Lies In The Sands

Where: A Las Vegas Office

When: August 27, 1955

What: Arrangements are begun.

Patrick McGinty was a simple man, once upon a time. But then one of his agents proved that time travel existed and everything changed.

He stands near a window, lighting a cigarette as he looks out over a grassy oasis. The air is already heavy with smoke. This isn't his first of the day.

"Time travel was bad enough, McGinty, but now you want me to believe in magical wounds and explosions from mens hands?"

Given that his arm hangs in a sling from his neck, that seems to be exactly what he wants.

"I have the proof."

"What?"

"We have them. All we need from you is funding and— privacy."

"You have one here? Someone who gave you a broken arm with a thought?"

Patrick smirks. Fear. You can only fear something if you believe in it.

"It isn't an ideal situation, no. But it's what we have for now."

"What is it you need, exactly?"

He pauses. He looks at his cigarette as it rolls between two fingers, smoke rising off the tip.

"Tell me. Do you still have that stretch of land in Arizona?"

"What? The sands?"

"Exactly. Coyote Sands."


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