"Hey priest, do you have any way of finding the monsters?"
Eisenhower motioned to the massive mist storm coming towards them.
"That's a start."
After some time of searching through the mist, an invisible force grabbed onto him and flung him across the sidewalk. He looked around and saw it was a normal car that just swerved off the side of the road. What was odd was when a car went thirty feet into the air and almost landed on top of him.
"Hello!"
Scott came over and began dragging him through the street before they fell down in front of a noodle shop. They couldn't keep going as BB was right behind them and because a vespa came down and hit the right leg of Scott. Now, both of them were hurt. Scott had history with being a hitman as he ripped off his scarf and began tying off the hurt leg.
"You could have done that?"
"Number one rule of operation, only proceed when safe to."
Soon, a monster was on the streets. Eisenhower couldn't care about the towering beast as he worked hard ironing his clothing. BB, on the other hand, was busy trying not to get eaten. He worked fast trying to make it look around.
"Please help me!"
The creature stood twenty tall and was in constant pain. It had the appearance of, a ballerina, a rodeo clown, and a prize-winning cow. Hooves were at the end of its arms as it tried to claw at the detective.
"I would like to."
BB's little jog was finished with a bullet hitting the beast older than time itself in the head. What is this? BB pondered for a minute before he was hit over the head.
"Sorry. This is what the talking door asked."
He was struck over the back of his head, but it didn't get the intended effect.
"Eh."
"It's ow, not eh."
He was hit across the back of his head again and was finally knocked out before he heard cutting noises and felt a pain on his face, no, not his face, his eyes. It was like something was cutting through his eyelids and into his actual eyes.
"What are you doing?"
BB heard Eisenhower screaming before finally, he heard someone praying in sloppy Latin. Then he opened his eyes to see everything with an extreme red tint. If something happened to my eyes, this is probably blood flooding into them. He was educated in all fields, one of which was the art of medical sciences. He considered it an art in how you can change a person's body for better or worse.
"Wakey wakey."
Scott was the was the first person he saw when he woke up from his two-hour long slumber. Eisenhower was behind Scott in the perfect copy TODD made of nurse's office in the orphanage he grew up in.
"How did we get here?"
"Well, remember how we weren't allowed to leave until we killed that monster? Well, the time machine told me that we couldn't leave until I put that thing's eyes into your thick skull."
The detective was shocked.
"So, you mean, the eyes in my skull-"
"Aren't your own? Yeah. But look on the bright side, you get a cool new eyes color, forever. Plus, you're now a time traveler."
He saw a number over Scott's head. It said, forty-four years, seven months, two weeks, three days, four hours, nine minutes, sixteen seconds, sudden heart growth. It showed a scene over the numbers on his head. It was an old man in his sixties that was yelling something into a mic inside a radio station before he suddenly slumped over.
"Get away from me."
The journal that he carried everywhere was on the nightstand near his bed and a pen was near it. He frantically wrote in it as a way of calming down.
I see the death of everyone, and it isn't pretty. There's a reflective part of the pen that is reflective and I used it on myself. The weird part about that is, it doesn't show up in reflections. That most likely means that it won't show up in cameras.
Magic is real. Am I real?
Time travel is also real. Why am I here? I've done more than anyone at Backtown but also, I'm ordinary amongst these people. For some reason, a medieval assassin keeps throwing darts at my feet.