Just a crazy idea that came to my mind...
None of the characters belong to me.
Tempora Mutantur
“Tempus, not this world again!” H.G. Wells said with a groan, as they stepped out of the time window and into an office that he knew all too well. In the middle of the room was a large table, scattered with several piles of papers. Coffee cups were standing between the piles and two ash trays were filled with large amounts of cigarette stubs. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of sweat. Wells had spent more nights in this office than he cared to admit. He absolutely hated this place.
Folding his arms in front of his chest, he added. “You can hold me at gunpoint all you like, but you cannot expect me to help you destroy Utopia.”
As the window closed behind them, Tempus slowly lowered his gun. His usually so cocky grin faded into a serious expression. “Yeah, sorry about the gun,” Tempus said apologetically. “I was afraid that otherwise you wouldn’t have come with me. Much as I hate to say it, but I need your help saving Utopia…”
“You… what?” H.G. Wells stuttered, taken aback.
“I need your help saving Utopia,” Tempus repeated through gritted teeth. “I know, you and I haven’t always been on the best of terms, but…”
“That is some understatement!” Wells interrupted Tempus angrily, completely losing his British composure. “Have you any idea what you did to Lois and Clark? Do I really have to remind you of the unspeakable crimes that you committed in this room? Resurrecting a dead Lex Luthor…” he pointed towards his thumb, starting his enumeration, “… cloning Lois and having her loose her memory… New Kryptonians… Myrtle Beach…” He balled his hands into fists. “All the crazy stuff I had to type up, because you absolutely had to tamper with the scripts.”
Tempus seemed to shrink more with every accusation Wells threw at him. “I’m sorry, Herb,” he replied sheepishly. “It seemed like fun at the time. But now…”
Wells rolled his eyes in exasperation. “What is now?” he almost spat.
“Herb, they cancelled the show…”
