[ WP ] In the middle of the night , a piece of paper is slipped under your door . It says , `` DUCK ! ''

You read the paper, then duck. A bullet pierces a hole in the door, right where your head was a moment before. 
 
 `` FUCK'' yells a familiar voice. You spin around. Standing on the pillow of your bed, where you loved to jump as an 8 year old, is... you as an eight year old. Scrappy hair. Thin arms. Pointing a gun directly at you. Eyes equally wide at having fired a gun as shouting a naughty word. They start stammering. 
 
 `` I - I - I -th-this was n't supposed to happen! He-you-they-he told me I only needed one bullet. You knew when you would be here!'' You watch yourself struggle for more words. `` Fuck!'' 
 
 `` No,'' says another familiar voice. `` Your failure was planned since long after your death.'' 
 
 You spin around again. You recognize your own face underneath a mess of beard and wrinkles. A 60 ( ish ) year old man is standing by your closet, but he is very clearly you. He points at the 8 year old you. 
 
 `` You have no idea how many days I've sent myself back in time. To study your methods. Learn your plans. Discovered exactly when and how you managed to kill him.'' he motions to present-day you. The you you. 
 
 `` Wait. How old are you?'' the eight year old tilts his head at the elderly man. They lock eyes just over your head. 
 
 `` Immeasurably.'' 
 
 Eight shakes his head. Gun now hanging from his fingertips, pointed at the ground. 
 
 `` That's not the password we counted on!'' 
 
 Sixty scratches at something in his beard. 
 
 `` I've never met you personally before!'' 
 
 Eight thinks a moment. 
 
 `` We have n't met *yet*. You must be the slightly younger version of us the oldest one warned me about.'' 
 
 They lock eyes some more. You do n't know who to look at. They both mutter the word at the same time. 
 
 `` *Fuck. *'' 
 
... 
 
 `` WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON'' you yell. Seems the most appropriate thing to say. Sixty lays a hand on your shoulder. 
 
 `` Let me just say, it gets complicated kid. You get wrapped up in a lot of shit, and it eventually destroys your sanity and most of your memories.'' 
 
 A pause, the kind of pause old people think is enough time to let young folk absorb universe shattering ideas. 
 
 `` But what I do remember must have happened, so here you go, kid.'' 
 
 Sixty drops a faded gold watch into your hand. 
 
 `` This watch allows you to time travel. Give us hell, son.'' 
 
 You sleepily fumble, trying to put the watch on your wrist, and accidentally press a button. You hear an old man sighing disappointedly as you slip backwards into blackness.
