Hunter of Time

Disclaimers:

Despite the title, the story does not contain violence or action. This story might have some plot holes or factual errors. This is a fictional story after all.

Slow start, all characters are 18 and over, not much sci-fi apart from the time travelling part of the story, you have been notified.

*****

24^th October, 1985

Elizabeth smiled. She craved for this, not as drastic as falling on her knees, and begging for it, but it was damned close. But now, it's finally in her hands. She was holding it, a piece of history in the making. She hoped, at least.

Super Mario Bros.

That, and a copy of Duck Hunt, which she didn't want, but the seller made her a cheap offer if she agreed to buy both games. Something about a dog that he didn't take a liking to. Regardless, Elizabeth clutched both boxes tightly in her hands as she walked home, a hop in her steps.

What's your idea of spending a nice autumn evening? Nightclubs, booze, hooking up with random strangers... Elizabeth disagrees. She'd never been the type to go clubbing, but instead she likes to stay indoors and game away. Her friends used to play with her, but they were still too young to understand any real mechanics of the game, which was similar to Pong. Elizabeth had to physically leave the room if her friends were to have any chances of winning. Maybe one day, she would have an actual adult, an actual friend, to play games with. She currently has a roommate, but she doesn't share Elizabeth's love of gaming.

Elizabeth finally got back to the apartment complex at sundown, skipping steps on the flight of stairs that led up to her apartment, located on the first floor. Her keys nearly fell out of her hands in excitement; the simple task of inserting the key rivalled threading a needle at this point.

They weren't games that could cure cancer by any means, or had any magical powers to be excited about, but they showed promise.

She slammed the door. Not that anybody would care, or could care. Her roommate and her were the only tenants in the building. There were two apartments on each floor, totaling four, with the exception of the ground floor where the landlord was supposed to live, which only had one apartment. But her landlord managed multiple buildings, and he only came by to check once every month or so.

'Lizzy! There's mail for us!' Cindy, Elizabeth's roommate, shouted from her room. Slipped under their front door earlier was a letter from her landlord, or as Cindy put so elegantly, 'The Fat Controller', based on his appearances. The letter, a brief handwritten note from the landlord himself, revealed that she would have a neighbour from tomorrow on out. 'William Rorke' would be in Apartment 3 from tomorrow onwards, the apartment being the one she shares a wall with.

'Fantastic,' She mumbled under her breath. Not only does she have to turn down her music, but of all the empty apartments that he/she could've moved into, it had to be the one next to hers.

'fan-fucking-tastic.'

Annoyed, she decided to calm down with a bit of gaming. She turned her NES and her TV on, and it wasn't switched to the right input setting. Elizabeth quietly cursed as Cindy forgot to change the input back after she finished a rerun of the A-Team, recorded a week ago. Elizabeth switched the input back, and started up Super Mario Bros.

As she started, she noticed a multiplayer mode. She smiled at the thought that her neighbour-to-be might also be a gamer, and they'll be good friends. Who doesn't like Mario and his sidekick? Apparently Cindy doesn't. Her personality was basically the opposite of Elizabeth's.

As she rescued the princess, she decided that she should peel her eyes away from the TV and look at the clock. It was almost 11 at night, and she felt drowsiness overwhelm her all of a sudden, but she still had an itch to scratch before she can sleep, however.

Elizabeth turned off the gaming equipment, and sat back in her red, velvety armchair. She saw her reflection on the dark, convex TV screen, which slightly enlarged her facial details. Although she would look at herself everyday, in the mirror, or passing by a glass pane in the mall, she doesn't know what she looks like. How she appeared to the opposite sex. She knew that her parents would tell her she's 'beautiful' and 'pretty' even if her face was horribly deformed by acid.

Her friends? They gave her some compliments now and then, after all she was the only girl in their circle of gamers. Her shoulder-length dark-brown hair certainly got their attention whenever she flicked her head, sending waves of hair twirling and flying around. She never thought about her friends sexually, although Tony was a good looking guy, but he played for the other team. Didn't stop Elizabeth from fantasizing about him a few times.

Tonight she decided to pick Tony over Billy Idol. Both were unobtainable, unreachable, but at least she's met one of them in person. Her blue jeans slid off, revealing her white, slender legs, complimented by skin smooth and soft to the touch. They could hypnotise a man into doing whatever she desired, that is, if anyone ever saw past those jeans she wore daily. Her hand slid down, gliding over her breasts, over her stomach, landing above her pink panties. Her wetness already seeped through the thin fabric, the panties now just an obstacle on the road to heaven. Just then, a voice startled Elizabeth.

'Having fun out here?' Cindy came out of her room to grab a piece of cold pizza, but she wasn't all that hungry. She knew that Elizabeth would be out here, this time of the night.

'Oh my God, Cindy! It's like, the fifth time this week! Will you go back to sleep or... whatever?' Elizabeth complained half angrily, half embarrassingly, while Cindy took a sip from the tap.

'Well, Lizzy, at least I didn't steal my roommate's concert tickets! And sold them!' Cindy retorted, still a bit angry about the events from last week. She was having fun with her plan of revenge, though.

'Whatever, have fun fantasizing about your fat friends. And wash the cucumbers if you're using them!' Cindy bid farewell as she went back into her room, her eyes scanning over Elizabeth's attempt to hide her body. Elizabeth flipped her off after the door closed.

Alone again, Elizabeth relaxed. She pulled her panties aside, revealing an aroused sexual organ; wet, puffed, waiting for her touch. She thought about Tony, about his fine-toned abdomen, his handsome jaw... Oh, to what lengths she would go to if she could somehow convince him to switch teams. She's almost dripping, thanks to him.

Her finger entered her crevice, but it wasn't satisfying enough. Another two fingers entered, one after another, and they fit snugly, drawing a sigh from Elizabeth. She pulled her fingers out, and slammed them back inside, her canal and fingers now slick with her arousal. Her other hand went up to pull her shirt up, then pulling down her bra in a hurry; revealing her breasts, her areolas and her taut nipples, now standing to attention. Her areolas and nipples were light shades of pink, her fingers pinching and rubbing her nipples in rhythm of her fingers fucking.

Her mind played tricks on her. She pictured her own fingers as a cock impaling her waiting hole. She closed her eyes, imagining a man on top of her right now, making her a part of the armchair. She gasped as the imaginary man found her clit.

Her hips ground against her hand, begging the fingers to sink to the bottom. With every stroke, her breathing became shallower, shorter, her fingers penetrated her quicker, harder, lit with the flames of lust. Her nipple being pinched stronger, tighter, ferociously. Her body wanted to end this now, and receive the pleasure it'd longed for, but her mind told her to hold out, prolonging her experience.

Her body won out.

Her mind tried to stop the runaway train; her body betraying her every command to stop. Her body was in control, her thumb now pressed on her sensitive button; her clit; rubbing it in circles. Ecstasy. The feeling, the drug, it doesn't matter. She was feeling it coursing through her veins. Her body working overtime, still not able to keep up with her mind's demands.

The pleasure building... building... ah, to hell with this. She let it go.

She thought she heard an audible explosion as her orgasm exploded. But then she wasn't sure what she heard, her world was spinning right now, her ears deafened by the blood rushing past. Her body squirmed as shockwaves of pleasure coursed through her, only physically constrained by the sides of her armchair. Her eyes closed, as she let out a scream, one that would warrant noise complaints if it wasn't for the lack of neighbours around her. Cindy, on the other hand, was enjoying the nightly concert, the noise show of Elizabeth's moans.

Her eyes half open, her breath slowing down in the tired, post-orgasmic haze, she looked at the blacked out TV monitor again. It was reflecting a shooting star from outside her window.

'I wish I had a boyfriend.' She turned to her window and wished almost inaudibly. The shooting star disappeared, probably burnt up in the atmosphere or landed on someone's field, she presumed.

Her eyes weary, she fell asleep in the comfort of the armchair.

-

11:00PM, 24^th October, 2015

Camaro IROC-Z. Not everyone's idea of a time machine. But that was the genius. Nobody will suspect a 30-year old sports car to be an actual time machine.

'You know what? I think I'm beginning to regret this!' Strapped into the seat of the Camaro, Bill shouted into his earpiece, his actual voice drowned out by six droning jet engines. The cargo bay being open didn't help either. Beyond the cargo ramp was the infinite night sky, open for possibilities.

'Too late to back out now, buddy!' Bill's best friend, Tim, chuckled a little, although Bill's fear could be heard in his voice. Bill didn't usually call his mate by his last name, unless the issue was dead serious.

'Look, man! There's this apartment my dad owned! Now, he was supposed to move in tomorrow, 30 years ago, but then supposedly he saw my mother and decided to move in with her! Crazy how things work, eh? Their story was the def-i-ni-tion of weird, but I came along somehow!'

Tim's voice softened. 'It's a shame, lung cancer took him away when I was 3. Never knew the man well. Mom never took any pictures of him. I don't think she wants to remember either.' He pumped himself up, trying to sound enthusiastic. 'Just don't waste all the time you have left over there, gaming away and shit! Life is precious! And it's the 80s, all you need are the house keys!' Bill remembered the keys Tim gave him earlier, now safely tucked within his pockets.

'Don't worry, I won't try to change history too much! Well, I might be one of the world's wealthiest men by 2015...' Bill whispered it like a secret, but knew full well that Tim could hear him. However, they both knew that wouldn't happen, as it betrayed their moral stances. Tim laughed, and the conversation died off for a few minutes while the autopilot took them closer to their destination.

'Bill, you're only what, twenty?' Tim cracked the ice in the air.

'Twenty-four!' He corrected his friend.

'Twenty-four, fifteen, whatever! Why did you pick a time when you weren't even born yet?' Tim shouted. 'Don't tell me you've got a thing for my mother!'

'Oh, like you're not just a year older than me? You're just twenty-five! I'm gonna fucking die anyways, might as well take you with me!'' Bill flipped Tim off from within the car. A small light lit up near Tim, indicating that the plane has entered the drop zone.

'Good luck way back when. Seriously.' Tim laughed again, and added his final words to Bill. He waved to Bill, and pushed the red button labelled 'Release'. Bill waved back, bracing for the fall.

Bill went over the procedures in his head again. He would activate the rocket boosters as soon as the nose of the car pointed straight down towards Earth, hoping that the car wouldn't disintegrate from the vibrations, even with the most advanced tech installed. The public did not know a thing about the futuristic gadgets their government develops.

The boosters will detach after 30 seconds, leaving the Camaro travelling at a little over 700 mph. Just a little. At that speed, the mechanisms onboard Bill's Camaro will activate, sending him through time. The 'when' is controlled precisely through the speed the car was travelling and, well, a plastic dial on the dashboard. With a little adjustment, the machine could travel as far as 500BC, but Bill was intending to take it slow the first time.

If the he wasn't dead by then, he would have to deploy the parachute to avoid crashing into the ground at full speed. What's the point of time travelling if you're going to die anyways?

Life was short, and Bill wanted the most out of it.

A buzzer sounded, bringing Bill back to the situation at hand. The Camaro, with a ridiculously disproportionate rocket booster strapped on top of it, rolled forwards out of the plane's cargo bay into the night sky, beginning its long journey to Earth, and hopefully to 1985.

He looked at the ground, some 10 miles away from his eyes. He flipped a switch on the dash. A red light illuminated the interior of the car along with a long beep, as the rockets roared to life. The acceleration took Bill by surprise, pinning him to his seat. His speed indicator flicked past 88 knots in the matter of seconds. The plane grew smaller in his vibrating rear view mirror as he glanced at it. This was real. This was happening. Bill had a small moment of panic as realised his situation, but swallowed it down.

He was making history.

As per scheduled, the rockets detached themselves after 30 seconds. Without the rocket's thundering roar, he could hear the wind howling outside his window, air rushing past at nearly the speed of sound. The only thing that shielded Bill from the wind was the military-grade composite glass, which, in its testing phases, has won against cars smashing into it. Flames danced outside his windows, as if the devil himself came out to play. Sparks rushed from the sides to the front of the car, apparently building up to a grand finale.

Bill closed his eyes, crossed his fingers, and prayed to whoever was listening. The Camaro shook violently, as Bill braced for certain death if any piece, even just one piece of the puzzle fell apart.

With a soundless flash, the Camaro disappeared from the night sky.

Tim returned to the cockpit after he saw the flash, and flew off into the night sky.

-

11:00PM, 24^th October, XXXX

Bill opened his eyes. He was alive, at least.

He could make out the details of some buildings on the ground now, and fortunately none are in his landing zone. Swiftly flipping the switch on the right of the previous one, the red and white parachute deployed. It inflated as it caught air. With a jolt, the Camaro slowed to a safe speed, righting its orientation in the process, as to not land on its roof.

After a few minutes, the altimeter, replacing the tachometer on the Camaro, counted down the distance to the ground. 100... 50... 10...

With a soft thud, the Camaro gently landed on its wheels. Bill got out, only to realise that the parachute still hadn't come down yet. He looked up, just as the a translucent red and white object, blocking out most of the moonlight, draped over him.

'God-fu-' He ended that with an annoyed growl. He reached for his iPhone, turned the flashlight on, pulled out his Swiss Army Knife and got working on the parachute. It was nearly pitch black except for the faint moonlight and a few lights not too far off in the distance, presumably from open windows of someone's home.

An hour later, Bill and his Camaro were untangled from the mess, the parachute now flying off to bother someone else, some place else. Now that he's at least intact in one piece, he wanted to know whether he made it back to 1985 or not. He got back in the car, turned the key in the ignition, and the V8 came to life, chugging at idle. He turned the headlights on, only to find it illuminating... nothing. Well, a grass field could be considered as nothing.

'Weird.' Bill thought to himself. He gently tapped the accelerator, the engine purred a little, but no movement. He pressed on the pedal harder, the engine now humming an enjoyable tone, but still, he wasn't moving. He checked his gears. Park... Reverse... Neutral... Drive. He was in Drive, yet he's not driving.

Again, he pulled his iPhone out for lighting, and got out of the car to investigate the problem. The light shone on his left rear wheel, now sitting snugly in a hole it'd just dug itself. The extra equipment weighed the Camaro down more than Bill expected, and now he was stuck in some sand.

'What the hell? Sand?' He thought aloud, not likely to be heard by anyone in the night.

Seeing as there's no conceivable way to spring the Camaro free, at least none conceivable in the pitch-black night, he decided to take his suitcase and leave the car until the next morning, then he could get a better bearing as to where, or when, he is. Of course, he didn't forget to lock his car.

'Damn it.' Bill swore as he felt concrete beneath his feet just a few steps away. A few feet more in that direction, and he wouldn't have to deal with all this. He pulled out the map application on his phone, and surprisingly there were GPS signals all around. He entered the address that Tim gave him earlier. The streets of Downtown shouldn't have changed much, no matter what year he was in, Bill thought. The city had been dull as always.

'80th North Street... Apartment 3.'

-

7:00AM, 25^th October, 1985

Elizabeth woke up to the sound of an object banging on metal bars, presumably the handrail leading up to the first floor. She remembered back when she first moved in, the small staircase wasn't really made for boxes and suitcases, and they would be caught on the railings. This must be her new neighbour, Elizabeth thought. She felt a chill, and realised that she was still mostly naked from last night. It was raining outside, which contributed to the cool temperature she felt. Cindy already left for work, and probably won't be back until her restaurant closes for the night. There was a note lying on her stomach.

'Remember to put some clothes on XOXO'

Oh yeah, Cindy's relationships were with other women. She was nice enough to not disturb Elizabeth too much, though. She did feel a taste of pizza on her lips.

A few minutes later, her jeans were hanging back on her hips, her bra was doing its job again, and she threw on a new sweater.

'Whoever this new guy is, he better not be a tried serial killer or something.' Elizabeth thought to herself as she headed out her apartment, ready to make a new friend or foe.

Bill was still fumbling with the keys, trying to figure out which key fit where, while trying to hold an umbrella to shield the rain, when the door on his right opened.

'Wait... Is it that apartment?' Bill thought to himself, Tim might have gotten some details mixed up.

Out came a pretty face in neat jeans, her hair complimented by color that he couldn't quite decipher yet.

'Ah, good m-'

'Hell-'

They both stopped for a second, both too polite to speak over each other. They both broke out laughing almost at the same moment, defusing the awkward situation.

'Sorry, sorry! My name is Elizabeth.' She said, laughing. 'I assume you're ah, William Rorke?'