Edward Graves: Temporal Detective

“So,” said Edward, “where are we exactly? Five star resort? Health Spa? Oh! Are we in Disneyland? Is this the magic castle? I’ve always wanted to go there! Wait, I think I know where we are. This isn’t Hogwarts is it?”

The two black-suited guards who were escorting him through the corridors of the luxurious manor just kept moving in silence. “Come on guys, you can tell me, I feel like we all share a common bond.” He tugged on the shackles that linked his wrists to those of his stoic escorts. “Get it?” Silence. “Wow, tough crowd,” he muttered to himself. “OK, well why don’t you at least tell me who we’re seeing?” Suddenly they stopped. “Oh time for a chat, eh?”

The shackles stretched taut as one guard held Edward’s arms while the other unlocked his shackle and launched a fist that landed right in Edwards’s abdomen, causing him to double over in pain.

“You think you’re some sort of smart guy, don’t ya?” said the guard, rubbing his knuckles.

“Well I don’t mean to brag but...” He was silenced by another punch to the gut. “Ok,” he groaned as he stood upright, “I suppose that question was rhetorical. My mistake.”

“The boss told us to bring you straight to him.” He exchanged a crooked smile with the other guard. “But I don’t think he’ll mind if we soften you up a bit first. Another fist hurtled for the same spot but this time Edward acted too quickly. He used the force of the guard behind him to his advantage, hurtling himself and the guard backwards to the floor. Before the other guard had a chance to take in what was happening, Edward launched both his feet into the guard’s stomach, doubling him over.

“You know, it took you guys long enough,” said Edward as he clambered to his feet. “I’ve been trying to get a reaction from you guys for nearly forty-five minutes!” The doubled over guard snarled and made a wild lunge. At the same time the guard on the floor made a move for Edward’s legs. Edward simply took a step to the left and let them meet in the middle. The knee of one man hit the jaw of the other and Edward hard painful sounding crack. The man on the ground crumpled backwards into an unconscious heap, while the other tumbled over him and hit his head on the wall, sliding to the ground next to his partner.

“I mean,” continued Edward, “forty-five minutes is a long time even for me to be irritating!” He set about searching their pockets, looking for a key to his shackles. He soon found what he was looking for: a single silver tube of metal with a groove carved into the upper third of its length. He set to work on the lock of his shackle until they clicked free and then clicked them onto one wrist of each of the guards, binding them together so that they were facing opposite directions. Rubbing his wrists, he set off silently down the corridor.

He was like a cat-burglar as he crept through the eerily lit halls of the mansion. Everything was either white marble or brown wood-panelling, with a purple velvet carpet running the length of all the halls. From the sounds of things, it was raining outside. Great, more rain! After Fluxing from Excelsior Hill, he’d found himself in a corn field, after which a hood had immediately been placed over his head. They had then all Fluxed to another location, with him being pulled along by the shackles on his wrists. He’d than been loaded into a vehicle, a van presumably, at which point Ms Baskov made her departure. After a twenty minute journey along rough country roads and then another ten minutes on bitumen, he’d been hauled out and marched into the lobby of a large house, at which point his hood had been removed and he met his two new, mostly silent friends. So far his plan was going perfectly.

For surely the hundredth time, Edward attempted to reach out through Timespace, either to contact Jessica, or sneak through the house or at the very least, to see how many people were in the house. And for the hundredth time, he failed. He made his way for the staircase, peeking cautiously around the corner; the coast was clear, not surprisingly seeing as he was scheduled to be, well, occupied at this present moment.

He made his way down the stairs, keeping his back flat to the wall and making sure that he avoided all of the squeaky steps that he’d counted on the way up. He watched out for number three and number seven. He stepped over twelve and twenty-three, then skipped thirty-five. He stopped as he reached the final step and produced a small mirror, no bigger than his palm, to scan the around the corners and into the Entrance Hall. All was clear.

He had set himself a near insurmountable task. The house was large, a mansion in fact and he had no knowledge of its layout, yet he was attempting to find...something. What that something was, he couldn’t be certain. The G.I.I would be nice, a clue to help him figure out who The Black Glove’s new leader was would be even better. Some indication of their plan would be great. Of course finding all of these things would be like an early Christmas. Unfortunately Christmas seldom did come early, even for Archaics.

To make his situation worse, he knew that he only had a limited amount of time before his guards were found and he was hunted down by men who had a much stronger understanding of the house. He couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of a time traveller being pressed for time.

He headed for the east wing because, well, it was as good a choice as any, right? He moved down a dark corridor that was illuminated only by the faint moonlight which broke through the clouds and cut through the windows. Water ran down the glass, casting odd shapes and patterns that danced along the hall and over Edward himself. He did his best to avoid stepping into the light and so stuck as close to the wall as possible.

He found it odd that he hadn’t seen or heard anybody since his escape. He reasoned that it was a big house and so he could be lucky enough to avoid running in to other people, especially if his escape wasn’t yet known. But he couldn’t help but feel that he was lying to himself.

Every door he tried was locked and he was about to give up hope for that corridor, but then he noticed the door at the very end of the hall, which had golden light streaming out from underneath it.

He cautiously put his ear to the cold wood, which felt like ice to his skin, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He strained to hear through the dense wood before hearing a soft click behind him. That part of him that had known that the other part was lying gave a big I told you so.

Very slowly, he turned around and held his hands up, open and facing away from him. He looked at two black-suited men with their guns held out, ready to fire. Then he looked down at the diminutive old man that stood between them.

“Oh hello, don’t mind me. I’ve just been giving myself a private tour, feel free to return to your business.”

Hayden Crawlfield took a puff on his cigarette, held in a black cigarette holder and then just held it aloft. He seemed not to notice or care about the ash that fell to the expensive looking velvet carpet beneath his feet.

“Oh Mr. Graves, we need to have a little chat.”

Edward sighed. “This is going to be one of those torture things, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Oh well,” he shrugged, “we’d better get on with it then, I’m a busy man you know.”