An Inter-Dimensional Time Heist (Part One)
Aboard the GAR ship Cocytus, mid-jump to Ord Mantell, Marshall Commander Zedia Fett took a last look at the hyperspace tunnel before turning off her datapad and heading to her quarters. The entire ship was looking forward to their first official leave since the Clone Wars began, but as the hiss of the door behind her ended, a strange energy presented itself in the Force. Almost… rippling, yet crackling, and a cybernetic hand drifted to her waist moments before a beam of light similar in shape to lightning cracked open reality itself before her; a rustling wind grew stronger and stronger, outstripping even the weight of Zed’s armor and yanking her off the ground and into the ripple in time-space, surrounded by bright light.
Freshly out of the shower, James Winchester lit a cigarette once dressed, contemplating shaving before deciding against it and turning to the door of the cheap motel he’d gone halves on with one Bobby Singer—then being blasted backward as a line of white light opened behind him, jerking into the air and soon subsumed by white light that vanished from the bathroom in another instant.
Shakily, with still-mending wounds, Siobhan Ollivander collapsed into the chair of her new office—a cast-iron tiara embedded with diamonds tilted slightly on her head before righting itself via magic. The last, final engagement of the war over, she allowed a sigh to escape her lips—and a weight to lift off of her shoulders—contemplating tea or a fire and trying to avoid looking at the pile of letters, official documents, and notes on the desk before her. A treaty needed signing, but that was impeded by a crackling, hissing and spitting splinter of light that appeared in midair at the center of the room, hovering silently. Eyebrow quirked, Siobhan grasped her wand and stood, moving over to a wall and pulling down a sword—though a relic, it was magical, and thusly still very useful—and limped over before reaching out to tap the line of light with it. With a thunderclap, she was yanked into the light, nearly passing out at the influx of velocity that dragged her forward.
She normally didn’t sit in her carriage alone, but as both Taun and Rithondriel were busy overseeing soldiers, Jude le Fay was afforded a moment of solitude. With wings blocking either window and a fresh cigarette, she was only distracted from her book by a crystalline chiming, accompanied by a line of white light opening itself in front of her. Having just returned from Spain, her mental exhaustion battled curiosity until the line of light—until a memory from her mother, Poppy, presented itself; hadn’t Dugan, Siobhan, and Annabel come through a similar portal? Just as that thought presented itself, a vortex of magic swirled around her and pulled her into the line—similar to a Portkey, yet much more powerful—and she was soon swallowed in white light.
Standing before a rusted-out carcass of a pre-war bus, Ellie Jones listened to the last sound of the receding troop transport that her allies had continued on to Mojave Outpost in. Whoever knew Luisa lay ahead, and as she turned to stub out her last cigarette, she spied something strange hovering in the air a few feet from her. Almost orb-like, a ball of white light bobbed gently in the breeze, swaying back and forth like a tumbleweed suspended in midair. Before she could even put a hand on Nero, her revolver, wind and an inescapable traction pulled her off her feet, absorbed into the ball with a merry pop! and falling into pure white light.
Night City was pleasant, in the autumn. As much as any post-apocalyptic remnant of civilization beset with late-stage, dystopian capitalism could be, but Elle Bree didn’t know any other life; besides, who wouldn’t want to live in Night City? On her way back to the Week-Ender after a successful smash-and-grab, she stopped by her apartment—a new, shinier one; she’d bought V’s old place in a megabuilding—decompressing with a MaxDoc and a beer under a boiling-hot shower. The night sky outside was tranquil, if smog-choked; a few stars blinked through the clouds as she stepped out, wrapped in a towel and lighting a cigarette. In less than a second, Elle lunged across the room and drew iron as a line of white light appeared in the middle of the room, ducking down into the inset couch for cover as five of the strangest people she’d ever seen fell out into a pile on the ground—all scrambling upright and drawing weapons ranging from sticks to old-world guns and a strange sword that appeared to be made from pure plasma. Nobody moved, several clocking her hiding spot, until one, a younger woman with black hair, angular features, and a sword glanced back and forth, eyes lingering on the woman with the stick before speaking.
“I’ve seen something like this before. We’re all from different times, or dimensions, or both. Who’s flat is this?” Elle had heard similar accents, lowering her pistol and raising a hand slowly.
“Mine. Who the fuck are you people? How did you get into my apartment?” One by one, they each introduced themselves, weapons lowering as Elle quickly dressed and a few others began smoking.
“Moving between worlds is… heady magic, at the very least. Where are we? This place looks strange, almost… futuristic.” The person in the suit of full armor and plasma sword took a look around, snorted, and spoke in a staticky, gravelly tone.
“Backwater planet, by the look of it. See those fuseboxes? I’ve seen ones like it in ancient history museums.” Sword-woman, Jude, frowned at the apartment around them, then everyone drew weapons again as a square box of light appeared on the window (not the holographic display) and a face Elle hadn’t seen before appeared with a nervous smile.
“Hi, everyone. Can you hear me? Not sure if this worked, but I can see all of you.” Jude stepped forward, as did a girl who looked like a full cowboy, both with looks of recognition in their faces.
“Dugan? What’s going on, where are we?” He wrung his hands together, reaching out of frame and yanking a man that appeared to be made of solid marble into the picture, who was sheepishly avoiding eye contact.
“Couple of things. Our good friend Lucy… to put it bluntly, majorly messed up. While doing a bit of dimensional magic—and I couldn’t possibly understand how one of his acumen could achieve this—he accidentally cut into the fourth dimension, time. Result is, a whole lot of disintegrating across multiple dimensions and timelines; Bran is gone… Ah, but to you he never existed, I guess. Point is this: time and space are going crazy in a bad way, and the six of you were lumped together through some magical means that neither of us can understand. This dimension is a mirror of Elle Bree’s—is she… oh, hello—that diverged due to your arrival. There’s something that needs to be accomplished before you can come back, I’ve got…” ‘Dugan’ looked off-screen, brows furrowing before raising again.
“O-kay. Apparently, to resolve this tangled mesh of times—referred to by some experts as a quangle—you six need to burgle Gringotts.” Jude and the first woman, Siobhan, exchanged a look of disbelief.
“You’re bloody joking. It exists here?” Dugan nodded, shooting an uneasy glance at Lucy before explaining further.
“The dimension you’re currently in is the same as the one you came from, Jude, Ellie, and James, but you’re all from different points on the timeline—the year is 2077.” Was it not for any of them? My mind was reeling even with AI-powered processing, but I still stepped forward and raised a hand.
“So, in order to fix time, we have to rob a bank?” Dugan nodded rapidly, turning to look at me as I drew even with Jude and Ellie.
“Yes. Specifically, Vault… oh, for the love of Merlin, Vault 420. Bring the contents of the vault back to this apartment, and we’ll figure out a next step. I can’t maintain this forever, but we are able to observe what’s going on at all times—good luck.” All six of us exchanged looks, before who appeared to be the youngest of our group, a guy named James, puffed his smoke.
“Never robbed a bank before. Might be fun to try, eh?” Jude and Siobhan exchanged a look—Jude never quite seemed able to meet the other girl’s eyes—and Siobhan shook her head gently.
“Not so simple. Gringotts specifically is one of the most advanced banks on Earth; built into a series of underground caverns and reinforced with some of the most powerful magic invented—speaking of, who here even knows that magic exists?” A few hands rose, only myself and the armored woman, Zedia, not doing so.
“We have an… approximation. The Force. Got nothing, cyborg?” I arched an eyebrow, blowing a cloud of smoke at her helmet and sagging onto the nearby bed.
“I’ve got cars and guns—what more does a girl need?”