Neeta
(I actually had this fic posted but, given that s2 is likely going to go with JFK having never been assassinated, my plans were kinda ruined. And I hadn't worked on the fic in awhile, writers block, so I just deleted to and decided to shelve the project. Anyway, here's the prologue and first chapter!)
Ordo Ab Chao: out of chaos comes order
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My name is Neeta.
I work for an organization called Temps Aeternalis, although it's commonly called The Commission, even by management. What it does is supremely important: preserve the time continuum.
We work in a delicate balance between the timeline of events and mankind's free will through manipulation and removals, which is just a polite way of saying murder. That might sound harsh but, and I cannot stress this enough, sometimes people just need to die. Like when they make choices that alter the timeline and those mistakes need to be fixed, they really have it coming when you think about it.
Now, when these mistakes happen, it's a long, very tedious process to correct it that's way above my pay grade but I'll explain for complete transparency. First, a report is sent then sorted and assigned to a case manager, who determines if anyone needs to be removed from the equation to assure that their event happens as it should. Based on that determination, the case manager sends instructions to agents to eliminate the threat. Agents like my partner and I, although "agents" is just the PC way of saying "temporal assassins". That's what we really are.
To be honest with you, I didn't even want a partner. I'd had a few since my recruitment over the years – it's just standard procedure – but none of them ever lasted. I'm pretty sure I have the biggest turn-around for partners. It's not like I killed them, but I certainly didn't risk my neck to save them when they inevitably screwed up. It's called Darwinism for a reason. Anyway, I just wanted to work alone; it suited me best and the sooner management understood that, the better off we'd all be. Then The Handler saddled me with a guy nearly twice my age with some special super power. I'm not gonna lie, it was rough at first. Half the time, it seemed like he was a few cards short of a full deck, he drank way too much, and what the hell kind of name is Five anyway? But he was good. Damn good. Maybe even as good as me. Before I knew it, we'd been going strong for four years.
The Hindenburg, Franz Ferdinand, Stalin, Chernobyl, Titanic, Julius Caesar, the Romanovs, the Great Chicago Fire – and so many more, it was all us. I think I'm most proud of Ferdinand, to be honest. It was some of our best work, absolutely beautiful. And how many people can say they started a war? Well, ensured a war happened but I digress.
Four years into our partnership, Five told me the score; said he felt he owed it to me since we'd managed not to kill each other for so long. He had to serve five years with The Commission, then he'd get retire to wherever and whenever he wanted, with a pension. I'll admit that it hurt. I finally had someone who was my equal, someone I could depend on, someone who actually cared about what happened to me – and I cared what happened to them, which was too weird for words – and he was gonna ditch me in a year? Where the fuck would that leave me?! I don't mean to brag – okay, yes, I do because we fucking deserve it – but no one was as good as us. No one. And no one would ever match up to my standards, not after Five. He was the perfect partner because he was more than a partner. Hell, he was more than a friend.
He was like family.
I didn't even realize it, but he was just biding his time...
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Alea Iacta Est: the die is cast
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1963 – DEALEY PLAZA, TEXAS
"I hate it when you drink," Neeta commented, eying her partner as he took a long drink from his flask. "You get surly."
"You sound like Dolores." Before he could put the flash away, she grabbed it and took a swig.
"Uh huh, I'm sure I do," she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She'd heard about Dolores before, far too often. One time, she saw the damn thing and Five flipped out on her. Neeta had her kinks, sure, but at least she never claimed to be in love with half a mannequin. Five took another drink from his flash. "Don't get hammered. We still have a job to do."
"When have I ever not finished a job?"
"I'm just saying," she muttered defensively.
"Yeah, yeah, I know what you're just saying, Tinkerbell," Five snapped, "and you can quit it. I'm fine."
"You won't be if you keep calling me that. I hate that thing and you know it."
"I'll stop when you quit worrying about me." Neeta affectionately rolled her eyes and smiled, the unspoken truth between the pair being that she'd never stop worrying about him so, in turn, the annoying nickname would never leave.
"I'm gonna get us some coffee. I'll be back soon." Before she left, Neeta lightly slapped Five's shoulder and held out her hand. "Hey, Pops, don't die."
Five shook her hand and repeated their vow, "Don't die."
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"Five?" The fact that her partner wasn't telling her he needed complete silence to complete his task was odd. "Hey, Pops, you okay?" Taking a sip of her coffee, Neeta walked around the corner to hidden spot where her partner had been stationed not twenty minutes ago. Except her partner wasn't there. "Five?" The car was still there and his gun was lying haphazardly on the ground beside a book, but he was nowhere to be found. "What the fuck!" she snapped, annoyed at the sudden inconvenience.
Setting their coffee's down on the hood of the car, Neeta looked around curiously. Nothing seemed wrong. She checked her watch; it was 12:27, fuck. She didn't know where the hell Five had run off to but she had three minutes to preserve the timeline. Stomping over to the rifle, she snatched it up and hurried to the fence. There was a discarded book there that she knew was Five's but she ignored it for the moment. The tiny radio hanging on the fence was blathering on in her ears. She was already annoyed and on edge with Five's unexplained disappearance – if he was at the nearest bar, so help her, she would kill him – the last thing she wanted was this unknown man yammering away mindlessly in her ear. Neeta glanced down at her watch once more; she had less than a minute to spare. She quickly fiddled with the dials on the radio until she found a song she liked. The Beach Boys, she realized with a smile.
"Sometimes I wonder what I'm-a gonna do," she sang happily. Neeta raised the rifle and stared down the scope at her target, taking careful aim. "But there ain't no cure for the summertime blues."
BANG!
Neeta bobbed her head and whistled to the beat as she lowered the rifle. She continued to sing happily and even danced a little as she rose to her feet, ignoring the panicked screaming of the crowd below. JFK had been successfully assassinated -- no thanks to Five, thank you very much -- and the job was done. It was in the middle of her minor victory lap that she heard the familiar whoosh and clinking of a delivery. Curiously wandering back to their car, Neeta's eyes caught sight of something even more important. The briefcase. Five, wherever he'd gone, had left their briefcase unattended in the backseat of the car. What the fuck had that old man been thinking? And where the fuck was he?! She opened the latch covering the gas tank, spun the top off and reached inside the pneumatic tube that had magically appeared. Knowing she still had plenty of time to get away, she leaned casually against the car as she unrolled the message inside the canister.
THE COMMISSION OFFICE MEMORANDUM
To NEETA Date 0629175348 From C893467A
FIVE MISSING, CONTRACT BROKEN, RETURN TO HQ FOR BRIEFING
"Son of a bitch," Neeta whispered in disbelief. Her eyes read the words again, hoping they'd miraculously change. They didn't. He'd left her. He'd actually left her. He swore he'd get her out when he retired in a year, that he wouldn't leave her alone and yet he had apparently gone and done just that. Crumbling the message in her fist, she bellowed, "You son of a bitch!"