Department of Temporal Investigations

[LtBroccoli]

Teaser: When an impossible woman is found being whored out at a high-class brothel, FBI Assistant Director Marcus Kovacs knows he has to get his new project up and running immediately. He pulls together a crew that will be the first of many at the Department of Temporal Investigations.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Index:

• Orientation Day
• We'll See...

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Title: Department of Temporal Investigations
Author: Lt. Broccoli
Chapter Tags: MF/ncon/scifi/Celeb
Content Warnings: Scenes of rape, exposition, and temporal paradoxes
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Author’s Note: This story has stuff in it. There’s some elements of forced sex and violence, but it mostly deals with setting up a much larger story I’d like to pursue. It’s based on ShilobethParty’s story “The Most Delectable Game.” This is written for the Spin-Off Party Story Contest, and takes place in the same universe.

AI Note: Used Claude throughout the story for background work, sounding board, and research. Google is fundamentally broken and Claude isn’t as much of a condescending kiss ass like ChatGPT.

Word Count: 5097
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Department of Temporal Investigations

Orientation Day

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it. I’m fucking Marilyn Monroe.” The bozo on top of her just wouldn’t shut up. Over and over, he kept saying as she lay there, having to let this man screw her. It must’ve been the 7th or 8th man of the day, and who knows how many since she’s been here. There would be so many more before the day was over. None of them lasted more than a few minutes, and most never excited her. A few managed to make her cum now and then, but that was the exception, not the rule. She knew she was bringing in some serious coin. One of her John’s said it was the “best hundred grand I’ve ever spent” for 4 minutes of in and out.

There was no clock to track time in this small room. She hadn’t seen a clock at all. The most she’d seen were these weird glass rectangles that people called phones, but they didn’t look like any phone she’d ever known. And the glasses always seemed to have queer lights on them. Nothing made any sense aside from the stuff in the bathroom. She knew what a toothbrush was, even if it was a new fangled electric one.

The familiar grunting came as the man blew his load in her. She couldn’t care anymore. She tried to fight the first few times, but after a couple rough ups, she gave up. It wasn’t worth the bruised ribs. At least they didn’t hit her in the face.

Everything in this place was a strange blur. So many of these men had tattoos all over, or wore watches like the Dick Tracy comics. Getting fucked by a man with a tattoo of her face was quite surreal the first time. The 40th time was just cliche. They didn’t talk about themselves much, they were too focused on getting to sleep with her to ask how she was doing or divulge any information. Most people spoke with an American accent, but that just meant the clientele were Yanks. She could be on the Moon for as crazy as this place was.

As the last man got up and put on his pants, there was a commotion outside. The door locked from the outside, just in case she ever tried to escape, which she did try a couple times. The noises grew louder and closer. Screaming, followed by gunshots and explosions.

She had moments to react. She dove over the bed as her John was too dumbstruck to know what was going on. The door burst open.

“FBI!” Marilyn peeked over the edge of the bed as two men dressed in strange helmets and armor rush in. The John raised his hands above his head, then momentarily thought to lower them to cover himself. Before he could, one of the agents had him face down on the bed, putting his hands in some kind of handcuffs she’d never seen before. One of the agents looked at Marilyn and spoke up. The voice was female.

“Room’s clear, we’ve found her, sir.” The agent was dressed like she came from Flash Gordon. A couple seconds later a black man wearing a shirt, tie, strange jacket and those queer glasses entered with a gun drawn. He immediately put it away and put his hands in the air.

“It’s okay, ma’am. We’re the good guys, no one else is going to hurt you.” The black man approached slowly, dropping to her level and sitting on the floor a couple feet away from her. “I’m Special Agent Ben Whitfield, FBI. You’re safe now.”

Everything Marilyn had felt for the last however long flooded out all at once. She leapt at him, crying profusely as he held her and let her cry. His shoulder was covered in snot by the time she was focused enough to let go and sit on the bed.

The next couple minutes were a bit hazy for her looking back. He pulled out one of those weird glass squares and pressed buttons that weren’t there as he asked some questions. Another detective gave her a bathrobe to cover herself with. She gave the agent her name and birthdate. “Marilyn Monroe. June 1st, 1926. I’m sorry, what is that? Where am I? How did I get here?”

“This? This is… kind of hard to explain, ma’am. It’s a small… we call it a phone, but it does so many other things too. I’m using this to record our conversation and take notes.”

“Like dictation?” She asked.

“Yes, sort of like that. The phone will record our voices and also write down the text so I can read it back.”

“What day is it?” Marilyn asked, her voice getting a little colder as the fear of her situation came to her.

“Before I answer that, what was the last thing you remember before you came here?”

“Well, I arrived home and was having trouble sleeping. I took a sleeping pill, and washed it down with a little champagne. Then next thing I know I woke up in a strange room surrounded by men in masks except for one guy with long, greasy hair.”

“What was the date then? The full date.” Ben asked.

“August 4th, 1962.” Marilyn said. She saw a look of resignation go across Ben’s face as he opened his Calendar to the current day. He turned the phone to Marilyn. She had to squint to see the screen until he let her hold it to get a better look.

“Here, have my backup pair.” Ben handed her a pair of glasses. She figured they were readers and put them on. Her jaw dropped open as she looked closer. The lenses in her glasses immediately focused everything around her and adjusted to her prescription. She saw a series of lights and text on the lens that moved with her everywhere she looked. The text identified everything around her in real time.

“What is this, some Flash Gordon stuff?” She looked at the glass square in her hands, and the calendar was in perfect clarity. Marilyn froze as she read and reread the numbers.

“Ma’am today is Monday, March 1st, 2049. You were pulled over 80 years into the future.”

She stared at the phone for second. She touched it to see if it was real, but doing so caused something light up, then move. The screen was alive in a weird way. She shrieked as she dropped it on the bed. She jumped back into Ben’s arms as she was terrified of this glass square on the bed. After a second Ben grabbed it and made sure it was still recording. She watched him use it in awe as she tried to compartmentalize everything that happened.

“It’s okay. We’re here to help.”

Over the next hour, more details came in. Marilyn was going to be the first star for this high-priced brothel. The owners had a plan to bring in all of the stars of the 50’s. Grace Kelly, Elizabeth Taylor, Sophia Loren, Jayne Mansfield, and more. Ben knew he’d have a hard time covering this up to the local cops. He’d tell them that they were advanced sex bots programmed to think they were starlets of the 50’s, or some really good plastic surgery for dedicated actors. Whatever it took to keep this under wraps.

This was the third trafficking case he’d seen in 2 years involving time travel, and the most brazen since the Titanic Incident. As he was thinking about how to explain this to his boss, Marilyn found the Camera app on his phone and began taking photos. He was going to have a hard time explaining this, but if anyone ever doubted his story, he had a selfie with Marilyn Monroe.




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“All right. Do what you think is best…. Get the women into protective custody, and find out where the perps got their tech.” FBI Assistant Director Marcus Kovacs hung up the call, looking at his display lost in thought about what Special Agent Whitfield just relayed. Another case of temporal trafficking. Marilyn Monroe was getting pimped out in a high end brothel. Marcus knew that the report would officially say that she was a living sexdoll, but he knew the truth that only a handful of people were cleared to know.

She wasn't AI. She was a real women, dragged through time and space to be whored out to the highest bidder.

There was only one priority for him now. Get the DTI up and running immediately. Time travel had arrived, and it was too dangerous to exist without safeguards and laws. That’s why he was tasked with getting the Department of Temporal Investigations up and running.

Marcus spent the next hour going over who made up Interagency Financial Crimes Task Force 11. He chuckled about how these bureaucrats loved picking the most obscure names possible for black projects. No one wants to be assigned to something with a name so boring, and no one pays attention to it until some Congressman from the great state of Whogivesafuck tries to ‘reign in the spending’ by asking why Task Force 11 has a budget equal to the GDP of Kansas.

He decided that his initial team would consist of himself, the Dr. Harika Gupta, Lt. Megan Thorn, FinCEN Analyst Dave Kowalski, Dr. Oliver “Bloom” Finch, Jacque Renard, FBI Special Agent Ben Whitfield, NSA Analyst Mateo Reyes, and FBI Agent Clark Delaney.

Dr. Harika Gupta is the Mother of Time Travel. She was born in 1988, went to undergrad at IISc Bangalore before going to Caltech to get her doctorate in quantum physics. She did postdoc work at CERN. While there, she began work on finding a way to merge the two largest competing models in quantum mechanics, the Copenhagen Model of Superposition and the Everett Model of the Many Worlds Hypothesis. In 2033 she published the Gupta Concordance which established that the two competing models are actually related. That paper floated around the scientific world for a while, but it was highly hypothetical. At least that was the general consensus until CERN tested her hypothesis and sent a handful of particles back in time a few seconds and retrieved them by 2036. This caught the attention of several groups, including every major government like the Chinese, the British, the Saudi’s, the Indians, and every tech company with cash to burn. By the time the 2040’s started, her work was put to practice, and she was none too pleased to find her life’s work stolen by the United States government. She was despondent when she was read in, but immediately went to work developing the science behind the two biggest pieces of time travel tech, the Lens and Frame. The Lens can see different times, the Frame can take you there. Getting back is a little harder.


Megan Thorn was a Lt. in the Army, served a couple tours in Special Forces assigned to the African Campaign of WW3. She led a raid against a warlord in South Sudan when the mission went FUBAR. She lost most of her team, and the only thing that kept her alive was quick thinking and improvisation. She managed to escape and call in a drone strike on her location. Megan wondered how the mission was blown, but it turned out the warlord had access to a rudimentary form of time travel that allowed him to get glimpses into the future, and he used that to escape his fate. But what he didn’t count on was Megan’s quick thinking, and that cost him almost everything. Lt. Thorn has spent every day since then questioning how the raid went off the rails so fast. There was no way that the enemy could’ve predicted their movements like that, no intelligence breach, nothing that could explain it except the unexplainable.

Dave Kowalski was a FinCEN analyst who cracked the code on one of the biggest fraud case in history, and unwittingly stumbled across Roger Corbet’s ties to the largest privately owned time travel operation in the world. As the report stated, “Financial Crimes Enforcement Network bagged Roger Corbet last year, officially for Insider Trading. This man made billions on various markets over 3 years. He was more accurate than even the best hedge fund managers, and always was one step ahead of consequences. Publicly, this was credited to him using insider knowledge. Unofficially, he had access to see into the future through a black market Lens. He would make his purchases based on what he saw. Roger was caught because a FinCEN analyst named David Kowalski was able to track him down and caught him on the way back from Meioh’s Temporal Research Labs as he made his trades.

Dr. Oliver “Bloom” Finch was a young blonde man who at 18 already had multiple PhD’s from Cambridge in forms of science that only Dr. Gupta had any expertise in. His work was groundbreaking and a lot of it was based on Dr. Gupta’s work. It was the older Indian woman’s request to bring Dr. Finch into the fold. She was one of maybe a half dozen people around the world who understands half the stuff he wrote about.

Jacque Renard wasn’t his real name, but is was the name he earned from his time with the French Foreign Legion. He’s been everywhere, done everything and everyone. He was the stereotypical spy of old, and was hot on the trail of Konrad Szell when a group of mercenaries showed up in front of Jacque and executed Konrad in front of his family. Konrad was hosting a banquet that Jacque had snuck into when the hit went down. Konrad was one of the most powerful men in Europe. All of the clues he could find pointed to Emeric Drasche, an Austrian with great wealth and intelligence but nothing fit. Marcus figured out that it wasn’t Drasche of the here and now was doing this, but instead Drasche of 20+ years from now.

Ben Whitfield was an FBI agent who worked with AD Kovacs on some crazy cases in their Human Trafficking Department. Trafficking was already a problem before time travel became a thing, but now celebrities of old were being snatched from their heyday and getting pimped out in the here and now. Ben reported to Marcus, and was just the right mix of dedicated and cynical Marcus needed on the team. Ben told him that during one of those cases he worked with a version of himself from another timeline, and it forced him to get his life together. “It sucks when you realize you’re the ugly version of you, the version the Ghost of Christmas Future shows to scare other you straight.” He started working out, shaved his head, and ate right. “I went from looking like Uncle Phil to a young Denzel.” Ben’s love of old media wasn’t shocking, but made a lot of his references go over his coworker’s heads.

Clark Delaney was a skinny white man with a bowl haircut that fit almost anywhere except Quantico. He graduated near the bottom of his class, but not because of his intelligence. He always seemed to find the craziest way of solving a problem, and it was that insane problem solving ability that drew Kovacs’s attention. His pattern recognition skills were damn near impossible to match. Less than 2 months out of the Academy, he was on monitoring duty when he identified some anomalous activity. While checking security footage around a mostly abandoned mall, he noticed a man exit the mall, then return. This wouldn’t be weird except he never entered in the first place. Clark went back two weeks trying to find any instances of that man entering the mall. Instead he found 11 instances of people leaving the mall without having entered and then returning without ever leaving. The report was filed away into a hidden folder and ignored until Marcus found it in association to an investigation about a time insertion point. Clark had unknowingly found a time travel hub. “He’d fit in perfectly thinking in the 4th dimension,” Marcus said out loud reading Clark’s file.

To round out the crew was Mateo Reyes. He was an NSA hacker who hasn’t met a computer system he hasn’t cracked yet. He’s a very skeptical and cynical man who grew up debunking one scam after another until he made his way to the Feds. As much as he doesn’t buy any of the time travel stuff, he’s actually come the closest to anyone. A couple years earlier Mateo flagged an encrypted transmission that was impossible. It seemed legitimate, but it was impossible to decrypt because it was based off of an encryption that was based off another system he was working on. As much as he tried to write it off, he couldn’t. It wasn’t a hardware glitch, or a foreign power, but none of his efforts to crack the message worked. The only part of it he could decrypt was some metadata which stated that he sent it in the early 2050’s. He assumed that some shenanigans went down with the timestamp, but every tool of his said it was legit. Eventually he buried the work until he could come back to it at a later date.

Marcus looked at his calendar. Two weeks should be enough time. He sent the orders out. March 15th, 2049 they were all to appear at Federal Continuity Consulting, LLC in the Centerpoint Commons in Fairfax, VA at 0900.




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Megan entered the conference room in the old building, muting her smart glasses and tablet as she crossed the doorway. She immediately clocked her surroundings looking for any dangers in blindspots out of instincts and training. There was no reason for her to expect any problems in this building, but the training isn’t something she just turns on and off. A couple tours of combat left it’s toll on the petite woman. She assessed the room and potential threats in a second.

6 other people were in the room with her, 5 men and one she wasn’t sure of all sat around the long tables on one side facing the blank wall. There was an older projector attached to the ceiling pointed to the wall opposite where they sat. Three of the men looked like normal government agents that have seen some shit in the war while the rest looked young, like they were straight out of school. The room itself had frosted glass walls indicative of the style from 40 years ago. Another sign of the decrepitude of the times, a government agency having to meet in a reclaimed office building, and they didn’t even bother to redecorate the place. There was one empty seat between a man with a ponytail and a rougher older man, probably in his 30’s to 40’s. She nodded to them as she sat, extending her hand to shake. She exchanged greetings with the ponytailed David and older Jacque.

Just as she was about to introduce herself to the rest of the group, two more people entered the room, one slightly older man and an Indian woman who was approaching retirement age. They walked to the other side of the table, mid-conversation with another before the man immediately turned his attention to the group.

“As I was saying, the effect-cause-effect aspect of the Copenhagen Model of Quantum Mechanics makes your job very difficult, but as long as you remember your training that we went over, you will be prepared for anything you run into in the field. Does anyone have any questions?”

The middle aged man looked around the room, everyone staring at him like he grew two heads and walked into the wrong room.

“Seriously, no questions? Then if you’re ready for operations, you can tell me the correct procedure for setting your quantum anchors before deploying into the past. You, pony tail boy.” The man pointed to David, waiting for an answer. “Nothing, you shitting me right now? How do you set your anchor point? Let’s start with something simple. Can anyone tell me why you’re here?”

Megan looked around to see if anyone else moved before she raised her hand. No one else did, so she took the lead. She raised her hand with some caution.

“Yes, Miss Red. Why are you here?”

“I’m here because I received orders to report here, sir.” Megan said, her military background showing through her response.

“So you’re here because you’re here. What about everyone else, does anyone know why you’re here aside from receiving orders? Anyone besides the group’s spokeswoman?” No one else responded. “In this room we have ex military, FinCEN, NSA, CIA, and FBI, along with some PhD’s in Quantum Mechanics and Theoretical Physics. Two people walk into the room and the first thing you hear is the tail end of a lecture about how an event can be it’s own cause. Then he asks about quantum anchors and deploying to the past. Start piecing together what’s going on. No need to be polite, get to it.”

The youngest looking in the room, a skinny blonde man spoke up, his British accent obvious as he spoke. “Wanna say you’re talking malarkey. You’re starting off with effect-cause-effect, the Bootstrap Paradox.”

“Bootstrap Paradox. Explain it for the rest of the room, Dr. Finch.” The older man said, putting his hands behind his back as though he was standing at ease.

“Well, it’s a time travel paradox where going back in time causes the event you observed in the first place. Named for the task of picking one’s self up by their bootstraps because it’s supposed to be impossible. Say you’re a big Shakespeare fan. You have all his works, and access to a time machine. You want to go back and meet the Bard, but when you get to Stratford upon Avon, no one’s heard of the bloke. He doesn’t exist, or he died as a child. But you have all of his works. You tell yourself the world needs Billy Shakespeare more than it needs you. So you decide to become the Bard. You publish his plays and poetry, you open the Globe Theater, you become William Shakespeare. You die in the past, or return, doesn’t matter. But the problem is who created those works? You didn’t write them, they existed in the loop, born out of nothingness. You copied works that you wrote down because you loved them and you loved them because you wrote them, and you wrote them because you loved them. And if ya wouldn’t mind, I go by Bloom.”

“Okay Bloom, why’s it malarkey?” The man asked.

“Because time travel is bullshit.” Another man spoke up, probably in his late 20’s to early 30’s with a backwards hat on inside, dressed in a black hoodie.

“No, that’s not it. It’s the fact that information can neither be spontaneously destroyed nor created without some cause. The works of Shakespeare would just exist without a beginning nor end, and would just end up in the loop. They have to come from somewhere.” Bloom said, casting his glance around the room but settling on the older man.

“So you’re problem with what I was talking about wasn’t the plausibility of time travel, but a detail of the paradox?”

“It’s a little bit more complicated than that, but yes. Assuming for a moment that what you were talking about is time travel back to the past, there are so many issues we’d have to address, aside from whether or not we’re operating under the Copenhagen Model, the Everett Model, or the Gupta Concordance. Copenhagen states that all events that could happen could but don’t and fall aside because of the superposition of the quantum realm. Everett’s is the Many Worlds model where everything that could happen does in an alternate universe, and Gupta blends the two by stating that other universes could exist where the events took place, but yours is your home. That would allow time travel to go to and from. Otherwise it’s a one way trip. Without Gupta, there’s a snowball’s chance in Hell of returning.” Bloom said. He was too focused on the man and preparing his thoughts for a lecture to notice the Indian woman smile at his last mention.

The older man turned over his shoulder to his compadre. “Is he right?”

She nodded. “In simple terms, yes.” She walked over to him and stopped right before Bloom at the table and extended her hand. “Dr. Harika Gupta. I look forward to working with you, Dr. Bloom Finch.”

Bloom stuttered as she grabbed his hand. “Ddd Dr. Gupta. THE Doctor Gupta?”

“Well, I’m sure there are others, Gupta is a very popular name in India, but I am the one that wrote the theory that you cited multiple times in your young career.” She said, watching the awestruck Brit fumble for words for the first time in forever.

“Wait, wait, if you’re here, and I’m here, and all of these people with various skills are here, then does that mean what I think it means?”

“If you think that it means that our work is no longer theoretical but practical, then yes.” Harika said with a slight smile. Bloom was smiling from ear to ear trying his best to contain his excitement.

The older man grabbed a tablet and activated the projector. A slideshow opened with the first slide, ‘Interagency Financial Crimes Task Force 11’ and ‘TS/SCI:Special Access Program’ along with the date of ‘Monday, March 15th, 2049’. “Welcome everyone to the strangest assignment you will ever have. Officially, you are assigned to Interagency Financial Crimes Task Force 11. I am FBI Assistant Director Marcus Kovacs. With me is Dr. Harika Gupta. This is your read-in. This is a Top Secret:Sensitive Compartment Information Special Access Program. I don’t need to tell you the world of shit you’re in if you breathe about this to anyone outside this room.”

Marcus clicked the slide. A picture of a younger Harika projects onto the wall, along with a quick range of dates ranging from 1988 to 2033. “Dr. Gupta can give you a better rundown of her own biography, but the short version is she’s a genius. Born in 1988, undergrad at IISc Bangalore, Caltech for her doctorate in quantum physics. She did postdoc work at CERN where she worked on finding a way to merge the two largest competing quantum models. In 2033 she published the Gupta Concordance which established that the two competing models of the Many Worlds Hypothesis and the Copenhagen Model are actually related. This paper floats around the scientific world for a while, but it stays highly theoretical for a couple years.” Marcus clicked the slide to show a very high tech project. “CERN tested her hypothesis as best as they could. It was hard to prove, but they were able to send a handful of particles back in time a few seconds and retrieve them by 2036. This caught the attention of every major government and tech company with cash to burn.”

The next slide showed a large building the size of several football fields being built. “In 2042, Meioh breaks ground on what they said was a fusion plant in upstate New York. Before the plant comes online, they announce that they will also use part of the land to be a Temporal Research Facility. Eventually someone breaks their NDA and it’s discovered that the temporal research is based on the Gupta Concordance, and that they were poached from DARPA. This scientist suffered from an accidental case of being pushed out of a helicopter by the Chinese.”

Marcus moved to the next slide. It showed a list of people brought in on a trafficking case. “Things get kind of quiet until a couple years ago. Special Agent Ben Whitfield broke a case of human trafficking where 50 Irish people were sold into slavery. Each and every person recovered gave their names and birthdates, they matched perfectly to one instance.” Marcus looked at the black man sitting at the table.

Marcus clicked over to the next slide. It was a picture of the RMS Titanic.

“All 50 of the people interviewed gave names and birthdates of victims of the sinking of the Titanic. The agent did all of the due diligence possible, and it wasn’t until DNA tests came back linking them to living relatives that the story checked out. According to the victims, as the boat was going down, a group of masked men arrived out of nowhere and pulled them through a door of some kind. Upon further investigation, we discovered that a bad actor had reverse engineered tech stolen from DARPA.”

Marcus advanced to the next slide, showing the visage of a goofy looking man entering a private jet. “Financial Crimes Enforcement Network bagged Roger Corbet last year, officially for Insider Trading. This man made billions on various markets over 3 years. He was more accurate than the best economic models known, and was one step ahead of consequences. Publicly, this was credited to him using insider knowledge. Unofficially, he had access to see into the future and would make his purchases based on what he saw. He got caught because a FinCEN analyst named David Kowalski was able to track him down and caught him on the way back from Meioh’s Temporal Research Labs.”

The next slide showed different cases. “Over the past two years, we’ve seen an increase in cases like this. Kidnapping dead celebrities and putting them in the sex trade, committing securities fraud by using knowledge of the future, and more. It’s a matter of time before we see exes trying to get revenge, safaris for extinct species, bros going back in time to rape and pillage for their bachelor parties, and blackmail on a whole new level unseen since deepfakes came around.”

Marcus advanced one more time. “By the end of the next decade, the existence of time travel will be public knowledge. Elements of it leak as we speak, and it’s only a matter of time before it is commercialized and available to the public, even if it is just the extremely wealthy to start. That’s where we come in. That’s why you’re here.”

Marcus advanced the slide one more time. “Welcome to the Department of Temporal Investigations.”



End of chapter 1
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Hopefully To Be Continued. I'd love to explore this world a little more. If you enjoyed this, please give it a like and check out my other stories. Thanks.

[ShibbolethParty]

I may be biased, but I'm certainly interested in seeing where this is going. It seems more like hard sci-fi than rape erotica, but there's nothing wrong with that, and in any case there's always room for terrible things to happen to Megan or drop-in female characters...

[Shocker]

I like the story and where it seems to be going. The idea of a brothel filled with stars like Grace Kelly, it’s very disconcerting, but it would be the time I start paying for it.

Knowing your deep fondness of Star Trek, this still feels a lot more Stargate, which isn’t a bad thing at all.

One minor nitpick, and it’s a somewhat strange occurrence since I know you have edited down for word limit. You have Harika Gupta’s CV twice in the story. Just my personal thought, but it would be more effective if it was just the later version.

No matter what still looking forward to where this is going to go.

[RapeU]

It's a bit heavy on character introductions, but what you've got is pretty solid. I'm looking forward to more too.

[Lucius]

This is an interesting variation, and I'd like to see more of it.

Everything Marilyn had felt for the last however long flooded out all at once. She leapt at him, crying profusely as he held her and let her cry. His shoulder was covered in snot by the time she was focused enough to let go and sit on the bed.

Poor Marilyn! Giving her the prologue is an enticing narrative choice.

“Marilyn Monroe. July 1st, 1926. I’m sorry, what is that? Where am I? How did I get here?”

June 1, surely?

“August 4th, 1962.” Marilyn said. She saw a look of resignation go across Ben’s face as he opened his Calendar to the current day. He turned the phone to Marilyn. She had to squint to see the screen until he let her hold it to get a better look.

“Here, have my backup pair.” Ben handed her a pair of glasses. She figured they were readers and put them on. Her jaw dropped open as she looked closer. The lenses in her glasses immediately focused everything around her and adjusted to her prescription. She saw a series of lights and text on the lens that moved with her everywhere she looked. The text identified everything around her in real time.

A nifty contraption, and yeah, MM was myopic, most likely.

... Marilyn found the Camera app on his phone and began taking photos.

“Special Agent Ben Whitfield broke a case of human trafficking where 50 Irish people were sold into slavery. Each and every person recovered gave their names and birthdates, they matched perfectly to one instance ... All 50 of the people interviewed gave names and birthdates of victims of the sinking of the Titanic. The agent did all of the due diligence possible, and it wasn’t until DNA tests came back linking them to living relatives that the story checked out. According to the victims, as the boat was going down, a group of masked men arrived out of nowhere and pulled them through a door of some kind.”

Well, that's like one the weirdest kinks ever. Trafficking a bunch of 1912 colleens all the way into the mid-21st century...

On the other hand, they did immigrate to the US after all.

[LtBroccoli]

I like the story and where it seems to be going. The idea of a brothel filled with stars like Grace Kelly, it’s very disconcerting, but it would be the time I start paying for it.

Knowing your deep fondness of Star Trek, this still feels a lot more Stargate, which isn’t a bad thing at all.

One minor nitpick, and it’s a somewhat strange occurrence since I know you have edited down for word limit. You have Harika Gupta’s CV twice in the story. Just my personal thought, but it would be more effective if it was just the later version.

No matter what still looking forward to where this is going to go.

Thanks. I thought about cutting the second intro, but story wise it makes sense since the first time is Kovacs in private and the second is him telling the team what they're in for. I cut it once but it felt like I was missing something that would be vital in an orientation.

It will definitely have a very Stargate SG1 vibe. I liked the show, and the way this is building up will give that feel. Like "What does the world look like as time travel goes from sci fi to sci fact?"

[LtBroccoli]

I may be biased, but I'm certainly interested in seeing where this is going. It seems more like hard sci-fi than rape erotica, but there's nothing wrong with that, and in any case there's always room for terrible things to happen to Megan or drop-in female characters...

Thanks. It is definitely much more hard sci-fi than erotica, but there might be some room for some scenes in the future. Or the past. Or the alternate reality branches caused by hopping back in time. Especially as they start investigating some of the baddies in this universe.

That just gave me an idea for a chapter/segment. Bad guy gets pissed at a woman. He travels through time to various important moments of her life just to rape her. Prom, Graduation, Wedding Day, Birthdays, Promotions, all of it. Bonus points if he can find a way to merge those experiences somehow.

Plus, there's a lot of room in Megan's backstory in the multiverse

[LtBroccoli]

This is an interesting variation, and I'd like to see more of it.

Everything Marilyn had felt for the last however long flooded out all at once. She leapt at him, crying profusely as he held her and let her cry. His shoulder was covered in snot by the time she was focused enough to let go and sit on the bed.

Poor Marilyn! Giving her the prologue is an enticing narrative choice.

“Marilyn Monroe. July 1st, 1926. I’m sorry, what is that? Where am I? How did I get here?”

June 1, surely?

“August 4th, 1962.” Marilyn said. She saw a look of resignation go across Ben’s face as he opened his Calendar to the current day. He turned the phone to Marilyn. She had to squint to see the screen until he let her hold it to get a better look.

“Here, have my backup pair.” Ben handed her a pair of glasses. She figured they were readers and put them on. Her jaw dropped open as she looked closer. The lenses in her glasses immediately focused everything around her and adjusted to her prescription. She saw a series of lights and text on the lens that moved with her everywhere she looked. The text identified everything around her in real time.

A nifty contraption, and yeah, MM was myopic, most likely.

... Marilyn found the Camera app on his phone and began taking photos.

“Special Agent Ben Whitfield broke a case of human trafficking where 50 Irish people were sold into slavery. Each and every person recovered gave their names and birthdates, they matched perfectly to one instance ... All 50 of the people interviewed gave names and birthdates of victims of the sinking of the Titanic. The agent did all of the due diligence possible, and it wasn’t until DNA tests came back linking them to living relatives that the story checked out. According to the victims, as the boat was going down, a group of masked men arrived out of nowhere and pulled them through a door of some kind.”

Well, that's like one the weirdest kinks ever. Trafficking a bunch of 1912 colleens all the way into the mid-21st century...

On the other hand, they did immigrate to the US after all.

Thanks for catching that error, fixed it. Damn undiagnosed dyslexia.

What better source for slaves than a disaster? No one would ever look for them, and who would believe them if they ever got out. There was an old movie from the 80's called Millennium where people from the future would travel back to disasters to remove people fated to die from plane crashes, sinkings and the like to go into the future and repopulate it. What if the bad guys had that idea?