"See you, Monday, Ann Marie."
"See ya," 8-year-old Ann Marie replied as she head across the high school football field to take the shortcut home.
As she passed the empty bleachers, she heard, "Hey, pretty, can you give me a hand?" Ann Marie smiled at the high school boy who had called to her. He had a sling on his right arm and his books were scattered at his feet.
"Sure," she said walking towards him.
"So, sorry for the bother."
"It's okay," she said as she knelt to pick up the books.
"What's your name, sweetpea?"
"Ann Marie Burr," she said passing the books to him.
"Yes," she said standing up to hand him the last one. "Bye!" she said as she turned to walk away.
"Thanks for the help, sweetpea," he yelled after her. As she skipped away, he muttered, "See you soon."
"I don't think so, Ted," I said from behind him. He whirled around, ready to strike at me - with a now perfectly functional arm.
Ready, but no longer able.
"Hello, Ted," I said, moving into his space. "I've waited a long time for this moment."
"Who are you? Why can't I move?"
"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that because of me, you will no longer have the opportunity to continue down the path you were headed today."
"What are you talking about?"
From under the bleachers, the crow bar he had hidden flew out and rapped him behind the knees, knocking him to the ground.
"What the he**?"
I sat on the bleacher closest to his head.
"You see, Ted," I kicked him in the belly with my steel-toed boot. I allowed pain to flow through him. He screamed, but couldn't move. "Today would have been a turning point for you. You would have graduated from trapping, torturing and killing small animals to kidnapping and killing your first human being. It would have been the first day of your life as a sadistic sociopath."
"That makes no sense. None of this makes sense. I'm fourteen. I didn't do anything! I'm just a kid."
"A kid with a crowbar," I said as I made him smash his face into the ground. "A kid who planned to sneak into the living room window of 8-year old Ann Marie Burr, remove her from her home, bludgeon, rape and dismember her before burying the pieces where none would ever find them -- even decades after her disappearance."
"You can't possibly know what I haven't done yet. It hasn't happened yet!"
"And now it won't. Ever."
I could feel the fear began to overtake the bravado. I could smell it. I knelt on the ground next to him.
"I've studied every aspect, every minute detail of your miserable existence. I've been you in every virtual reality program the Academy offered. I know you better than you know yourself.
"I know every woman you have killed. I even know the men no one considered your prey. And the animals on which you practiced that led you to today."
His eyes were wide and unblinking.
"How could you...no one...I didn't..."
"Where I come from, you are the textbook example of sadistic sociopath. You proclaimed yourself "the most cold-hearted son of a bitch you'll ever meet" and one of your own attorneys said you were "the very definition of heartless evil.'"
"You're crazy," he shouted. I silenced his tongue. He gagged as it swelled in his mouth.
"And you," I whispered, "are dead. But instead of dying in the Florida electric chair at age 42, you will die right here in Tacoma, Washington, age 14, an apparent heart attack victim despite your youth." I paused. "You will be mourned by your mother, perhaps, and then forgotten. And all those who would have suffered at your hand, will live."
His eyes pleaded with me. I released his tongue.
"Please, I don't know what you're talking about, but if nothing happened yet, I can be better. I promise ."
"Not an option, Ted. Teddy. Theodore." I stood up and walked a few paces away. Looking at him I said, "I was quite young when I was chosen for this honor. Because of certain...special abilities I have," I caused him to rise in the air and slam into the bleachers before falling at my feet. "Each training I ever received over the course of my years at the Academy had this moment as its goal."
A small container appeared in my left hand, a scalpel in my right.
"Wha...what is that?" He stuttered, staring at my right hand.
"You, Theodore, have the pleasure of being the first serial killer the Academy will remove from the annals of history. We know a great deal, of course, but when it comes to selective termination, it is imperative to leave no rock unturned."
"It's a complex process. We've already compiled a complete analysis down to the nano-elements of a so-called healthy brain. We've also conducted in-depth examinations of myriad sub-nano threads linked to sociopathic behaviors gleaned from the few current murderers in custody of the Academy.
"Once we have the fullest picture by harvesting, comparing and charting the brains of other well-known serial killers, the first of whom will be you, not only will we be able to determine from birth who should be terminated due to a 99.99% chance of sociopathic tendencies, we will also have eliminated from the collective memory of humanity some of the most evil human beings that ever lived."
I placed the scalpel and box on the floor as I knelt next to Ted. I looked into his eyes. I sent a thought. He looked confused, then horrified then excited. "I did that?"
"Oh, Teddy," I murmured, "that is not even a fraction of what you have done."
"But, how can...how did you...but I haven't done any of that. You know I haven't!"
"I had the pleasure of meeting the you you become and appropriating all your memories before I came back for you."
As he began to accept the reality of my words, I allowed him to feel the fear I could smell. He began to tremble.
"I met him, you, in the antechamber moments before you were fried. You were unrepentant and cocksure. With pleasure, I took your memories and you went to the chair confused and screaming you were innocent. You soiled yourself as they strapped you in."
"Why are you telling me this? You're gonna kill me. Just do it!"
"Now, where's the fun in that?" I picked up the scalpel and inserted it into his ear, activating the suction element as I placed the capture box next to his head.
"This is going to hurt, Teddy."
I silenced his scream but allowed his pain and fear to roll over and through me. Every needle of fright ignited sensations of pure pleasure. I shivered.
I understood him better than anyone ever suspected.
Than anyone will ever know.
When I have provided all the grey matter the Academy desires, I will have fulfilled my task. No one can say I am not a woman of my word.
But it will be too late.
My powers have allowed me to slip out of the time tunnel without leaving even an atom to follow. Very soon, I will have managed to acquire all the darkest memories associated with the men and women whose brains the Academy wishes to study.
And then, with the greatest perpetrators of evil eliminated, I will give new meaning to the phrase, Greatest of All Time.
Operation Bed Tundy
How do you accidentally become an assassin?
Leave it to me to find out. One minute I’m driving down the fourlane and the next I’m being pulled over, silently cursing my lead foot (again). Many don’t believe me when I describe the leaden-ness of my foot. Can’t really blame them. I suppose the inability to distinguish between sixty and a-hundred-and-forty miles an hour would be hard to believe, to one on the outside looking in. And with a condition this unbelievable, your only recourse is to keep your mouth closed and take what comes. Explanation is futile.
Twelve tickets in six months.
I tense to think this might be the one that gets me time.
Imagine my surprise when a mitigating opportunity presented itself. I say mitigating because this option allowed me to forgo a court appearance. All I had to do was follow some government guys to a shady looking outpost (that looked more like an outhouse) in the middle of nowhere, and board an elevator car wherein I descended into an enormous underground compound replete with all kinds of futuristic tech.
They told me if I agreed to this super important mission all my tickets and subsequent charges would be waived forever. I should’ve taken the fact that they didn’t tell me what the mission was as a hint. If it was something pleasant, the payoff probably wouldn’t have been so generous. When I learned what it was, it was too late. I’d signed on, with no chance to renege.
The mission, should I choose to accept it—and stupidly I did—was to be a guinea pig for time travel. But not just any guinea pig. I was to travel back in time and assassinate none other than Ted Bundy, before his killing spree began.
Them twelve tickets weren’t looking so bad right about now.
I loaded into the time travel pod thing (I made straight Fs, so don’t judge me for not getting more technological), and prepared to probably die, but lo and behold I didn’t. The circles of light slid up and down my body, no de-atomization or nuthin. When the pod split open I found myself in an empty field. The giant oaks having surrounded the government outhouse (sorry, outpost) were twigs, and even the sky had that sepia-old look.
Now I’d been armed to the teeth with a bunch of gear, so I wasn’t totally defenseless in the belly of this new world. They’d printed and minted a bunch of money with the dates changed so not to rouse suspicion. Why couldn’t they have just used real old coins, you may ask. Well, real old coins are rare. They’re collectible for a reason. And I needed a lot. So the fake ones had to do. And it was the government that did it so…I don’t guess it’s illegal.
I found the beat I was supposed to walk and lingered there a while. Bundy apparently frequented that road.
It wasn’t long before a rust-bucket paid me enough mind to slow. A young-ish man with brown hair called out the window.
“Need a ride, Ma’am?”
I climbed aboard the rattletrap and settled into shotgun. The government dudes had given me a special needle of stuff to inject him with. Shooting was out of the question since any bodily trauma might damage his brain in the long-run. Oh yeah—they wanted me to bring his head back for scientific observation. Guess I forgot that part.
I still brought my own gun, just in case things went south. At ninety-three pounds soaking wet I’m not exactly apt to fight off a hulking man.
I smalltalked with Ted for a few minutes, an attempt to get his guard down. But before I could strike, the destination I’d made up came into view. Huh. Guess Boswell Gas Station was a real place.
Our ride now shortened by this unforeseen hitch, I reached for the needle. It was now or never. So, in other words, never. Ted read my movements a little too well and swerved his rust-bucket sharply, sending my head bashing into the window. I don’t even think he saw the needle, which meant... All the while I was planning to move in, he was apparently planning the same.
Regrets ebbed and flowed, as he slowed the car to a crawl. My original plan had been to force him to kidnap me at gunpoint. And before you say that sounds stupid: That way he’d have seen the gun from the jump and known not to mess with me. Also, nobody would’ve believed him if he managed to get away.
“Officer, it wasn’t my fault! She forced me to kidnap her—at gunpoint!”
No chance of that flying.
Alas, I’d gone with option B. And I was paying for it.
We wrestled back and forth, him grabbing me by the wrists and holding my arms apart. A headbut later and I was nearly out. Through my disorientation I could see him drawing a big hunting knife. He smiled at me, jaggedly.
“This is for your vocal cords, little deer.”
I didn’t know which half of his sentence I felt worse about. The part about severing my vocal cords or the creepy “little deer” addendum, which were it a physical being would need to be killed with fire, the ashes launched into deep space with twelve nukes attached.
Sorry. It just creeped me out.
In the throes of sadistic revelry (or maybe he had a stroke—I dunno’ what that was), he hesitated.
I swung my stiletto up and kicked him square in the neck, my heel possibly puncturing something. So much for no damage. But the government could suck it up. It was him or me.
As he sputtered and spat, blood slipping from the corners of his mouth, I took the wheel and hit the accelerator, launching us off into the grass, past a shabby treeline, and into a big reservoir of water.
I can’t win, can I?
As the waterline climbed up the windows and slowly immersed us, I rushed to open my door. Ted had me by the ankle, but that didn’t stop me from trying. I shoved and it parted away, sending a surge of muddy water gushing in. The tide smacked him upside the face and knocked him off me. I writhed my way out, swimming and swimming until I felt the ground kiss my feet.
From the grassy shore, I watched the water slowly suck Ted’s car under.
I was grateful to be alive—but hoo boi the government was not gonna’ be happy.
Then, something weird happened. Which in the context of this story, is saying something.
The tide coughed up a big hunk of something. I rushed over and poked it. It didn’t move.
Upon closer examination, I realized it was Ted. He was dead—waterlogged and bluish.
His brain probably wasn’t in the best of shape. I realized this.
I brandished the metal plate the government dudes had given me, holding it up to his neck. A click later and a blade had discharged, severing the head and encasing it in a bubble-like, malleable skin. The coating would preserve it.
After some time walking the backroads, a severed head tucked neatly under my arm (guess that’s why nobody offered to pick me up), I found my pod and climbed in. I was pretty eager to get back to the present, all things considered.
When I stepped out in the lab again, I presented the head. One of the scientist dudes examined it carefully, a look of great displeasure crossing his face.
I was quick to justify myself.
“He was gonna’ cut my vocal cords! I had to drive us off into that reservoir—”
The displeasure intensified.
“It’s not that…” the man garbled, indignantly.
“THIS IS NOT TED BUNDY!!!”
“You incipid, brainless embarrassment of a human being!”
“Do I still get my tickets waived?”
The scientist sent me a glare that was scarier than the one not-Ted Bundy had sent me.
“I can make this up to you,” I shrugged. “Maybe I could go after Jack the Ripper, or Jeffrey Dahmer, or the Zodiac Killer…”
“Jack the Ripper, Jeffrey Dahmer, and…”
“The Zodiac Killer?”
“What is a ‘Zodiac Killer’? You’re just making killers up at this point,” he pinched the slack between his eyes, exhaustedly. “You know what—get out.”
I tried to object, but he’d already shuffled me to the door.
“But dude! I think I—”
Long story short, the government wasn’t too terribly impressed with my work.
And my tickets did not get waived.
Operation Ted Bundy
Take the place of Ted Bundy’s first victim and bring back his brain for study.
My research brings me to March 18, 1946. A bedroom in small bright blue house with white shutters and a yellow front door in Roxborough PA where I take the place of the very first victim slipping into the pleasing sleeping body of a raven haired twenty-one-year-old Eleanor Louise Cowell.
That night. Squeezing her eyes shut pretending not to notice as her father Sam Cowell, having found nothing in the stack of semen-stained pornography kept hidden in his greenhouse to bring release, pulled up her covers. Just enough. To reach in and insert first one finger. Moistened with spit. Probing. Then one hand, spreading her labia wide, dipping in to broaden the passage. Expert he was at preparing for fertile planting. Satisfied, he hastily pulls up the other handful of bedclothes tossing them to land burying his daughter’s silent grimace. Beheaded. Intombed. His rough hands, the hands of a professional gardener, nails embedded black with soil, coaxed apart her ankles like tangled stubborn tree roots. His penis heavy. Angry. Aching. Beyond caring about noise or messiness. His wife in the bedroom ten foot away behind a wall cocooned in herself by the latest rounds of electroshock. What good was she to him? He knew anything could be concealed. Hidden away. His moan too loud. As he buried himself deep into the mossy hole he had dug. Impaled there he planted his seed ever deeper again and again.
I continue to live on as Eleanor into early summer with the shame of knowing she cannot vomit away what is growing inside her. She cannot hide. She feels the horror stretching her once slim belly from within. At night, she hits herself down there as hard as she can hoping to kill it and make it go away. Hoping to see something warm and red trickle into the toilet each morning. Weeks go by. She whispers words of hatred as she digs deep into her ballooning belly searching for a little neck beneath the heaviest shape her fingers can find to snap it off and make it die. One night, as her hands travel down to maim and kill, it strikes back. Inside the blow of a fist went straight to her gut making her gasp for breath. After that, she feels its sharp fists and kicking feet striking her endlessly with howls so loud inside she wonders if her parents will hear ten feet away where nightly she knows the sounds of flesh slapping, her mother’s sobs, her father’s moans.
Later that summer, her mother also named Eleanor, was taken away to the place where they shocked the emotions out of her memory for a time. She came back blank. Calm.Content to wander aimlessly going from cupboard to cupboard, drawer to drawer looking for what she’d lost before taking to her bed causing Sam to come again to his daughter’s room. This time bolder. Reaching under her covers with two hands. His fingers extend up under her nightgown and touch the bulge above her pubis. I squeezed my eyes shut. I grimace at what I fear will come next.
“What’s this?” He shouted tossing her sheets to the floor. “You whore. Slut. No daughter of mine.” He slapped her spat in her face. “How could you bring disgrace on this family?” You trollop. Who’s the father?”
Eleanor just looked at him. She was shaking. She felt her lips curl into a grin. “How about Lloyd Marshall? An Air Force Vet I met...” Another slap. Then a back hand to her jaw.
“Are you sure? You cheap worthless tramp. Answer me!” A clenched fist lands hard just clipping her left ear. There was a buzzing sound. Some warm wetness trickled.
“Whoever, Jack Worthington?” She looks at his eyes. Blue turning to black. “You want to hear me say it...........it’s you.” This time the blow of his fist when straight to her gut making her gasp for breath, followed by two more. Could knock out Joe Louis. Doubled over, she smiles. “Good. I hope you killed it.”
He reached over and grabbed her face by her cheeks burning from the blows. “I am your father. You will not shame this family. I’m sending you away where no one will ever know and you’ll have this child and then you will both come home. And your mother and me will raise the little bastard as our own."
Then her father kissed her, his hot swollen tongue licking the roof of her mouth as his hands roamed down stopping to weigh her newly ripe breasts. An expert gardener. Big juicy tomatoes. Eleanor just squeezed her eyes shut pretending not to notice.
November 24, 1946. Burlington, Vermont. Elizabeth Lund Maternity Home for Unwed Mothers. I know I will not have to endure this mission much longer. The pains went on for three days doubling her over. Could knock out Joe Louis. Eleanor hoped it would die. Eleanor hoped she would die. She felt her body being forced open like a rough huge hand spreading her wide, dipping down to broaden the passage. The pressure coaxing her bones apart. Tangled stubborn tree roots. Then her moans too loud. Her vagina too full, stretching bursting. Her feet in cold metal holding her open too wide. She howls. Some warm wetness trickled. She reaches down and feels a heavy shape covered in bloody moss. She whispers words of hatred as she digs deep and pushes just enough. Her fingers searching for a little neck.
Before the doctor can say a word or the nurses pull her hands away, I snap off the head. Slipping out and away from the first female victim.
I look back and see the doctor yelling at Eleanor to keep pushing to expel the mangled dead child. She bears down with all that is in her. A headless body plops explosively to the floor bloody, battered, bruised.
"The head, where its head?" The nurse yells.
"It must be buried somewhere in all this." Another nurse replies. She is crawling on hands and knees looking through the bloody sheets and tools that have fallen to the floor.
The doctor exclaims, “It would have been a boy. Too bad. Did you have a name for it?”
Eleanor is sobbing. Gasping for breath. Howling through tears of relief, “I would...I would have named him Theodore...Teddy...Ted."
The infant head in my hands, and make my way back, completing my mission.
Heading For Disaster
"Ma'am, please help me!" A young man with long dark hair cried out to a young woman walking out of Dante's. The man was only standing due to leaning against the side of the bar.
"Yes, I'll be right there!" The woman replied in a sweet, yet strong voice. Her long black hair flowed as she ran to assist the gentleman. She wore a buttoned down shirt with a low neckline, and black pants that also complimented her figure. She approached the man and allowed him to support himself by wrapping his arm around her back, and she put her arm around his back as well.
"Thank you darling. Something went wrong with my leg, and I need to get some medical attention. Could you help me get to my car and drive me to a hospital?"
"No problem at all sir." The woman said kindly as she helped him walk to his vehicle. "What can I call you by the way?"
"My name is Ted. Ted Bundy." The man said weakly, but thankful all the same. "And what is your name angel?"
"I'm Tanya. Tanya Balencia. It's nice to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine, thank you for rescuing me Tanya. My car is right over there."
Tanya guided Ted to his car in the dark, quiet parking lot. Ted remembered more light being present before, but didn't mind considering the intentions he had. The cover of darkness would work perfectly.
Tanya helped Ted get into the passenger side of his car, and confirmed that he was comfortable before closing the door. She then walked over to the driver side and got in.
"Ok Ted, go ahead and pass me your keys, and I'll get you the help you need."
"Yes, of course!" Ted said, sounding stronger than he was a moment ago. Tanya saw the crowbar at the last minute as it slammed into her skull. The blow didn't faze Tanya at all, but her sweet smile did turn into a sadistic grin.
"Heh, tough break buddy!" Tanya laughed. "Or I guess I wouldn't call it a break, since that had no effect on me. Oh, being versed in magic is the best!"
"What is going on?" Ted asked in horror. Why didn't that work?"
"Because I was ready for your tricks, and used one of my spells to protect myself from your attempt to immobilize me." Tanya answered, still using her kind tone in contrast to her words. "I come from a time where we already know all about you Mr. Bundy, and all the horrible crimes you commited. I just happened to arrive before you could get started with your serial killing career. You may be famous in my time, but when my work is done, no one here will ever remember you. Guess it is a tough break for you after all!"
Ted attempted to strike with his crowbar again, but Tanya was too fast. Before he could do anything, Tanya pointed at him, and a small electric blast emitted from her fingertip. Ted convulsed upon impact, then fell unconscious....
When Ted came to, he looked around to see swirling colors of purple, neon, and blue. He observed his body floating in front of him sans his head, and also floating before him was Tanya. She now wore a hooded cloak and full body armor, including spiked wrist and ankle bands.
"Tanya?" Ted asked fearfully. "What is going on? Where are we, and what have you done to me?"
"We are between timelines, yours in 1974 and mine in the distant future, and I used my magic to remove your head from your body." Tanya said matter of factly, her kind tone now absent. "You aren't going to die from this - your head is actually still synched with your body, kind of like a wireless connection. Not that you would understand wireless connections, being from the 70s and all."
"Yes, I have no idea what you are talking about!" Ted cried out. "You're saying my head is not attached to my body, but is still somehow connected?"
"Yes, so when I do this you will still feel it."
Tanya kicked Ted's headless body in the groin, and Ted screamed in pain.
"What is going to happen to me?" Ted asked, despite being afraid of the answer.
"I'll explain what I know." Tanya smirked. "Basically, you were set to become an infamous serial killer, responsible for 36 confessed killings, but likely closer to over 100. I traveled back in time to pose as your first victim, trapping you instead."
"So you were sent back to stop me from killing?" Ted asked. "Please put my head back on my body and send me home, I promise I won't hurt anyone, I swear!"
"Even if you were being truthful, that isn't why I am here." Tanya replied smugly. "I don't care about changing history or making the world a better place. I work for money. My client wants to study your brain. I don't know what they plan to do with the knowledge they gain, but as long as the pay is good, they can do whatever the hell they want with you."
"Have a heart, please!" Ted protested. "I'm so sorry for trying to hurt you, I won't be this monster you say I become. I'll change, I promise!"
"Save your words, you sealed your fate when you tried to knock me out with that crowbar." Tanya responded triumphantly. "Fun fact though, one of your kicks was saving the decapitated heads of your victims. I could have just teleported your brain to my client with a quick spell, but I thought sending your head would be more fitting."
"Someone, anyone, help me please!" Ted screamed.
"For a notorious serial killer, you truly are pathetic. Normally I don't take my work personally, but even if you hadn't attacked me, I still wouldn't be able to stand you. So before I deliver your head, I think I'll have some fun with you here for a spell."
Tanya pointed at one of Ted's arms and sent a fireball out of her fingertip, igniting it. She then pointed at his leg and froze it with an icy blast. She followed up by making a staff appear in her hand, then shattered his frozen appendage into pieces with a swift strike. Ted screamed in agony thanks to the "wireless" connection he had to his body. Tanya then sprinkled some kind of sparkling dust over his body, restoring his leg and healing his burnt arm.
"Thank you... " Ted said gratefully, feeling hopeful. "Have you reconsidered and decided to trust me as a changed man?"
"Ha ha ha ha, not at all!" Tanya laughed gleefully. "I simply healed you so I can inflict more punishment for your crimes that you'll never get the chance to commit! You were executed in 1989, so I have a lot of time to make up for. Lucky for me and not so lucky for you, we can stay here until I get bored of you, and then I'll end your torture by wiping your memory of this place before delivering your head to my payroll. Ted, you may be considered one of the vilest monsters that ever lived where I come from, but I'm going to show you the kind of monster I can be. Buckle up, we've got all the time in the world. Oh wait, you can't buckle up anymore, can you?"
It took months of experimentation and adjustments to find a way to fit my atoms into a child's body. A girl child at that. I've been disguised so many different ways, from elderly bent and disfigured to brilliantly beautiful women, and even a muscle bound body builder. It was always purpose driven.
You see, I'm a time traveling mercenary for hire. I go back into history to change it for the better. To get rid of the bad seeds who should never have been born. To bring back their brains so we can better understand how to eliminate these horrifying genetic mistakes so that violent criminals will not exist in our future.
The assignment? Go back and save Theodore Bundy's first victim and all the others who followed her. Ted was only fifteen and Anna Marie Burr eight. She loved him. Loved him like he was her amazing older brother and she followed him everywhere in their neighborhood, until she disappeared. Her body was never found, and he never did tell what he did to her.
We had only a few pictures from newspapers when she went missing to base my disguise on, but we figured it wouldn't be much of a problem as long as I could convince a stubborn little girl to let me take her place. Without being the one who was accused of her kidnapping. And believe me, I'd kidnap and confine her if I had to.
Once we perfected the remold of my body, I spent eight hours a day in it, learning how to use the three foot six inch delicate frame to my advantage. I had a miniaturized knife which I learned to place between the lower two left ribs on fighting robots with great accuracy, piercing their mechanical hearts with one hundred percent accuracy. My laser scalpel worked its way through bony skull simulations and I scooped the grey matter under it into a biosphere container to maintain the cells. Then I pressed the homing button to return to my time inside of three minutes with complete success over a thousand times. Muscle memory would be an asset in the stressful environment of the late 1970's.
Today I will be going back. The brief blackout of time travel was expected as was the arrival site. A dark back alley behind the Tacoma, Washington home of her family.
I knew this was the night Anna would vanish. The plan was for me to be there in her place when Ted coaxed her to climb out the window and come with him on his early morning paper route.
The locks on the doors were pitifully simple compared to the complex genetically coded devices we use. I reengaged them behind me as I slipped through the back door and forward to the children's bedroom. I stood in the deep shadow, watching as Anna went to tell her mother her little sister was sick. I slipped into their room. I was lucky, my timing was perfect. I checked the positioning of my weapons and opened the window when the soft patter of lumps of soil hitting the glass caught my attention.
There he was. Handsome, smiling at me like I was the light of his life, and beckoning me to climb out. To his everlasting surprise, I would go with him. He had no idea how short his career as a serial rapist/murderer was going to be. My finely tuned hearing caught the shuffle of Anna's bare feet coming back down the hall. Time to go.
All I had to do was wait for Ted to take me by the hand and I scrambled over the end of my bed and out. He hugged me, running his hand over my bottom and a manner that both thrilled and disgusted me. Knowing what I know, I knew exactly where his mind was headed.
Not on my watch. This would end today.
He put his finger to his lips, letting me know this was our secret tryst. He turned, brushing the windowsill clean of the dirt he'd used to alert me and using the same hand he removed the foot print in the flowerbed.
"This is our secret. I don't want you to get into trouble." He smiled and grabbed my hand. No one was awake, and the pile of newspapers were sitting at the end of the block, waiting for him to stuff them into the bags slung over his shoulders.
"Come on, I've got the perfect place for you to hide until I'm done. Then we're going on adventure. Just you and me," he whispered the words in my ear. Our little secret.
The tool shed was in the back corner of his yard. I knew it because I'd studied the old enhanced maps our research department had dug up. This was the end of him. I palmed the knife as he opened the door. I saw the padlock, I knew if I didn't take him now, it wouldn't happen. I turned to look into his eyes, they were cold and flat. The killer in him was trying to steal my soul, and I slid the knife home.
Ted Bundy was dead. Never bet against me. I haven't missed an assignment in over thirty years.
When you are someone who is experienced in jobs like this, you wouldn't expect a mission to be so difficult. Nearly impossible. I looked up, staring in the eyes of the infamous murderer, Ted Bundy. I panted, wondering how I could have lost control of the situation so fast. I felt my hands go numb as I tried to raise them in an attempt to stop him from whatever he was going to do. My attempt was practically useless as he effortlessly tied my hands together with a rope.
"Don't worry," he cooed into my ear, fiddling with my hair as I stay sitting on the floor where he left me. "It's going to all be over soon." He grabbed me by the shirt, flinging me onto my bed like I was nothing. I frantically searched the whole area, looking for something I could use to stop him. Why did this girl have to be so God damn neat? I gritted my teeth as tears rolled down my cheeks. Any other girl would have been fine, but no. Lucky me.
"What's wrong love?" he asked, splitting my shirt down the middle, exposing my bra. "Am I to much for you to handle?" My face turned red, and I used my tied hands to cover it. Ted threw his head back, laughing at my expression. He looked back at me, then hauled himself on top on me. He forced my hands back down, forcing us to look at each other. Our faces were now inches away from touching. And for some reason, I wanted those inches to close a distance. I kind-of wanted him to do something to me.
"What are you going to do to me?" I mumbled as he unbuttoned my shorts and slid them down my legs. He smiled, exposing surprisingly white teeth.
"I'm going to do," he paused, getting closer to my face than he already was. "what any other rapist does to their victims. But I am going to make sure I am remembered for what I do to you." My brow raised at that last part, then I remembered how he raped his first victim. With a bed post.
I began to scream and kick at Bundy in an attempt to free myself, but it wasn't worth it. It was too late. I fell into his trap, like many of his other victims did. Giving this murderer a chance was wrong, and I should have realized that from the beginning. I failed the mission, and was going to most likely die from either Ted or my boss.
As the bedpost was pulled out from under the bed, I cried. Ted hauled the bulky post onto my body, and placed it on my torso. He looked to me and smiled. "You still want to blush at me now?"
Bundy’s First and Only Victim
I wondered around the University of Washington in hopes to catch a glimpse of the infamous killer as he stalked out his prey. I just hope he spots me before his first victim. If not, then the mission will be over and so will my career. Who would want to hire a woman who can't be presentable enough for the male gaze?
It wasn't surprising when they selected me for the job. I mean they probably didn't even look at my application, just my head shot. I was right in Bundy's alley. I was skinny and white, but the selling factor was the middle part perfectly placed through my hair. I don't think I have ever had so many men stare at me, but I only want the attention of one pair of eyes, and I have yet to find them.
As I round the corner, back to where I first began to walk, I spotted a new figure sat at a far picnic bench. He had curly brown hair, but his face was hidden away from the world in a book. Someone accidently kicked a trashcan causing the man to come back to reality. His brown eyes instantly found me in the small crowd of students and his mouth fell open slightly. I looked back and smiled warmly.
As soon as he spotted me, I had to wait for an opportunity so he could grab me. I walked down to a local café and grabbed a coffee. The price difference from the 1970 and 2087 was crazy. I sat down by a window so I could look out at the street. I watched as happy teenagers walk around without the influence of social media to limit them expressing their true selves. I picked up the paper cup, brought it to my lips, and sipped the bitter liquid. My nose turned up in disgust. Damnit, I forgot the sugar. I stood up placing my backpack in the chair, so no one took it, and trudged back to the counter.
As I grabbed some sugar packets from the jar, a ring from the shop's bell made my ears perk up. I glanced in that direction only to find Ted Bundy had one hand on the door, book in the other. He gave me a smile, creep. I returned it, being nice for the sake of the mission, and walk back to my table. He bought a coffee and walked to a table in the corner. Smart man, sit with your back to the corner of the room so you can see the whole room and the door. I looked back out the window as the nerves began to set it. This is really happening.
I got lost in my thoughts as time slipped away from me, before I know it the sun had gone down, and the shop owner was sweeping the now empty store. Quickly, I gathered the few belongings I had brought with me and scurried out the door into the chilled Seattle air. As I made my way back to the campus, in hopes that Bundy would be waiting for me, I repeated the instructions over and over in my head. Find Ted, get him alone, and kill him. We only need the head. I finally reached campus. We only need the head. I could hear the traffic from the highway four blocks away. We only need the head. My hand reached out to open the door to the dorms. We only need the, the repeated phrase was interrupted by a cold hand on my upper arm. When I glanced up to the source, my eyes were meet with brown ones and a crooked smile. Before I could react, everything went black. SHIT.
When I woke back up, I was in the back seat of a car. It smelled of cigarettes and cheap whiskey. Ted was in the front seat, but we weren't going anywhere. Instead, he was turned around flashing me that smile I had seen in his file during my weeks of training. The smile I had studied. "You are perfect," he spoke out sweetly as if his intentions weren't to murder me. I stayed quiet not giving him the satisfaction he wanted. "Well, aren't you going to say something?" He was getting angry. His face altered from the smiling one into one of pure anger. He flew out of the car at my silence and swung open the back door to climb in the seat with me. He grabbed my legs, pinned them between his thighs, and unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down my legs with my underwear. he grabbed my hands so I couldn't fight back. "YOU BITCH, AREN'T YOU SCARED??"
I looked up at him with the most innocent look I could pull and spoke softly, "Oh Ted, why are you so quick to anger? Is my lack of begging making you mad?" He looked at me with a paled-out expression. His grip loosened on my hands, and in a quick move I punched him square in the face. He fell back and landed on the ground outside of the car. I grabbed the folded knife out of my pocket and plunged it into his leg to ensure that he can't escape. I pulled my pants back up.
"How did you know my name?" He winced in pain as I stabbed the other leg for safe measure. I gave him back the same crazed smile that he had been flashing me all day as I grabbed the keys from his pocket. "Hey, what are you doing??" He looked in my direction as I walked around to his trunk and popped it open.
"Typical. You really didn't want to get caught, huh? You grabbing my bag is a real pussy move. So scared of getting caught so early into your rein? Well, now you won't even get to kill one person." I picked up my bag and opened it to get out the revolver. His eyes were wide as he watched my every move, pain evident on his dirty face. "You had killed so many innocent females, yet your name is the one known by the world. Ted Bundy, the man who killed 30 women before getting caught," His eyes widened at the mention of his full name, but he smirked at the title. "But I'm here to make sure that you never live to have that satisfaction." I pointed the revolver right at his heart, "Best job ever," and with my finale words I pulled the trigger and sent a bullet straight though his chest. I dropped the gun to dig through my belongings for the saw that I needed to remove his head and when I found it, I got to work.
After what felt like an eternity, I was standing with his head in one hand and my homing beacon in the other. I pressed the return button and waited to be teleported back. I stood with all my weight on my left leg, Ted's head leaking blood down my pant leg. I felt a tingling sensation come over me and I blacked for a second to come back to consciousness in the white lab I had once become familiar with. On the other side of the glass wall, I could see my boss starting at me. I raised the detached head and gave the crooked smile that was engraved into mine and everyone began clapping.
"Oh my God, she fucking did it." My Boss whispered with a pleased, yet shocked, look plastered on his face.
Ted Bundy: The Greatest Serial Killer that Never Was
People tend to romanticize mercenary life. They look at Boba Fett and Black Widow and think "That's amazing!" as if all we do is fight, fuck, and get paid. But no one ever considers the other stuff. Sure, when it's Will Smith or Margot Robbie on a big screen there's no real risk, just a lot of well-rehearsed choreography and perfectly-timed explosions, but here in the real world it doesn't work like that. I've lost a lot of good friends, and killed a lot of good people, and I have to carry that shit with me every day.
So when some lawyer from the Evergreen Corp told me I had the chance to do something good for a change I took it. Maybe I'm getting soft, or maybe I've had one too many concussions, but for once I wanted to change the world for the better.
Of course, when they told me my assignment was Ted Bundy, the notorious serial killer from the 1970s, I thought they had more than a couple screws lose. But they paid upfront in cash and promised me they'd handle getting me to and from the target, all I'd have to do was take him out and get his brain. The second part was a little weird but, all things considered, I was curious and I'd done a lot worse to people who were a lot better than Ted Bundy. So, I told them I'd do it, they threw me in a pod, and before I knew what was going on I was in the middle of Seattle, Washington holding a newspaper from 1970!
As you can imagine, I was more than a little tripped out, which I suppose was pretty on par for the times, but I was a professional. The lawyer, Mr. Dixon, had written down the time and place I was meant to make contact with Ted and had dropped me in only a few hours before the rendezvous, so I had to think fast.
The file they'd given me said Ted liked to isolate, rape, and kill attractive young women, which he often lured from highly trafficked areas. It seemed he enjoyed the hunt as much as the kill, so just throwing myself at him would likely not work. Of course, I could just kill him outright, but my instructions were very clear: be discrete, be quick, and be certain. As such, I grabbed a low-cut sundress from a local outlet mall before catching the bus to the park where I was scheduled to "run into" one of the most infamous serial killers in American history.
He arrived only a few minutes after me, pulling up in a beat-up, brown Volkswagen Beetle. He was alone, as expected, though I noticed a woman's dress hanging in the rear window. Hopefully I wasn't too late.
A few minutes after he arrived I approached him and asked him for a ride. I told him my boyfriend had left me all alone and no one else was willing to give me one. I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, the last thing so many men before him had seen, and he looked me up and down before giving me an impossibly charming grin and motioning me over to his car. I thanked him and asked for his name. "Ted Bundy," he replied, again flashing his amazing pearly whites before opening the passenger door for me.
We made small talk for a while as I directed him out of town. Once we reached a deserted backroad, I pulled out my silencer, shot him twice in the chest, and once in the crotch for all the vile things he had, or would have, done in the world. A little anticlimactic, I know, but I saw no reason to give such a terrible man a heroes death. He got no time to pray, no time to scream, and no time to beg. If only he'd have had the same decency for his victims.
After that, I drove his car to a nearby river, took the surgical blade Mr. Dixon had given me, and carefully removed Ted Bundy's head from its torso, and I've got to admit, I've never been a sentimental person, but it felt pretty good. I stuffed his body in a trash bag, weighed it down with rocks, and dumped it into the river before heading back to the future to drop off the head and collect the rest of my reward.
I hear the found the body a few weeks later but were never able to ID it. Never found out what happened to the head after I turned it in though. I guess I don't really care anyway. All I know now is I sleep a little better at night knowing that, for once, what I did saved more lives than it cost and maybe, just maybe, made up for some of the horrible shit I'm guilty of too. Then again, maybe all I did was give air so someone even worse than Ted, and maybe all that really matters is that I killed another man who, at the time, had never done anybody any harm, cut off his head, and made him disappear without giving it a second thought. Terrible, right? I guess maybe the life of a mercenary isn't so amazing after all, huh?