Chapter Text

Alrighty so that happened, and this is their life now. Well, Fuck. Geez, going from jumping across the gaps of slanted London rooftops to landing headfirst into a solid gritty piece of matter is definitely a jarring experience and not one that Flint expected to make when they woke up this evening. 

Cause seriously how does one normal(ish) person go from running, making a leap in the never ending rainy, dreary weather, to landing themselves into a block of matter that feels too much like a tree for Flint’s liking. 

They should probably move their body by now.

They do not want to.

Why should they? 

The one night in a long time they decide to hunt by themselves and just allow themselves to have some fun with their guard down, and they end up potentially concussing themselves, though they know that it would not last long if that did occur. The joys of having a minor healing factor.

Don’t get them wrong, Flint does appreciate their healing factor but after finding out that they can no longer go to the hospital anymore, really put a mild downer to having one.

And sure, yeah the American healthcare system is a right shit but having been living in London the past few years, Flint is just glad that they don't have to call and fight with their health insurance company anymore. Not like that mobile phones have been invented yet for them to contact an insurance company, but their point still stands!

Though living in 1920s London, the health care knowledge is definitely not the best. Seriously, London doctors only started washing their hands around 60 years ago! Huh, their health factor is probably why they don’t drop dead in the middle of the streets. They should’ve figured that out sooner, honestly. Maybe they really do have some sort of brain damage. 

Alright Flint stop monologuing in your head like you are a queer coded Disney villain and actually find out where they are and what actually is the solid thing that they hit is. 

Despite how active their mind is, their body doesn’t respond to any motor signals, in contrast. Flint attempted to open their eyes, with little luck. Their eyes felt heavy, like waking up from a deep sleep. Darkness is all that greets their sight, no movement is shown in front of their closed eyes, suggesting that wherever they are they are alone, for now. 

Fuck.

Flint feels the beginning of panic appearing in their mind. They fucking hate being in an unfimilar place and being unable to move at all. Defenseless they are like this, and oh how they despise that. Defenseless means that they can’t do anything, Defenseless means that they can be killed easily. Defenseless means having no power. They don’t like being defenseless. They cannot be defenseless, not in the world that they live in. 

Move, move, move.

The slightest fluttering of an eyelid is all they are rewarded for their urging.

Come on, move. Open the fuck up eye. Move.

With each prompting resulting in only the slightest movement, the feeling of panic continues to grow with every failure. Being used to their body responding to their every prompting, they begin to grow angry alongside their rising panic. This is their body afterall. It will respond to them. It is capable of doing so and like hell will they leave themselves defenseless, even longer than they have to. A quick, controlled electrical shot through the nerves in their muscles around their eyes, should convince the muscles to contract quickly.

Come on, Fucking open!

A small little zip sound occurs with a sharp electrical impulse that runs through the optic muscles with Flint’s exclamation. 

Their eyes shoot open with a quickness that conflicts with the stillness of the rest of their body. Finally, they are able to take stock of their surroundings, with their panic falling into the background, in light of their movement. 

The fuck…?

Grey is what they see. A shit load of grey. Like seriously, whoever designed this place never took an art class in their life. Who decides to have an entire room be the same shade of gray with no other colors, not even a different shade of grey! The room they are laying in is vastly different from the red brick, metal roofed buildings they were jumping across previously. Metallic grey ceiling, walls, and floor. The room screams impersonal. No evidence showing anyone lives in the room nor has anyone walked in it for a time, due to the thin layer of dust that clouds the flooring. 

They can feel their nose twitch at the sight of the dusty floor. Usually they wear some form of barrier when exploring dusty places. They hate having to sneeze constantly, and potentially giving away their position to whatever lurks in the dark. 

Need to shock my limbs and then get the fuck up. I have been laying around for long enough. No one is around currently but who knows for how much longer. 

Very rarely, does Flint have luck or any other form of the universe on their side in tense situations; and though this is not one of those tense situations, it does not mean that it could not turn into one with some sort of being deciding now of all times to check in on the empty, dusty room. 

With that line of thinking and their background panic, Flint consciously breathes in deeply. Clearing their mind, grabbing a hold of the constant buzz that sparks every cell of their body and directing it to various pathways of their nervous system. With a quick, sharp exhale of air, they let go of the directed coil of sparks and push them to the desired nerve pathways, with a skill that only came from trial and error. 

“Fuck!”, they exclaimed in pain, with their body sharply, jolting up into a sitting position, as the controlled electrical impulse sweeps over their body, bypassing the heavy feeling that prevented movement, previously.

“Why, why, why the fuck did I do that.”

They know perfectly well why they did that; they just need an outlet for the pain caused by muscle spasms and cramping that occurs as the aftermath. They enjoy being able to move their body again but not the tight cramps that occur in their calves and feet. They let a sharp, hiss out as their toes curled on their own accord, as they tried to ride out the painful aftermath. 

Wait it out. Wait it out. Find out where we are.

Leaving their body to continue riding out the aftershocks (ha!), they turn their focus inward so that they can take their focus off of their physical pain. 

Fuck, we are pretty far out. 

Flint can see the mental bonds that they share with their friends back in London, are stretched very thinly. In their mind’s eye they can see that the light blue bond that they share with Jon, and the dark green bond they share with Geoffrey are essentially holding on by threads.

Cautiously, they reach out to the light blue bond. The feeling of calm, and content surrounds them. With memories of a deep, dark voice talking to them about the goings of his day, filling their metaphorical ears. The smell of sterile, yet of something metallic joins them, with the feeling of a tight, strong hug. They could picture Jon actually being there with them in person if they weren’t aware of the empty room, they sit in.

The absence of flowing emotion is what brings Flint out of the comforting memories and bond of their close friend. Sharing a telepathic or mental bond with someone means a flowing connection directly into another being’s brain. Emotion, thoughts, and memories are there being shared. Typically a being has to consciously reach out to the bond and to the person it is shared with, to see and experience what the other is currently feeling and doing. Depending on how deep someone sinks into bond and how much control one has over it, then different sensations and thoughts are shared on different levels. 

The bond between Jon and Flint, is one telepathic bond where they always have a background of feeling and thoughts flowing between the two. The same applies to the bond with Flint and Geoffry and vice versa. So, the fact that Flint can no longer feel the background of another one’s emotions is freaking alarming because this has never happened to them before, not since before they gained their psychic bonds. Jon is always there in the back of their mind. His mental imprint is like a cool, flowing stream. In contrast to Geoffrey’s sharp, sparking flame mental imprint that can raise in intensity or cool down depending on his mental state. There has always been a part of Flint’s mind that received consistent input from Jon’s and Geoffrey’s minds and now there is no input from Jon’s mind, it is fucking disorienting to put it lightly. And definitely doesn’t increase Flint’s background panic at all. Totally doesn’t do that at all!

Their breathing goes shallow as they reach out for the dark green bond that is Geoffrey. Like with Jon’s bond, the general feelings of determination echo with a sarcastic chuckle accompany it, through their ears. The memories of laughter and sharp, concerned laced voice fills their senses till it feels like they are back at the Hospital in Jon’s room, talking with Geoffrey. It would be easy for someone inexperienced with telepathic bonds to get swept away in the memories and sensations that occur when touching a bond, but Flint hasn’t been inexperienced in a long time. At least not with their two first and only mental bonds. 

Flint let the memories flow past them as they ground themselves in their mental space. With the passing of the sensation haze, it becomes clear that there is no emotional flow from Geoffrey, the same with Jon. 

They are still for a time.

Flint is passively aware that the uncontrollable muscle cramping and spasms came to an end. They know in the back of their mind that they need to stand up and look around the grey room they are in. The panic that they felt earlier has developed back into a general apathy that has followed Flint, for their entire life. Even before they ended up back in time, in London of all places and a whole different fucking universe, on top of that. Flint questions their life sometimes. 

At least I know that they are still alive. I’m definitely not in London anymore, probably not in fucking England either. 

Retreating away from the part of their mind that houses their bonds, they allow themselves to return to whatever reality that they are in. Though it doesn’t feel much like reality to them. But, when has reality ever felt “real” to them. 

With leaving their mind, they become physically aware of their body again. Everything is back to normal from the small electrical shot. Having wasted enough time already, they raise to their feet with some shuffling as they get their legs under them. 

Let’s figure out where the fuck we are. 

Nothing has changed since their initial look around this deserted room. The walls are the same metal, as the ceiling is. If Flint wasn’t wearing their long overcoat, then they know that they would be cold. They try not to disturb the dust too much as they walk around, exploring the walls. Once they get a little dust in their nose, then the sneezing will be unstoppable. 

No indents or disturbance in the lines of each metallic wall panel that hints that there is a door, or any sort of opening. They would think themselves to be in a cell or kidnapped, if the room wasn’t so empty nor dusty. Though they couldn’t fully rule out being kidnapped. Wouldn’t be the first time, if so and at least this time there are no dead bodies to keep them company. 

Seriously, there is nothing to give them any hint or clue on where they might be. They can only see anything, because of the warm electrical lighting installed in the ceiling. They are just glad that the lighting isn’t the white fluorescent kind. They can only handle so much sensory input from that kind before getting overstimulated by the light and buzzing by the electricity.

Flint knows that wherever they are, it contains a lot of electricity usage. They can feel the electricity run through every surface of the room and a faint outline of electricity running upward is seen. This type of electricity is heavier than what they usually feel. This place must be running on a powersource they have never encountered before. 

Far enough away for our bonds to be stretched thin and in a place where a major power source is needed for it to operate. Somewhere up has the biggest drain of power wherever I am. 

Walls. Dusty Floor. Dull lighting. Uninteresting ceiling. A crack in the space time continuum-

Wait!

They quickly dart their eyes back to the left of the room that they just skimmed over.

Welp  looks like that is where I came from. Also, the fuck…?

A crack is the best word they can come up with to explain what they are seeing, though it wasn’t fully accurate.

A silver thin cut runs through the air and the matter that should be together, and therefore nothing is there. It can only be seen from a certain angle. It is so subtle that many would dismiss it as the trick of the light. It is translucent and distorts the air and matter around it. Looking at it, is like wearing dirty glasses with smudges on the lenses.

Flint approaches the crack cautiously even though they are burning with curiosity. They have dealt with weird shit before (Ekons, Skals, and a funky shadow creature at one point), but never with stuff dealing with quantum mechanics and the universe. Well, other than their first Travel.

They stand within touching distance of the space crack thing . It seems to fluctuate as they draw closer to it. The world around it grew blurrier. A pale white-yellow color is seen inside it. 

Well, if Flint theoretically came from this crack to this boring empty room then it stands to reason that it can take them back to London. Back to Jon and Geoffrey. Back to their usual strong, flowing psychic bonds. 

Honestly, that last though is what truly drove Flint’s actions next. And also, their low-impulse control but that isn’t here nor there.

No thoughts stay in their mind, as they shove their hand into the crack. Now, common sense would say that “sticking any sort of body parts or appendages into weird, unnatural, glowing parts of the world, would not end well,” but coming to that conclusion would require more than a second of thinking before making a decision. A person with anxiety would quickly come to that fair, and awful correct conclusion while an impulsive person would jump into the devil’s pit without a second thought. It is pretty clear that Flint is the latter type of person.

They swear that they have been working on controlling their impulsivity and actually thinking through things. Like Flint has even made some progress when they didn’t tackle the acid spewing Skal the other night! Though, having Jon with them is probably what stopped them. Unfortunately, Jon nor Geoffrey ain’t here currently and it is because they are so far away that Flint made this decision in the first place.

Of how fucking much they will come to regret that second of impulsivity for years to come. 

“Huh. It kind of tickles.”, they observe, their hand feeling fuzzy as the crack engulfs their hand and its entirety.

Unknownst to them, at the point of contact the crack starts to glow brighter as the ends of the crack starts to close itself.

Should be safe to step thro-

That would be the last coherent thought, they will have for a long while.

Burns.

Burns.

Burns

B̶̡̜̟͔̖͓͎̠̤̜̬̱̭̂̑͛̇̂ͅu̶͕̮̜̎̔̉̀͋̌̄̃́̋͑͒͒̕͝r̷̡͎̟̯̻̂̽̆̋͒̾̎͗̑̓̕̕͠n̶̡̝̙̰̠̱͖̪̅̅̈́͌̓̓̅̓́̕͝͝ş̵̢̰̥̱͙̩͇̦̖̰̳̳̉̍̃̾̓͊̿͊̃ͅ.

T̵̨̡̻̮̫̰̤͗h̶̳͚͓̠͎̾̓͌̇͋̇̚͝͠ẹ̷̝͋̈̂̿̉̎ī̷̘͚̮͛̐̈́̓͆̇͠r̶̢̢̪̯̠͍͎̪͉͔͑̏ ̷̛̭̗͕̀͒̈́́̎̈́̅̎͘Ḅ̷̨̦̘͍̤̌̅͘ų̴̻̺̙̪̙̹́̈́͝r̸̡̟̭͈̝͔̃̎̎͗̀̏͝ͅǹ̴̰̲͎͍͛̈́̎̑̾̉ͅͅi̸͉͋n̷͖̝̽̽͂g̸͚͈̱̅̑̀̊͗͊͝ͅ.

Ģ̶̨̧̛̛͕̩̪̩̳̦̤̘̼̭͍͉͙̲̱̰̹̝̙͈͇̼̮͋̎́͐̏̓͊̍̌̆͂͂̋̎̿͌͊͑͂͐̐̐̓̚͜͝͝͝ͅõ̵̤͇̣̳̣͓̣̳͑͌́͐͒̍̽̆̿̓̇̒̅̈̚̚ń̵̨̡̛̰̝̝̲̹̠̙͍͖̤̦̠̄̿͂̑̿͐͐̌̀͜͝ͅe̸̯̳̲͙̭͔̯̠͙̳͎͇̝͛͜ͅͅ..̴̡̡̡̨̢̗͉̫̩͓̘̥̜̱͖̤̤̺̰̗͈̘̠̘̑͆̈̿̔̈́͘ͅ

Ȩ̵̧̪͓͕̟̳̘̫̣̘̗͕͙͚̟̳͕͇̙̤̬͈͚̖͙̳̫̈͂̑͂̍͂̏̌̓̐́̈̿͆͘͠ṃ̵̭̆̏͌̓͌̂̉̀̿͂̈́͒̅̇̄̆̂͘̚̚͘p̷̨̩̥̼͕͓̻͓̦͓̖̯̙̣̜͔̠͈̦̞̑̀̄͆͜ţ̵̡͔͎̞̥͔͔̙̠̄͌͌́̆̃̾̂͐͗́͆̔̏̄͊̀͒͘̕̕͝͠y̴̧̛͈̖̜̹̖͉̘̆͋̅́̃̿̍̀̀̌̊͐͋̓̀͜͝͠.

Ģ̶̨̧̛̛͕̩̪̩̳̦̤̘̼̭͍͉͙̲̱̰̹̝̙͈͇̼̮͋̎́͐̏̓͊̍̌̆͂͂̋̎̿͌͊͑͂͐̐̐̓̚͜͝͝͝ͅõ̵̤͇̣̳̣͓̣̳͑͌́͐͒̍̽̆̿̓̇̒̅̈̚̚ń̵̨̡̛̰̝̝̲̹̠̙͍͖̤̦̠̄̿͂̑̿͐͐̌̀͜͝ͅe̸̯̳̲͙̭͔̯̠͙̳͎͇̝͛͜ͅͅ.̴̡̡̡̨̢̗͉̫̩͓̘̥̜̱͖̤̤̺̰̗͈̘̠̘̑͆̈̿̔̈́͘ͅ.

Ẻ̴̟̗̯͎̼̳͈̪̋̋̌̌̾͊͂̽̑͊̍͊̐̔̏̊́̇̾̏̑͂͂̃̎͘̕̚͘͝͝m̵̧̧̨̛̭̣͇̻̱̘͈̩͔̲͇͉̤̗̖̫͒̃̀̍͐̍̃̉̈́́̆̀̏̆̓́̋̈͊̐́̈́̒̀̓͐̕͘̚͜͠͝ͅp̸̟̯̦͈̩͚̠͖͓̰͓̗͓̱̠̭͍͕̈́ṯ̵̢̡̜̪̰̗͔̻̼̤̮̜͉̠̺͎̦͎͌̌̈̈́̾̆̂̈́͒̈́̈́͒̌̀̕͜͝͝͠͝y̶̢̧̧͓̭̺̙͎͓͎̫͍͇̯̎̌̌̀̇̓͂͂̓̉̚͠ͅ.

Ģ̶̨̧̛̛͕̩̪̩̳̦̤̘̼̭͍͉͙̲̱̰̹̝̙͈͇̼̮͋̎́͐̏̓͊̍̌̆͂͂̋̎̿͌͊͑͂͐̐̐̓̚͜͝͝͝ͅõ̵̤͇̣̳̣͓̣̳͑͌́͐͒̍̽̆̿̓̇̒̅̈̚̚ń̵̨̡̛̰̝̝̲̹̠̙͍͖̤̦̠̄̿͂̑̿͐͐̌̀͜͝ͅe̸̯̳̲͙̭͔̯̠͙̳͎͇̝͛͜ͅͅ.

E̢̛̗̪̖̼͔̘̻̯̯̓̓̽͑̃͛͗͛̕M̡̛̞͕̦̜̘̝̪̻̤̮͈̘̻̱̲̳̯̭̣͉̞͉͈̮̭̻̬̗͉̞̫̯͍̦̬̥̺͔̙̄̏̈͊̒̔́͊̅͂̎̉͐͌̉̈́̋͒̉̔̋̑̐͛́͑͒͛̀̑̏̇̓̃͘̚͢͟͠͝͝͡͠Ṗ̛̲͍̦̫̪͉̺͈̰͉̲͍̹̣̜͍̻͎̬̤̞̭̗̘̮̟͚̗̾́͒̔̆̀́͌̽̿̈͋̈́̈̎͑̄͊͛̐͑̀̀̚͘͢͝͠͡ͅT̗̦̗̪̞͖̮̳̻̫̞̤̺͇̺̼̼͔͇͙̮̲̯́̇̔͋͋̒̾̍̓̋̅̅̀͌͌̄͆̓̿͂̾͂̊͘͟͟͝Ỹ̨̧̡̛̛̛̭̗̘̹̦̲̖̫̣̗̘̬̤̗̪̳̻̤̝͕͕̟̩̯̘̝̞͍̘͍̳͙͈̲̞̅̓̍̊͗̽͋̅̒̔̒͂̂̅͆͐͑͑͑̅̅̂́͑̾͋̿͛̒̈́̓̆̚̕͘̕͘͢͢͢͞ͅ.

J̸̨̜̘͙͔̫̠̱̳̭̱͎̥̘̈́̾̋̾͛̓́͐͜ȭ̵̝̗̏̽̽͌͌́̈́̉̿̌̾̕̚͠͝ņ̸̢͙̜̝͙̻̙̣̻̣͚̫̩̩͖̦͉̰̙̺͋̃̃̀̈́͂̆͌̅͊͘͝͠.

G̸̨̤͇̹̣̣̗̭̜̘̒̎͐͂̎̅͌̀͘͝ͅẹ̸̻̯̪̲͕͚̞̥͐̔͂̊̓̿͌̍̚͝o̵̬̗̲̮̼̤̝̓͗̽̉͑̃͛̓̑͌͐̊̀͂̏͛̈̓̋͜͠͝f̶̘̬̬̊̃́͗͊̌̐ͅf̵̨̢̛̜͇͍͍̞̺͑̋͋̈́̈́͑̈͐́͂͋͠r̶̢͕̮̗̭̳̲̯̰̖̜̗͋̔̈́̍̍̂̔̈́̽͜ͅe̶̡̗̩̳͉̞̙̳̱̩͙̻͌́̋̆͊̀̒͂̄̎̄̆͘̚̚͘y̶̧͖̲̲̲̫̱͚̩̞̤͋.

Ẁ̵̡̨̢̢̨̢̛̪͉̻̤̠̝̤̭̩̹̗̘̝̥̫̦͈̙̩͎̞͍̗͖̪̙̪̘̗̝̝̙̼̜̠̘̭̽͐̉͋̓͆͐͂́́́̄̀͊͑̈́̚͘͜H̶̛̛̜̫̙̥̞̪͍̹̟͌̓̾͆̔̓̄̑͋̈̀̋̑́̈̑̓̌̏͋̓̑͒̐͐̄̎̄̍̍͑̇̆̀̕͘̚͘Ȩ̶̢̢̧̛̝͓̦͎̣̞͖̲͚̭͎͙͚͖͕̲̣̫͈͙̟̱̰̖̦̱̲͉̦̙̖͓̥̫͚̘̹̻̲̀̌̐̌̀̄̔́̇͊͊̄̇̈̄̽͌̈́̌͂̔̃͘͘͠ͅR̷̳̺͕̗̮͎̻̪̪͖͈̫̦͖̝͎̲͎̲̲̤͂̓͑͜͠Ȩ̵̨͈̟̦̳̞̯͇̥̳̯̖͈̫̭̤̑́̔̿̉̓̆̿́̏̒͜͝ ̵̨̮͍̙̟͙̰͇̠͇̙̹̗͖̱̟̼̝̹̘̭̰̲͔̗͍̲͉͉̦̳̀̄͊̋͆̅́͐͜͠ͅͅÀ̶͇͈̩͈̦̮͓͖̖͉̥͔͍͍͋̍̀͆̉̓̑̒̀̓̀͛͐͌̾̿̎̊͐̾̏̿͐̋̂̒̀̈́̏̿̍̃̆̈́̅̀̚͘R̵̡̖̩̰̤̱̳̗̣̬͈̮̼͙̺̝͇̺̣̫̝̯̼̝̹̐͋̀̃̑̒̈́̔͌̆̈̀̔̈́̔̿̌͂̋̏̎̒̉͒̕̚̕͘͠͝ͅẺ̵̢̨̛̛̱̻̙̭͎͙̬̟̞̮͔͙̜͙̯̞̩͕͉̭͕̖̂̌́̉͊̈̓́̓͐͑̈́̽̋̏͊̿̓̓͆̏̆̊̕͘͜͜͝ ̵̨̫̦̖̘͔͔̣̥͖̪̗̜̰̯͉̳̫͖̮̬̝͙̺̻͚̣̲͇͎̮̥͈̱̹̭̻̫̘̈́̏̎̒͊̋͒͂̊́̐̂̉̓̀̑͊̿̅͆͑̕͘͠͝ͅŢ̵̢̧̢̡̨̰̫̯̯̪̯̺̗̠̤͍͔̞̱̪̭̳̰̣̮͈̦̙̺̯͙̜͇̮̬̹̘͍́͒̎́̇̎̔̓͜͠H̵̰͓͎̒̓̽̉̑̊̂̂̈͛͗̄̊͒́̇̈́̈́̊̆̑̐͆̊̓̏̌̕̕͝͝͝͝Ę̶̗͈̤̘̱͚͚͓͙̘͙͐͌́̊̓͆̆͗̆̽̾̐̆̌͗̍͊͆̈̇̒̒́̀̉̾̔͊͒̓́̇̉̀̏̅̇̎̌̓̀́͛̀̚̚̚͠Y̶̧̡̨̢̛͉͉̤̱̱̭̬̭̫͓̯̱̟͕͉̳̰͚͈̜͓̻̬̜͈͓͙̖̾́̋̈̅̾̑́̓̈͆͐̽̌̓̈́̇͋͊͊͂̐́̏̑͌͊̏́̈́͝͝͝͠͠ͅ!̴̡̛̛̗̞̮̦̜͓̱̟̭͉̱̺̙̙͔̗̼͕̜̳̯̪̯̠́͊͌̾̌̓̂͐̇̓͛̎̓͒̄̔̿͂̄̂̓̄͑́̊̅̈́̽̐͗̃̏̀͘̚͜͠͠?̶̨̢̢̡̛̛͖̣͔̳̭̱͉͇̠̥̼͙̭̼̰̰̥̘͖̙̰̮̯̯̤̫̋̂̊̓̅̓̈̇͆̀̒͂́̊͗̏̎̈̓̽̋̈͛̎̽͗́̏̎̂͂̿̚̚͘͘͘͘͘̕͠͠͠͝͝͠͠ͅ!̸͉̠͖̳̪̹̜̺̝̹̫̌͂̋̄̇̀͌́͂͊̄́̑̾̄̀̋̔̔́̽̓̒̋͝ͅͅ

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“Flint!”

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“Oh, young spark, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

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“This is certainly one way to make my dreadfully boring day exciting!”

“Now is not the time, dear!”

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“Flint! It’s me-

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“Oi! what's going on here!”

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“Let me make sure they are physically okay.”

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“We can’t feel-”

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“No bo-

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-Yet”

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“-help how can-”

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“-ed me in but-”

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“-ffering broken bonds.”

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“-in to heal but not stable.”

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“Use humans to stabilize while we work on repa-”

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“Still would not let us in.”

“What about-”

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Flint Wren McCoy. 

Fifth Generation Spark Traveler. 

Let Us In Now.

We Are Here To Help You.

You Will, Have, Had, Know Us.

Let Us In.

Allow Us To Help You.

Flint.

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please.

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okay.

Thank you.

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“Can feel them!”

“Doc-”

“-ill be, okay?”

“Take them to-”

“But they are no-”

“I have to!”

“Loop needs to be-”

“Can’t just leave th-”

“Not going-”

“Mind not o-”

“Beginning for the-’’

“Can visit till-”

“Take them because Doc-

“Oi!”

“-ver can. Future Fl-.......... said that--”

“Do that.”

“Leave before xir gets back.”

“Shifts made..........not alone.”

“Okay, okay, just be careful all of you!”

“Aww does the poor little puppy eyed Doctor care about little ole me.”

“-ssy don’t start, later.”

“Stop squawking darling, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Cautious over the Circuit, and push…… need anything.”

“I  got them sweetie.”

“But! They-”

“Doctor, Flint will be fine. Trust us darling.”

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“Okay.”

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Doctor?

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