Time Travel RP (No Title Yet)

[The Ghost Writer]

TL;DR Version (lazy)

Spoiler:

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Amongst the billowing smoke and the screams of terrified innocents running about the ravaged city - what was once the jewel of the world - banners of their enemy are being raised and hoisted once every high rooftop in sight. Monuments are being looted, women taken by merciless brutes, and fathers slaughtered before the very eyes of their sons and daughters. Rome, fallen. The glorious empire is now no more. It was only a matter of time before the Goth hordes invaded and took the city. The struggle only lasted through the night; by morning their Chieftain, Odoacer, was sitting on the throne of Caesar demanding that the city's last emperor, poor twelve year-old Romulus Augustus, hand over the Western Roman Empire to Germanic rule.

Through the streets of Roma walks a man that clearly does not belong. He is neither Roman or Goth. He is not from the Eastern Empire, either. His clothes are foreign, as well as his posture and his weaponry. Black combat boots clomp against the cobbled road as he storms his way through the chaos of the streets, towards the Castel Sant'Angelo (at least, it will be known by that name later on in the timeline); where Romulus is waiting at the end of a Germanic sword. Aside from the steel-toed boots, the strange man is also dressed in a light-weight, black combat uniform with a Kevlar vest, grip gloves, and Oakley's sunglasses. Strapped to his right hip was a Five-Seven pistol attached with laser sights, reflex sights, and pouches around his waist with five magazines of twenty match grade ammunition. Wrapped over his shoulder and hanging down his back was an SC3000 assault rifle with an adjustable gun stock, suppressor, and five magazines in separate pouches above the sidearm pouches of thirty hollow point ammunition rounds. It was clearly evident that he didn't belong. Quickly, the man made his way across the bridge leading to the fortress.

You know, I don't think many wake up in the morning and are prepared to travel back in time to the year 476 AD. Most would just prefer to sip their morning coffee and fight the rush hour all the way to work and live out a mediocre life with a mediocre job. But that's where I stand out from the rest. Yes, I'm the guy that just arrived in the year 476 AD; the guy that isn't stuck in rush hour traffic…

Four Germanic brutes began sprinting towards him with swords and maces raised in the air; yelling at him in very disgusting-sounding language. The foreigner draws the Five-Seven from his holster and fires two rounds in the closest target; one in the chest, one in the head. The warrior buckles and falls forward, flat on the surface of the stone bridge. His comrades come to a dead halt and look from one to the other. One of them shouts something in his language, probably saying "Sorcerer!", and takes to retreating back across the bridge. His friends follow suit.

...And definitely not the guy living a mediocre life with a mediocre job. My name is Troy Desmond, and I work a company called Ethro Industries. It’s a technology corporation that specializes in state-of-the-art, military-grade weaponry and logistics technology. Our latest toy? Yeah, you guessed it. What else other than a time machine would allow a guy to go walking through Rome on September 4, 476 with kick-ass guns and Kevlar?

Before I go any further, let me explain what I'm doing here. Last year, Ethro finally completed construction of the Aevus - the time machine - and had been testing it out with several brave volunteers. After multiple successful travels, the scientists that developed Ethro and many well-known historians - who were paid dearly to keep the device's existence a secret - wondered what it would be like to bring a figure from the past to the present. That's where I step in. I'm what's known as a Recovery Operative. My mission is to travel into the past and pick up whoever these brainiacs want to have an afternoon teatime with. However, I can't just run back in time and kidnap whoever; it’s a bit more complicated than that. You see, this isn't like Michael Crichton's book Timeline, this is still all in one universe. If I remove, say, Isaac Newton from the past and bring him to the present, then that whole theory about the apple goes out the window and we don't know gravity from gravy. Same thing with Thomas Edison, or Leonardo da Vinci - although I would like to ask him why he never put eye brows on the Mona Lisa. We can only recover persons who eventually become lost in time; where the history books simply stop recording their lives and drop them off the page. Basically, I recover those that history has forgotten, or in this case, will eventually forget.

What about the butterfly effect, you ask? Yeah, I know; I'm shooting bullets in a time where there are no bullets. I get your drift; but believe me, we're more careful than you think. Those rounds I'm shooting aren't normal hollow points and match rounds. Each bullet is made up of a special alloy that deteriorates over time. It may be as hard as an actual round when its fired, causing the same amount of damage as it would if it were normal, but the alloy slowly erodes into nothing after a few months. As far as recorded sightings of us "foreigners", we don't make ourselves known to the general public of the past. And on a day like today in 476, where Rome is in a state of complete chaos, I'm practically invisible. If anyone does see me, they're in too much of a state of shock to remember me the next day.

Troy makes his way to the other side of the bridge without having to fire anymore rounds from the Five-Seven, still gripped in his hand with the muzzle lowered to the ground. The guard tower entrance had been forced open by the Goth invaders. Bits and pieces of whatever make-shift barricade on the other side of the wooden doors had been strewn across the entry way and into the courtyard beyond.

As he passed through the secondary gate and into the circular entrapment surrounding the main tower, several barbarian warriors leaped out from either side, slashing their weapons. Troy's special ops training kicked in automatically and he lunged forward, keeping low to the ground and rolling away from the swinging axe that nearly brushed his hair. Raising the Five-Seven and steadying his aim, Troy capped the man with the axe first. His weapon was longer than the others and posed the greater threat. He then proceeded to down the other two barbarians that were aiding him, without sparing a moment longer. He then continued through the main entrance of the Castel Sant'Angelo. In this present age, the castle is actually known as the Mausoleum of Hadrian; a cylindrical tomb built for Emperor Hadrian. It was a building project that lasted from 135 to 139 AD. It became a military fortress in 401, was looted nine years later when the Visigoths sacked the city, and will later be attacked again in 537 by the Goths. It seems Rome could never quite keep their enemy's at bay after the turn of the 400's. The statue of the Archangel Michael, standing triumphantly at the top of the tower, wasn't added until after the end of the plague in 590, when legend claims that the angel was seen sheathing his sword to signify the end of the bubonic.

After climbing his way up the tower and towards the prison cells, Troy stopped at the corner of the chamber where he heard a mixture of voices. One voice was deep and of a boastful nature, the other sounded questioning and fearful. Troy decided that now would be a good time to test out Ethro's latest toy. Placing a finger to his ear he pressed in slightly until he felt and heard a faint click. The small, while ear bud in his right ear acted as not only a voice amplifier (able to discern human voices from other noise), but also an audio translator. There was a moment of white noise in his ear as the device listened closely to the language and dialect, and then within seconds, the Saxon tongue instantly morphed into the familiar modern English that Troy loved to hear.

"Odoacer wants the runt to be taken to Campania;" the first voice said, "to what the Romans call the Castellum Lucullanum."

"I don't see why we can't just kill him… right here and now." Troy heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed. "The last of Caesar's blood… spilt on the floor of a prison."

Troy was about to make his move, before anyone's blood went anywhere; but stopped himself when he heard another, weaker voice. This one was much younger than the other two; and he knew it had to be his target.

"Why is Caesar treated so?"

The first voice began to bellow in laughter. "He speaks German! By the gods! Now we can't have any of that where we're taking you, boy. Maybe we should cut out your tongue."

"Humiliation over death?" the second voice said. "That sounds like twice the fun!"

Troy decided that he had been waiting long enough. If Ethro wanted to speak with Romulus in 2011, then Troy would have to recover him from 476 with his tongue. The Recovery Agent holstered his Five-Seven, but grabbed his SC3000 rifle and swung it around on the three-point sling and out in front of him. Already on fire and charged, Troy stepped around the corner and raised the iron sights. His target's couldn't have been in a more perfect position; one standing right beside the other. From where Troy was entering the room, one devastating hollow point round would travel through both of them.

Squeezing the trigger and feeling the burst of the rifle, Troy exhaled and let the air flow from his lungs as the bullet left the barrel of the rifle. It was if the round was leading his breath. The round travelled through the first target, leaving a gaping hole in his side where a spleen should have been, and into the next, throwing him into the wall. When he confirmed that both were good kills, he darted towards Rome's last emperor, the young Romulus Augustus; shackled to the floor and wearing tattered and torn robes.

Coming face-to-face with your target for the first time may not be a rush for you if you've done it a dozen times over with others; but it is for them. Looking at the eyes of a strangely dressed man with seemingly magical powers that can tear holes in the bodies of his enemies can be a bit… overwhelming. But regardless of the circumstance, its always polite to greet them nicely in their own language.

The boy simply stared in astonishment as Troy examined at the iron shackled binding him to the stone floor. A moment later, the Recovery Agent reached inside one of his pouches and revealed another ear piece. He raised it up to Romulus so that he could see what he was about to give him, and then turned his head and pointed at his own ear, showing him the matching piece. Troy then gently placed the translation device in Romulus' ear and pressed inward until he felt the click. Letting a moment pass by, Troy gave enough time for the device to activate and begin listening for voices to translate.

"Emperor Romulus Augustus," Troy began, speaking in English, "do you understand what I am saying to you?"

The boys eyes grew wide in astonishment and he replied in Latin, "Yes."

Smiling, Troy patted the kid on the shoulder and said, "Then it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I don't have much time to explain, but for now; hello and nice to meet you. You can call me Troy Desmond. I'm from the future."

Troy managed to keep Romulus quiet long enough for him to concentrate on picking the locks of his shackles. When the boy was free, he tried to run; but he couldn't escape from Troy's strong grip. "Hey! Relax, kid! I'm here to help you, in case you haven't figured that part out by now."

"Who are you!?" Romulus demanded.

Troy gave him a puzzled look. "I already told you-"

"You're either a sorcerer or a trickster! Which is it?!"

The Recovery Agent rolled his eyes and walked past the pipsqueak ruler; or at least the former pipsqueak ruler. "Have you surrendered control of Rome to Odoacer, yet?"

"What kind of question is that, foreigner?"

Troy turned to stare him down with an intimidating glare. "Have you, or not?"

Romulus looked down at his feet, and in a quiet voice full of shame and regret said, "I have. Lord Odoacer is now the ruler of the West… I have failed my father."

Any sympathy towards the child would have to wait until 2011, which would hopefully arrive in a few short moments. All Troy needed to hear was that Romulus had surrendered control of Rome to the Chieftain of the Goths, Odoacer, so that the timeline would not be disrupted. After receiving such an ironically positive response, Troy spoke aloud but not to Romulus, which must have confused the boy even more. "Okay, Sarah," he said with a smile, "we're ready for a full recovery. Bring us in!"

Romulus raised a brow and asked, "What are you-?" but was cut off when Troy grabbed his wrist.

"Take a deep breath, your highness," he said, leaning in close and wrapping his other arm around the boy. As Romulus struggled to break free, both of them felt a shockwave erupt below on the floor. Soon after, nothing. It was all white… just pure white.