Small Excerpt from Chapter One

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     Marcus stood, slumped in the shower, letting the hot water rush down his filthy body. The golden hues of the shower stall metal framing cast a beam of light across his muscular frame. It highlighted the scars covering his back and torso from near-death shootings and knife battles. The shower stall was nestled in the corner with panes of glass held together with a gold frame. The inside wall was covered in a white marble that matched the counter. It was simple, yet elegant against the white walls surrounding the stand-alone shower.  

     He stood in the shower for an eternity it seemed, as his mind wandered, and the water sprayed down the back of his neck swiftly rushing down his back and legs. Steam lifted in the air, almost hiding him. His muscles ached from his previous assignment, but he would never complain. The pain meant he was alive—more than he could say about some of the criminals he stopped.  

     The white rag in his hand, brushed across his skin erasing the dirt he obtained from rolling on the ground with the criminal he’d been fighting. Marcus chased Max for days. When he finally caught up to him, they went straight into a brawl. Max kept yelling that he wasn’t going in that easy. He didn’t play or fight by the rules. Max stomped on Marcus’s foot, poked him in the eye, and took off running. Marcus chased him again and leaped onto his back, bringing him to the ground. As he reached for his handcuffs, Max elbowed him in the gut. He tried army crawling away, but Marcus grabbed him by the foot and pulled him back. Max turned around, shook his foot loose, and jumped to his feet. He attempted to run away again, screaming what he already said. He wasn’t going with him.  Marcus pulled out his weapon and fired it, hitting Max in the leg. He dropped in agony but still refused to give up. Marcus had seen this happen before, but this guy was nuts. He began rolling around in the dirt as if he was trying to shake the sting off. Marcus found his moment to strike and grabbed his arm and was pulled down. They rolled together for what seemed like an hour until they stopped. Max had passed out.  Slowly, Marcus pushed himself up, stumbled towards Max and slapped the handcuffs on him.  

      As his mind went over the fight, the soap suds with a musk aroma washed over the scars. The scars were evidence of his job and reminders that no one lived forever. He wore them proudly. He could have stayed in the shower all day, washing away the memories of the last job he took, but the loud ring in the next room took him out of deep thought as the water rinsed away the suds. 

     He stepped out of the shower, leaving the water on, grabbed a clean dry white towel and wrapped it around his waist tightly to hold it in place. His tanned skin glowed in the sun’s rays that shone down through the skylight. He walked through the doorway, grabbing smaller towel off of the hook by the door, and began drying his hair. The towels were both soft to the touch, which felt like heaven against his rough skin.  

     “Shower off.” The water turned off at his command. His voice was deep and firm as he spoke with authority that he had learned through the academy. The bureau academy was where he learned to become the agent he was. It was a brutal 10 years of training, mentally and physically, but it was worth it in order to grow into the man he always thought he wanted to be. He jumped through hoops to join the Time Travel District within the World Bureau because it was required.