Tracer

The last time the Humvees with guns surrounded her, it went poorly, as it would this time. The bullets started; she calmly ducked and feinted, knowing the path each would take. But these bullets were somehow randomized in the future, not just the present. For the first time in her life, she was hit. Whoever fired these bullets must be planless, an agent of chaos, a psychopath. A woman emerged from behind one of the gun turrets. No—a girl, no more than 8. Lying there, she saw even more of the future, and it didn't look good for either side.