This is a Sunday photo fiction story. Thanks to AMixedBag for the prompt. Apologies for the title, but a pun didn’t feel appropriate.
“The inventor looks like he’s fighting back the urge to say something cutting. Good call, thinks Stills; it’s never a good idea to get lippy with the paymasters. “It needs to be inconspicuous at the other end.”
“I see,” nods Stills, “I’d’ve thought a time machine would need to be bigger.”
“We can do a lot with nanotechnology these days,” said the inventor, leaning over the console, “So, where will you be going?”
“Munich,” says Stills.
The inventor doesn’t bother to conceal his distaste for the predictability of the answer, “What year?”
“Before the Beer Hall Putsch?”
“Before Goebbels had a chance to create the Hitler myth.”
The inventor smiles noncomittally, “You’re the boss.”
“That I am,” says Stills, pulling the knife from the pocket of his greatcoat.
The inventor looks unimpressed, “You’re going to use that to kill Hitler?”
Stills shakes his head, “Who said anything about killing Hitler?” He says, driving the knife into the other man’s chest, “I’m going to offer my services. Imagine what the badtard’d’ve accomplished with a proper spin doctor.”