The door to his apartment creaked as he closed it slowly behind him. Police sirens could be heard in the distance. They began to get louder and louder until suddenly they stopped. Feet walking through puddles approached. His heart began pounding. His palms were sweating. Three knocks on a door; next door. A sigh of relief expelled from his mouth.
Let me tell you a little bit about Walter Harlem. For most of his life, Walter was an upstanding citizen. He was never in trouble with the law. He was never in trouble with anybody. He paid his bills on time, he paid his taxes and for the most part, he stayed to himself. Walter was a scientist. He spent most of his time in his apartment creating inventions. He was an odd fellow, but no one ever worried about him.
His latest inventions involved Russian weapons from the Cold War. He told the friends that he had that he got his stuff from flea markets. But if you ask anyone, none of that stuff was ever known to surface for purchase. No one has seen any of his weapons, but he could be heard from the street tinkering on his latest piece of work. Walter said he was trying to create the ultimate weapon. The question is, why would he need it? The bigger question is, why would he be using old military equipment when there is better equipment out there?
It was the night before Thanksgiving and a few of Walters old college friends were in town. They called him up and asked if he’d go out for drinks with them. At first hesitant, Walter agreed to meet them at the bar that was just down the street from his apartment. He was shocked to see that time was not fair to them as they all looked rough and older than him. To be fair, they all discussed how they have families and high-stressed jobs. Walter was lucky to work for himself since graduating college and never did settle down.
One of his friends called out, “Hey Walter! You still game? I used to love spending nights playing Goldeneye at your dorm room!”
Walter started to chuckle.
“Do I still game? Did Brezhnev lead the Soviet Union during the Cold War era?”
His friends just stared at him.
Walter chuckled again.
“Of course I still game…”
“Hey! Why don’t we head back over to your place and put that game in and give it another go? We’ll take some of these beers to go and grab some snacks. It will be just like old times.”
“Eh, I don’t know.” Said Walter “I have quite an early morning ahead of me. I still have a lot of work to catch up on.”
“Walter, tomorrow is Thanksgiving. We seriously haven’t seen each other in years. Take a break!”
Hesitant, Walter nodded and agreed to have his friends over. On their way to his apartment, he let them know that his apartment was a bit of a mess and to excuse the clutter. Before he let anyone inside, he asked them to wait for a moment while he moved his projects into his bedroom closet.
“Alright, you guys can come in.”
His friends stared at each other. One of them whispered to the other, “This place is a little weird. I hope he hasn’t turned into the next Butcher of Rostov.” They laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Walter asked.
They just stared at each other and said “Oh, nothing. Just an inside joke.”
Walter looked, chuckled and went to grab his N64 off the shelf. After setting it up, he blew on the game, inserted it into the console and there it was. Goldeneye in all its glory.
It was just like old times. All four of them sitting around the television, sniping each other from watch towers, drinking beers, eating chips and slices of pizza. But that’s when things took a little turn for the worst.
To save on time, pretend you’re watching a movie where everything just stops. Every character in this story is still and someone hits the fast forward button. Once the viewer hits play, what started as 4 friends playing video games and having a good time, turned into a real-life Goldeneye game. Hit pause again. A chair is flipped mid-air. Three fists are headed towards Walter while he holds some Cold War era rifle. Ok, hit play.
“Don’t make me pull this trigger!” said Walter
You see, there was some information we didn’t see while we fast forwarded. One of his friends decided to look in Walters room, only to find all his weapons. He came out with one of the guns, waving it around like it was a toy. But here is where things get weird. Remember how Walter said his friends looked like they aged? Turns out there is a reason for that.
“You are all time travelers!” said Walter “Do you not think I didn’t pick up on that even going back to our college days? You three were ALWAYS around me, trying to pick ideas off me. You knew how smart I was and loved my interest of firearms. Plus, your American accents are horrible. For starters, I’ve seen you guys’ transport together. But here is the kicker comrades; I followed you. Multiple times. Each time I’d follow you, I’d bring back more weapons from your precious mother country. Weapons which YOU would enhance from MY IDEAS! The more weapons I took, the less your country would have!”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!!! The gavel slams on the judge’s desk
“Mr. Harlem, do you really expect me and the jury to believe that you acquired all of these firearms through time travel and your intentions were to hold them so the Russians wouldn’t have them in their presence? You had friends who could not only transport from one country to another, but to a different decade as well? Mr. Harlem, I’ve heard everything I need to hear. The jury will deliberate and come back with the verdict.”
Two weeks later
“Walter Harlem, please stand.” Says the Judge “You were found guilty of unlawful possession of illegal firearms and will be sentenced to 100 months of imprisonment and a fine of $20,000. Your sentence may be reduced depending on behavior.”
Walter Harlem stood there in disbelief. Any amount of expression was wiped off his face. He stared at the jury, specifically at three men. Three older men, with very recognizable Russian features. One of them winked at him. Was Walter Harlem a liar or was he the victim or a plot which would never be believed by an everyday jury? While being escorted away, Walter kept his eyes on the three men. He stared at them while mouthing, “This means war.”