1. Time: Chapters 1-2 (Revised)


    Date: 11/19/2017, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Author: OzOlvera, Rating: 84.2, Source: sexstories.com

    sip. "Listen, our family is special. We have a purpose. There are organizations that work to change the past for their benefits. We are the barrier that prevents this. Our family has been thwarting these organizations for decades upon decades." 16. "Grandfather..what..what are you talking about? You sound crazy. Look I know I messed up again. I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I promise. If this story is some way of manipulating me, you don't have to do it. I'll do better, gramps. I will." I smile at him. He doesn't smile back and mine fades. 17. He groans and claps his hands loudly together. The lights go off and a light beams from the watch on his wrist. A glowing clock comes into view, it emanates from the watch. I can only stare. It's bright. Too bright. The look on my grandfather's face scares me a bit. It's almost cold and unfeeling. 18. "Oz Austram Olvera, I Marco Alverious Olvera hereby induct you into The Family Your first mission. Protect Jack the Ripper from Fringe at all costs." He breaks his sombrerity and smiles softly. "Good luck, Austram." 19. Before I can even mutter a response to all of this it feels like my body is ripped apart and my sense go nill. Suddenly, I'm standing in the middle of a foggy street. My clothes have changed. A trench-coat. Old style trousers and leather shoes. There's a gun on my hip and my grandfather's watch is now on my wrist. Confused and a bit dazed I start to walk. This place is foggy. To the extreme. I can barely see ANYTHING. ...
    there's no one outside and the moon is bright. Too bright. As I walk...I hear a scream. CHAPTER 2 1. I cradle her head in my hands and mutter a silent prayer before removing the hatchet. Jack the Ripper..who was he? I can't remember. Fucking history man. I lay the cold woman down on the ground and wince as a rain-drop hits me in my eye. It starts to pour and I look around. Grandfather seriously better explain this fucked up shit when I get back; IF I get back. I stand up and look around. I'm in a narrow-ish alley. The bricks of the two buildings I'm surrounded by have been painted an ominous black. 2. The paint only adds to my growing discomfort. I pull out my phone and try to dial the police but I get no signal. Besides, I'm clearly not in the U.S...would I even be able to make a call here? Well, people make international calls every day. Gramps wouldn't have sent me here if the purpose weren't for me to learn a lesson. He must have sent me back in time...it has to be something related to History of course. 3. I shrug and start walking through the now fog filled down-pour. My shoes make and odd thumping sound with each step I take. "It must be the letter" I tell myself. The rain starts to lighten as I round the end of the alley. It seemed to only be about 10 ft long. My trench-coat is starting to soak and weigh more than it should. I work against slouching my shoulders and keep going. 4. The buildings all so old and decrepit. Most of them are brick but there are a few American ...
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