thoughts could keep up. The pain etched into his heart and soul became an unrelenting torment, forcing him into a profound, agonizing, and somber state. It was a state of perpetual mental imprisonment, a gloomy confinement that only the tender embrace of Xara could hope to alleviate, freeing him from the depths of this dark and desolate prison within.

In the relentless pursuit of his mission, sleep became a mere afterthought for Johnson #2. Brief naps at his desk were the only concessions to rest, intermingled with fervent monologues as if Xara herself were present, a palpable force guiding his actions.

It wasn’t just the ramblings of a desperate mind; Johnson #2 had transcended the boundary between self-talk and conversing with the apparition of his love, Xara. The line between reality and imagination blurred, revealing the depths of Johnson #2’s unraveling sanity.

Immersed in a Catch-22 vibrational frequency, Johnson #2 had plummeted to rock-bottom. His imagination wove a parallel world where Xara, vibrant and alive, continued to shower him with genuine love. The once-empty apartment unit now echoed with the imagined laughter and whispers of his beloved.

Johnson #2 had surrendered to the comforting embrace of this illusion, either as a solace in sadness or a desperate attempt to reshape reality itself. His conversations with Xara went beyond mere figments of imagination; he believed she stood right before him.

“Sweetie, if I give you one kiss, would you give me two back?” he asked with a captivating yet somewhat forced smile.

The imagined Xara responded with a genuine smile, a vision so vivid that it threatened to consume him.

“Okay,” she replied, her hands covering her face in a playful gesture.

Unveiling her visage, she wore a smile that could almost rival the real thing.

“But, on one condition.”

Johnson #2 reciprocated with a smile as he addressed the illusion of Xara.

“Sure… I’ll do anything for you, sweetie. You know that. Tell me, baby… what would you really want me to do for you?”

A subtle playfulness adorned Xara’s expression as she bit her bottom lip, closing the gap between them. With a tender embrace, she kissed him, leaving Johnson #2 longing for more.

“Are you sure you really want to know what I actually want, sweetie?” she teased, her words resonating in the realms of both reality and illusion.

In the dance of love, Johnson #2 locked eyes with Xara, a radiant smile playing on his lips.

Slowly nodding in rhythm with the beating of his heart, he whispered, “Anything… what is it? What do you really, truly want, Xara? The love of my life. And, the one I can’t live without. What is it… what do you really, truly want?”

Wrapped in Johnson #2’s embrace, Xara responded with a romantic fervor, sealing her words with a passionate kiss. As she pulled away, a lingering smile adorned her face, and her delicate touch held Johnson #2’s chin, a soft caress that spoke volumes. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, adding a poignant touch to her heartfelt words.

“What I want is for you to please never, ever leave me. Whatever you do, don’t ever leave me. And if anything ever happens to me, make sure you use all your magical powers to bring me back from the dead,” she said, as a lingering smile adorned her face.

Johnson #2’s smile broadened, an unmistakable testament to his genuine love.

“Now… how can I bring you or anyone back from the dead if I don’t have any magical powers?” he playfully mused.

Xara responded in kind, her words carrying a mixture of jest and tenderness.

“I’m joking, sweetie. With you always by my side, absolutely nothing can possibly ever happen to me. Am I right, baby?” she reassured him.

In a voice dripping with confidence, Johnson #2 made a solemn vow, “Absolutely nothing, because I will never, ever leave you alone, sweetie. I’ll always be there for you, even when you will need me the most. I promise, sweetie. I will never, ever let you down.”

Once more, Xara held Johnson #2 close, sealing their connection with another tender kiss. As she pulled away, locking eyes and holding his chin with a gentle touch, a solitary tear marked the sincerity of her emotions.

“I really, truly love you, Johnson,” she said, as she leaned in to plant a romantic kiss on his lips.

But, as Johnson #2 leaned in to reciprocate the kiss, his imagined paradise crumbled. Xara vanished faster than his own imagination had conjured her, leaving Johnson #2 to gaze into an empty space. In that moment, he realized the fine line between reality and illusion, echoing the warnings of his male nurse friend that he was teetering on the brink of losing himself. Johnson #2 looked around, and at that precise moment, he knew that his imagination was playing more than tricks on him.

So, now, engulfed in the fiery passion to rewrite destiny and snatch his beloved Xara from the jaws of tragedy, Johnson #2 found an unprecedented surge of determination coursing through his veins. The echoes of lost confidence and squandered courage, once drowned in the hollow promises of wealth, now served as a backdrop to his fervent quest for a grand mental escape from the well-defined, perpetual prison of his own making.

But, donned in the attire of a doctor, Johnson #2 was struck by a shocking and overwhelming déjà vu, a sensation that transcended the boundaries of mere recognition. The significance of his clothing added intricate layers to the déjà vu, breathing life into the haunting premonition. A disquieting realization gnawed at the edges of his common sense–the stark awareness that he had meticulously crafted this very plan before, a plan aimed at thwarting his other self, Johnson #1, from activating the time-travel watch.

In the pulsating rhythm of his heart, Johnson #2 stood at the crossroads of determination and uncertainty. The gravity of his mission intensified, and the air crackled with the energy of impending change. His every step echoed with a newfound vigor, echoing through the corridors of time itself. The stakes were higher than ever, and the cosmic forces observed his journey with indifferent curiosity, entangled in the drama of one man’s relentless pursuit to reshape the tapestry of existence.

It was a symphony of fate, where the conductor, Johnson #2, brandished the baton of willpower to rewrite the script of his own life. As he delved deeper into the labyrinth of his intricate plan, the resonance of each heartbeat echoed with a promise–a promise to break free from the chains of his past decisions and sculpt a destiny where love conquered all.

The symphony reached a crescendo, and Johnson #2 danced on the edge of possibility, driven by the unwavering belief that, this time, he could defy the hands of time and emerge victorious. But, unconsciously, to prevent his profound imagination from getting the best of him, he only concentrated, on what truly mattered the most.

So, without giving it any thought, Johnson #2 meticulously honed every detail, attempting to foresee every possible outcome. He acknowledged that if preventing Johnson #1 from activating the time-travel watch proved impossible, his next best hope lay in thwarting his pursuit of the flash drive leading to its location.

Now, the long-anticipated day unfolded, and Johnson #2 stood ready for his unavoidable plunge into the river of time. A relentless, perilous venture, to be sure, but what lengths would one not traverse for the sake of true love? Johnson #2 was unflinchingly committed to doing whatever it took to save Xara. So, standing in the living room, looking, staring, clad in his doctor’s facade, Johnson #2 took a split moment to reflect. Unbelievable as it seemed, everything started falling into place now.

By now, Johnson #2 had come to a deep realization, but it didn’t matter to him anymore. Yes, he was tired, exhausted, but Johnson #2 was not willing to give up, no matter the cost. To him, it just didn’t matter anymore. Johnson #2 didn’t care which Johnson wound up with Xara in the end. Whether it was Johnson #1, himself, or Johnson #3, Johnson #2 just wanted one of them to be happy with the love of his life, Xara.

So, once again, standing in the living room, looking, staring, clad in his doctor’s facade, Johnson #2 took a split moment to reflect. Unbelievable as it seemed, everything started falling into place now, but more deeper. In that moment, Johnson #2 entered the bathroom, securing his black surgical mask. As he faced his reflection in the mirror, a sudden realization struck him like lightning. The room seemed to constrict around him, amplifying the shock of his discovery.

“No, no, no. This can’t… it’s not possible. It just can’t be happening!” he muttered, grappling with the unfolding reality.

His reflection, partially obscured by the mask, stared back at him—a chilling doppelganger. Trying to deny the undeniable, Johnson #2 reached into his lab coat’s pocket and withdrew the blackjack given to him by his male nurse friend. He studied it intensely, the weight of revelation settling upon him. In that precise moment, it dawned on Johnson #2 like a thunderclap: the doctor, alias Johnson #3, who had incapacitated him with the blackjack in the kitchen while he attempted to warn Johnson #1, was none other than himself all along.

The certainty of this realization shook him to the core. When he embarked on his second journey to intercept Johnson #1, he would inevitably become Johnson #3—a variant from a divergent timeline. Johnson #2’s voice trembled as he stared into his reflection, wrestling with the implications.

“Look at me… I’m the motherfucking doctor. I’m Johnson #3. It’s me. I’ve been running from myself. But… how is this possible? How can I be running from… myself?” he muttered, the weight of his revelation hanging heavy in the air.

The gravity of the situation sunk in as Johnson #2 gripped the sink’s edge, tears streaming down his face.

“I’ve been chasing… myself? No, no, no! This can’t be happening! Everything… it was me! I caused all of this. But why? Why would I do this to myself?” he cried out, his reflection in the mirror bearing witness to his turmoil.

A surge of conflicting emotions overwhelmed him—shock, disbelief, and the gut-wrenching understanding that his pursuit was a battle against his own actions, and against… his own self.

“What kind of twisted loop have I created? Damn it, what have I done?” Johnson #2 muttered, his hands clenching the sink, frustration evident in his tear-filled eyes.

“Answer me!”

As he grappled with this staggering truth, the bathroom seemed to pulsate with the weight of the revelation. His reflection remained stoic, a silent observer of the chaos within his mind.

Breaking away from his reflection, Johnson #2 was struck with absolute certainty. Even behind the mask, he recognized the face of the doctor, alias Johnson #3—the very man who had struck him down in the kitchen. The face was his own. This realization held profound implications for the impending time-travel mission.

Now, resolved to move forward with clarity and leave past mistakes behind, Johnson #2 knew he couldn’t merely replicate everything Johnson #3 had done. With uncertainty about Johnson #3’s actions and path, Johnson #2’s best chance to alter the timeline was to prevent Johnson #1 from activating the time-travel device and discovering the flash drive’s location.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Johnson #2 strode purposefully into the living room. His mind raced as he prepared for the imminent leap through time. Adjusting his mask, he glanced at his reflection in the watch’s surface.

With a determined grin, he declared, “The doctor is in. Let’s do this.”

Taking a deep breath, his fingers poised over the watch’s buttons, he recalled the exact coordinates etched into his memory. In a swift motion, he activated the device. Energy surged around him, colors swirling as time itself bent to his command. And in an instant, he vanished.

The fabric of reality shifted as Johnson #2 disappeared, leaving behind a charged atmosphere in the empty room—a testament to the disruption of reality caused by his departure.

Now, when Johnson #1 arrived at AVENUE A, the Japanese Lounge, as he, trying to reclaim his position, stepped into his role as a busboy, the air crackled with an unfamiliar energy. He immediately noticed a significant change. The atmosphere seemed different, and the entire staff was now comprised of Japanese employees. As Johnson #1 glanced around, he realized that he couldn’t understand a word they were saying to each other. He felt a sense of isolation and frustration welling up inside him.

His co-workers, whom he had grown accustomed to working alongside, were nowhere to be found. It seemed that the new owners had let go of the previous staff and brought in their own team. Johnson #1 felt like an outsider in his own workplace, unable to communicate or connect with anyone.

As the realization sank in, Johnson #1’s initial excitement for the workday turned into a heavy sense of defeat. He knew that the language barrier would make it nearly impossible for him to effectively communicate with his new colleagues or even understand their instructions.

With a sigh of resignation, Johnson #1 slowly made his way towards the exit door. The weight of disappointment pressed upon him as he accepted that his time at the Japanese Lounge had come to an unexpected end. And he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of frustration and uncertainty about his future.

Exiting the lounge, Johnson took a deep breath, contemplating what his next steps would be. He felt a heavy weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. What would he do now? Where would he find another job? These questions swirled in his mind, amplifying his sense of defeat.

Finally, when Johnson #2, now known as Johnson #3, also referred to as the doctor, arrived at the location where Johnson #1 had been moments before the homeless man handed him the flash drive, he checked his watch. The realization struck him: he had reached the spot just one minute before the homeless man’s encounter with Johnson #1 and the delivery of the flash drive. This precise moment in time offered the perfect opportunity to reverse the course of events and restore everything to its original state.

So, time was of the essence, and Johnson #3 had a mere few seconds left to execute his plan. The urgency of the situation was crystal clear–a fleeting window that fueled Johnson #3’s determination. Failure was not an option; the weight of his mission pressed upon him. It was time to set his plan in motion, and Johnson #3 knew precisely the steps he needed to take to undo the chain of events that had led Johnson #1 to acquire the flash drive and subsequently locate the time-travel watch.

And, with unwavering resolve and no time for doubt, Johnson #3 resolved to seize the moment. In his mind, no obstacle or person could deter him from achieving his goal. He was determined to alter the course of fate and set things right, consequences be damned. Now, with every ounce of determination Johnson #3 possessed, he knew he had to carry out his mission-the mission that had become his one and only option. His watch blinked, a split-second decision that signaled his pivotal moment.

Fueled by unshakable confidence, he quickly sprinted fast down the dimly lit alleyway. The air was suffocating, a foul blend of decay and waste that clung to his senses. Suddenly, the scene unfolded like a whirlwind. Johnson #3’s eyes locked onto the homeless man, desperately pursued by Agent Thomas and Agent Davidson, trailing close behind but not yet within their line of sight. Johnson #3’s move was abrupt and truly fierce–a ruthless tackle that sent the homeless man crashing hard into a heap of garbage cans filled with putrid leftovers, infested by writhing worms.

“Hey… hey, what the fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you, man?!” the homeless man roared, his voice echoing through the alley as his breath was completely knocked out of him.

As the man glanced up, Johnson #3 had already risen and vanished, leaving behind a lingering scent of unbearable stench. And running at full top speed, Johnson #3’s once pristine, gleaming white lab coat, now bore the marks of his frenzied encounter, marred by various heavy stains and, unbearable, odorous liquids. So as he ran at full top, demonic speed, Johnson #3 discarded the lab coat, shedding it like a vestige of his old life. His sweat-drenched face bore the signs of exhaustion, but determination pushed him forward.

Now, as Agent Thomas and Agent Davidson were hot on the homeless man’s trail, their pursuit nearly unbalancing them as they stumbled upon him. The homeless man struggled to rise, their aim clear: silence him, eliminate the witness. Their firearms equipped with suppressors, the agents aimed at their target. In rapid succession, shots rang out, muffled by the suppressors. The alley filled with the chilling sounds of gunfire, the agents methodically firing their weapons.

“Where do you think you’re going… you fucking bum?” Agent Thomas’ voice cut through the chaos, punctuated by the deadly symphony of bullets.

“Look at me. Look at me! We’re the ones that did this to your bum-ass. Remember us…”

Agent Davidson joined in, kicking the defenseless homeless man in the mouth, stifling any attempt to protest. The brutality of their actions painted a stark contrast against the backdrop of the putrid alley, a ruthless symphony of violence and malevolence that echoed through the night.

Now, in the heart of this enduring chaos, Johnson #3 raced onward, knowing that his window of opportunity was fleeting. The darkness of the alley swallowed him whole, the urgency of his mission driving him to the edge of his physical limits. The stakes had never been higher, and he was willing to face any challenge, endure any hardship, to achieve his goal and alter the course of fate. So, as Johnson #3 ran at full top, demonic speed away from the scene, his breaths labored, he resembled a mad doctor on an enigmatic mission leading to the unknown.

Meanwhile, at that exact same moment in time, Johnson #1, burdened by haunting thoughts of impending unemployment, strolled out of the Japanese lounge, navigating the alleyway with uncertainty weighing on his mind. Suddenly, in a sudden and unexpected way, the cacophonous hard rhythm of approaching footsteps yanked Johnson #1 out of his contemplation.

And, with swift reflexes, he sidestepped, barking a brusque, “Hey, watch where you’re freaking going, buddy!” as Johnson #3 raced past him, a frantic quick urgency in his movements.

Johnson #3 veered sharply to the left, disappearing into a different part of the alleyway, leaving Johnson #1 perplexed by the strange sight of a doctor fleeing as if chased by shadows. However, his curiosity was cut short as Johnson #1 ears caught the muffled pops of gunfire in the distance.

His head swiveled toward the source of the sound, and as he turned, his eyes widened, deep in shock. For, before him, Agents Thomas and Davidson unleashed a relentless, unadulterated barrage of bullets upon the helpless man lying on the ground. Each shot sent thundering shudders through the man’s body, his life extinguished by the merciless fusillade.

Fear surged through Johnson #1, prompting him to pivot abruptly and quickly sprint in the opposite direction, away from the gruesome scene. However, the most intriguing aspect is that, with Johnson #3, also known as “the doctor,” on the scene and committed to putting in the necessary work, Johnson #1 would refrain from acquiring the flash drive from the homeless man, the key to unlocking the secrets of the hidden room concealing the time-travel watch.

And, in that parallel moment in time, with the lifeless body of the homeless man sprawled before them, Agents Thomas and Davidson swiftly rifled through his pockets. Their eyes eventually locked onto the coveted flash drive they had come for.

“Yeah, we got the flash drive, partner. But, not for nothing, but… who the fuck is this guy now?” Agent Davidson muttered to his partner, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Agent Thomas, his expression cold and unyielding, raised his weapon and fired several more rounds into the already deceased man.

“Who gives a shit?” he retorted.

“We have the flash drive. And, that’s what matters the most. Don’t forget… that’s the only reason why you and I came here for. So, mission accomplished.”

“Mission accomplished… my ass,” Agent Davidson said.

“What about the watch… the ring? What about all of that immense wealth… all gone! And, what about this other man… the doctor? You know… this motherless prick is still out there. And, God only knows what the fuck he’s up to.”

“Yes… he is, Davidson. He is out there. But… not for long. So… fuck the money, fuck the watch, the comb, the glasses, fuck the ring, and, let’s get the fuck out of here, man!”

“And the doctor?” Agent Davidson asked.

“Look, Davidson, we got what we came for. And, that’s that.”

“But what about the doctor? You know, this guy is still out there.”

“Yes, he is. But not for long. So, forget the money, forget the watch, the comb, the glasses, forget the ring, and let’s get the hell out of here, pal.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” Agent Davidson agreed, glancing around and confirming that the coast was clear.

“Hey, before we both vanish out this bitch. Tell me something, Thomas. Do you think… I mean, do you believe this fake-ass doctor did all of this… and is still doing it, out there, somewhere… out of pure, unadulterated love, or something.”

“That’s a really good question,” Agent Thomas said.

The agents’ voices dripped with detachment as they secured their prize, indifferent to the violence they had just perpetrated. With the homeless man dead and the flash drive in hand, the agents utilized their own time-travel watch to vanish into thin air, leaving behind nothing but the memory of what once was and what could have been.

But, before they both vanished into thin air, Agent Davidson said to Agent Thomas, “Woah… woah, woah. Wait… wait a second. You didn’t answer my question.” Agent Davidson said, as he held onto Thomas’ arm.

“What question?” Agent Thomas asked, as he looked down at Agent Davidson’s hand.

Agent Davidson immediately let go of his arm, and asked, “The doctor…”

“Yeah, what about him, partner?” Thomas asked, as he looked down at his watch, getting ready to activate it.

“Do you think he did it, and is still out there, doing it… for real, true love?”

“Davidson, if I can imagine, this man might have, and is still going through a real relentless, perilous venture, to be sure. But, Davidson, let’s keep it more than real. What lengths would one not really, truly traverse for the sake of real, true love? So, now that you know that, let’s get the hell out of here, pal.”

“Yeah, your right, partner. Now, let’s get out of here.”

And, as for the doctor, ultimately, the changes that he, slash Johnson #3, had made to the timeline, because he prevented the homeless man from giving Johnson #1 the flash drive, had true profound consequences. Because, as Johnson #3 quickly ran away from the scene, as fast as he could, down the path of the dimly lit alleyway, his body began to slowly, slowly glitch, fading in and out of existence. The very fabric of time itself seemed to rebel against his personal interference, sending ripples through time.

Reality itself twisted and distorted, threatened by the paradox he had created. Buildings wavered, streets crumbled, and the world trembled on the precipice of oblivion. Johnson #3’s determination to change the past clashed with the immutable laws of the universe. Seconds later, his lab coat, which he had earlier discarded as he quickly ran away from the scene down the alley, shedding it like a vestige of his old life, was the first thing to disappear, followed by the time-travel watch on his wrist.

In a cataclysmic surge of temporal pandemonium, the very fabric of reality contorted and convulsed, plunging Johnson #3 into a maelstrom of existential turbulence. The relentless forces, like cosmic titans, sought to obliterate him from the tapestry of existence. Despite his valiant resistance, Johnson #3 found himself inexorably succumbing to the relentless onslaught. The symphony of chaos crescendoed, echoing his desperate screams into the abyss of unreality.

“No, no, noooooooo!”

His voice, a defiant battle cry, reverberated through the disintegrating fragments of time and space. Each glitch became a visceral manifestation of his struggle, a heartbeat racing against the imminent erasure of his very being. So, faster and faster he glitched, a flickering apparition on the verge of dissolution.

The intensity of his fight manifested in the pulsating rhythm of his existence, a dance with annihilation that electrified the very essence of his being. Reality itself quivered in the face of this epic confrontation, teetering on the precipice of cosmic unraveling.

The stakes were higher than ever, and the battleground of existence bore witness to Johnson #3’s valiant stand against the inexorable forces that sought to banish him to oblivion. It was a spectacle of breathtaking proportions, a cosmic opera where one man’s struggle reverberated through the corridors of eternity.

In the throes of this electrifying cosmic showdown, Johnson #3’s existence hung in the balance. The crescendo of temporal chaos reached a fever pitch, an exhilarating climax that would determine whether he would be consigned to the void or emerge victorious against the cosmic erasure. The universe itself held its breath, caught in the riptide of Johnson #3’s indomitable will.

But, in an apocalyptic crescendo of temporal upheaval, the very essence of existence unraveled, and the past, present, and future collided in a cataclysmic ballet. Johnson #3, the architect of this temporal maelstrom, stood at the epicenter, witnessing the fabric of reality tear asunder. As the chaos reached its zenith, he felt the real seismic vibrations of an irreversible transformation. The culmination was a symphony of cosmic proportions.

And, in a final, explosive surge, Johnson #3, entwined with the persona of the doctor, vanished from the continuum. His existence, a casualty of the profound alterations he had unleashed upon the timeline, ceased to be. Agents, flash drive, time-travel watch, the homeless man, and the amalgamation of doctor and Johnson #1—all erased, leaving only the echoes of a rewritten reality.

And, as for Johnson #1, amidst the temporal storm, he sprinted through the dimly lit alley, a man on the run from the relentless echoes of a fractured timeline. Sweat streamed down his face as he raced, the urgency of survival pulsating in every step.

“Oh, shit… oh, shit. I got to get out of here,” he muttered, the thud of his heart matching the rhythm of his frantic footsteps.

Fear propelled him faster, a desperate sprint through the corridors of uncertainty. His racing, fast-paced imagination, mentally heard, the gunshots still echoing, in the back of his shaken up mind, a haunting reminder of the chaos trailing him.

Johnson #1, haunted by the specter of violence, couldn’t resist a backward glance. Illusions of earlier gunfire played tricks on his mind, melding with the shattered fragments of reality. His psyche, fragile and distorted, conjured echoes of a past that no longer existed.

“Run… run! Run, as fast as you can, Johnson!”

The imperative echoed in his mind, a plea to escape the clutches of a disintegrating reality. But, exiting the alleyway, at tremendous speed, Johnson #1 collided with the unexpected—a collision with an old Jewish jewelry store owner. The hard impact reverberated through the alley, a collision of worlds. Both figures sprawled on the pavement, a moment frozen in time.

As the old man gingerly rose, Johnson #1 lay dazed, a gash above his eye bleeding into the chaos. The streets, silent witnesses to the collision, exhaled a blend of odors. The old man, startled, hesitated, then retreated, as he quickly ran away, into the shadows, leaving Johnson #1 twitching on the pavement.

Slowly, but surely, Johnson #1 stirred. Attempts to rise were met with stumbles, his world still spinning. Dizzy and disoriented, he grappled with the altered reality, a lone figure in the aftermath of a cosmic tempest. It was only on the second attempt that he managed to get to his feet. The city, oblivious to the temporal ripples, continued its restless slumber.

In the pulsating aftermath of collision, Johnson #1’s world was painted in shades of adrenaline and urgency. Blood streamed down his face, a visceral testament to the chaos that unfolded. With a defiant flick, he extracted a handkerchief, swiping away the evidence of his brutal encounter. And, now, it was time to depart this battleground, but fate had one last twist in store.

A fascinating glint on the pavement seized Johnson #1’s attention—an inconspicuous object that refracted the dim light. A closer inspection revealed a treasure, a flawless 4-carat diamond ring. Unbeknownst to him, this jewel had unwittingly slipped from the pocket of the Jewish jeweler during the chaotic collision.

In the midst of his mental re-calibration, Johnson #1 clutched the precious find with the bloodied handkerchief. The scene, now devoid of witnesses, bore witness to the grand heist of the century of an unintentional thief. The old man, in his haste, had missed the glittering artifact, and Johnson #1, seizing the moment, pocketed his inadvertent windfall.

Now, with a last, lingering glance at the desolation around him, Johnson #1’s true instincts kicked into overdrive. And, with the diamond nestled securely in his pocket, he transformed into the fastest sprinter ever, propelled by the urgency of impending doom. His fast-paced heartbeat raced in harmony with his rapid sprint, a symphony of desperation and determination.

As Johnson #1 sprinted with an intensity that rivaled the fastest sprinters, the old Jewish jewelry store owner matched his speed, swiftly navigating down the desolate street. In a fluid and mysterious gesture, while maintaining his swift pace, the old man removed his disguise. With a smooth, enigmatic motion, he pulled off his old man mask, revealing himself to be none other than Agent Thomas.

So, in the wake of a life-altering spectacle, Johnson #1 tore through the night as if pursued by unseen, ghostly forces. Every step was a defiance of the chaos that sought to devour him. And, the only beacon guiding his frantic journey was the image of the one he really, truly loved. Witnessing the surreal and the macabre, he carried the weight of urgency, sprinting quickly towards a reunion that held the promise of real, true salvation.

Now, because Johnson #1 had no memories of the time-travel watch, he headed straight to his girlfriend’s condo only to discover that she was, in fact, preparing to leave. Xara was closing the door with her keys. Johnson #1 couldn’t let her go out alone. There was something that compelled him to hold her and keep her by his side at all costs.

It was something that made him realize that everything was perfect, but was it? The voice inside his head kept echoing, telling him, “Don’t let her go, Johnson. Don’t let her go,” and the supreme, actual, real, true love he had for her was all he needed to arm his lips.

By this point, Johnson #1 couldn’t let her go out alone, not after what he had just witnessed and gone through. Without any warning, Johnson #1 walked up to Xara and quickly planted a romantic, passionate kiss on her lips that had Xara immediately floating on air. She stared into his lonely eyes. Johnson #1 stared into hers, and that was all it took for their bodies, hearts, spirits and minds to instantly synchronize.

“Where do you think you’re going, without me, sweetie?” Johnson #1 asked, as he planted several more kisses on her lips and on her face.

Xara reciprocated with even more kisses, as if it was a game that she wanted to win in her undefeated world of loving the one you truly love the most.

“Nowhere. I was just going to take my father’s car and take a quick joy ride until you come back. But, now that you are here…” Xara said as she hugged him tight.

Johnson #1 cut her off and said, “Maybe we could spend the night together…”

Xara cut him off and said, “And enjoy each other’s company?” as if she was reading Johnson #1’s thoughts.

“Come on… let’s go,” Johnson #1 said, as he took the condo keys out of Xara’s hand.

Johnson #1 opened the door, as he kept kissing Xara’s lips, her face, her neck. Until Johnson #1 took several steps forward, and Xara took several steps back, as they both kissed each other with real, true passion.

They both fell back inside the condo with the door still open. They landed on the condo floor and kissed each other, taking turns taking each other’s clothes off. It was a moment like none other. A moment beyond any other. This was their moment. And Johnson #1 and Xara stole every moment, out of the moment. Then, with actual real, true love, they gave it all back to one another.

And nothing was saved. For every single moment, every single second they spent loving each other, was spent on their complete real, true love that they had for each other. It was a night that even made the night jealous. Even the day was afraid to challenge such actual, real, true love. And, as the night took over, the night knew, without any doubts, that among the powerful night, love was the mightiest force.

As Johnson #1 and Xara talked, kissed, and laughed the night away, they both couldn’t help but think how lucky they both were to have each other in their blessed lives. They promised each other to always love and cherish one another and to never, ever let anything come between them… always!

And though they both never took each other for granted, on this night, they both also decided not to take the days, as well as the nights that they had spent, and were currently spending, loving each other, for granted.

Johnson #1’s heart was sprinting, as if it was trying to win a race. But, this time Johnson #1’s heart was not beating and racing fast because he was scared or on the run. For this time, Johnson #1’s rapid, racing heart beat was due to being in actual, real, true love.

Now, on the next day, as Johnson #1 and Xara watched the news on the television, they were both stunned to see a drunk driver slam his F-150 truck head-on into a bus filled with passengers. Johnson #1 and Xara couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

“Hey,” he asked, “isn’t that the exact location where you said you were going to drive to, sweetie?”

Xara looked at him and replied, “Yeah… wow. Will you look at that.”

The news reporter mentioned how lucky it was that no one was hurt in the accident.

“Wow… really. Thank God you were there when I needed you the most, sweetie,” she said, kissing Johnson #1 with passion on her lips.

An unusual sense of relief washed over Johnson #1. Deep within, he felt a profound shift, a gut feeling that signaled a significant change—something very important. As he turned to Xara, he recognized the urgency to share this revelation, something of great significance.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, a tear flowing down his face.

“I really, really love you, sweetie. You know that. And I know you really, truly love me.”

Xara’s eyes brightened up, but before she could respond, Johnson #1 was already down on one knee, holding out the 4-carat diamond ring. The glint of the sun that bounced off the ring hit her eyes with a real gleaming, interesting wonder.

“Will… will you marry me, sweetie?” he asked.

Overwhelmed with emotional excitement, she replied, “Yes… oh, God… of course, I’ll marry you, sweetie,” as they both kissed and hugged each other tight.

Now, at that exact brilliant, enchanted moment in time, in an undisclosed location far, far away, Johnson #3 dressed in a gleaming white lab coat over his scrubs and a black surgical face mask, creating an illusion of a doctor, was ready to pull his ultimate mission ever.

Adorning Johnson #3’s neck was a lanyard, proudly displaying his identification card. However, to maintain an air of secrecy, the card was deliberately turned backward, shielding his true identity from prying eyes. Johnson #3 looked down at an X that was written down on his hand-drawn map.

“X marks the spot,” he said to himself as he looked down at the map, which turned out to be the location to a heavily armed guarded underground bunker.

Using his wit and the map, Johnson #3 managed to sneak past the heavily armed guards and make his way inside without being noticed. And, once inside, what Johnson #3 finds is beyond his wildest dreams. The bunker was filled with advanced, next-generation technology and objects that he had never seen before.

Johnson #3 quickly opened his backpack and started tossing everything that he could get his hands on inside of his backpack. Soon, every piece of technology was inside of his backpack. Seconds later, Johnson #3 located the time-travel watch and the ring that slows down time to a complete pause, and he pocketed them before making his grand escape.

But little did Johnson #3 know, he was being keenly watched, the whole entire time. The owner of the bunker, an opulently wealthy and very powerful man, slash mentally psychopathic, had been monitoring Johnson #3’s every single move. Furious that someone had infiltrated and breached his supposed impenetrable, secured bunker, he sent all of his toughest, battle-tested men after Johnson #3.

Before he sent all of his men after Johnson #3, the bunker owner told each of them, “Pay attention! Make sure he doesn’t get out of here! Do you all hear me?!”

One of his men said, “He’s still inside. He’s not getting out of here, boss. That’s for sure.”

Another man said, with assurance in his tone, “Don’t worry… we locked him in. There’s no way out of here, boss.”

A third man, the guard in charge, got in front of the rest of the men, faced his boss, and said, “Please, boss, stay in here with my men. They will guard you and keep you safe… while we go after him.”

The bunker owner, slash the boss, said, “Okay… but keep him alive.”

A fourth man nodded his head and said, “We’ll try, boss.”

Their mentally, and physically psychopathic, torturous minded boss shouted, with a clearly sharp, demanding voice, his voice slashing, bursting right though their ambitious, determined, sharp, deep thoughts, “I said… I want him alive!”

And, before they went after Johnson #3, slash the doctor, the fourth man said, with a submissive assurance in his tone tone, “Whatever you say, boss. Don’t worry… there’s no way out of here, boss. He’s completely trapped… completely.”

It became a game of cat and mouse as Johnson #3 tried, with all the will, he could muster, to outrun and outsmart the bunker owners men. But in the end, the supposed doctor was indeed trapped, surrounded by many, many heavily armed men.

“You can fucking stop. Pause… right there… you wannabe doctor… or whoever you’re supposed to fucking be,” one of the guards said.

“Take your backpack off, drop it on the fucking ground, and get on your fucking knees! You hear me, Doc?! Are you insane? How the fuck do you think, you’re gonna get out of here, Doc? Now… put the fucking bag down! Do it! Do it now!”

Johnson #3 looked around, realizing that he was totally surrounded by many, many armed guards.

“And… if I don’t? Tell me…” Johnson #3 said, staring at all the guards slowly walking towards him.

“What are all of you punks gonna do to me? What? Have you all never heard of me? I’m the motherfucking doctor! And I’m going to surgically remove myself, from all of you, and this weird-ass, spooky place. With the simple touch of a few buttons. And that’s how the motherfucking doctor is going to get the fuck out of here. Now… don’t tell me, you all don’t believe me?”

The guard in charge, with a displeased look on his face, looked at his men, then at Johnson #3.

“Don’t be a fool, Doc… you’re fucking totally surrounded. Even you can see that… clearly. Now, tell us? Tell us all, Doc! Please, entertain all of us. How the fuck do you think you’re going to get out of this secured, state-of-the art bunker?!”

The guard in charge signaled all of his men with a simple wave of his hand.

His men take a few steps, and with another simple wave of his hand, he commanded his men, with a demanding, forceful, commanding voice, “Wait! Stop… stop!”

The guard in charge looked at his men, then stared at Johnson #3, and said, with a sharp convincing tone,

“Look, man, this place is worse, than any prison you can ever imagine, Doc. Built to contain, and hold dumb-motherfuckers like yourself! Once you come in… you’ll never, ever come out! So… now! Where the fuck are you gonna go! And, how the fuck… are you gonna get out of here!”

Johnson #3 looked around to see if there was any possible way to escape the situation at hand.

“Don’t do it, man…” the guard in charge shouted at him.

“It’s a waste of time. You’re trapped, and there is absolutely no way to get out of this place!”

The guard in charge signaled all of his men with a simple wave of his hand and shouted, “Get this motherfucking fake doctor! Don’t let him get away!”

Johnson reached into his pocket, quickly pulled out the ring, and put it on. Instantly, time started to slow, slow, slow down. Johnson #3 walked away as all of the bunker owner’s men started to go after him, yet everything had slowed down to where Johnson #3 seemed to be the only one moving.

The guard in charge yelled at all of his men, “Somebody, get thiiis moootherrrrlessss prrrriiick.”

His voice sounded as if it had been lowered in tempo. And, when Johnson #3 was far away from all of the armed guards, he pulled out the time-travel watch from his pocket. With a quick, rapid movement, he pressed a few buttons on the watch, and seconds later, he vanished into thin air, leaving all of the guards shocked and amazed.

Time slowly went back to normal, as it slowly sped up. At this moment, the guard in charge and all of his men were in drastic shock and amazement, realizing that Johnson #3, alias the doctor, was gone—vanished right before their very eyes.

The guard in charge stared at all of his men with a confused and shocked look on his face and asked, “Now… which one of us is going to explain this to the boss?”

One of the guards shook his head, put his head down, and replied, “Not me.”

Now, at Johnson #1 and Xara’s luxurious wedding, everyone they knew was in attendance. Xara’s mother and father, Xara’s favorite cousin, all of her friends, family members, including Johnson #1’s male nurse friend, who had been a constant source of total loyal support.

As Johnson #1 and Xara danced the night away together, Xara asked him, “What time is it, sweetie?”

Johnson #1 smiled, quickly planted a romantic, passionate kiss on her lips, that had Xara immediately floating on air, and replied, “Who cares about time… sweetie?”

Xara smiled and said, “Surely, not me.”

So, two months after marrying the love of his life, Johnson #1 and Xara are interrupted by a mysterious messenger at the front door on Halloween night. Xara answered the door to find Johnson #3 dressed as a medical doctor, wearing a gleaming lab coat over his scrubs, and a black surgical mask to hide his identity.

Johnson #3 handed her a black eight-by-ten envelope and said, “It’s for your husband.”

Xara looked at his Halloween costume and smiled, because Johnson #3, simply looked like a bona fide doctor. It looked like he put a lot of thought, into his costume. She looked into his inviting warm, loving eyes, feeling his engaging warm gaze that truly captivated, and extremely, fully penetrated hers, the way her beloved husband, Johnson #1’s eyes always does.

For a second, his hypnotic gaze, kept her in a state of interesting wonderment. And, as fast as the engulfing, humble feeling of quick enchantment, hit her, was as fast as she broke out of his promiscuous, hypnotic gaze. It was the 4-carat ring on her finger, that brought Xara, to the place, where she truly belonged… next to the love of her life, her loving, beloved husband, Johnson #1.

She signed for the envelope and said, “Happy Halloween, doctor,” before going back inside and locking the door.

As the door slammed on his face, Johnson #3 said to himself, “But… I’m not a doctor.”

Once inside, Xara brought the envelope up to Johnson #1’s desk. Johnson #1 took the envelope and put it along with the rest of his unopened mail. He had no idea who had sent him the envelope or what it could possibly contain.

Two nights later, Johnson #1’s wife Xara was sound asleep upstairs in their bedroom as he sat behind his desk in the living room. Johnson #1 sifted through the pile of mail, and finally, his eyes fell upon the eight-by-ten envelope that caught his attention. Johnson #1 felt a real rush of curiosity as he pulled out the contents of the black envelope-a plain digital wristwatch and a flash drive containing all the instructions needed to operate and activate the watch.

So, night after night, after Xara went to sleep, Johnson #1 read through every single detail about the watch until he felt like he had learned all that there was to know. And just like a brand new, high-end sports car, Johnson #1 felt the urge to take the watch for a spin, just to see what the watch could really do.

The actual, real, true moment arrived when Johnson #1 could no longer resist testing out the watch he had received from an unknown messenger that one Halloween night. With his wife, Xara, sound asleep, he made himself a vanilla shake and took a few sips. Just as he reached for the door handle, his phone started to ring. Johnson #1 glanced at the phone on his desk, then back at the door. He hesitated, took another sip from his shake, and decided to pick up the phone instead.

“Hello… who’s this?” Johnson #1 asked.

Johnson #2 said, “Listen to me carefully, Johnson…”

“Who the hell is this? And how the hell do yo know my name?” Johnson #1 asked, curiosity peaked his interest.

“None of that matters now, Johnson. What matters is that you are finally back with the one that you really, truly love… to death. And that’s what matters the most. Please, listen to me. Though the watch you were given can make time seem nonexistent, believe it or not, you don’t have much time left. Right now, there are two armed agents from the far future outside your house. And they are coming for you…”

“Are you kidding me? What Agents?” Johnson #1 asked, with a curious tone to his voice.

“Listen to me… you don’t have a lot of time left. You have to believe me. Right now, both of these agents are right outside your house, waiting for you to come out of your house. Now, if you do not come out of your house, they will both have no choice, but to forcefully burst through your door, and take the watch, and the flash drive… by any means possible,” Johnson #2 advised him, with a serious tone to his voice.

“No, no, no. I don’t believe you. Listen… you better stop calling my house. I don’t know who you are, and you don’t know who I am. So… stop calling my house!” Johnson #1 said, as he warned Johnson #2, hoping that the man on the other end was lying to him.

“Please, Johnson… don’t let this happen to you. Remember… the love of your life, is sleeping peacefully, waiting for you, the love of her life, to finally join her, as she wakes up in your warm, loving embrace,” Johnson #2 said, as he tried not to give up on Johnson #1, and kept on convincing him to believe him.

Johnson #1, feeling skeptical, and curious, walked over to the window to check the validity of what Johnson #2 was actually telling him. As Johnson #1 stole several quick peaks out the window, as he slowly pushed the curtain a bit to get a view outside of his house, he saw the two agents, Agent Thomas and Agent Lee, outside of their vehicle, in front of his house, waiting for him to come out of his house. Agent Lee was holding a firearm in his hand, the weapon had a suppressor attached to it.

Johnson #1 saw all the he needed to see to convince him that the strange caller was telling him the honest truth. Johnson #1 rushed up to his desk, and picked up the phone.

“Alright, pal… I get the point. I see what you mean,” he said.

Johnson #1 looked down at his watch, and asked, “So… how much time do I have left, before both of these agents force their way inside my house?” Johnson #1 asked, as he looked at the door, and then he looked down at at his watch.

“I don’t know. But right now, you’re wasting precious, valuable time, trying to define your problem, instead of finding out, what’s making it happen, and getting rid of it… once and for all,” Johnson #2 said, urging him to speed things up, otherwise he will have a seriously bad moment on his hands.

“Okay… okay. Please, guide me through this whole shit,” Johnson #1 said, pleading for some quick guidance, before it’s way too late.

“Sure, no problem. But… you must hurry. Hurry! And you must do exactly, what I tell you to do. If not… it’s over for you, Johnson. It’s over for you,” Johnson #2 said, as his advise was quickly written in stone.

“Okay, man,” Johnson #1 said, without thinking about it twice, “just tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do anything… anything you say.”

“Okay… but you must hurry! I need you to use the watch that you was given, so as you can travel several days ahead, into the future. And then I want you to somehow, someway retrieve the winning lottery numbers, before they are announced. And then I want you to go back to your house,” Johnson #2 said, giving Johnson #1 all the information that he will ever need to make it happen.

“And then… what else?” Johnson #1 asked, keeping his eye on the front door to his house, hoping he still had time.

“I need you to do several more things. First, I want you to put the winning lottery numbers inside your pocket. Then, I want you to make another one of them milk shakes, enjoy a few sips, wipe your mouth, and then I want you to go up to your laptop, pull the flash drive that you got along with the watch out of the slot, then put the flash drive in a different pant pocket. And with your milk shake in hand, I want you to open the door, and walk out of your house, sporting a huge smile on your face, as if nothing is wrong… and you do not know, what is really going on,” Johnson #2 said, as he guided Johnson #1 with his fine tuned words of encouragement.

“Then what? What do I do next?!” Johnson #1 asked, still hoping it was not too late.

“Look… just walk out of your house, with a huge humble smile on your face, as you take several sips off that tasty milk shake of yours,” Johnson #2 said, as if he was in a rush himself.

“Then what? What should I do next?” he asked.

“Don’t do nothing… nothing at all. Trust me… they will approach you. Now, just let them do all of the talking. And if you don’t want any problems, just act like you are surprised, act like you are terrified of them. And just do everything, and I mean everything they tell you to do. Do you understand me, pal?” Johnson #2 said, assuring him that all will go well, if he followed his simple instructions.

“Yeah, I understand you,” Johnson #1 said, as he kept his eyes stuck on the door.

“Like I said,” Johnson #2 said, still in a tremendous rush, but took his time to tell Johnson #1 everything he needed to know, before he hanged up, for good, “if you do everything, exactly as I told you to do, with perfection, they will just take what they came for, and they both will leave you alone. And then they will go back to wherever the hell they both came from. And then, you can go back home, and be back in the warm embrace of the one… you truly love the most.”

“That’s it?!” Johnson #1 asked, questioning the simplicity of it all.

“Yeah… that’s all. That’s all you have to do, pal,” Jonson #2 said, feeling inside that Johnson #1 was more than ready.

“Any last good advice?” Johnson #1 asked, trying to find out what else can give him the leverage to accomplish this mild bit of a mission that he has no choice but to accomplish, before Agent Thomas and Agent Davidson burst through his front door, by tremendous force.

“Anything else, you need to tell me, stranger?”

“Yeah,” Johnson #2 said, “and take this into consideration. Tell me… are you sure, you know what you have, and must do?”

“Yes, of course,” Johnson #1 replied, as he mentally prepared himself for what is to come, “I believe I know what I need, and must do to perfectly finesse this shit.”

“Are you sure, Johnson? Are you really sure?”

“Yes, of course. I’m perfectly sure,” Johnson #1 replied, with sincerity in his voice.

“Okay, then. Because, need I remind you of the horrors, Johnson. If you are not sure, both of these agents, in order to get their hands on the watch, and the flash drive, will, without any remorse, they will both gun you down, and leave your motionless body, lying on your, now blood-soaked pavement, so as your wife, the love of your life, can discover your cold body, the minute she comes out of the house to get your morning newspaper.”

“Is that a fact, stranger?” Johnson #1 asked.

“Yeah… that’s a big-time fact.”

“Hey,” Johnson #1 asked, as his curiosity peaked inside his loving soul, “tell me. Who the hell are you, my friend?”

“Johnson, it’s not about who I am anymore. It’s all about you now, and the one you truly love.”

“Please, tell me who you are. Who the hell are you stranger?” Johnson #1 asked, as his curiosity peaked, within his lovely soul.

“Look, it’s not about who I am… anymore. Now, it’s all about, where I am actually at, and what I’m about to do next. So… stop talking to me, hang up the phone, and perfectly do what I told you that you must do. Or else, trust me, you will have a huge, unavoidable, relentless problem, on your hands, that will soon burst through your front door, faster than you would have done everything that I told you to do. So… make this shit happen, or you and the love of our life, will suffer the horrible consequences of your fake, failed actions.”

“Hey… what did you mean when you said, ‘the love of our life’? How is she the love of our life?! Answer me… answer me! Answer me, God damn it!”

All Johnson #1 can hear is Johnson #2’s intense sobbing on the other end of the phone.

“Look, I know you’re still there! I can hear you crying, man! What did you mean when you said that shit, about my wife? Answer me… answer me, God damn it!” Johnson #1 screamed out, as the piercing on going lonely tone, told a tale called, “no one is at the other end… anymore”.

Something about what Johnson #2 said, pertaining to his wife, Xara, immediately sent Johnson #1 in an enraged, rage-full mood.

“Answer me! Damn you, man!” Johnson #1 said, as he jumped back a step, when the lights turned on.

When he turned around, Xara was right behind him.

“Jesus Christ sweetie,” Xara said, as she looked around, and saw him holding onto the phone, the lonely tone, evident that there was no one on the other end of the phone, “it’s almost morning. You scared the devil out of this house. Are you okay, baby? Is there anything wrong? Who are you talking to?”

Xara walked up to him, grabbed the phone out of his hand, and hanged the phone up. Xara walked up closer to him, and she stole herself a romantic kiss, that seemed as if it lasted for a century. It was surely one of them moments that lasted, for as long as it could.

“Sweetie,” Xara said, as she hugged him tight, “baby, it’s 6:40 in the morning, and even though it’s still night outside… it’s still morning, baby. Come on… come upstairs. My body needs you, next to me in bed.”

Johnson #1 looked at the front door, for the last time, he looked at his wife, and quickly came to his senses, and realized that time was actually running out. Johnson #1 wanted to keep holding on to his wife, but decided to let go, as he pulled back from her, with a warm, gentle smile on his face.

“You know… you’re right, sweetie,” Johnson #1 said, as he gave her one more, quick, romantic kiss.

“Sure, I’ll be up in a few minutes. I promise. I just have to take care of something very important, before I jump into bed with you, and hold you, like you never been held.”

“And kissed,” Xara asked.

“Yeah… and kissed.”

Xara planted her last romantic, passionate kiss on his lips, and hurried upstairs to the bedroom to wait, for him, and what he had promised her that he would do after he came back. And as soon as Johnson #1 heard the bedroom door close, he knew, for sure, that the love of his life, Xara, was safe and sound. Johnson #1 wanted to keep his promise to her. But, he knew that there was but only two men that were in his way.

And as long as Johnson #1 does what he was told to do, he knew that everything was going to be okay. Nothing more… nothing less. It wasn’t mentally easy, but as soon as Johnson #1 felt prepared, and fully ready, he took a few seconds to fully think everything over.

As Johnson #1 stole a quick glance at his watch on his wrist, he knew that if he wanted to be back in the arms of the one he truly loved the most, he had to do everything Johnson #2 told him that he must do, to completely get rid of Agent Thomas and Agent Lee-his main two problems that are currently, patiently waiting outside of his house, because both of these agents know that Johnson #1 has to come out of his house, sooner, or later.

Johnson #1 walked up to the window, and slightly moved the curtain a tiny bit, enough to see everything outside, in front of his house. Johnson #1 peaked out, from behind the curtain, and saw Agent Thomas and Agent Lee, talking among themselves, standing right next to their sleek, black, shinny vehicle, patiently waiting for Johnson #1 to finally come out of his house. Agent Lee still, casually, held onto his firearm in his hand.

Johnson #1 spied on both of the agents movements that they made, from behind the curtain. And the moment Johnson #1 saw Agent Lee cock his gun back, right there, and then, he knew there was no more time to waste. Johnson #1 paused for a few seconds, trying to recollect everything, every single detail about the watch, which, night after night, after his wife, Xara went bed, he learned, until he had felt, as if he had learned all that there was to know about the watch, that he could possibly know.

And, ready, or not, just like a brand new high-end sports vehicle, Johnson #1 felt it was time. It was an immense urge, that made Johnson #1 feel that he had no choice in the matter at hand, but to take the time-traveling watch for a real spin, just to see exactly what the watch can possibly do.

So, with his wife, Xara, sound asleep, in the upstairs bedroom, he walked into the kitchen, and he made himself a new, fresh, vanilla shake. Unbeknownst to Johnson, from this point onward, there was no turning back. Whether he realized it or not, everything he wanted to believe, or not want to believe, suddenly became irrelevant the moment he entered the date, time, and year he wanted to travel to.

The air crackled with anticipation as Johnson #1 stood on the precipice of time, the world around him pulsating with an otherworldly energy. In an instant, reality itself seemed to warp and bend, and with a surge of intense intensity, Johnson #1 vanished into thin air.

The transition was nothing short of breathtaking. Colors swirled around him like a vortex, and the fabric of time itself seemed to stretch and contort. The sensation was both electrifying and disorienting, as though Johnson #1 had been caught in the tumultuous dance of temporal currents.

Now, with Johnson #1 three nights ahead into the future, he thought for a moment on how he was going to get his hands on the winning lottery numbers from the day before. As Johnson #1 walked around, he kept his head down and decided not to make eye contact with anyone passing by. Suddenly, a huge rat jumped out of a garbage can in front of him, startling both Johnson #1 and his spirit. The rat quickly scurried away, more frightened of Johnson #1 than he was of it. It took a moment for Johnson #1 to compose himself, as there was nothing he hated and feared more than rats.

The thought alone momentarily made Johnson #1 forget why he was there in the first place. Then it all came rushing back to him, like an avalanche, as he looked down into the garbage can and saw a newspaper. Not just any newspaper, but yesterdays newspaper.

Johnson #1 quickly grabbed the food-stained newspaper and opened it up, turning the pages one by one until he found the section that contained the winning lottery numbers he needed. He ripped out the section of the newspaper with the winning numbers, putting it in his pocket, and threw the rest of the newspaper back into the garbage can.

He walked away with a slight greedy grin on his face. When he thought the moment was right, he entered the date, time, and year he wanted to travel to on his watch. Instantly, the world around Johnson #1 dissolved into a blur of colors as he vanished into thin air, reappearing back in the living room of his house.

As soon as Johnson #1 reappeared back in his house, without even thinking about it, he took the ripped up section of the newspaper with the winning numbers, and he immediately put it in his pocket. Johnson #1 then took a real deep breath, as he walked up to the desk, and quickly pulled out the flash drive out of the laptop’s slot, and then Johnson #1 put the flash drive, in his other jean pocket.

He walked to the kitchen, and grabbed his milk shake off the kitchen counter, and then he walked up to his door, opened it, and then he walked out of his house, as he took several sips off his milk shake. As Johnson #1 walked out of his house, the first thing his eyes set upon were on the welly-dressed Agent Thomas and Agent Lee, still, casually standing by their vehicle.

Johnson #1 looked at both of the agents, and asked, “Good morning, gentlemen, can I help you guys?”

Both Agents Thomas and Lee looked at one another, and then Agent Lee showed Johnson #1 that he was armed.

“And where the hell do you think you’re going… at this hour?” Agent Lee asked him, as he pointed his weapon at Johnson #1.

Johnson #1 started to looked around, as if he suddenly got frightened, and then he looked at both of the agents.

“Don’t you fucking run,” Agent Lee said, as he covered his weapon with his other hand.

“If you do… I’ll shoot your dumb-ass in the fucking back. Do you hear me? Do you understand me? So… don’t do it, Pal.”

“Trust me,” Agent Thomas said to Johnson #1, as he walked up to him, “my partner here means it.”

Agent Thomas stared into Johnson #1’s eyes, their gaze locked in a final decision.

“So, what… what do you guys want from me?” Johnson #1 said, as he saw Agent Lee look around, and then take a step forward.

“Give us the watch…” Agent Thomas said, as he looked back at Agent Lee, and then at Johnson #1, “and the flash drive, and get back into your house. If you do, you will never see us again. Now, if you don’t, you’re not ever going back inside your house, because Agent Lee here will have no choice but to end your life, right here… right now So… make a choice. What’s it going to be, pal?”

Johnson #1 took a few long sips of his milkshake. He glanced at Agent Thomas, then at Agent Lee standing behind him, and finally at the front door of his house. When Agent Lee took another step forward, Johnson #1 relented.

“Okay…” Johnson #1 said, with a kind smile on his face, “okay. You got it, pal. I give you the watch and the flash drive, and you and your partner here… just get the hell out of here. Deal?”

While Johnson #1 waited for Agent Thomas’s reply, he took a few long sips off his milk shake, and then Johnson #1 put his hand out, so as Agent Thomas shakes it. Agent Thomas turned back, and looked at Agent Lee. Agent Lee nodded at Agent Thomas, and Agent Thomas returned the nod, and then Agent Thomas turned and looked at Johnson #1.

“Okay, pal, you have yourself a deal,” Agent Thomas said, as he shook Johnson #1’s hand, with a warm inviting smile on his face.

“You give us what we want, and you will never see us… ever again.”

Johnson #1 smiled back at Agent Thomas. He went into his jean pocket, pulled out the flash drive, and then Johnson #1 handed the flash drive to Agent Thomas.

“Now the watch…” Agent Thomas said, as he kept his eyes locked on all of Johnson #1’s movements.

Johnson #1 smiled again. And as he kept his gaze on Agent Thomas, Johnson #1 strapped the watch off his wrist, and then he handed it over to Agent Thomas.

“Now,” Johnson #1 asked, “can you both please get out of here… and get out of my sight?”

“Sure,” Agent Thomas said, as he looked back at Agent Lee, then back at Johnson #1, and then he pointed at the door behind Johnson #1, “right away. But… after you, pal.”

Johnson #1 seemed to be taking his sweet time getting back inside his house, so Agent Lee, with a frustrated look on his face, cocked his weapon again to show Johnson #1 he meant business. Johnson #1 stole a peek at Agent Lee, who stood firm with his weapon ready, then began to walk toward him and Agent Thomas. That was all Johnson #1 needed to see to speed up the process, and finally enter his house and close the door shut behind him.

“Okay… I’m out of here, pal,” Johnson #1 said, as he opened the door.

But before Johnson #1 entered the house, he stared at Agent Thomas, for a few seconds.

And before Johnson #1 closed the door behind him, Agent Thomas said, “Thank you very much. And… have a beautiful life, pal.”

“You too, pal,” Johnson #1 said, as soon as he closed the door, and locked it from the inside.

And as soon as Johnson #1 closed the door, and made sure it was locked, he went over to the curtain to take a final peak at the situation outside. When Johnson #1 pushed the curtain to the side to see through the window, the first thing that he noticed was that not only did Agent Thomas and Agent Lee vanish into thin air, but their fancy vehicle had also vanished, from the exact spot that it was parked in.

“Later…” Johnson #1 said, “weird guys.”

The moment Johnson #1 thought about his wife, Xara, the love of his life, he didn’t waste a single moment. Putting his milkshake down on his desk, he rushed upstairs to the bedroom to be with the one he truly loves the most. Johnson #1 slipped into bed with Xara, holding her tight… and she did the same.

The next morning, Johnson #1 woke his wife, Xara, with breakfast in bed. As she watched some television and ate her breakfast, Johnson #1 laid next to her.

“Hey, can you do me a favor, sweetie? I have some work to do. Do you think you can go to the market to play the lotto for me?” Johnson #1 asked.

Xara paused mid-bite and looked at him, surprised.

“Lotto? Since when do you play the national lotto game?” she asked.

Johnson #1 tore a piece of toast from Xara’s tray, popped it into his mouth, and swallowed.

“I don’t know… I kind of feel lucky. Do you feel lucky?” he asked, planting a kiss on her lips.

Xara kissed him back and smiled.

“I only feel lucky to have you, sweetie,” she said.

“Look, you stay home, do your work. I’ll go to the market and do this little favor for you. As long as when I come back, you’re here waiting for me.”

“Of course, I’ll be here waiting for you, sweetie,” Johnson #1 replied.

Later, as Johnson #1 was at home cooking something for both of them, Xara arrived at the market. She walked up to the counter, picking out a lotto ticket. The cashier smiled as she handed over the ticket.

“Good luck. Hope you win.”

“Thanks,” Xara replied with a grin.

“Me too.”

Xara got back into her vehicle and drove home.

Entering the house, she walked up to Johnson #1, who was busy in the kitchen, and planted a kiss on his lips. She then placed the lotto ticket on top of the kitchen counter, making sure he could see it.

“Here you go, love. Your lucky ticket,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Johnson #1 replied, wiping his hands on a towel and glancing at the ticket.

“I really hope we both win.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter too much. My parents are already wealthy,” Xara said, shrugging.

“But now we both can be filthy rich if we win,” Johnson #1 added, pulling her into a hug.

They both chuckled, their hopes mingling with the aroma of the meal cooking in the kitchen. The future was uncertain, but for now, they enjoyed the moment together.

That same evening, Johnson #1 and Xara were in their bedroom, enjoying some Chinese food as they watched television. They eagerly awaited the announcement of the winning lottery numbers on national TV. The announcer’s voice filled the room.

“Good evening, I’m Annette Collins, with tonight’s drawings for Friday, June 25^th 1999. Here we go And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: the winning numbers for tonight’s Mega Jackpot of $164,000,000. Check your tickets. Good luck.”

Johnson #1 and Xara held hands, their hearts pounding in anticipation.

“Our first winning number… 2.”

They exchanged a hopeful glance.

“That’s followed by… 4.”

Johnson #1 checked their ticket.

“We have both so far.”

“The third winning number… 24.”

Xara squeezed Johnson #1’s hand.

“Still good!”

“The fourth winning number… 5.”

Johnson #1’s eyes widened.

“We’re still in!”

“The fifth winning number… 56.”

Xara’s voice trembled with excitement.

“We need one more!”

“The sixth number… 64.”

Johnson #1 could barely contain his excitement.

“Just the bonus number now!”

“And the bonus number… 78!”

Johnson #1 and Xara stared at their ticket, then at each other, disbelief turning into overwhelming joy.

“We won!” Johnson #1 shouted, dropping his food and pulling Xara into a tight hug.

“We actually won!”

Xara’s eyes filled with tears of happiness as she kissed him.

“We did it! We really did it!”

They laughed and cried, hugging and kissing each other in a whirl of emotions. It was an overwhelming scene, a moment of pure, unadulterated joy that took their relationship to a whole new level of extreme, pure, real love. The room seemed to pulse with their happiness, their love amplified by the incredible turn of fate that had just made them multi-millionaires.

Johnson #1 and Xara lounged comfortably on beach chairs, soaking in the sun’s rays on their very own yacht, aptly named The Doctor Is In. The gleaming vessel cut through the azure waves, a symbol of their newfound wealth and happiness. Friends and family members from their wedding were present, celebrating with unrestrained joy.

Music filled the air, mingling with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Well-dressed servants moved gracefully about, serving an array of exquisite food and drinks to the delighted guests. Johnson #1 and Xara, beaming with contentment, rose from their chairs and began to dance. Their movements were in perfect harmony, their love for each other palpable. They kissed romantically, lost in their moment.

As they swayed to the rhythm, Xara looked up at Johnson #1 and asked, “Sweetie, what time is it?”

Johnson #1 glanced at his wrist and realized he wasn’t wearing a watch. He smiled and planted another tender kiss on Xara’s lips, a kiss that made her feel as if she were floating on air.

“Who cares about time or money now, sweetie?” he replied, his voice filled with affection.

Xara smiled back, her eyes sparkling. Johnson #1’s male nurse friend walked up to them and handed each of them a cocktail.

Looking deep into Johnson #1’s eyes, Xara said, “Surely… not me, baby.”

They clinked their glasses together and took a sip, savoring the moment. Johnson #1 pulled her closer, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I love you so much, Xara. I promise I will never, ever leave you.”

Xara’s eyes brimmed with tears of joy.

“I love you too, Johnson. Looks like… we will always be together, no matter what.”

They sealed their vows with another kiss, the intensity of their love radiating from them. Surrounded by their loved ones and basking in their wealth, they knew that their real love was the true treasure. With the sun setting on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the yacht, Johnson #1 and Xara held each other close, knowing that they had everything they could ever want—each other.

Now, Agent Thomas and Agent Lee sat in the car, the rhythmic hum of the engine their only companion as they drove out of the town of Bushwick, in Brooklyn. With their mission complete, it was about that time for both of the agents to go back to their timeline in the far future. The mission they had just completed weighed heavily on Agent Thomas’s mind, but he couldn’t shake the sense of relief that it was finally over. Agent Thomas broke the silence, his tone serious.

“Lee, about Davidson… I have to say, he was a huge liability. His actions almost compromised the mission multiple times.” he said.

Agent Lee’s eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, but his voice carried a hint of something deeper.

“I agree, Thomas. Davidson’s behavior was reckless and unpredictable. He was a true liability to the completion of the mission.”

Agent Thomas nodded, feeling vindicated.

“I’m glad you see it that way. We managed to pull through, but his presence made things unnecessarily difficult.” he said.

There was a long pause before Agent Lee spoke again, his voice softer this time.

“Thomas, there’s something you need to know. Something about Davidson and me.”

Agent Thomas glanced at Agent Lee, curiosity piqued.

“What is it?” he asked, as he took a deep breath, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

“I was an orphan, Thomas. I had no one. But then Davidson’s parents adopted me. They gave me a home, fed me, clothed me, and most importantly, they loved me. Davidson wasn’t just a fellow agent to me. He was my brother. My only real, true brother. We were best friends. I loved him more than anything in the world,” Agent Lee said as a single tear slid down his face.

Agent Thomas felt a cold chill run down his spine as the gravity of Agent Lee’s words sank in. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. He could see where this conversation was heading, but it was too late to change its course. Agent Lee’s voice turned colder, more resolute.

“You see, Thomas, family means everything to me. So, when you killed my brother, it became personal,” Agent Lee said.

Thomas’s heart raced as he tried to read Agent Lee’s expression.

“Lee, I… I didn’t know. If I had known—” he stammered.

But Agent Lee cut him off, pulling out his firearm and holding it up for Agent Thomas to see.

“It’s too late for that now, Thomas. My only brother is dead because you filled him with bullets! So… no matter what you say, nothing can bring him back from the dead. I loved him! And you killed him! You killed my brother!” he shouted, his voice booming as tears streamed down his face.

The car seemed to close in around them, the tension palpable. Agent Thomas kept his eyes on the road, glancing at Agent Lee, his mind racing for a way out.

“Lee, put the gun down. We can talk about this.”

Agent Lee shook his head, his grip on the gun steady.

“There’s nothing left to talk about. You’ve said enough.” he said.

The road stretched out before them, a silent witness to the unfolding drama. Agent Thomas knew he had to tread carefully, but every instinct screamed at him to take action. The stakes were higher than ever, and now, it wasn’t just the mission that hung in the balance—it was his very life.

“And… enough is enough!”

“Don’t do it!” was all Agent Thomas managed to say before Agent Lee’s weapon exploded, the round exiting the barrel with lethal force.

The bullet struck Thomas in the right side of his temple, and his head slammed hard against the windshield. Agent Lee fired several more shots, ensuring Thomas was lifeless, then quickly grabbed the steering wheel with one hand and slammed his foot on top of Thomas’s to press the brakes.

The vehicle came to a violent stop, causing Thomas’s body to slump forward onto the steering wheel, the horn blaring briefly before falling silent. Breathing heavily, Agent Lee moved swiftly. He reached over and yanked Thomas’s left hand towards him, quickly removing the watch from his wrist. He then placed it into his inside suit pocket.

With a sense of urgency, Agent Lee pressed a few buttons on his own watch. In an instant, a series of lights and colors enveloped the vehicle, creating a surreal, almost science-fiction-like spectacle. The entire vehicle, along with its occupants, vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind. The transition between timelines was disorienting, a blur of motion and color that felt like being swept through a vortex.

But it was over in seconds, and the vehicle reappeared in a completely different setting, the once bustling street now replaced by a deserted road in an unfamiliar timeline. Agent Lee took a moment to steady his breathing, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

He looked at the lifeless body of Thomas, then out at the strange new world they had entered, a desolate, overgrown graveyard. The mission had taken an unexpected turn, but Agent Lee was resolute. He had all the watches now, and he was determined to see his brother’s legacy preserved, no matter the cost.

With a final glance at Thomas, Agent Lee opened the car door and stepped out into the graveyard, the same one that Thomas had buried Davidson in, ready to face whatever challenges awaited him in this new timeline. Agent Lee pulled out, and dragged, half carried Thomas’s body out of the vehicle deep into the desolate, overgrown graveyard.

The air was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Ancient headstones, some toppled and others worn smooth by time, dotted the landscape. Agent Lee took a moment to survey the surroundings, then set to work.

He retrieved a shovel from nearby, its handle weathered but sturdy. But, he didn’t have to dig a hole, because Agent Lee already had dug the hole, before he killed Thomas, and had brought him to the graveyard. With each shovelful of dirt, memories of his fallen partner flooded his mind.

Agent Lee dragged Thomas body up to the already duged-up hole, and then he viciously, without no remorse, kicked Thomas body into, inside the hole. Agent Lee stood over the grave for a long moment, then began to fill it in, the rhythmic thud of the shovel a somber cadence. When the last of the dirt was in place, Agent Lee knelt beside the freshly turned earth.

“I’m sorry, Thomas,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

“I never wanted this for you. You were my partner, my friend. But you left me no choice, because loyalty, trust, and brotherhood are thicker than blood and water.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, sliding down his dirt-streaked face.

“I hope you rot in hell, pal,” he murmured, bowing his head in a silent prayer.

After a few moments, Agent Lee wiped his tears away, forcing himself to his feet. He dusted off his suit, now a filthy, ruined mess. Glancing at his watch, Agent Lee pressed a series of buttons. And then, suddenly, a burst of static filled the desolate graveyard. Agent Lee’s watch sprung to life, a holographic display materializing above it with a soft glow. A voice crackled through the static, distorted but unmistakably urgent.

“Agent Lee, this is HQ. We’ve got your signal. Were ready for you and Agent Thomas to come in.”

“I’m sorry, but Thomas didn’t make it. Thomas is… he’s dead,” Agent Lee said, as he looked down at the freshly turned earth.

“Sorry… sorry to hear that. It happens to the best of us. Doesn’t it?” HQ said, thanking that at least Agent Lee made it intact, after the mission. Because, according to HQ, “One is better than none”.

With determination etched into his features, Agent Lee mentally geared up for the pivotal moment. The time-travel watch rested heavily on his wrist, a conduit to altering his final fate. Agent Lee took a deep breath, his fingers poised over the buttons. The exact date, time, and year he desired were etched into his mind, a lifeline to his shared history, his actual timeline.

In a swift motion, his fingers danced across the watch’s surface. A surge of energy enveloped him, and the world around Agent Lee transformed into a whirlwind of colors. Time itself seemed to stretch and bend, and in an instant, he vanished from his reality.

The space between seconds was a kaleidoscope of sensation–a symphony of sights and sounds merging into a singular experience. Agent Lee’s form wavered, then dissolved, leaving behind an echo of his presence. As the colors blended and merged, Agent Lee felt the tug of temporal currents, carrying him through the fabric of reality.

The sensation was both exhilarating and disorienting, a whirlwind journey through time’s vast tapestry. In the span of a heartbeat, he was gone, leaving behind the desolate graveyard bathed in the inspiring aftermath of his quick-fast departure. The world continued to spin, unaware of the final extraordinary journey that had just unfolded within its midst.

Now, Agent Lee materialized in his own home, back in his timeline in the far future. The sleek, minimalist, futuristic design of his living room was a stark contrast to the chaotic scene he had just left. As soon as he arrived, the lights turned on, illuminating the once dark room. Within seconds, a voice broke the silence. It was his home’s artificial intelligence system.

“Good evening, Agent Lee. It is so great to have you back. Please, allow me to comfort you with some relaxing music,” the voice said, as soothing tunes emanated from the many mini high-tech speakers throughout the house, filling every room, including the bathroom, with calming melodies.

Agent Lee walked up to the bare wall, and as he approached, a next-gen, Allenesque keypad appeared out of thin air. He punched in the secret numerical pass-code, and the entire wall slid open with a soft, whooshing sound, revealing a fourteen-mile-long walk-in closet.

Inside the vast closet, Agent Lee unstrapped the watch from his wrist and retrieved the watches he had taken from Johnson #1, Johnson #2, Davidson, and Thomas from inside his suit pocket. He placed all five next to trillions of identical watches. The sight of the countless time-travel devices was overwhelming, but Agent Lee’s expression remained impassive, as if it did not faze him.

After securing the watches, Agent Lee stepped out of the closet and punched in the code to close the wall. It slid back with the same soft whoosh, becoming invisible once more. He then walked into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashing water onto his mud-caked, dirty face. As soon as Agent Lee stepped inside the bathroom, relaxing music began playing from a mini speaker, bathing the room in soothing melodies.

Agent Lee reached into his suit’s outer pocket and retrieved a crumpled picture of Johnson #1 along with the flash drive Thomas had confiscated. Opening the toilet lid, he tossed the picture and flash drive into the bowl. With a decisive flick of his wrist, he flushed, watching as both items were engulfed by the swirling water, disappearing from sight. Slamming the lid shut, he glanced up and met his own reflection in the mirror.

A sad, warm smile crept across Agent Lee’s face as he reached into his inside suit pocket and pulled out a black surgical mask. Putting on the mask, he retrieved his firearm from its holster. Cocking the weapon, he pressed it to his temple, smiled, and waved at his reflection in the mirror.

With a final tap of the futuristic, illuminated cube switch on the wall, the bathroom lights went out. In the darkness, Agent Lee pulled the trigger. BAAAAMMMM!!! The powerful burst sounded like a cannon, echoing in the confined space. For a fleeting moment, Agent Lee’s own reflection flashed brightly in the small room due to the intense flash.

THE END