“Honestly, it felt as though the entirety of my world had come crashing down around me. I could feel the splinters of glass raining over my skin and leaving lines of red flaring pain. How did I do this again? How COULD I do this again? I’m so dead.” The light from the overly large classroom suddenly becomes blinding as I try to focus my wavering eyes on my latest History examination. F triple minus. With this I know I’m doomed for the rest of the semester. I glance around the room and look at the faces of my peers. Some have the same expression as I do; Others are more morose. Grace Linking catches my eye and offers a soft smile. I tenderly smile back before lowering my head against the surface of my failure covered desk. The paper eases some of the coolness of the wood and I sigh.

“MR. OLVERA! If you are unsatisfied with your test score you have an option to make it up. Please try not to bash your brain in before school tomorrow. That being said, I’ll be notifying the parents of everyone with a C or lower. You are all dismissed.”

A collective groan arises from the class. Along with the rest of the zombies I gather up my possesions and I trudge out of the too bright room before the bell rings. At this school, it’s always best to be early for your next class. The teachers understand that and always release us ahead of schedule. I bump into Grace in the hallway and she offers me another smile. This time I manage to paint my face with a shit-eating grin. Her smile widens and she begins to talk.

“Hey, Oz. How’d you do on the test? I got an 85.” Her face is almost as bright as the classroom. It hurts my eyes a little and I look down before pulling my test out of my backpack and showing her.

“Ouch, that sucks. Maybe I should tutor you some time huh? Don’t worry I’ll take it easy on you Ozzy.” She smirks.
“Hey, I don’t need tutoring, Grace. You don’t need to save me from EVERY class. Besides, I’ll probably never see you again. After I get home my grandfather is going to erase ME from history. Thanks though, I’ll keep you in mind when I’m floating through limbo.”

“You’re so dramatic, Olvera. I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“Linking, if you only knew.”

“Well, Ozzy. If you need me, you know where to find me. Buh bye now.” She winks before spinning on her heel and walking off to her next class. Grace Linking. I’ve always had a crush on her. Since middle school. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about her that I’m just drawn to. Maybe one day when I’m not a complete idiot, she’d actually consider dating me. Until then however, I’m Mr. Lonely forever. I shuffle my feet to my last class of the day. I have 2 less classes than everyone else; A reward for past performance. I wonder what happened? Oh yeah puberty, girls, and drugs. Yes, drugs. I smoke pot. Lots and lots of pot. I know people call it the gateway drug but I don’t consider it a drug at all. It came from the earth and I like the earth. You know, because I live on it. I’m not stupid enough to bring any of it to school though; I only smoke at home or out with the few friends I have.

Spanish, my last class of the day. Muy mal. I hate it. I live in America. Why do I have to learn Mexico? Alright I admit that might have been a bit racist. I’m sorry. I can’t help it though, it behooves me. I walk in with 3 of my classmates and take my seat at the back of the dingy classroom. Seriously, this has to be the least maintained and oldest classroom in the building. The walls are yellowed and half the desks are broken. Well, not broken but they sure as hell creak something awful. There’s only one window and the view isn’t even that great. I don’t get it. All of the other classrooms in the school are up to date and modern. Why not this one?

“Gooooodmorning class of mine!”

Mr Gonzales shouts at what has to be the top of his 68 year old lungs. The class and myself mutter a half hearted buenos dias, senor Gonzales. He starts with the usual Spanish vocabulary words before launching into chapter 12 of the text book. I try to pay attention but I can only think of the shit storm I’ve got waiting on me at home. My seat is in the back but I swear Mr. G has it out for me. He calls on me three times throughout the class. I muddle through the answers to his questions and throw my hand down on the old desk and start to daydream.

I’m walking through old London at night. Fog is engulfing the city and it is strangely beautiful. I hear a scream followed by an erratic, “No please!” I run towards the scream while tugging my trench coat closer to my body. I turn into an alley and the fog clears quickly. Before me is a sight I’ll never forget. A woman who looks like she is in her twenties is laying on the cobblestones. Her blood pooled around her and a hatchet buried in her skull.

“NO!” I shout as I come back to reality. The class is looking at me funny.

“Senor Olvera, is something the matter? Or are you just tired of sleeping in my class?”

The class laughs and I feel my face redden. What was that? I think to myself as the bell rings and the class begins to walk out.

“Oz, stay here for a minute. I need to speak with you.”

“Yes, Mr. G.” I grab my things and walk slowly to his desk. Geez even his desk is outdated. I put my book-bag on his desk and wait for him to start talking. He’s looking at me with a strange face. I can’t place it. He takes a deep breath. His white dress shirt looks like it’s about to pop open. Was he always this fat?
“Oz, are you alright? Is everything OK at home?” He asks, with a concerned expression.

“Yeah Mr. G. I’m fine. Why do you ask that?”

“Students don’t generally have nightmares in my class. When they get home, maybe; but not in the middle of my class.” He says before sitting down and taking a sip of what I think is coffee.

“Mr. G. I’m sorry. Yes, everything is fine at home. I bombed my history test earlier and I know I’m going to die when I get home. But I’m not being abused sir. My family is actually quite happy.”

“I’m relived to hear that, Oz. If you ever need help. Let me know. You’re a smart kid and a fun student.” He smiles and motions me out. I nod and offer a small half-smile before departing the classroom. The halls are empty. Everyone is already in their next class. The lockers in this school are standard. Green combo style metal cells. I walk to my locker and put in my combination. 14-37-60. It clanks and I open it and shove my book bag inside before grabbing my failure and closing the green beast.

My car is an old yellow Camaro. Dad’s gift when I turned 18. I love it. I know everyone else calls their yellow Camaros Bumblebee, but my girl Annie never lets me down. I named her Annie after my favorite character from one of my favorite video games. League of Legends. I’m not too good at the game but it’s really fun and I enjoy playing with people from all around the U.S. She rumbles to life and I grin. 0-100 in seconds. The best part of dad’s gift is her engine. I’m a speedster. I can’t help it. The power it draws my foot down harder and harder until my breaks scream when I hit a red light.
Traffic is great and I make it home in 10 minutes. The song Get Out Alive by Three Days Grace comes on just as I park on the street. Coincedence? I think not. I sigh, get out and clutch my exam close to my chest as I close the driver door and mentally prepare for this. I know he got the call. He ALWAYS gets the call. I walk up to the door and it opens before I take out my house key. My grandfather, Marco Olvera is standing there. He smiles, he fucking smiles and ushers me in. I hold my head down and walk in. I hear the door close and I turn around and it begins.
“God damn it Oz! How are you having this much trouble in History? Your father has his doctorate in Historical Studies. Your mother teaches History. Maybe you need to go to her school, yes? Give me the paper.” He commands. I hand it to him and he sighs.

“Come with me.” He says, before turning and walking towards our basement door.

“Yes, grandfather.” I mumble as I follow him. My feet dragging and feeling heavier with each step. He opens the door and walks down the 6 stairs into our finished basement. Oh, I forgot to mention. Our house is fucking huge. So fucking huge. My grandfather is rich as shit and no one knows what he does. We walk over to the big red couch and sit down. A cup of coffee is already sitting on the coffee table, steaming. I pick it up and sip. Ugh, black. He begins to speak.

“Oz, I am a correctional officer.” He says before sipping his own coffee. I bet his isn’t black.

“A correctional officer? Gramps I’m pretty sure they don’t make enough money to fund this huge ass house. I’ve wanted to know what you do forever. What do you really do? It has to be something with History, you know so much. More than dad.” My voice lowers as I mention my dad. It’s been 3 years and I haven’t seen him.

“No, Oz. I don’t work in prisons. I correct time.” He takes another sip. “Listen, our family is special. We have a purpose. There are organizations that work to change the past for their benefits. We are the barrier that prevents this. Our family has been thwarting these organizations for decades upon decades.”

“Grandfather..what..what are you talking about? You sound crazy. Look I know I messed up again. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I promise. If this story is some way of manipulating me, you don’t have to do it. I’ll do better, gramps. I will.” I smile at him. He doesn’t smile back and mine fades.

He groans and claps his hands loudly together. The lights go off and a light beams from the watch on his wrist. A glowing clock comes into view, it emanates from the watch. I can only stare. It’s bright. Too bright. The look on my grandfather’s face scares me a bit. It’s almost cold and unfeeling.

“Oz Austram Olvera, I Marco Alverious Olvera hereby induct you into The Family Your first mission. Protect Jack the Ripper from Fringe at all costs.” He breaks his sombrerity and smiles softly. “Good luck, Austram.”

Before I can even mutter a response to all of this it feels like my body is ripped apart and my sense go nill. Suddenly, I’m standing in the middle of a foggy street. My clothes have changed. A trench-coat. Old style trousers and leather shoes. There’s a gun on my hip and my grandfather’s watch is now on my wrist. Confused and a bit dazed I start to walk. This place is foggy. To the extreme. I can barely see ANYTHING. there’s no one outside and the moon is bright. Too bright. As I walk…I hear a scream.

CHAPTER 2

I cradle her head in my hands and mutter a silent prayer before removing the hatchet. Jack the Ripper..who was he? I can’t remember. Fucking history man. I lay the cold woman down on the ground and wince as a rain-drop hits me in my eye. It starts to pour and I look around. Grandfather seriously better explain this fucked up shit when I get back; IF I get back. I stand up and look around. I’m in a narrow-ish alley. The bricks of the two buildings I’m surrounded by have been painted an ominous black.
The paint only adds to my growing discomfort. I pull out my phone and try to dial the police but I get no signal. Besides, I’m clearly not in the U.S…would I even be able to make a call here? Well, people make international calls every day. Gramps wouldn’t have sent me here if the purpose weren’t for me to learn a lesson. He must have sent me back in time…it has to be something related to History of course.

I shrug and start walking through the now fog filled down-pour. My shoes make and odd thumping sound with each step I take. “It must be the letter” I tell myself. The rain starts to lighten as I round the end of the alley. It seemed to only be about 10 ft long. My trench-coat is starting to soak and weigh more than it should. I work against slouching my shoulders and keep going.

The buildings all so old and decrepit. Most of them are brick but there are a few American style houses. Probably folks who moved form America and got their houses built. In it’s own way it was pretty cool. Though not as London-esque as I’d hoped it would be. My thoughts are swiftly cut off and I see blackness as a blunt piece of metal collides with my skull. I feel myself falling as my world spins and the collision spot pulsing as my life-blood flows out.

I’m in a room surrounded by bright lights and beautiful girls. There is smoke in the room. Thick enough to choke Hulk Hogan. It isn’t from tobacco or cannabis; That much I could tell. A girl walks up to me. She is breath-taking. She is wearing Indian style garb. I Don’t know exactly what her clothes are called , but I knows she’s gorgeous enough to be compared to the Goddess Shiva. I see the red dot on her forehead and crinkle my brow. I think to myself, “Isn’t that head marking a religious thing? If she works here she must not be a good girl.” (Smirk 😉

She beckons to me and I walk towards her slowly. As I walk she mouths her name in the way most erotic way I’ve ever seen lips take shape. Kuri. I almost expel the air left in my lungs but I catch myself just as I get within talking range of her. Alright, maybe a little more than talking range. I couldn’t help it. I was just drawn to her. She smiles and begins to speak silver into my ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you, sir. Judging by your dress I see you’re not from around here.”

“No, I’m not. How can you tell the difference though? It looks to me like I’m wearing just what all these other blokes (blokes? :D) are wearing. What are YOU wearing? You definitely look not from around here.”`

“You are correct, sir. I come from India. That’s all you get, now it’s time for fun.”
“Oz..OZ! Wake up!”

I am awoken from my forced slumber by an angel. Grace? No, what the hell.

“GRACE?!” I sit up slowly and rub my head where I was hit.

“Hey, Ozzy.” She smiles softly and I check my surroundings. I’m no longer outside. I wonder how long I was out. I’m still a bit dazed. MY head has been roughly bandaged up and I can feel it throbbing. Grace looks beautiful. She’s wearing the same style of clothing I got here in. She’s dressed like a tom-boy. If I hadn’t seen her face every day..I’d have never guessed it was her. What the hell is going on?

“Grace..what..what are you doing here? Where ARE we?” I ask with a tinge of nervous excitement.
“Oz, I didn’t think they’d throw you in so soon. I thought we had more time.” She looks down morosely.
“More time? Time for what? What are you talking about, Grace?” Her brown beret frames her head perfectly. We’re in a bedroom. The bed I’m assuming she’d lain me in after she found me was not comfortable at all. I stand up and face her. She thinks for a moment. Her eyes darting away from me and up to the right. She’s not lying.

“”Oz, I’m with Fringe. Your family..the Olveras..The Family. We’ve been enemies for years. Fringe started me early on. I’m been changing history since I was 12.” Her eyes are icy as she recounts her story to me. I sit stunned and unable to speak. My head throbs again. I wince. It is only then that I notice a shotgun strapped to her back.

“Grace, I still don’t even fully understand what’s going on. You say we’re enemies but why are you here? With me?”

“My most recent assignment was to secure Jack the Ripper and make him work us. For Fringe. With his capture Fringe would control London in the night. Asassinations and such.”
I shudder.

“Gramps said my mission was to protect, Jack. I still haven’t seen him. Who is he?”
Grace sighs and takes off her shotgun and aims it squarely at my chest.
“I’m sorry, Oz.”

She fires the first round and my body moves faster than my mind. I pivot on my right foot and the blast grazes my side and goes into the wall behind me. I yelp from the pain and she looks sad. She pumps it and readies for her next. In that second..that moment her pump comes back down I step inwardly toward her and attempt to position the barrel up. I grab it and push up only to be met by a swift kick to my mid-section. I stumble back and fall onto the bed. I remember the gun I showed up here with and reach for it but it’s gone. She smiles and moves her coat aside to show me that she has it.

“Sorry, Ozzy. Couldn’t have you shooting back now could I?” She pumps again and levels the gun at my chest. The blood from the shot to my side is increasing in flow. I hold my side and hold my other hand up in surrender. She pauses but keeps the gun on me.

“Grace, WHAT THE HELL?! First gramps does this weird shit and then you show up and you’re trying to kill me?! SERIOUSLY?! WHAT..THE..FUCK!” I scream at the top of my lungs. Her face becomes mildly sympathetic and she lowers the gun slightly before beginning to speak.

“Oz, look. I’m sorry. We’re enemies. You may not know much now but you will later on. If I don’t kill you here you’ll only be in my way in the future. I’m sorry, I thought we had more time but this is the way it has to be. If it’s any consolation I always thought you were a pretty cool guy. Now just shut up and let me do this.” She says with an exasperated expression. I throw down my hand and look at the bed sheet. I feel her aiming the barrel at my skull. I prepare for a death that I don’t even know how I deserve.

I hear her finger tremble on the trigger. I feel the barrel shaking against my head. I glance a look up and see her crying. Not crying as in boo hoo, but there are streams of water running down her cheeks. I don’t know what it means..but if I’m going to die here. I can at least kiss Grace motherfucking Linking. In that instant I see her finger about to pull the trigger. She closes her eyes like she doesn’t want to see what happens to me. I move as quickly and silently as I can to the and she fires. I grunt like she hit me and I silently move to stand next to her. Her eyes are still closed and the tears are still flowing. I hear her mutter, “I’m sorry..I’m sorry” again and again. I can’t believe she’s feeling sorry. She just tried to kill me. We’ve been in school together since as long as I can remember. When she starts to open her eyes I slap the gun as hard as I can out of her hands. Her eyes open wide in surprise and she begins to speak through tear filled eyes.

“Oz..”

I cut her off by grabbing her waist with my free arm and pulling her close into a deep kiss. My side is flaring with pain as well as my head. I think I’ve lost too much blood because my vision begins to fade. I break our kiss. I feel her lips linger on mine. I hear her say one last time, “Ozzy.”
The room goes dark.

---