A Twist In Time (Saves Nine)

“Was that him?” Skylar asked Jennie urgently.
“Huh? Oh, sorry... Yes,” Jennie answered, slightly distracted by the sight of her earlier self being slightly distracted by the sight of Warren vanishing into nothing, or rather, into time.
“Good,” Skylar stated, “Acolyte Sven, did you track the Bender?”
Sven, who up til now had been left with little to do, held his Time Tracer aloft triumphantly.
“Yes sir,” he crowed, “The Bender took Warren to the glorious nation of France, in the year 1202, under the reign of King Philip the Second. April second, ten fifteen am and zero point two three nine five seconds.”
“Well done Sven,” Skylar smiled, “Okay Steven, take us to France and try not to mess it up. Jennie, thank you for your help. Goodbye!”
Jennie, who was still looking absently at her absently looking former self, nevertheless noticed something about what Skylar had said.
“Wait, what? You're leaving me?”
“Well, yes,” Skylar admitted, “But you really have been a good help. Couldn't have saved the universe without you, that sort of thing.”
“But, what am I supposed to do now?” Jennie exclaimed.
“Oh, er... well, you saw your future self before you came with us, which means that somewhere along the line you become her so if I were you, I would just stay out of sight until whenever it was that you -” (here he pointed at the perplexed earlier Jennie still suspiciously inspecting the platform) “saw you -” (here he pointed at the perplexed later Jennie staring at him) “for the first time, and then try and copy whatever it was you said to you to make you come with us. Got it?”
Jennie had got it, but didn't want to get it.
“But I told me that I was going to be a great help to you on your journey.”
“And you have been,” Skylar said in the tone parents everywhere use to convince their children that, yes, we definitely needed your help clumsily folding that one napkin while we folded the other two hundred, set the tables, cooked the banquet, and then refolded your napkin to make it look presentable.
Enough time had been spent on Jennie, though.
Turning to Steven, Skylar snapped “Whats taking so long, Steven? Come on, its only got four buttons and a spinner! We're letting Warren and the Bender get further away!”
Steven sullenly pressed another button.
Sven waited for Skylar to look away, and poked his tongue out at Steven.
Steven scowled in return, and tried to pretend he didn't care.
Sven sniggered.
Steven glared at him.
Sven poked his tongue out again.

In a rage, Steven threw himself at the other acolyte, and – with nothing else handy – began hitting him on the head with the Twister.

The Time Twister began beeping ominously.

Skylar looked in its direction with alarm.

“Steven! No!”

The Time Twister began beeping ominously.

Skylar looked in its direction with alarm.

“Steven! No!”

In a rage, Steven threw himself at the other acolyte, and – with nothing else handy – began hitting him on the head with the Twister.

“Was that him?” Skylar asked Jennie urgently.

“Skylar,” the first neanderthal responded.

In a rage, Steven threw himself at the other acolyte, and – with nothing else handy – began hitting him on the head with the Twister.

Acolyte Steven hung his head, and muttered something about the red, green, yellow, and blue buttons being harder to press than they looked. And the spinner made things difficult.

Leaving the office, Jennie glanced over at the corner where Warren liked to spend the night. The drunk old coot was gazing at a purple lightbulb-thingy with a strange look on his face.

The Time Twister began beeping ominously.

“Wait, who are you?” Jennie's dad asked, as one of the jumpsuited figures tried to hold him back.

First Jennie looked across at Second Jennie, who smiled cheesily and gave two thumbs up.

In a rage, Steven threw himself at the other acolyte, and – with nothing else handy – began hitting him on the head with the Twister.

Timothy Franklin was an accountant. He lived in Gore. Timothy lived alone, in a modest flat just off the main street of Gore.

The Time Twister began beeping ominously.

Skylar looked in its direction with alarm.

“Steeeeeveeeeeen! Noooooooooooo!”

Everything slowed down dramatically as time reached a point of ultimate twist, the long-theorized but never before witnessed Purple Nurple Paradox.

Jennie found herself looking at herself looking at herself looking at herself into infinity.

Skylar's cry of alarm had become a foghorn, which had become Inception 'BWAAAAA' Horns, which had become the underlying sound of the universe, which had become ultimate nothingness....

There was a shuddering sound from the fabric of time itself, like the sound of a wet shirt being twisted to the point where it can bend bars (wet shirt not break).

Countless Jennie's began merging into one as time struggled to start moving again.

There was a solitary 'Pop' as there often is in these instances.

Jennie looked around.

Time seemed to be moving at a normal pace again, which she was grateful for. But she was standing alone in a vast featureless expanse, which did make her somewhat uneasy.

Skylar, the acolytes, the Twister, and the train station were all long gone, or perhaps, not yet here?
Where ever here was.
Or when ever.

Looking around, she took in the dull greenish tinge to the featureless dirt below her feet, and the faded monotone orange hue to the sky above her, and decided that, no, where ever was the more important question for now.

* * *

There was a solitary 'Pop' as there often is in these instances.

Skylar found himself standing in a field near a French camp, which seemed to be in some turmoil. Glancing down at his wrist chronometer, he realised that somehow, he had arrived in 1202, on the correct day, and even in the correct location.
Huh, guess Steven had managed to do something right after all!
Steven!
The Time Twister!
He looked around urgently, but where or whenever his acolytes had ended up, it was not here.
Dang! That would make things more difficult.
Looking back towards the camp, he realised that the Frenchmen had noticed his arrival, and now a dozen armed men were approaching him.
That would also be a problem.
“'Ello!! How deeeed yew juiced appeeer like that, and whatar yew du-eeeing outsaayd owerr camp at theees taim of tru-bleu?” one of the Frenchmen asked. “And have yew seen owerr leedair Guillaume and thee straanj preesonair 'oo deesappeared weeth heeem? Perhaps yew have sumtheeeng tu du weeth thees, no?”
And the dozen men pointed their weapons at Skylar as if to reply, yes.

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