Post by Fiona McFly on Sept 20, 2018 4:01:34 GMT
Dear James Gilmore,
I hope that this letter finds you and Yulia doing well. I know that our first meeting was kind of awkward, that you are probably thinking that I was simply an aloof old maid with nothing to gain or lose. Yet I have something that, truthfully, you should know about.
I will be in Corpus Christi sometime next week to undergo a thorough blood examination; yet sadly I fear that within a span of a months' time, everyone will know the one thing I have striven to protect in my heart ever since my arrival: my true identity. While I cannot reveal that to you just yet, my greatest regret will be that I probably will not have the chance to tell you just how much joy and energy you have put into not just my own life, but the lives of others including your wonderful bride-to-be.
I am risking great ostracism by divulging this information to you, but please...I urge you to keep an open mind.
I have come from the future, from the year 2058, in a converted Terrafugia Transition time machine dubbed the Falcon. My original purpose of traveling back to the present day was to see that your friend and colleague, Fiona McFly, stay in wrestling after she had--in the original timeline--announced her retirement from the craft. Yet now that I have accomplished that goal, there is another pressing matter involving you and Yulia that goes above and beyond the boundaries of wrestling itself, one that will undoubtedly lead to the United States being thrust into a conflict I witnessed firsthand.
The Second American Civil War.
On the Fourth of July in 2039, your wife Yulia will be murdered--shot by members of a terror cell dedicated to the cause of Democratic Socialism. This assassination, spurred on by years of bitter political and cultural division between the left and the right after the 2016 election of Donald Trump, will serve as a rallying cry for Constitutional Republican forces to take revenge and attack a Democratic stronghold near New York City and, thus, starting a bloody war that will result in the deaths of 35 million Americans. Amidst this division, you will become President of the United States and try to keep the country together with a center-leaning agenda.
Sadly, you will meet the same fate as your bride, gunned down by a Socialist sympathizer’s bullet on November 11, 2047 near the end of your second term in office, shortly after an armistice to end the war is declared. In the original timeline, I would serve under you as Secretary of a new Cabinet-level department that specializes in temporal mechanics. While I was honored with the privilege of serving under a wonderful, kind, loving human being such as yourself, more often than not people would take advantage of my emotional instabilities and undermine the work I had put in to be able to have this position to begin with.
It was a life that I could no longer live.
I have but one wish for you: I want you to stay the course and succeed in your chosen craft. You and Yulia were both meant to do great things--not just for wrestling, but for a world that has been broiled in darkness and despair for so long. With that being said, please take whatever precautions are necessary to prevent these tragic incidents from happening.
Farewell and godspeed to you both.
From your friend in time…
DEBBIE FISHER
xoxo
I hope that this letter finds you and Yulia doing well. I know that our first meeting was kind of awkward, that you are probably thinking that I was simply an aloof old maid with nothing to gain or lose. Yet I have something that, truthfully, you should know about.
I will be in Corpus Christi sometime next week to undergo a thorough blood examination; yet sadly I fear that within a span of a months' time, everyone will know the one thing I have striven to protect in my heart ever since my arrival: my true identity. While I cannot reveal that to you just yet, my greatest regret will be that I probably will not have the chance to tell you just how much joy and energy you have put into not just my own life, but the lives of others including your wonderful bride-to-be.
I am risking great ostracism by divulging this information to you, but please...I urge you to keep an open mind.
I have come from the future, from the year 2058, in a converted Terrafugia Transition time machine dubbed the Falcon. My original purpose of traveling back to the present day was to see that your friend and colleague, Fiona McFly, stay in wrestling after she had--in the original timeline--announced her retirement from the craft. Yet now that I have accomplished that goal, there is another pressing matter involving you and Yulia that goes above and beyond the boundaries of wrestling itself, one that will undoubtedly lead to the United States being thrust into a conflict I witnessed firsthand.
The Second American Civil War.
On the Fourth of July in 2039, your wife Yulia will be murdered--shot by members of a terror cell dedicated to the cause of Democratic Socialism. This assassination, spurred on by years of bitter political and cultural division between the left and the right after the 2016 election of Donald Trump, will serve as a rallying cry for Constitutional Republican forces to take revenge and attack a Democratic stronghold near New York City and, thus, starting a bloody war that will result in the deaths of 35 million Americans. Amidst this division, you will become President of the United States and try to keep the country together with a center-leaning agenda.
Sadly, you will meet the same fate as your bride, gunned down by a Socialist sympathizer’s bullet on November 11, 2047 near the end of your second term in office, shortly after an armistice to end the war is declared. In the original timeline, I would serve under you as Secretary of a new Cabinet-level department that specializes in temporal mechanics. While I was honored with the privilege of serving under a wonderful, kind, loving human being such as yourself, more often than not people would take advantage of my emotional instabilities and undermine the work I had put in to be able to have this position to begin with.
It was a life that I could no longer live.
I have but one wish for you: I want you to stay the course and succeed in your chosen craft. You and Yulia were both meant to do great things--not just for wrestling, but for a world that has been broiled in darkness and despair for so long. With that being said, please take whatever precautions are necessary to prevent these tragic incidents from happening.
Farewell and godspeed to you both.
From your friend in time…
DEBBIE FISHER
xoxo
~~~
Chapter VI
“ABOUT THE FUTURE…”
19 September 2018 + 1130 GMT
Under a full moon on a quiet night, as Fiona McFly lies asleep in her bed...
Inside the underground tornado bunker constructed behind Fiona’s house on Wolf Creek Drive, we find Debbie Fisher staring over a piece of paper, taking a deep breath whilst being almost to the point of tears. It had been several days since she watched Fiona McFly being escorted by a doctor for a simple drug test whilst being offered the chance to undergo a more thorough examination on a volunteer basis. Yet deep down in her soul, she began to realise that once the test results came out from Dr. David Tannen's office in Corpus Christi, she would have to make a decision that would affect her for the rest of her days.
Either hide from the truth from everyone and run away…
...or blow her cover and endure great ostracism as a result.
The elderly verion of Fiona McFly, posing as a former 20th century pro wrestler, had come to the present day from a future that was peaceful and bleak at the same time. She felt awkwardly invaded by the mere idea of undergoing a whole blood-testing procedure; yet she simply played it off as just another part of her mission, a mission that saw her keep her younger self from retiring from wrestling to begin with. Yet on this starry Wednesday night, the aging woman took a resigned sigh, realising that this mission was bigger than anything she could comprehend. As she placed her letter to James Gilmore in an envelope, then writing his address on it along with the inscription "DO NOT OPEN UNTIL 2039!," a thought began to race through her consciousness:
”Was it right or wrong to undertake such a plan?”
As Debbie looked down at a photograph of herself and Fiona, her lips quivered as tears streamed down her battle-scarred cheeks. Her state of mind had been reduced to the very notions that Fiona herself had come to understand in her promotional speech several weeks ago:
She knew nothing about what was right or wrong anymore.
DEBBIE FISHER:
(in her original British-Irish accent)
What’s going to happen to me when she knows I’m her future self…
From this moment onward, all she could do was go with the course of action that made the most sense in her heart.
~TO BE CONTINUED~
Chapter VI
“ABOUT THE FUTURE…”
19 September 2018 + 1130 GMT
Under a full moon on a quiet night, as Fiona McFly lies asleep in her bed...
Inside the underground tornado bunker constructed behind Fiona’s house on Wolf Creek Drive, we find Debbie Fisher staring over a piece of paper, taking a deep breath whilst being almost to the point of tears. It had been several days since she watched Fiona McFly being escorted by a doctor for a simple drug test whilst being offered the chance to undergo a more thorough examination on a volunteer basis. Yet deep down in her soul, she began to realise that once the test results came out from Dr. David Tannen's office in Corpus Christi, she would have to make a decision that would affect her for the rest of her days.
Either hide from the truth from everyone and run away…
...or blow her cover and endure great ostracism as a result.
The elderly verion of Fiona McFly, posing as a former 20th century pro wrestler, had come to the present day from a future that was peaceful and bleak at the same time. She felt awkwardly invaded by the mere idea of undergoing a whole blood-testing procedure; yet she simply played it off as just another part of her mission, a mission that saw her keep her younger self from retiring from wrestling to begin with. Yet on this starry Wednesday night, the aging woman took a resigned sigh, realising that this mission was bigger than anything she could comprehend. As she placed her letter to James Gilmore in an envelope, then writing his address on it along with the inscription "DO NOT OPEN UNTIL 2039!," a thought began to race through her consciousness:
”Was it right or wrong to undertake such a plan?”
As Debbie looked down at a photograph of herself and Fiona, her lips quivered as tears streamed down her battle-scarred cheeks. Her state of mind had been reduced to the very notions that Fiona herself had come to understand in her promotional speech several weeks ago:
She knew nothing about what was right or wrong anymore.
DEBBIE FISHER:
(in her original British-Irish accent)
What’s going to happen to me when she knows I’m her future self…
From this moment onward, all she could do was go with the course of action that made the most sense in her heart.
~TO BE CONTINUED~
Well howdy there pardner.