"Sometimes this job sucks." Grell said as he slowly crossed the warehouse rooftop. The cool breeze blew his bright red hair back, filling his lungs with a crisp shot of energy. He jumped into the streets below, carrying his Death Scythe over his shoulder. "Cataloging some dead guys junk is not my idea of fun and excitement." The building he was looking for didn't seem to be there, in its place there was a small shack barely large enough to fill an alleyway. In fact it looked just like a miniature warehouse with the number twelve above the door in red lettering.
"William did say that his belongings will be stored in warehouse twelve, right?" He said in a snobbish voice as he pushed his glasses back onto his nose. The door didn't seem to have any handles, knobs, or levers, so he was stumped as to how he was to get in. There were no windows and no other doors around the sides or back as far as he could tell. The only abnormality he could find was a small metal flap to the right of the door. Grell walked closer to inspect the flap. It was newer than the rest, still bright and shiny. Maybe there was a key hole, or some sort of lever behind it? He lifted the flap and peered in as he sat his scythe on the ground. Strange, all he saw was what looked like a glass wall not even two inches away.
Flash! Bright light momentarily engulfed his vision, leaving black spots dancing before him. When his vision returned to him he noticed that the door now lay open, as if someone on the inside had opened it. "What the hell was that? It was like someone took my photograph but I didn't see anyone." He rubbed his eyes to relieve the last of the spots and grabbed his chainsaw. He walked forward, stumbling a little bit as the lamp on the wall lit on its own. "This is getting bloody ridiculous. I think Will sent me here on a gag errand." The walls were otherwise featureless, the same rusty gray as the outside. They were so close that if you stood with your back to one wall and had a good stick, you could reach the other if you stretched a little. The door closed itself behind him. The inside, like the outside, had no handle, but this side even lacked the strange metal flap.
"I don't like this." He said, obviously nervous. "I just want to get this over with." The only exit he saw was a hole in the floor , approximately a yard in diameter, with a sturdy ladder going down as far as the light would reach and extending into the darkness. He plucked a small stone from a corner and dropped it into the hole. "One, two, three…" the rock clanked against the corner as it fell. "Nine, ten, eleven. I think it's safe to say that it's a long way down." He secured his scythe across his back and started down the deep pit.
After a few yards he decided that this was taking far too long and started dropping a few yards at a time before catching the ladder again. By the time he reached the bottom he figured he was at least a hundred yards underground. There was a thick looking metal door directly adjacent to the ladder with a red electric light above it. The door itself had a wheel in the center, which opens the door if turned, which he did, and found himself yet another hundred yards in the air. But what astounded him was not the height, but the view.
Spread out as far as he could see was a massive underground warehouse. "Well, this is a surprise. Has this been here this whole time?" He said staring in amazement. "Oh well, I suppose I should get to work. What was the guys name again?" He pulled a small notebook from his pocket. "Ah, Herbert George Wells. His things should be around here somewhere." He noticed a large map beside the door, and another ladder beside the map. He went up to the map, looking though the index for anything that looked like it would hold the deceased mans possessions. 'New Arrivals' looked promising. It wasn't far from where he was, he should be able to reach it in just a few minutes if he went straight.
He arrived to find many crates and boxes waiting for him. The largest was the size of a buggy. They all had 'H.G. Wells' stamped across them, so he knew he was in the right place. After an hour and a half of monotonous cataloguing and organizing, he was finally left with the large one. He walked up to it and began reading the label. "H.G. Wells, Class A Threat, Time Machine." He said, writing down every word before realizing what he just read. He reread it just to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. He read it right. It took him less than a minute to take the crate apart, revealing perhaps the most impressive-looking machine in the world. The whole thing was full of shiny brass and expensive gears. It was in a kind of oblong shape with strange blades on both ends bent in towards the middle. In the middle there was a chair, and in front of the chair was two levers and two sets of numbered dials. The set of dials to the left was labeled 'Year' and had thirteen numbers currently on eighteen-thirteen, and the dials on the right were labeled time with six dials set up to show the hour, the minute, and the seconds so far.
Grell figure that one of the levers went forward in time, and one went backward. But, which one did what? "I guess the only way to find out is to try it." He said, reaching for the one on the left. Immediately the strange blades began to spin in opposite directions, followed by a horrible sensation of falling as a milky layer of some unknown substance covered the wondrous machine. The dials signifying the year was rapidly going down and before he could stop it, they reached negative one-hundred-forty-million years. The machine slowly came to a stop, the milky barrier dissolved revealing great flying reptiles flying overhead, wondering what this new, shiny thing was. "I think I went too far. That must mean that this one is forward." He said reaching for the one on the right. This time he pushed it forward gently, like driving a horseless carriage. He was careful, going fast until he reached the fifteen hundreds, then slower until the eighteen hundreds rolled by. Timing it just right he pulled out of the time stream only five minutes after he left.
"That was fun." He exclaimed. "I want to do that again. But, where should I go? Should I go forward in time or backward again?"
A/N: That WAS fun, wasn't it guys? So where should we go next? It's up to you, left or right, backwards or forwards. I'll wait a few days to read the reviews. And remember, if you guys don't give reviews I can't move on with the story.
Till next time, Chestnutghost.