Romanov was sitting in his chair then. Smoking away his pipe after a long and bloody day. The enemy was fierce that day and a detailed plan had to be laid out by the colonel. He was largely successful but the death of many a people he had known caused him trouble that night. More trouble than he had been acccusitmed to. He knew the night would
be long and wary. He reached for his vodka and poured himself one. He opened his drawer and tinkered on a box that looked like it belonged to the future. It was a personal project of his, from the days he was a scientist. He drank and smoked and tinkered with the box. He sighed a lot and cursed a few. I can't figure it out! he said to himself and leaned against the chair. Just then…
There was a knock on the door. Come in! he said assuming it was a soldier. But no one came in. But the lights went off for an instant and came back all of a sudden. He did notmmake much of it. Again, there was a knock on the door. Coke in! he said. Again the light went off for an instant and came back a second later. He took a drink out of the bottle and reached for the door. As he got up, the light went off for the third time but it never came back. A strong force caught him and tied him to the chair. Purple eyes shone in the dark. He was scared out of his wits. Give me the box, the female voice said. My hands are tied, he said. There was an sinister laugher as the lights came on a instant. When he opened his eyes to light, the box was missing and the purple eyes women had gone. Guard!!! he shouted.
1917
He was heavily injured during the war and had to return home prematurely. Resting his days in his bed, he was growing weary and anxious. The lack of movement made him uncomfortable and gave him sleepless nights. So did it for another person. The Mayor of New York was growing uneasy by the day. He could not sleep as he was getting nightmares about him getting killed by a masked man. His wife had grown so fed up by this, that she decided to leave him and go live with her sister. That night again, he closed his eyes but had his pistol under his bed with his right hand firmly grasping it. The windows shook a little hard and he was alerted. Who was that? he shouted as he raised his gun at the window. There was no one. He shut his eyes again hoping to sleep but to no avail. Again the windows shook hard. He resisted the temptation to point the gun at the French window of his huge mansion that he so comfortably lay in. A mansion that he had built with ill-gotten money. He got up, not because of the sound but because there was a knock on his head. He pointed the gun at the man standing there in complete darkness. That gun will not do me any harm, he said. But the Mayor did not any heed to his words. He shot at the man. And true to his word, the man chalked off the bullet like it was nothing. Time to make my presence felt, he decided and he ignited his suit. The suit was made of anti matter and it had a glow that was not seen in this world yet, and he looked like a person that did not belong to the planet. His face was covered in a mask, but the Mayor could tell that he did not belong in this dimension. That was presumably the last thought he had before his face was pummeled to a pulp by Telekensis. He brain splattered all around the covers. Telekenis dusted his hands off and leapt out of the window.
"Peter shook his head in disbelief as he read the news from his home in Moscow. The story gave him jitters as he shook his head in disbelief."