2007-08-06: DF: Striking Blows Against Potato Famine


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Summary: Future Peter may be dark, yes, but he's not wholly without allies. Plus? Don't you think Nathan'd make a great farmer?

Dark Future Date: 6 AUGUST 2009

Striking Blows… Against Potato Famine

On the Rooftops of Dark New York:

On top of a small brownstone on the upper west side, there's an ariel - hidden by the bricks of a chimney and carefully linked into the grid - it's one of the myriad of small transmission towers used by Resistance Radio to keep the signal alive.

And Ali… is there. Waiting. There's an odd hope in her face; she's seated on the roof, watching the sky.. lord. She's /thin/. Pale, still coughing every once in a while when she forgets and breathes too deeply. It's quite likely she shouldn't be out - but… she is, nonetheless.

Why walk when you can teleport? Perhaps there's some abuse of this particular ability of his, but Peter teleports most everywhere. It saves using doors and leaving fingerprints, and it really does allow for faster travel. There's a stur in the air as he dissolves into sight, a blank space in the transmission tower suddenly filled with a solid person. An unhappy solid person.

Longer hair pulled back into a short ponytail, tension around his eyes and jaw, he's not in the best of moods at all. Chances are he checked two or three stations he knows about before this one? Possible. And accurate to an extent. This is his second stop. And the one with the person he'd been looking for. A person who is ill, apparently. Doesn't lighten his mood any. "I heard your broadcast."

"Yeah?" Ali is quick to look back; a voice out of nothing is disconcerting no matter how much you hope it appears. And … it's perhaps telling of her physical condition that she doesn't stand. "I .. kinda hoped you would." Despite everything, she offers him a smile. A warm one. "He did a number on you. Even Al Jazera's picking it up."

"Al Jazera?" Peter repeats, shaking his head a little. The smiling is still there, so it's hard to keep glaring at her, even if his jaw remains tight. "The train wasn't the target. Assume you guessed that on your own. You're a smart girl." He's not thinking she didn't figure it out— but the news report certainly made it sound like he'd intended to use the train itself to make a point. "The schedules I aquired were wrong, or someone set me up, but that doesn't change what happened— it wasn't my intention, though."

"I know. Or I thought so." Ali pats the roof next to her.. it's an invitation. "I'm sorry I had to say that - but I didn't have much time to think. Between Mr. President tryin' to kill me and everybody shoving food at me, I got painted in a corner."

The smile remains, but something in her eyes is searching, as she studies this man. "I wish he hadn't gotten.. or faked.. you on video. It hurts. It hurts a lot." A racking cough - a moment's pause - then. "If I gave you cue cards, do you think you could read 'em?"

"Trying to kill you with a disease?" Peter asks, looking at her with a hint of curiousity, maybe even possibly concern. But he's watching her as she coughs and nods. "It depends on what he filmed. None of the areas I targetted had cameras I knew about— I made sure of that, but they did have a Homeland Security car and helicopter at a few of them before— before I finished. They might have actually caught me on video— but I doubt it." It would depend a lot of what they captured him doing. By the end he'd been pretty pissed off. Cue cards. At least some of his tension is lessening, he doesn't look like he wants to take anger out on the sick girl. "Only if I get to read them first."

"And you can even fight with me about it." Ali takes a slow breath, careful. "You can't beat his spin. You get to be the villain now - but you can show him for what he is, if we do it right. If .. anybody's listening, anyway." The woman wraps her arms around her knees, "And yeah. He sent my old roomate back. And stupid me walked right up to her and gave her a hug - Cass says I'll get better. it'll work out - he missed this time."

She offers, quietly, "We got Elena back. She's alright. And.. I gotta guess that enough people are listening that it pisses him off, right?" She still watches him, searching. "What comes next? For you."

"Don't think I can cure diseases, so you're on your own— if Cass says you'll get better, I'll trust her medical opinion," Peter says, cold and business like, but at least he's not being outright mean about it. He really doesn't think he can do anything about diseases… even if he has to frown at this new possible threat. Maybe he's worried about the President siccing this ex-roommate on him or his own. "I can live with being the villian. I'm not sugar coating what it is that we do— the people we fight to protect have died more than once in the last year— don't want it to happen, but it happens. I doubt any of the other groups have hands without blood on them now." He just happens to have a lot more all at once.

"Next? I keep doing what I need to do, same as before. Though I'm considering sending most of what's left of my people to the Resistance— they don't need to get backlash for this."

"it's not that simple." Ali objects, quietly - "But.. yeah. You know they'll have a home." She watches this man, still - her eyes never, in fact, leave him. And.. she asks a gentle, if very hard, question: "Can you give him to the Saints, Peter? Nathan. Could you do it?"

"I don't think I could 'give' the Saints anything, Ali," Peter responds, looking back at her with raised eyebrows. "Your boss doesn't exactly listen to me, and your second-in-command…" he trails off. It's not a good topic. She's about the only one of them that he really speaks to much— and that's because she runs the radio. "If you're asking if I'd stop you?" it's phrased as a question, but he doesn't wait for her to confirm that's what she meant. "I won't stop you. Can't promise the same from my wife, though."

"I know you don't like each other much. I know - believe me. Jack questions your methods, you question his - " Ali frowns, and /finally/ looks away. "I shouldn't even think it - I don't even know what you can do. Not really - I just know you're the strongest of all of us. And it's getting darker, Peter. I can see it - and I feel helpless. If I could get in a /room/ with him for an hour.." She smiles, sadly - "I'd probably end up getting shot. But … "

It's a quiet ramble. But then she comes back to now - "I'll do everything I can to try to make things.. better. But you gotta be careful for a while. No more big stunts - stick to smaller stuff. Stay out of sight. Big news just makes it harder."

"The strongest of us all— yeah— heard that one before," Peter mutters, almost a hint of bitterness in his voice. As if he actually dislikes that's designation. "You're not helpless. You have an amazing gift— and maybe if you could get him in a room with you, you'd be able to tell Nathan to stand up and act like the man he's supposed to be, not the man this world turned him into." He's looking at her, as if he's trying to drop a hint without saying what exactly. If she gets it— she gets it. If she doesn't… That's fine too. He said he won't stop them.

"Right— I'm not planning anything big for a little while. I'll be contacting the Resistance soon— see if they'll take a few of my people until this blows over." Easier to just keep himself and his wife safe, isn't it?

"Daphne's got a little room - " Ali looks back up to the man, and offers him that same, wry smile once more. "She'd probably stack a few people in it. i'll meet you here in a week or so - with the cue cards. And we'll talk about it. Fair?" And she starts the somewhat difficult process, at the moment, of getting to her feet. "I'd probably just tell him to resign. Move to Iowa and raise potatoes. He'd make a pretty good potato farmer."

"You're right— he'd make a really good potato farmer," Peter says with a hint of a lopsided smile. Just a hint. It's very small, really. "A week's time with the cue cards— all right. Thanks. I'll see if Daphne'll take a few of them— if not I have a few other places they could go for the meantime. See you later." Much as he entered, he doesn't even turn or step away— he just shifts from one place to another, leaving a distorting shimmer in the air that soon fades out. As if he'd never been there. Except for the scuff of dirt on the floor where his boots had been.

"… God go with you, Peter." Ali mutters, at the space where he was, tiredly heading for the rooftop door - another of those oddly searching looks offered at the place he was, but a moment before. But.. she goes on. Home.

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