The Time Traveller’s Baby-MommaJune 24, 2011 at 10:03 PM | Posted in Fiction | 4 Comments
Tags: fiction, noir, steampunk, superheroes
This is another in the series of flash fiction from Chuck Wendig’s site “Terrible Minds.” The mission? One thousand words, mixing together a couple of these sub-genres: Steampunk, Super hero, Noir, erotica, farce, and men’s adventure. I’m not sure what some of those are. Check out the other entries here:
Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge, “Sub-Genre Mash-Up.”
ITT climbed out of his Delorean exactly the way you would expect a middle aged fat guy to climb out of a sports car: huffing, grunting, squirming, and not the least bit ironic, even when his toupee snagged on the overhead door.
“Fuck it,” he decided. It’ll be there when he comes back. His penny loafers squished in the semi-frozen blood that covered the ground. He ambled his way to the crowd that was gathered around the police tape and pushed his way through.
An old woman cursed as he pushed, then let him through. “Oh, it’s you!” She yelled out to the crowd, “Everything’s okay, folks! The Time Traveler is here!”
ITT reflected that fame was one thing, and notoriety was something else entirely. He made a mental note to travel back in time and find this old hag, and fuck her when she was young.
But that would be inappropriate.
The uniform was waiting at the tape for him. “I don’t think we need your help on this one.” There was a laugh in his voice.
“Ju-just tell me what you got here, Fenway.” ITT had a contract with the city to fight crime. ITT was the lowest bidder.
“Whatever. Come on.” Fenway talked as he led ITT through the carnage. “We got an air bus full of degenerates that fell out of the sky. It landed on the Blue Key–”
“Yeah. We don’t know how that happened. Before it hit, though, a street cleaner got under it. Maybe trying to stop it, we don’t know. Some the of the degens are programmed to save their hosts, so they climbed out onto the pipes of the bus. The first couple melted to it–”
“But that made a cushion for some of the others. About a half a dozen of these degen cyborgs made it out onto the wing and tried to get on the street cleaner.
“What about the pilot?”
“Most of these street cleaners are on auto; they just float around sucking shit up. No safety. So–”
“So the degens–”
“Got sucked completely off the airbus.”
“And not in a good way.”
“Is there a good way to suck a degen?”
“Ask your mom.” ITT ignored the reply from Fenway as he looked around. Robots and former human flesh was everywhere, and moving slightly, twitching, and in one case dragging itself toward the sewer opening.
Undamaged and untouched was the Blue Key, even though a street cleaner was shredded to pieces and balanced on it. On top of that was the air bus. A head and a robotic arm and shoulder slid out of a vent on the cleaner, reminding ITT of a turd.
But it was still very disturbing: The Keys were indestructible, yes–but they were also supposed to be untouchable, like a woman was to him at this stage in his life.
“We having a problem getting this cleaned up because of the Key?” ITT asked. It made sense–the power they generate made a field of impenetrability, like a chastity belt, or an aggressive bouncer.
“Nope. We have em on standby around the corner. FIC wants a look first. Here they come.”
Before he could react, a bulky-yet-sleek black and gold steamer came gliding in, making the horrible racket of real power and complete disregard that was the FIC’s calling card.
The Fucking Intelligence Community. Solar-powered Jesus, what next? ITT wished he wasn’t there. He and the FIC had a history, to put it mildly.
He turned around and noticed the crowd had dissipated. No one wants to be around when the FIC shows up. He turned to Fenway. “Why’d you get the short straw?”
Fenway said, “It fits easier in your mom’s mouth. I was tailing the airbus when it happened. They’re looking for someone to blame it on.”
ITT felt sick to his stomach. No one knew what would happen to him, but it wasn’t going to be nice.
To punctuate that point, the FIC team disembarked from their ride in one cool, synchronized movement, with the motorized accelerators on their legs clicking unison. No one was sure if the metallic arms were robotic, or cyborg, or just armor, but they bad-assedly raised dark sunglasses to their hosts’ faces. In unison. The group came towards them.
ITT really regretted the fact that he had gone back in time, fucked Fenway’s mom and got her pregnant, and that he was Fenway’s dad and Fenway didn’t know it. But that’s part of the gig when you are the Inappropriate Time Traveller.
He had mild regret about his next move as well. *I think I’m going back to the 80s, when Deloreans were cool* he thought to himself, and vanished.