As Joel Holton stepped out of his car, attempting to brush out the “bed-headed mess” he called his brown hair, he wondered if he could get his boss, Bernard, to let him take half a day. Joel was exhausted and knew he looked like he hadn’t showered or washed his clothes in over a week, (although they were clean, he just couldn’t be bothered to iron them – ever) so he might just get away with it.

After what appeared to be a pleasant enough evening playing “Spartan Assault” on Xbox Live, he received a rude awakening by the local swat team several hours later, after another player called them, claiming to have heard a woman screaming, followed by gunshots.

After the excitement died down and the swat officers left, Joel was still kept awake by a mixture of being extremely terrified and extremely pissed off.

As he began to walk towards the entrance of Blackhawk Productions, he spotted a couple in suits walking towards him – an older gentleman and a younger woman, who appeared to having a difficult time walking in her high heels.

“Excuse me,” the man called out. “Joel Holton?”

“Lovely,” he thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

“That’s me.” Joel walked towards them. “How can I help you?”

“I’m Agent Daniel Wildman.” The man showed his identification badge. “And this is Agent Felicia Frey with the FBI…”

Agent Frey thrust her badge in Joel’s face. He narrowed his eyes at her as he backed his head away and glanced at her badge. As she thrust it into her jacket pocket, Joel took at a better look at her.

The lady with the dull red hair, pulled back into a ponytail and black, horn rimmed glasses, who clearly couldn’t walk in heels, looked more like an awkward librarian than an FBI agent. But he knew better than to question government agents.

“We need to have a word with you, sir,” Agent Frey said. “Is there someplace we can talk?”

Joel nodded and proceeded to lead them inside the building.

 As Joel escorted the two agents through the office, he ignored the odd, suspicious looks from the front office receptionist and his coworkers. “Who did you threaten this time?” a tall, heavyset gentlemen asked with a chuckle, as the three walked past him.

“Fuck off, Bernard,” he mumbled.

While most people would have been fired on the spot for swearing at their boss, Joel could get away with it. Not only had he known Bernard since college, but Joel was one of the co-founders of Black Hawk Studios, so there was very little they could do to him – outside the occasional prank.

Joel took the two agents into the empty meeting room. “Who did you threaten?” Agent Frey asked, as Joel closed the door behind them.

Joel sighed. “No one.” He took a seat in front of them. “I get a little overexcited when I’m gaming, and Bernard likes to tease me about it. I suppose that’s why you’re here? Did you find the douchebag who swatted me last night?”

The two agents looked at one another briefly, then at him. “Mr. Holton,” she asked. “I don’t think the FBI would be interested in something as petty as being swatted at, surely.”

Joel raised an eyebrow at the woman. “Seriously?” he thought to himself, as Agent Wildman whispered something in Agent Frey’s ear. “If this woman is an FBI agent, I’ll wear a dress to the next Comic-Con.”

Agent Frey looked up at him, biting her lip. “My apologies,” she said softly.

Joel smiled at her, weakly.

“Actually, Mr. Holton, we’re here on another matter,” Agent Wildman said. “We received word that someone might be planning to take your life. Have you recently received any death threats or anything that could be perceived to be a threat on your life?”

Joel gulped. This couldn’t be for real.

“I make my living playing video games and doing voice over work on cartoons,” Joel said, trying to control the shaking in his voice. “I get the occasional douchebag trying to hack into my console, or threatening to doxx me, but not death threats.”

“So, nothing outside of being swatted?” Agent Wildman asked.

Joel shook his head.

“Is there anyone you think may want you dead?” Agent Frey asked. “Anyone that may be holding a grudge against you for whatever reason?”

Joel sat silently and frowned. It was a ridiculous question, considering what he had just said to the Agents about his job. However, the minute Agent Frey mentioned the word “grudge,” something he had been trying to push out of his mind, suddenly found its way back.

“Less than a month ago, I broke up with my fiancée when I caught her forging my name on some insurance forms.” His nose twitched. “I had her arrested for forgery, and I think she was also charged with insurance fraud.”

“Do you think she’s capable of having you killed?” Agent Wildman asked, taking a brief look at Agent Frey, who had lowered her head and shook it slowly.

Joel scowled. “After what she did, I believe that bitch is capable of anything.”

Joel looked over at Agent Frey and noticed that she had suddenly started to rub her arms, while her eyelid was twitching. He narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what she could have possibly had to be nervous about – he was the one that had a target on his back for no reason. “Are you okay, Agent?” he asked.

“Felicia, why don’t you talk to the receptionist and find out if she’s received any strange calls or visitors or if she’s noticed anything out of the ordinary lately,” Agent Wildman said, leaning towards her. “I’ll finish up with Mr. Holton.”

Agent Frey turned sharply towards her partner and then looked at Joel, biting her bottom lip. Joel turned his head slightly as he looked back at her, suspiciously.

“What’s going on in your head, lady?” he thought to himself.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to him,” Agent Wildman continued. Agent Frey looked at her partner, nodded, and then exited the room.

“Is she for real?” Joel watched her leave.

“She’s alright,” Agent Wildman said. “She’s mostly worked in the office, doing paperwork and tracking down information. This is her first field assignment, and she doesn’t want to make any mistakes that could get you killed.”

 The Agent’s story sounded reasonable enough, but as he spoke, Joel noticed that Agent Wildman’s eyes shifted to the left – making Joel think that the man was covering up for her, but about what?

All he knew was that this Agent Felicia Frey was not who she was attempting to portray herself as.

The first thing Joel did as he stepped through his apartment door, was rush through, turning on every light in the place; then grabbing his unloaded .45 from his sock drawer, checking his bedroom closet, his shower and the hall closet.  The only thing he found was that his bedroom closet looked like a homeless person was sleeping in it, his shower needed to be cleaned out, and the hall closet had way too much stuff in it.

  Feeling somewhat foolish, Joel put the gun down on his nightstand (or rather, the old, wooden chair he used as a nightstand) and sat on his bed, putting his head in his hands.

A death threat. A real one, credible enough that the FBI was involved. Him. Who could have hated him, or been angry enough with him to want him dead? The only person who crossed his mind was Cynthia, but surely enough she couldn’t be that irrational as to want him dead for something she did wrong.

But then again, he had misjudged her before. For all he knew, this could have planned to kill him all along, and the guy was a “dupes” that she conned to pull the trigger after she made a few more insurance payments.

The more he though about it, the more the whole situation seemed… not right, somehow. He supposedly had this threat on his life, yet neither agent offered him any type of protection. He had thought about asking the cute, awkward librarian agent to protect him, but he wasn’t sure how that would look to her partner.

Joel had gotten an odd vibe from Agent Frey – could he have met her in the past, maybe one of his one night stands from college? The feeling he had was that she very well could have been, but he remembered the names of all the woman he had sexual encounters with, in fact, he was even still friends with a lot of them. Agent Frey wasn’t one of them.

Joel put it out of his mind as he got up and walked into his small kitchen. He looked at his cell phone that he had earlier tossed onto the counter, and thought about calling his mother. But what the hell was he going to tell her?

“Hey mom, just wanted to tell you, that the FBI contacted me and there’s been a threat on my life. Just thought you and dad would like to know.”

He knew right away what a bad idea that would be. Knowing his parents like he did, his mom would hang up the phone without saying a word, then within about an hour and half, his dad and the surviving members of his platoon from Vietnam, would be his constant companions wherever he went, until the perpetrator was caught.

But, as much as he liked the idea, he always didn’t want to be seen as a coward who still needed his daddy coming to his rescue.

He started shifting through the very little contents from his freezer, trying to decide what he should have for dinner. Nothing appealed to him.

Plus, he didn’t feel like cooking anything or heating anything up, either.

  Joel took a deep breath as he closed the freezer door, and glanced at his phone again. Maybe a pizza, or something from that Thai restaurant that delivers?

“Fuck it,” he thought. After being told by the FBI that he was a target for murder, he didn’t feel like eating. He didn’t even feel like turning on his X-Box.

Joel made sure the door was bolted shut, drew the blinds, turned off the lights, and went to bed – making sure that the gun was in his line of sight as he fell asleep.

Next Chapter: Chapter One – To catch a Time Keeper