Timeless

[Cazzik]

1936, THE OKLAHOMA PANHANDLE

Roland Fisher walked slowly back from town, pulling his mule alongside him. A couple sacks holding meager groceries were slung over the animal's back. He had hoped to get more but there just wasn't enough money. Not to mention, even if he had more money there likely wasn't enough food to purchase anyhow. There wasn't any water, which meant there weren't any crops. No grain for bread. No vegetables for stew. And certainly no grass to feed any cattle. No, this part of the world seemed to be more and more barren everyday.

His Mama told him stories about what this land had looked like 16 years ago when he was born. Obviously, Roland couldn't remember that. He'd had to take her word for how nice their little farm had been back then. His Pa never talked about that. In fact, he never really talked at all. When he did, it was usually out of frustration or anger. In fact, Roland wasn't looking forward to getting home with the meager groceries he had purchased. The money they had given him was gone and he had only managed to get half of what they had expected. Pa would be angry.

He wiped the dust from his eyes and stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead of him was a man, just standing in the middle of the road looking back at Roland. No one moved for a long while but eventually the boy stepped forward, knowing full well he had to continue on the path to get home. The newcomer waited until he was closer before he spoke, "Well hello, young man. How goes it?"

Roland noticed the man was white, not exactly the type of person a black teenage boy wanted to run into out in the middle of nowhere, "I'm fine, sir. Thank you."

He smiled at Roland and pulled out a water pouch, taking a long drink. He looked the boy up and down and offered the pouch to him, "Awful hot and dry out here? Would you care for a drink?"

Roland didn't move at first. He wasn't sure what to do. However, his water supply had run out miles ago and he was thirsty. He cautiously reached his hand out and took the pouch from the stranger. As he drank the man continued to speak, "My name is Nate. And you're Roland."

Roland almost choked on the water, "You know my name?"

Nate smiled, "I know a great deal more than your name, Roland. In fact, I'm willing to bet I know more about you than even you do."

Roland didn't like this, not at all. He wanted to get home and get away from this crazy white man. As he tried to pass, Nate put his hand out and gestured for Roland to wait, "I'm not your enemy. I know you and your family are struggling, like most folks right now. I can help. All I need from you is a bit of time. For a conversation."

Roland looked Nate in the eyes, "A conversation about what?"

"Your future, dear boy. Your future."

[Cazzik]

1916, THE GREAT WAR
THE EASTERN FRONT
RUSSIAN COAST OF THE BALTIC SEA

Roland stared down at the warzone below him. He watched intently as soldier killed soldier. His experiment had failed. Again. He had lost count how many attempts he had made. Subtle attempts. Extreme attempts. This time he had wiped out the Black Hand, the organization ultimately responsible for the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand. So many lives he had taken, and yet, the Great War still swallowed the world in darkness. His sacrifices had been for nothing.

Behind him he heard crunching on the gravel as boots walked up the hill to join him. Roland didn't need to look at his companion. He knew who it was, "I told you, you can't change it. No matter how hard you try the timeline corrects itself, or at least remains similar to what came before. All you did was create another rogue timeline full of variants. And you know what that means?"

Roland didn't respond to Nathan. Almost on que the pair watched as agents of the Time Variance Authority appeared from nowhere, culling those that got too close to them. This always happened. He was the cause of the break in time, the changing of events. He was the epicenter. The TVA could detect his energy but they could never find him specifically. That said, they were here to do a job. They would set off a time bomb, a device that would wipe this timeline out. It would be completely erased, his failed experiment known only to himself and Nathan.

Roland's eyes didn't change as his gaze settled solely on the agents prepping their weapon. His face was emotionless. Nathan put his hand on Roland's shoulder, "I wish you would learn this lesson, my friend. We are not here to master time. We are not here to conquer it. That is the goal of the others. We are here to stop them."

Roland's voice was much deeper than it had been when Nathan, or Nate at the time, had found him, "I understand our mission completely. I also understand that we are losing. We need to use the weapon of our enemy to defeat them. Time can be our blade, Nathan. We can wield it like a master swordsman."

Nathan forced Roland to turn and look at him, "That is not our way. You know that."

The other man stared at his mentor, "It's not your way, Nathan. I have not decided what my way is it yet but it certainly isn't bringing words to a knife fight."

With that Roland walked past Nathan and stepped through the portal that would take him elsewhere and elsewhen.