Promise [Number 5 X Reader]

- Warping In -

Five

The catastrophe before me disappeared as Hazel and I warped into a new, brighter time where the people around us seemed to not have a care in the world - so much that our sudden appearance went unnoticed.

The gunshots and explosions were still ringing in my head when I turned to Hazel. "Time to explain now," I said, my voice wavering. "What was that?"

Hazel's solemn expression made me feel nauseous. "End of the world, November 25, 1963."

At the sound of the date, my face scrunched up, "'63? I don't remember there being a nuclear war in 1963!"

"No shit," the grey-haired man replied flatly.

The nauseous feeling in my gut worsened as I thought of the people I had just seen, "What about the others?"

"'M afraid I don't know," he answered, "that was dependent on your comrade with the rocks."

My teeth caught my bottom lip, an image of her determined smile crossed my vision. "Where are we right now?"

"Dallas, same as before. Same street too, only ten days earlier." He lumbered over to a wooden bench in front of us, his movements slowed from his new age. Watching the large man's movements, I realized he wasn't the Hazel I knew from mere hours ago. He wasn't the same Hazel that once downed an entire pitcher of margarita in the Academy's living room; he was older, weathered, almost empty. There was a dullness about him that was drastically different from the one I had known before, a sag in the shoulders that was new. It was strange. Everything around me was changing in an instance, and I felt powerless to stop it.

Maybe this was how (Y/n) felt when she was petrified for all those years.

"Ten days is more than enough time to restore the timeline and prevent this doomsday," Hazel added as he seated himself. I sped around the bench, sitting down just as he had. 

"So where do we start?" I asked quickly, eager to see this through as quickly as possible.

He looked at me with raised, almost amused eyebrows. "'We?' You're on your own this time 'round, Old Timer. I'm only here to keep a promise I made to Agnes."

A vague memory of a matured blonde woman in pink appeared, "Is she . . . ?" I wasn't sure if the topic was sensitive for him or not.

"Dead?" he finished.

I nodded

"Cancer." He and I both frowned. "She went quickly . . . We had twenty good years together, it's not like either of us were gonna live forever."

My frown deepened at his despondency. "I'm sorry, Hazel." The large man nodded once, not replying. After a moment, I asked, "What happened to the Commission?"

"Quit 'em, remember? I don't owe them the fuzz off my peaches." At that moment, three men crossed my vision. Each one had short, platinum blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes; at the very least they were some sort of European, my gut said Scandinavian. They were ragged, each one worse than the one before. Everything about the three men made me anxious, sending a shudder through my spine and the hair on my neck standing up.

"Then who the hell are they?" I asked apprehensively, rising from my seat.

As if on cue, all three of them whipped out a gun and pointed at the two of us.