“What right do you have to ask that of me?” Oliver questioned Marmon through tight lips and grating vocal chords.
Marmon raised the stakes with his response, “What rights? WHAT RIGHTS? You forfeited any sense of rights once you planted the Tempus Genesis time bomb into the fabric of mankind. Report?”
Marmon’s command was to the fat bald regressor who continued to shudder and shake in front of Oliver. Oliver watched him and the screen as it began to form images. Oliver could see it was broadcasting the view the man had somewhere back in time. Oliver was bereft of any optimism for his situation.
“Host secured,” reported the breathless fat man, “I have visual on Subject TX Zero Two.”
Oliver focused on the screen, the fat man’s host was on a bridge, a distinctive London scene with the towering façade of Charing Cross in the background. Oliver could see he was lumbering forward, taking laboured steps. He could see at the far side of the bridge a large male emerge from the steps. He stood tall and then turned, ambling across the bridge. Oliver recognised the gait.
“This is crazy, what are you trying to do?” Oliver asked his desperation cracking through the taught vocal chords of his host.
Ramone spat words at Oliver, “Giving you enough rope of an insight to go back and hang yourself with.”
The fat man continued, “One hundred metres and closing, what are your instructions please Supreme Commander?”
Marmon smiled as he looked at Oliver, “It is a protocol thing.”
Oliver could only offer a weak protest, “No.”
Marmon issued his command, “Delete.”
Oliver closed his eyes trying to draw back and escape down the timeline of energy that had brought him there.