Post by Fiona McFly on Oct 30, 2018 6:41:16 GMT
The Epilogue, Part I
“UNDER ARREST”
16 August 2058 + 1445 GMT
Back into the future...
Old Fiona, disheveled and frightened, found herself running for her life.
All hell had broken loose around her, with onlookers screaming in all directions as they headed towards a ghastly scene.
She was breathing heavily as she continued to put feet to pavement, running through several trees and open areas of a large, structured urban park that was crowded with people from all over the globe. The smell of smoke filled the air as the old women raced along a trail, leaving behind a burning pile of wreckage that used to be the Terrafugia Transition time machine dubbed the Falcon. Suddenly, the aircraft’s reserve fuel tank exploded, forcing her to take cover behind a large oak tree as a burst of heat surged through her body.
She was shaking from head to toe as she gazed upon what was left of the time machine before panning over to see a statue of Joan of Arc.
OLD FIONA:
Bloody hell...
Old Fiona knelt down on the grass, her mind racing with plenty of thoughts.
As she peered upon the area of trees where the plane had crashed, she began to wonder whether or not the time jump from 2018 had been successful. She never had time to check the computer display as fire and smoke surrounded her immediately upon impact. She wound up nowhere near her intended landing site, but now there was an even bigger problem. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of several men in black uniforms, each marked “FBI-TCI” on the back, running towards her position.
They were agents of the FBI’s Temporal Crime Investigations Unit.
Old Fiona recognised the uniforms immediately and began racing towards a row of bushes. She dived into the brush, utilising her basic survival instincts to stay concealed as an agent walked past, searching every corner of the park of signs of her. He pulled out his walkie-talkie and spoke into it with a loud, authoritative tone of voice.
“Agent Faulkner, this is Agent Gilmore. Suspect is not in sight at this time. Repeat...suspect not--wait! I smell apple-infused perfume...”
The elderly woman’s eyes, from behind the gorse bushes, lit up in fear. It was, indeed, none other than James Gilmore’s son, Bobby.
Yet more importantly, she was in the right place--Washington, D.C.--and the right time, the year 2058.
She realised, in her visit back in 2018, she had given a letter of certain future events to her former IWF wrestling colleague. In this timeline, James had somehow opened the letter--either by accident or design--and as such, it had been decided that he would teach his son in the ways of Shotokan karate--his primary wrestling style. Consequently, Bobby never became a scientist and, thusly, never worked with Fiona; instead, he found a calling in law enforcement.
Yet still, Old Fiona wondered whether or not James’ kid would, indeed, become an asshole. She didn’t have time to answer her own question. She didn’t even have the chance to react as a hand swooped in and grabbed her by the back of her neck. Realising that she had been caught, the old woman stood up to face Bobby--who was still aged 33 and still sporting a stupid smirk on his face.
BOBBY GILMORE:
Well, well...lookie what we have here--thanks for wearin’ that lovely perfume. Yet I’m surprised you’d be stupid enough to activate the time vehicle's self-destruct sequence in front of the whole damn country! How was your trip, Ambassador McFly?!
OLD FIONA:
(raising her left brow)
Did...did you just call me “Ambassador?!”
BOBBY:
Wha--!?! You don’t remember what you did after you retired from wrestling in 2025?! You can’t recall your successful diplomatic career that led to your appointment as U.N. Ambassador under my old man--President James Gilmore!?!
Old Fiona sighed and shook her head, feeling the disorienting effects of her recent temporal jump--her brain filled with memories about her meeting with her younger self.
OLD FIONA:
I...I forgot to tell her something. It was very important...
BOBBY:
Ohhhh...you look like you did the hokey-pokey and bonked yourself on the head really hard! I'll admit that was a helluva crash-landing you pulled off. It could've been much worse than that, but none of it matters...
Bobby paused, clearing his throat.
BOBBY:
That is, of course, considering how the TX-85 was a government-owned $47 billion piece of experimental tech that will go down into the shitter thanks to your overdeveloped trigger finger. Anyway...I guess you understand that I'm placing you under arrest.
Old Fiona cantankerously spat on the ground, gritting her teeth as his partner and fellow Agent Lindsey Faulkner--a 34-year-old woman in full Goth appearance--ran in with a tablet in her hands.
OLD FIONA:
Oh, fuck off and get to the fucking point.
BOBBY:
(wags finger)
Pffffft! I wouldn’t be going around saying that, especially considering the grocery list of charges you've racked up...
Gilmore chuckled as he placed Old Fiona’s hands behind her back and applied the silver bracelets.
BOBBY:
...hrmm, maybe in twenty years the world will realize that it’s a totally heinous thing to meddle with the timeline. Time for the formalities!
The two agents exchanged high-fives before escorting Old Fiona down the street, in the Columbia Heights neighbourhood, and towards a waiting Ford Crown Victoria. The weather outside was tranquil, with crystal clear skies and warm temperatures, but she didn’t get the opportunity to take in the lovely scenery as she was rushed into the car--all the while, Bobby reading her the Miranda rights.
BOBBY:
Fiona Magdalene McFly, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law...
Deep in her soul, as she tried to make herself comfortable in the back of the squad car, the old woman began to ponder as she was driven away…
”Did I tell -her- why being in a ring was more important than a public office?! Did she ever fight Rowan…?!”
~THE EPILOGUE CONCLUDES IN “What I'm Looking For”~
“UNDER ARREST”
16 August 2058 + 1445 GMT
Back into the future...
Old Fiona, disheveled and frightened, found herself running for her life.
All hell had broken loose around her, with onlookers screaming in all directions as they headed towards a ghastly scene.
She was breathing heavily as she continued to put feet to pavement, running through several trees and open areas of a large, structured urban park that was crowded with people from all over the globe. The smell of smoke filled the air as the old women raced along a trail, leaving behind a burning pile of wreckage that used to be the Terrafugia Transition time machine dubbed the Falcon. Suddenly, the aircraft’s reserve fuel tank exploded, forcing her to take cover behind a large oak tree as a burst of heat surged through her body.
She was shaking from head to toe as she gazed upon what was left of the time machine before panning over to see a statue of Joan of Arc.
OLD FIONA:
Bloody hell...
Old Fiona knelt down on the grass, her mind racing with plenty of thoughts.
As she peered upon the area of trees where the plane had crashed, she began to wonder whether or not the time jump from 2018 had been successful. She never had time to check the computer display as fire and smoke surrounded her immediately upon impact. She wound up nowhere near her intended landing site, but now there was an even bigger problem. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of several men in black uniforms, each marked “FBI-TCI” on the back, running towards her position.
They were agents of the FBI’s Temporal Crime Investigations Unit.
Old Fiona recognised the uniforms immediately and began racing towards a row of bushes. She dived into the brush, utilising her basic survival instincts to stay concealed as an agent walked past, searching every corner of the park of signs of her. He pulled out his walkie-talkie and spoke into it with a loud, authoritative tone of voice.
“Agent Faulkner, this is Agent Gilmore. Suspect is not in sight at this time. Repeat...suspect not--wait! I smell apple-infused perfume...”
The elderly woman’s eyes, from behind the gorse bushes, lit up in fear. It was, indeed, none other than James Gilmore’s son, Bobby.
Yet more importantly, she was in the right place--Washington, D.C.--and the right time, the year 2058.
She realised, in her visit back in 2018, she had given a letter of certain future events to her former IWF wrestling colleague. In this timeline, James had somehow opened the letter--either by accident or design--and as such, it had been decided that he would teach his son in the ways of Shotokan karate--his primary wrestling style. Consequently, Bobby never became a scientist and, thusly, never worked with Fiona; instead, he found a calling in law enforcement.
Yet still, Old Fiona wondered whether or not James’ kid would, indeed, become an asshole. She didn’t have time to answer her own question. She didn’t even have the chance to react as a hand swooped in and grabbed her by the back of her neck. Realising that she had been caught, the old woman stood up to face Bobby--who was still aged 33 and still sporting a stupid smirk on his face.
BOBBY GILMORE:
Well, well...lookie what we have here--thanks for wearin’ that lovely perfume. Yet I’m surprised you’d be stupid enough to activate the time vehicle's self-destruct sequence in front of the whole damn country! How was your trip, Ambassador McFly?!
OLD FIONA:
(raising her left brow)
Did...did you just call me “Ambassador?!”
BOBBY:
Wha--!?! You don’t remember what you did after you retired from wrestling in 2025?! You can’t recall your successful diplomatic career that led to your appointment as U.N. Ambassador under my old man--President James Gilmore!?!
Old Fiona sighed and shook her head, feeling the disorienting effects of her recent temporal jump--her brain filled with memories about her meeting with her younger self.
OLD FIONA:
I...I forgot to tell her something. It was very important...
BOBBY:
Ohhhh...you look like you did the hokey-pokey and bonked yourself on the head really hard! I'll admit that was a helluva crash-landing you pulled off. It could've been much worse than that, but none of it matters...
Bobby paused, clearing his throat.
BOBBY:
That is, of course, considering how the TX-85 was a government-owned $47 billion piece of experimental tech that will go down into the shitter thanks to your overdeveloped trigger finger. Anyway...I guess you understand that I'm placing you under arrest.
Old Fiona cantankerously spat on the ground, gritting her teeth as his partner and fellow Agent Lindsey Faulkner--a 34-year-old woman in full Goth appearance--ran in with a tablet in her hands.
OLD FIONA:
Oh, fuck off and get to the fucking point.
BOBBY:
(wags finger)
Pffffft! I wouldn’t be going around saying that, especially considering the grocery list of charges you've racked up...
Gilmore chuckled as he placed Old Fiona’s hands behind her back and applied the silver bracelets.
BOBBY:
...hrmm, maybe in twenty years the world will realize that it’s a totally heinous thing to meddle with the timeline. Time for the formalities!
The two agents exchanged high-fives before escorting Old Fiona down the street, in the Columbia Heights neighbourhood, and towards a waiting Ford Crown Victoria. The weather outside was tranquil, with crystal clear skies and warm temperatures, but she didn’t get the opportunity to take in the lovely scenery as she was rushed into the car--all the while, Bobby reading her the Miranda rights.
BOBBY:
Fiona Magdalene McFly, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law...
Deep in her soul, as she tried to make herself comfortable in the back of the squad car, the old woman began to ponder as she was driven away…
”Did I tell -her- why being in a ring was more important than a public office?! Did she ever fight Rowan…?!”
~THE EPILOGUE CONCLUDES IN “What I'm Looking For”~
Well howdy there pardner.