[ WP ] You 're a Temporal Detective in charge of finding out who detonated a Time Bomb .

Sylla leans down to observe the edge of the area. There ’ s a clearly defined line to the bomb ’ s blast radius. Earlier there had been the screams of the trapped but all of those had been silenced. At least the victims completely inside could be revived if they could undo the damage. 
 
 Above Sylla ’ s head is one of the executed half-trapped. There ’ s a bullet hole in his head and the back of his skull is hanging in the temporal area. Anything that entered the area would be stopped immediately. Speed would get someone in a good distance but not close enough to the center of the area to observe the bomb ’ s epicenter. 
 
 “ What do you think? ” Hendrix asks from behind her. 
 
 Sylla takes a reading before glancing back at him. The rookie detective is pale, eyes fixed above Sylla ’ s head, on the dead person ’ s trapped body. She turns her attention back up to the body, standing up to observe the area. 
 
 “ I wish they hadn ’ t shot them, ” Sylla finally states. 
 
 “ B—But— ” Hendrix attempts to protest, shock coming onto his face. 
 
 “ Without the blood running, we have no idea how it ’ s stopping all the functions below this point. ” Sylla gestures to the line across the man ’ s chest where the temporal field trapped him. “ Do we have any with legs hanging out, since we ’ re out of luck on upper torsos? ” Sylla turns her attention to Hendrix again. 
 
 “ Y—Yeah. ” Hendrix leads the way around the large circle in the middle of the city square. Sylla takes samples as she walks, trying to figure out the composition of the bomb from out in this area. “ Have you—Have you ever seen one like this? ” 
 
 There ’ s a moment of hesitation with Sylla. She eyes the area, attempting to recall in her history if she had seen one either with this intensity or with this size. 
 
 “ No. Not before now. ” Sylla grimaces at the thought. It means that there ’ s no previous cases to refer to. The two detectives stop in front of a leg hanging out of the temporal bubble. “ Any data on the subject here? ” 
 
 “ We ’ ve got facial recognition on her. ” Hendrix holds his data pad up for Sylla to look at. “ Jaiya Kohren. Age twenty-six. Personal trainer. ” 
 
 “ What a good specimen. ” Sylla unfolds her kit and injects the available leg with nanomachines. On the screen, they report their telemetry until they simply don ’ t, having hit the barrier. “ Hm. ” 
 
 “ What ’ s that mean? ” Hendrix watches over Sylla ’ s shoulder. 
 
 “ You should know what it means. ” Sylla scowls at him. 
 
 “ No ma ’ am, sorry ma ’ am. ” Hendrix pales again. “ I meant, um, what does ‘ hm ’ mean? ” 
 
 “ It means that we ’ ve got a clue. ” Sylla packs her kit up. “ Pack it up, tape it off, and let ’ s get going. ” 
 
 “ Where are we going? ” Hendrix picks up his own kit, folding it and attaching it to his leg where they traditionally sit. Around them, the beat cops tape up the police line around the victims. There ’ s a number of them making positive IDs on the victims that they can see and creating notices for the families. 
 
 “ We ’ re going to a friend of mine ’ s place. ” Sylla gives him a toothy grin. “ She ’ s particularly good with the occasional Time Bomb. ” 
 
 “ But—aren ’ t we supposed— ” Hendrix glances up at the people trapped in time. 
 
 “ Would you like to find this person or would you like them to set off another, larger one? ” Sylla gestures to the bubble as she straps her kit around her bicep. “ Because this was only a test and they ’ ve realized that it works. The next one isn ’ t going to be as small. ” 
 
 “ N—No. ” Hendrix grimaces at the thought. “ I don ’ t want that. ” 
 
 “ Then get in the damn car and let ’ s get going. ” Sylla ducks under the tape and heads directly for the car. Hendrix hesitates a moment, looking at the victims before hurrying after Sylla, ducking under the tape himself. 
 *** 
 ^ ( *Find more of my writing at r/Syraphia* )
