The police officer had drawn his weapon, but I had been hit by then. The officer had had no choice but to shoot the gunman down. I made a mental note ...o send some sort of 'thank you' to the officer.I contemplated going back in time, and stopping myself from being shot. But I had one good example of the time line being changed when that happened. I was alive, and I was going to recover fully, so I decided against it. Also, if I went back and changed things, there was no guarantee that whatever. I never did anything too risqu at work, I would check my 'secret' e-mail account, download an occasional file from one of my favorite newsgroups, or write my stories. My stories, well just quickly some background. I write transvestite fantasy fiction. Occasionally I live out transvestite fantasy fiction. I am a transvestite. Knowing there was now a way for the corporation I worked for to watch my every move should've been enough to scare me, but as with all other compulsions, I could only stay. After welcoming his replacement and showing the usual courtesies (gin and tonic, cucumber sandwiches etc) that protocol decrees, the retiring colonel said, "You must meet my Adjutant, Captain Smithers, he's my right-hand man, he's really the strength of this office. His talent is simply boundless."Smithers was summoned and introduced to the new CO, who was surprised to meet a humpbacked, one eyed, toothless, hairless, scabbed and pockmarked specimen of humanity, a particularly unattractive man. They hid in the shadows and some could fly while others could smash apart walls by looking at them, and a few were as large as tanks. It didn’t matter she thought, it didn’t matter what they looked like or did or how big they were, none of them, not one of them were invincible to bullets or fire or the blade. They all bled, and that’s what they all had in common, and that is all that mattered. They can all die and go back to hell. She could think that because she made it this long. The air was.
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