New York City, 2029 – The Comedy Club, 11:37 PM

Riley Cross wasn’t bombing—she was crashing and burning.

“…So, anyone else feel like their life peaked in high school? No? Just me?” she quipped, pacing the tiny stage under the dim spotlight.

Silence.

A guy in the back coughed. Someone else checked their phone. Even the drunk heckler had fallen asleep. Riley sighed, running a hand through her messy brown hair. At this point, she was pretty sure the bartender was pretending to polish glasses just to avoid eye contact.

Her dream of becoming a famous comedian? Not exactly going as planned.

“Okay, tough crowd,” she muttered. “Guess I’ll save the existential crisis for therapy.”

A weak laugh from the front row. Small victories.

As she wrapped up her set, she forced a smile and bowed. “I’m Riley Cross—thanks for letting me ruin your night.”

The audience clapped out of pity, and Riley slinked offstage, grabbing her leather jacket. If her dad were alive, he’d probably give her that disappointed smile—the same one he wore when she dropped out of college. But he wasn’t. He’d been gone five years.

And yet, tonight, everything was about to change.

Riley’s tiny apartment was a mess—empty pizza boxes, half-drunk coffee mugs, and a framed photo of her and her father collecting dust on the bookshelf.

She kicked off her boots, ready to wallow, when a metallic clink echoed from the floorboard.

“Huh?”

She knelt, pulling up a loose floorboard. A metal box lay hidden beneath, sleek and cold, with a faint blue light pulsing at its center. This wasn’t some family heirloom—this thing hummed with power.

A sticky note on top read:

“If you found this, you’re already in danger. Don’t trust anyone.”

It was signed: Dad.

Her heart thudded. “What the hell were you hiding?”

Before she could process, the box clicked open, revealing a watch-like device—sleek silver with glowing gears and a digital interface that flickered with strange coordinates.

Curiosity got the better of her. She slipped the device onto her wrist.

Bad idea.

The moment it touched her skin, the world twisted—colors bled, gravity vanished, and her apartment shattered into a blinding swirl of light.

When Riley landed—hard—she wasn’t in her apartment anymore.

Instead, she was face-to-face with a man holding a gun.

“Freeze!”

He was tall, sharp-jawed, and way too attractive to be pointing a weapon at her. Black suit, tactical gear—like he walked out of a spy movie.

“What—where—am I dead? Is this the afterlife?” Riley blurted. “Because I expected more clouds.”

The man lowered the gun, glaring. “Who the hell are you, and why are you wearing an unauthorized time anchor?”

“Time… what now?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Great. Another civilian messing with forces they don’t understand.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask to be zapped into—wherever this is!” she shot back, rising to her feet. “I found it in my floor. Blame my dad, not me.”

At that, his expression shifted. Interest. And something else.

“Your father?” His voice softened. “Who was he?”

“James Cross.”

The man’s face paled. “Your father was Agent Cross?”

Riley blinked. “Wait—you knew him?”

“Knew him? He was one of the best agents in the Temporal Bureau—until he vanished.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “I’m Agent Theo Hale. And if you found his time anchor… then the Clockwork Syndicate knows about you.”

“Clockwork what-now?”

“Rogue time travelers.” His tone was grim. “And if they think you know your father’s secrets—you’re their next target.”

Great. Just her luck. One failed comedy career and now she was apparently in a time war.

Scene 4: The Chase Begins

Before Riley could argue, an alarm blared. Theo swore under his breath.

“They’ve already found you.”

A portal—swirling red and black—ripped open behind them. From it stepped two figures in sleek, silver armor. Their eyes glowed gold beneath their helmets.

“Oh, cool. Sci-fi bounty hunters. Because my night wasn’t weird enough,” Riley muttered.

Theo grabbed her wrist, his voice urgent. “Hold on tight.”

“To what—AHHH!”

He slammed a button on his watch. The world twisted again—and they disappeared in a flash of blue light, leaving the Syndicate agents behind.

Riley never believed in fate—but if her father’s secret, a grumpy time agent, and time-travel assassins were her new reality…

She was about to rewrite the rules!!!

Temporal Bureau HQ – Unknown Location, 1:13 AM

Riley Cross hated waking up confused—especially when her head throbbed like she’d partied with a sledgehammer.

She groaned, blinking against the bright fluorescent lights. A sterile room surrounded her—metal walls, glowing monitors, and a distinct “Top-Secret Government” vibe.

“Great. Kidnapped by Time Cops,” she muttered.

“You’re welcome,” came a familiar, dry voice.

Agent Theo Hale. Still annoyingly attractive, still glaring like she personally ruined his week.

Riley sat up, cradling her head. “So… time travel is real, my dad was a secret agent, and now murder robots want me dead. Did I miss anything?”

Theo folded his arms. “You’re handling this too well.”

“Trauma’s easier with sarcasm.”

A door slid open. In walked a woman with sleek silver hair, crisp military posture, and an air of authority.

“This is her?” the woman asked, eyeing Riley like she was a broken toaster.

Theo nodded. “Riley Cross. James’s daughter.”

The woman’s expression softened—just a bit. “I’m Director Evelyn Voss. Your father was one of our best… before he disappeared.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that a lot,” Riley said. “What happened to him?”

Director Voss hesitated. “That’s classified.”

Riley huffed. “Of course it is.”

Theo cut in. “What’s more urgent is the Clockwork Syndicate—they won’t stop hunting you.”

“Cool, love that for me,” Riley deadpanned. “So, what—witness protection? New identity? Can I pick the name?”

“Actually,” Voss said, “you’re staying here. You’re our best lead to finding your father… and stopping the Syndicate’s next move.”

Of course. Because life couldn’t get simpler.

Riley followed Theo through the Bureau’s sprawling underground base. Temporal gates hummed, agents in sleek uniforms ran diagnostics, and mission briefings flashed across holographic screens.

“So, how long until I get a cool laser gun?” Riley asked.

Theo sighed. “This isn’t a movie.”

“Clearly. The snacks here are terrible.”

They stopped in a training room—an empty chamber with shifting metallic walls.

“Activate combat simulation,” Theo ordered.

The walls flickered, transforming into a 1920s speakeasy. Jazz music floated through the air.

Riley blinked. “Okay… kinda cool.”

“You want to survive? Learn fast,” Theo warned.

A robotic figure materialized—Clockwork Syndicate armor, weapons glowing red.

Riley swallowed. “Uh… do I get a weapon?”

Theo tossed her a stun baton. “Don’t die.”

Great pep talk.

The bot lunged. Riley yelped, barely dodging. She swung wildly—missed—and crashed into a holographic table.

“Okay, maybe I need—ACK!”

The bot grabbed her jacket, lifting her like a ragdoll.

Theo rolled his eyes. “Amateur.”

He moved—blindingly fast—disarming the bot and sending it crashing to the ground.

“Show-off,” Riley muttered.

But beneath the snark… she felt it. The stir of something deeper.

Her father had trained here. If she wanted answers—and survival—she needed to do the same.

Later that night, Riley sat alone in her new quarters, turning the time anchor over in her hands.

Why had her dad hidden this from her? And why did it feel like a ticking bomb?

A soft chime echoed. The device glowed, projecting a flickering hologram.

Her breath caught.

“Dad…”

James Cross looked older than she remembered—tired, wary—but his voice was steady.

“Riley… if you’re seeing this, I failed. The Clockwork Syndicate… they’re trying to rewrite history—and I can’t stop them alone. Trust Theo. He’s rough around the edges, but he’ll protect you.”

He hesitated. “And there’s one more thing. The Hitlist—it’s real. You need to find it before they do. It’s the key to everything.”

The message cut out.

Riley sat frozen. The Hitlist? What the hell was that?

Before she could process, her door slid open.

“You okay?” Theo asked.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… realizing my life’s officially insane.”

His expression softened—barely. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we track the Syndicate.

Riley had a choice—run from the truth, or chase it through time.

And she wasn’t the running type.

Temporal Gate Chamber – Bureau HQ, 8:00 AM

Riley adjusted her new tactical jacket, still getting used to the weight of the time anchor clipped to her belt.

"So… 1984? Big hair, leg warmers, and—what?—killer time criminals?" she quipped.

Theo didn’t bite. "A Syndicate agent breached the timeline. If they alter history, we all pay the price."

Director Voss stood by the shimmering temporal gate, arms crossed. "You two will locate and neutralize the rogue agent. No mistakes."

Riley raised an eyebrow. "Define 'neutralize.'"

"Prevent timeline corruption. Capture if possible—eliminate if necessary," Voss clarified coldly.

"Comforting," Riley muttered, stepping toward the glowing portal.

Theo followed. "Stay close, Cross. If you get lost in time, I’m not coming after you."

"Aw, you do care," she teased—just before the gate swallowed them whole.

They landed in a neon-lit alley, the buzz of a distant arcade machine and the faint sound of Prince’s *Purple Rain* filling the air.

Riley smirked. "Nice. At least the music’s good."

Theo scanned the area with a sleek chrono-detector. "We track the temporal disturbance, find the Syndicate agent, and get out."

Riley rolled her eyes. "And here I thought we’d grab milkshakes."

The chrono-detector beeped sharply. Theo stiffened. "They’re close."

They emerged onto a bustling street—a chaotic blend of punk rockers, Wall Street yuppies, and flashing neon signs. Across the road, a woman in a sleek black coat glanced back—her eyes glinting unnaturally.

"There." Theo pointed.

Riley moved. "I’ve got her."

"Wait—!" Theo barked.

Too late. Riley sprinted into the crowd.

Riley weaved through pedestrians, heart pounding. The Syndicate agent darted into a nightclub. Riley followed, pushing past bouncers and stepping into a world of smoke, strobe lights, and deafening synth music.

The agent vanished.

"Dammit," she hissed.

Theo appeared beside her. "I said—"

"Yeah, yeah. Bad plan," Riley huffed. "Where is she?"

The chrono-detector flared. Above them.

Riley barely had time to react before the agent dropped from the rafters, landing with cat-like grace.

"You’re not Bureau," the woman said, voice low and smooth.

Riley raised her stun baton. "And you’re not supposed to be here."

The agent smirked. "Catch me if you can."

She tossed a temporal grenade. The air shimmered.

Riley dove, dragging Theo down as the blast warped reality. When the distortion faded, the agent was gone.

Back at their hideout—a dingy motel room—Riley paced. "She knew we were coming. How?"

Theo leaned against the wall, jaw clenched. "Someone’s leaking intel."

Riley shook her head. "Or… she’s after something bigger. What if it’s connected to the Hitlist?"

Theo hesitated, his expression unreadable. "That’s classified."

"Of course it is," Riley snapped. "But my father left me that message for a reason. What aren’t you telling me?"

For a moment, the mask slipped. "The Hitlist isn’t just names—it’s targets. People whose existence threatens the Syndicate’s goals."

Riley’s blood ran cold. "And my dad’s on it."

Theo met her gaze. "And now? So are you."

The past was dangerous—but the truth could be deadly.

And Riley was just getting started.