The Business of Time Travel Tourism

Chapter 31: The Assassination of Alfonso Duval

July 2, 2014. Wednesday.

A thunder struck outside of the Terrible Motel. It started to rain. Inside a motel room, the four heroes were having a discussion.

Max explained, "Soap, soda, paper and aerosol cans is all we need to make some decent bombs. I will write down the list. We will need to get them the first thing in the morning as the shops open up.

Having a difficult time to conceal the excitement on her face, Sally asked, "Am I going to receive some bombs? I'd like to use some."

"Everyone gets as many as they can carry."

"Nice." She hit George's shoulder with her knuckle. "See, George, everything is going to be amazing. Lighten up."

But George did not lighten up. The sadness was stuck on him the entire evening. There was a bad feeling inside his stomach. For him, something just did not add up. He said, "So we blow up the gate, go through all the guards, Gango's squad, the tank and somehow manage to get to Alfonso's mansion, where we defeat his strongest minions. Then we come face to face with Alfonso, who probably is going to have his finger on the button. What do we do then? Ask him politely to give up the launch device?"

Max glanced at George. He said, "With a little bit of luck on our side we are going to manage it. Have succeeded in even more difficult situations, no way we're going to fail here."

"You sure? Had there ever been a more difficult situation than this?"

Max let his eyes down.

Zoop attempted to cheer George up, "C'mon Giarge, we have that ninja you spoke on the phone, we have the group of strange people on our side. Everything is going to be just fine. You'll see."

"Yeah, I almost forgot the lady from extreme pizza. But if time cops have problems stopping Alfonso what can an old woman do?" George frowned his lips. "I'm sorry for the pessimism. Please continue without me for a while. I need to get some fresh air." He strode out of the room into the rain.

Max asked Sally, "What's wrong with George? Is he always stressing out like this?"

She shook her head.

Heavy water loudly battered onto the cars parked outside of the Terrible Motel. In heavy steps, George walked where his eyes led him. No matter how hard he tried to draw the picture inside his head in which Alfonso is defeated, he failed. He imagined himself reaching for Alfonso's waist and being stopped by a bullet in his chest. He imagined himself talking, but failing to find enough arguments to change Alfonso's mind, on the whole, world destruction thing. In no outcome of the multitude of scenarios inside his head, he came out of the mansion victorious.

"Has someone died?" a voice awoke George. It was the manager, who currently was smoking a cigarette outside of the entrance to his office.

"No, Sir. Sorry, it's just..." He sighed. "Lately I've been feeling that the weight of my troubles has become a bit too heavy for me to carry."

"The weight is never heavy to carry when you have friends to help you." The manager gave him a warm smile. He was not the prettiest of men, and his smile, missing a few teeth was not the most beautiful, but it was enough to cheer George up. The man continued, "You've got our cult on your side, and I heard the Cool scumbags are joining in too. All those guards outside of the mansion are going to fall like flies. You'll see. We've got some sneaky ways to deal with the people we dislike."

"Thank you."

"On the TV they said that the weather is going to be amazing tomorrow." Getting no reply from George for a long while, the manager added, "My name is Tom by the way."