Commissioned work posted with permission of the client.
Sondra raises her hand and peeks at the clock engraved on her sleeve. The numbers on it count down, going backwards as she hums appreciatively. She's a patient woman, has to be, but sometimes the tension gets the better of her and she can't help but wonder if it would really be that bad if she speeds things even further.
The warm sun of the morning shines on her skin, making her sweat. With the back of her other arm, she cleans her drenched forehead and lowers the sleeve of her shirt to cover the clock in one swift shooter will act soon, after receiving the signal of the lookout with the umbrella in hand. There's not even the smallest cloud on the sky, but the celebration in course has made people both distracted and more attentive of specific things, so the man goes unperceived for all except for her and the assassin
The Organization has run through all possible scenarios across all dimensions, and this one in particular is problematic, so to speak. So much of the main timeline had been defined by the dead of one man, and the cover up that followed, that no simulation of that man surviving could be processed by their systems. The only thing left to do was to try it.
If things were different, Sondra would have said no, but the main timeline is in shambles, and the world, all the worlds, need saving. It's not too far away from her present to actually destroy everything, which surprisingly happened when they took out that one dictator to deal with the second great war, so she's as confident as she can be.
Sondra adjusts her coat and searches for a compact mirror in her pocket. Very analogical, yet so reliable. She feigns putting extra powder on her face and angles the mirror just right to blind the eyes of the lookout, who raises the umbrella in his hands a moment too soon.
The would be assassin pulls on the trigger a mere second before he should have, and the bullet passes right through the car's front window. There's another shot coming from Sondra's left, but it too misses and pops a child's balloon. Under the panicked eyes of a multitude, the double agents driving the car have no choice but to keep the charade and protect the president in the back seat while the real security team springs into action.
Her work is done, Sondra turns away using the commotion as a cover and jumps many decades forwards with the hopes of finding a better future at the end of the tunnel.