C’est la vie
The Temps Commission, in all its sagely wisdom, oversees and manages the space-time continuum; making sure all events that are supposed to happen, happen. Their raison d’être, if you will. The Board of Directors directs while The Handler handles threats to the timeline. She usually enjoys her job immensely. The organisation begins to keep tabs on the portal lad when a field agent notes Jarl Harald’s increasing infatuation with a mysterious emerald-eyed beauty by the name of Flett the Wolfwalker.
It appears to be a family trait.
The warlord hears tales of Flett for years before he crushes his father’s head under the weight of his hammer, kills a few rival bastards, then uses his new position to squash an otherwise ant-filled colony. It doesn’t take much for a case manager to connect the dots to Number Five Hargreeves, the Harbinger of the Apocalypse’s long-lost time travelling brother. Otherwise known as the bane of The Handler’s existence. It’s a shame since she believes the man would make an excellent temporal assassin, possibly even management.
All things considered, The Handler sees the appeal. That is why she personally supervises the creation of a suppression collar that perfectly complements the pouty man’s lips. She also nearly samples the spunky lad while his master is away raiding, rules and regulations be damned. It isn’t like mon petit was going to remember much of anything, anyway. Even the Jarl’s men got their fill of the scrumptious Fudge Nutter prior to that accursed ritual. If only the Commission had recruited instead of quibbling over how to remove Five from the equation, Five would now be working under the platinum bombshell.
Now, that would be wunderbar.
C’est la vie, Case Management has danced around the problem of Number Five too long and now they’re all answering for it. For eight days The Handler has done nothing but damage control for the teleporting berserker working his way down an enemies list — a list that includes the ancestor of a very important person! The overtime pay has been murder on their bottom line. Worse still is the mini psycho’s patron. The Records Department finds nothing for Loki, beyond a comment that he’s in stories the Aesir and humans tell to one another until the Commission ensures their timely demise. It’s unclear who this Loki is, but he’s formidable.
Protocol dictates agents remove targets utilising the appropriate means of the period. An exception is made almost immediately, but to no avail. It is time to recall all troops from the field and bring in her Little One.
They are going to war.