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Ch. 3 Time Traveling gone wrong

Doc Brown paced back and forth, his thoughts racing as he ran calculations in his head. The DeLorean was a marvel of engineering, but even marvels needed time and preparation. He stopped suddenly, turning to Isabelle and Marty, who stood by, watching him with anticipation and curiosity.

"Listen," Doc said, his voice steady and unwavering. "I need you both to come back here tomorrow night at the same time and place. The DeLorean needs more power for us to make the journey safely."

Marty furrowed his brow. "More power? You mean, like... extra fuel or something?"

Doc nodded. "Precisely. The flux capacitor requires tremendous energy, and I must ensure everything is in order before going anywhere. Safety first."

Isabelle, always eager for adventure, nodded enthusiastically. "We'll be here, Doc. You can count on us."

Doc smiled warmly at her, a mixture of pride and something deeper tugging at his heart. "Good. Now, go home, rest, and be ready for tomorrow. We're going to make history."

As Isabelle and Marty began to walk away, Doc watched them, his mind filled with emotions. Deep in his gut was an inexplicable feeling—tomorrow would be different, and he needed to be prepared. More than an experiment, this felt like destiny knocking at the door.

Once they were out of sight, Doc turned to the DeLorean, his gaze lingering. His thoughts were heavy, filled with the weight of responsibility and the unknown. Something about tomorrow was pulling at him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was the beginning of something far more significant than any of them could imagine.

With a sigh, Doc climbed into the DeLorean, signaling Einstein, his trusty dog, to hop in as well. As they drove home under the cover of night, Doc's mind was already working on a plan to ensure everything would go right. But just in case... just in case something didn't.

Back at home, Doc settled Einstein in his usual spot and went to his office. The room was cluttered with papers, blueprints, and half-finished inventions, but he knew exactly where everything was. He sat down at his desk, the weight of the coming day pressing on him, and pulled out a sheet of paper.

Taking a deep breath, Doc began to write a letter. The words flowed easily, his hand moving with purpose as he addressed it to his past self:

"Dear Emmett,"

"If you're reading this, you have met a young girl named Isabelle. She is trustworthy, loyal, and, most importantly, she is family. You might not believe this initially, but her biological mother is your cousin. This means she is one of us, though she doesn't know it yet. Help her with whatever she needs, and protect her as you would your own flesh and blood."

"She will come to you with a friend, a boy named Marty. He's a good kid, trying to understand why his parents are the way they are. Help him, too. The two of them are more important than you can imagine."

"Remember, Emmett, you've always believed in the impossible. This time, believe in them."

Doc paused, reading over the letter before signing it with a flourish. He sealed the envelope, marking it with a symbol only he would recognize—a small, intricate drawing of the flux capacitor. This way, his past self would know the letter was authentic from himself in the future.

He folded the letter carefully and placed it into an envelope, tucking it safely into his coat pocket. Tomorrow, he would give Isabelle strict instructions to deliver it personally if anything went wrong. The future, after all, was always in motion.

The following night, Isabelle and Marty arrived at Twin Pines Mall, dressed in comfortable clothes and carrying backpacks, ready for anything. Doc greeted them with a determined expression, his heart racing, but he masked his nerves with a confident smile.

Isabelle grinned, though there was a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "Ready, Doc!"

Marty nodded, though he seemed more stern than usual. "Let's do this."

Suddenly, a screeching sound filled the air, causing all three of them to turn their heads. Black cars with tinted windows were speeding toward them, tires screeching on the pavement. Doc's heart sank—he had known this could happen, but seeing it unfold in real time was still a shock.

"No time to explain!" Doc shouted, his voice laced with urgency. "Get in the DeLorean, now!"

He ushered Isabelle and Marty into the car, his hands shaking slightly as he punched in the date: November 5, 1955—the day he first conceived of the time travel invention. He grabbed the letter from his pocket and handed it to Isabelle, his eyes stern.

"Take this," he said, pulling her tightly. "Don't open it. If anything happens to me, deliver it to my past self. He'll know what to do."

Isabelle clutched the letter, her eyes wide with fear. "Doc, what's going on?"

"Just trust me," Doc said, turning to Marty. "Look after her, Marty. Keep her safe."

Before either could protest, Doc pressed the button to close the DeLorean's doors. He stepped back, his heart pounding as he watched the black cars screech to a stop. Armed men jumped out, guns drawn, and in that instant, Doc knew what would happen.

He watched as the men aimed at him, their fingers tightening on the triggers. Isabelle and Marty's terrified faces were the last thing he saw before the bullets tore through him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Inside the DeLorean, Isabelle screamed, her hands pressed against the glass as she watched Doc fall. Marty pulled her close, shielding her as the men turned their guns on the DeLorean. But before they could fire, the car jerked forward, the flux capacitor sparking.

The DeLorean disappeared in a blinding flash of light, leaving only tire marks and the scent of burning rubber. Marty held Isabelle tightly as she sobbed into his chest; the image of Doc's lifeless body burned into her mind.

But there was no time to grieve—now, they were racing through time, hurtling toward the unknown.

The DeLorean jerked and shuddered as it landed with a heavy thud on the ground. The familiar blue light of time travel faded, leaving Isabelle and Marty in the eerie silence of the night. They sat still momentarily, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on them.

Marty was the first to move. He fumbled with the door handle, pushing it open and stepping into the cool night air. His mind raced as he circled the DeLorean, checking for damage, anything that might tell him how they could return to the future and save Doc. He barely registered the changed surroundings, his thoughts consumed with the sight of Doc being gunned down.

Meanwhile, Isabelle remained inside the DeLorean, her eyes glazed over, replaying the horrific scene in her mind. She could still see Doc's lifeless body crumpling to the ground, and the image refused to leave her. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

Doc is gone. The thought hit her like a physical blow, and she felt a sob rising in her throat. But then, something flickered in the back of her mind—Doc's calm and reassuring voice, telling her to trust him and to deliver the letter.

Suddenly, Isabelle snapped back to the present. She blinked rapidly, her surroundings slowly coming into focus. She glanced around, her eyes widening as she saw the DeLorean parked in front of a grand, albeit slightly weathered, manor. The building looked familiar—hauntingly so. She had seen it in the future but in a much more neglected state.

Her heart raced, and she instinctively reached for her mother's locket around her neck. She could feel it pressing against her chest, solid and real, grounding her in this moment of unreality. As she stared at the manor, a strange feeling was inside her—a mixture of fear, anticipation, and something else she couldn't quite place.

Isabelle slowly opened the locket, remembering her mother's cryptic words: "Open it only when you truly need it." Instead of a photo or a keepsake, a tiny, folded piece of paper was inside. Confused, Isabelle carefully pulled it out and unfolded it, her eyes widening as she read its contents.

It was a deed—a deed to the very manor standing before her. Her mind reeled as she processed the information. The manor, this grand estate, belonged to her family. The Ellsworth Family Manor. A place that had been in her biological mother's family for centuries.

She glanced up at the manor, her heart pounding even harder now. This place is mine? The realization hit her like a lightning bolt. She had never known anything about her biological mother's family, and now, out of nowhere, she was connected to this sprawling estate.

Isabelle's thoughts were interrupted by Marty's frustrated voice. He had circled the DeLorean and was now standing by the front, staring at the empty plutonium chamber. "Isabelle," he called, his voice strained with panic, "we've got a problem. There's no plutonium. We can't go back to 1985 without it."

Isabelle tore her gaze from the manor and turned to Marty. She could see the fear and desperation in his eyes, the same emotions she had been battling just moments ago. But now, with the deed in her hand and the knowledge of her family's past in her heart, she felt a strange calm wash over her.

"Marty," she said softly, walking over to him. She held out the piece of paper for him to see. "Look at this."

Marty took the paper, his brow furrowing as he read it. "A deed? To this place?" He looked up at the manor, his eyes widening as he began to understand. "Wait, are you saying this place belongs to you?"

Isabelle nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "It was my mother's family's home. I don't know why she never told me, but... it's ours, Marty. And it's been here for centuries."

Before Marty could respond, a cold drop of rain splashed onto Isabelle's hand. She looked up at the sky just as the heavens opened, releasing a torrent of rain. They were quickly drenched, and Marty's panic returned with the downpour.

"We need to find shelter!" Marty shouted over the roar of the rain.

Isabelle nodded, her eyes scanning the front of the manor. She spotted a flower pot by the entrance, and something told her to check underneath it. She hurried over, lifting the pot with shaking hands, and found a rusty old key hidden beneath. She held it up triumphantly.

"Here!" she called to Marty.

They ran to the front door, struggling with the old key in the lock before it finally turned with a satisfying click. The door creaked open, and they stumbled inside, dripping wet and shivering from the cold.

Inside, the manor was dark and musty, but it was dry. They stood in the grand foyer, the air heavy with the scent of old wood and forgotten memories. Marty shook off some of the rain and looked around, still processing everything that had happened.

"We're stuck here," Marty said, his voice tinged with resignation. "In 1955. How are we going to fix this, Isabelle?"

Isabelle looked at him, her eyes determined despite the fear gnawing at her. "We'll figure it out, Marty. But first, we need to survive the night. We'll start planning in the morning. Together."

Marty nodded, though the worry never left his face. They were in a strange time, with no apparent way back, and the man who could have helped them was gone. But as Isabelle looked around her manor, she couldn't shake the feeling that everything they needed was there.

They just had to find it.

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