Time And Tide Wait For No Killer

You’d think it’d be easy with the knowledge we have. Maybe it’s a test, a ploy to outsmart or a glitch in the Keanu Reeve-esque matrix so many of us have to endure. Whatever it is, it ain’t easy.

How far into the future or back into the past can you go before your brain develops some kind of psychosis and you end up chasing your tail rather than finding the bad guy?

There are just too many places to hide these days.

I couldn’t wait for my Bonnie and Clyde moment though. Rocking up with a 30 caliber BAR in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, shimmying my way into that speakeasy with a chip on my shoulder. It was always about the act not the disguise.

See me as I truly am and deal with me. 

The look on their faces when I materialised, like some voodoo spirit, was worth every split-millisecond of potential danger as they drew their guns.

I like avoiding bullets. It’s the surfer in me. Many things disappear from memory after 693 timehops, but surfing is a religion you never forget.

Make sure you’re at the right spot, keep it low, generate speed and power, foot work is key and most importantly, look and your body will follow.

So, yeah, hopping in and out of time and space is easy. But hunting a murderer through a myriad of wormholes not so much. 

He killed me twice already, the son of a bitch. But hey, we have eleven regenerations so I’m not gonna drop just yet. Besides, I’m enjoying chasing my tail with my nine lives left intact. One step ahead he may be but I’m riding this out ‘til either his wrists are in my cuffs or I’m dead.

Written for microcosms #192

http://microcosmsfic.com

Prompt: Surfer/ 1920s-1930s nightclub/ Sci-fi