Part 4 (Narrative Transcript)

As I fall somewhat gracefully from the sky, I feel an unnatural tug that is not quite like gravity and not quite unlike the suction of heavy mud. The anomaly folds above the horizon, making me even more motion sick. It now feels as though the ground below me has turned inside out, the physical horizon line of the sky collapsing to a single point infinitely far away from me. I hear a voice emanating from the headset in my helmet as my boots touch what I think is the library floor.

"I've made first contact, Groovy!" Buckley shouts.

"Same here! Where are ya mate? All I can see is... well... I can see all of the library from everywhere?" I stutter, realizing that I've realized many realizations today, not least of all this one.

"If you can see the whole library bruv, you should know exactly where I am."

Suddenly I see Buckley. No- Buckleys! I start to ponder the question of "how did he get where?" and subsequently lose the little that was left of my lunch.

"Nevermind that!" I cough. "Do you have a visual on the target?"

"Affirmative Groovy. Engaging perpetrator now." The Buckleys hurdle towards me in unison.

"Mate... what are you-!" Instinct kicks in and I jump as high as I can, flipping my feet over my head before tapping both of my bootstraps at the same time.

CLICK-CLUNK

I barely have another moment to orient myself as Buckley pulls a gun on me from below.

"Wot the FUCK are you doing mate?" I demand from the traitor.

"Setting the stage."

Buckley fires three shots in quick succession, but they all curve in different directions. I hear several panes of glass shatter nearby where I previously believed there were none. Then, he disappears with a blinding flash of blue-green light as three giant pillars fall towards me. Completely unable to see, I crouch, bracing for impact from any direction... but it never comes.

I shout into my comms as I begin to panic. "This is Agent Groovy to Loose-Cannon! I need your help! Buckley has betrayed us!"

"..." static fills my headset.

"Come in Loose-Cannon! Hello? Do you copy?"

I look to my right and see a helicopter paradoxically hovering sideways relative to my viewpoint. Riding next to the pilot is Loose-Cannon. I wave and jump around like I'm at a secondary school rave party as a rescue line falls from below me right into my face. I grab it and the helicopter jerks me out of the pull of the anomaly. Loose-Cannon leans out of the open door and I flash a smile at him, but it quickly melts into shock as he, too, pulls a gun on me.

"Son," he shouts past the high winds, "you need to keep your cool and listen to every word that I say."

Filled with fear, I do the exact opposite of what Loose-Cannon and my smooth brain are telling me. I run away. FAST. Not only do I have no clue where I am in relation to the objects around me, now the metaphorical carpet has been pulled as well. "What did Buckley do? Hell, what did I do?"

My legs tell me that I have no time to answer these questions, and so I continue fleeing, never looking back for fear of what I might see. Then, I remember what Cannon had told me earlier; he's just as afraid me right now as I am of him. I process this for a good many strides.

POP! A small wrinkle appears on the left side of my brain and ignites with thought. As I bound from bookshelf to bookshelf I reach into my backpack and find exactly what I'm looking for, the Ninth Edition of the Oxford Dictionary.

"I'm the thief! I don't know how or why, or even when, but I'm the one who stole the McGuffin!"

Quite naturally to me, my next thought comes in the form of a question, "What would Agent Groovy do next?"

I whisper the answer for the world to hear, "the unthinkable."

I turn-tail as my strides meld into leaps and bounds, my body bouncing effortlessly off the fractal surface of the surrounding spacetime. I see myself directly ahead and playfully toss the stolen artifact to myself, catching it moments later behind my back. By some twisted reasoning I intuitively know that my pursuers are directly above me. I dart to my left, and my body flies directly through the helicopter door. I deactivate the antigravity on my boots and my world orients itself right-side up once again. Loose-Cannon stands directly before me.

"Hey Loosey-Goosey, looking for this old thing?" I shake the book triumphantly above my head.

"Don't taunt me Jean. I know how dangerous you can be." He retorts, his back turned. "In fact, you killed me last week to complete this very theft."

I'm somehow not entirely shocked to hear this. Must be the adrenaline.

"So if I didn't know any better, which I don't, I'd be willing to bet that you'll do it again." Loose-Cannon quickly flicks his wrist, and his gun falls to pieces on the floor next to him.

"Come in Frisk-49, meet at the evac point asap." He says to his earpiece. Then, slowly he turns towards me, hands above his head.

"I'm genuinely curious... why'd you do it? What went on in that smooth little brain of yours that made you think this was your best option?"

I feel as though I'm dreaming, like my body isn't quite all there. "I realized it was my fate. Som' weird spacetime bullshit is going on right now and the only non-paradoxical option for me is to have stolen the book."

Loose-Cannon cracks a smile for the first time in 10 years. "Good! Good. You're smarter than you look, Groovy Jeans. Seeing we've both concluded that this is our fate, go ahead and finish the job."

"What... what do you mean?" I ask as a hint of fear creeps into my voice.

"Finish. The Damn. Job. Groovy."

I make a mental note to never anger this man again as a brown stain forms near my buttocks.

"I won't! I can still choose! You can't make me!" I shout, my voice shifting an octave higher than I intended to.

Loose-Cannon lets out a sigh that sounds more like a growl. "Face it, Jean. We've both been had. Buckley's a damn time criminal and we played right into his hands. The only way you can get out of this alive is if you kill me, right here and right now."

We both pause as a tear streaks down his cheek. "Son. I know its not your fault. You'll be doing the right thing." His voice chokes on the last word.

"How am I supposed to live with myself if I kill you without even knowing your name!?" I scream as my blood turns to ice.

"Woods. Chuck Woods. Now kill me."

He's vulnerable, I can fake him out and give him the book! It's the only other solution!

"O- Okay.. I'm going to walk right up to you and..." I inconveniently sneeze mid-sentence. "...I don't know what I'll do. I'll figure it out on my way there."

Chuck closes his eyes and folds his hands in front of him. I walk slowly in his direction, step by step. My breathing becomes labored as my mouth dries out.

Step. Step. Step.

I stop. Now nose-to-nose with the retired U.S federal agent, I grasp his wrist and squeeze it gently. He opens one eye as I slip the Ninth Edition of the Oxford Dictionary into his other hand. Both of his eyes widen as he screams "DAMMIT JEAN-"

The brightest flash of light I've ever seen burns my eyes and skin, followed a few seconds later by a head-splitting KRACKA-BOOM!!!

I wake up behind bars.