2008-07-09: Telegraph From The Future

Starring:

Jack_icon.gif Sophie_icon.gif

Guest Starring

FuturePeter_icon.gif

Summary: A living message is delivered to Jack, prompting him to take sides and take action.

Date It Happened: July 09, 2008

Telegraph From The Future


The Den - Brooklyn

Though the doors aren't locked, the Den is still technically closed. Jack and Trina haven't exactly been up to serving customers as of late. Inside, the pub is dimly lit. Somehow, the semi-darkness feels in keeping with the proprietor's mood.

Still strapped into his wheelchair, Jack is seated at one of the scarred, burn-pocked tables with a mostly empty bottle of bourbon in front of him. With Trina's help, he managed to wiggle into a fresh pair of slacks and an undershirt in matching tones of grey. His heavy back brace is belted over the top. It's a pinching, confining thing that he's quickly grown to hate. There's a cigarette between his lips and a look of concentration on his face as he worms a wire brush down the barrel of a large, battle-scarred revolver.

Sophie has an intent look of concentration as she walks down the street, looking from street signs and numbers on doors to a paper she holds in her hand. As she always is, these days, despite the hot temperatures, she is dressed in long sleeves, high neck, long pants and gloves. The only concession to the heat is lighter weight fabrics and lighter colors. Finding the pub, finally, with some relief, she looks at the dim lighting with some concern. But, it can't hurt to try, right? She raises a gloved hand and raps

Sighing wearily, Jack leaves off from his work, rolls back from the table, and wheels himself to the door to shoo off another potential customer. Even if he were able-bodied, he wouldn't be in the mood to mix drinks and make meaningless small talk. It's a bit of a stretch for him to reach the handle, but he manages. He opens the door a few minutes and peers out at the new arrival. "We're closed," he says gruffly. "Try Sullivan's. Two blocks down and 'cross the street."

Sophie looks at you, at a lower angle than she expected then a quick glance to her paper. She gets a sort of inward look, as if sorting something out and she says, "Jack? You're Jack, aren't you? Jack Derex? Oh.. I'm sorry." a bit abashedly, "I'm Sophie Petrov. I.. was sent her by Peter. He..mmm.. has a message for you?"

The only betrayal of Jack's surprise is a slight widening of his good eye. At close range, it's apparent that his other eye has been damaged. It's bloodshot and murky, despite the time that's passed since it was nearly gouged out.

"C'mon in," the crippled criminal says, swinging the door wide and then turning to wheel himself back to his table. The revolver he was cleaning is pushed aside and he takes a long, bracing drink from the bottle of bourbon before offering it to Sophie. Forgotten, the cigarette he still has clenched between his teeth drops a long column of ash into his lap. "So, what's this message y'have for me?"

Sophie gasps, softly and she says, "You're hurt." yes, understatement. "Is there anything.." then she shakes her head, and says, as if to herself, "No, I'm sorry, I got distracted. Yes, message. Its kind of hard to explain, but, well.. I am sort of carrying the message, in the form of a memory. I can.. give it to you directly, but I'd have to touch you. I mean, your arm or something." blushing now a little, "If that would be alright?"

Jack stubs his cigarette out on the tabletop and lets out a dry, raspy chuckle. "Relax, girly. So. You're one of us, then?" There's no mistaking the inflection on the word 'us.' He takes another drink from his bottle, sets it down on the table, and offers his hand. "Nevermind. I'll find out for myself. Just don't go rootin' around my brain while you're droppin' off your message. You're liable to bump into things you won't like."

Sophie pulls off a glove, rubbing her hand against her pants automatically. Nobody wants a sweaty palm. She says, sincerely, "I wouldn't do that.. well, intentionally, it'd be wrong. And.." she takes a breath, "Nevermind.." no need to let him know what she's seen already. She merely walks forward, saying, "Try to relax, it can be a little intense for some people." as she gently reaches out, sitting at the nearest available spot as she takes Jack's hand.

Sophie pauses before touching the fingers and says, "You know about what some people can do, so I don't know if you met THIS Peter, the Peter from, well, he's not from now, he's from the future." Even knowing what she knows, and what he knows, it is still hard to say and think you'll be believed.

"Yeah… I've met him," Jack replies. "More than once. He traveled back in time to save my life when I was just a boy. Came back again to ask me for help, but I screwed it up. Personal problems. Same ones that landed me in this chair."

Whatever misgivings Jack might've had have vanished. Despite all the things he's done, Peter has saved him. Saved his life, saved him from himself, saved him from despair. "He told me that we worked together in the future. I taught him how to fight. How to survive. I owe him. He's saved me from… Well. It's complicated. Let's just say that he gave me a chance to live my life as a free man instead of a slave. He's my best friend. Both Peters are."

Sophie's eyes close and nods, "He.. the future one, he's gone now. He must've known it would happen. Which is why he gave me the messages. So that, when the time came, he could tell people what he wanted, or needed, them to know. There couldn't be more than one here for long.. and the future that made him, that's what he wanted to change." her eyes, opening, fill with tears. She takes a breath, "You needed to know who.. which one sent you the message, and why."

Jack sucks in a deep breath and nods. It's true that either Peter could've sent him a message. Knowing which and why is important. He owes the two Peters more than he can express. His voice catches around the lump in his throat as he presses his palm against Sophie's. "Go on, do it."

As soon as their skin touches, there's something that rushes out of nowhere. It's like a vision, or a fever dream. Mostly audible and visual, but there's some physical sensation. Not much.

Heavy breathing, like the end of an exercise. Bent over, the visual seems to be looking at the floor of a building, sleak and dark, with sweat and blood smeared on it. The whole place looks familiar— and when the eyes shift up, hooks hanging from the ceiling would tell Jack where it's supposed to be. It would seem very much like it's the aftermath of a sparring session.

Jack leans down and offers Peter a hand up. "You're getting better, kiddo. I'll give you that. You're still telegraphing, though."

A swipe of a hand over the eyes looking out, before the hand reaches up and accepts it, gripping tightly and getting pulled to his feet. "Pretty easy to read— Nathan always accused me of that," he says, voice Peter's, but hoarser, deeper. The memory isn't just visual, but also emotional. Respect and trust coming out. At least the pain's faded.

"Since the people I'm trying to get to have ways around abilities… your help means a lot." There's unspoken words that flicker through his mind. Even with all the powers in the world, it doesn't change that he needs to learn how to handle himself without. The respect and the friendship shared between them permiates through the vision.

Jack smiles warmly as he hauls his sparring partner upright. "You know me, man. Anything for the cause. Besides, I owe you." His affection mirrors Peter's, but more gruffly. He slaps the smaller man on the back. "Just remember, any weapon you have is one that somebody can take away from you. Your body is the only weapon that you can truly call your own."

"I get that," Peter says quietly, thoughtfully, a hint of loss coming off of him as he must have thought back to all of the things he'd lost recently. So much loss. So little that he'd managed to hold onto. "Getting me prepared for the time when I got nothing left except me… and the causes I need to fight for."

As everything fades away, the hooks shift once, before the memory settles in and disappears, the lingering feeling of trust and affection staying behind for a time after the more visual aspects fade.

Sophie gets to experience them again, each one that is delivered. It can be draining, but, in some cases, satisfying. Most of these have been so far. She lets her hand drop from his, letting Jack process the experience.

It takes Jack a while to assimilate the memory. It's shocking at first, but that quickly wears off, leaving him with a broad, genuine smile on his face. "Man, I love that kid," he murmurs. "Trust him. Whatever he asked, whatever he needed, just trust him. I think I know what I have to do."

Suddenly frustrated, he pounds a fist against one of his lifeless thighs. "Gotta get these to work first, though. Anyway, you said he's gone? What about the other Peter? The one from our time?"

Sophie has to hesitate, then she says, a hint of a smile in return changing to more solemn notes. "I agree with that. But.. about our Peter? He is being confined, from what I hear. This Peter, I mean the one from the future, he said to NOT release him, not yet. Of course, I think I understand that. There really couldn't be two of them running around at the same time, in the same places. Surely that can't apply any more, especially since.." she shakes her head at the thought, "I have a message for HIM, too." she looks at the legs, then she says, hesitantly, "I think I know someone who can..help. Maybe. They can heal, at least. I don't know about that much, it is a lot, but I can at least ask."

"Funny. Somebody else made me the same offer. Said he had a friend who could heal me. Never got a name, though. I wonder if you guys are talking about the same person?" Suddenly weary, Jack drags a long-fingered hand through his unkempt hair. "Whoever it is, better sooner than later. If Peter's being held, we have to get 'im back. Legs or no legs, you can count on me."

Sophie nods, 'I'll see what I can do. Yes, now that there's no conflict, we should get on that. Well, you guys." she smiles a touch ruefully, "I'd probably not be much help with that kind of thing." as she slips her glove back on.

Jack nods as well. "If Peter trusts you, then I trust you. Whoever you've gathered up, tell 'em they can meet me here. Even if we can't get me on my feet, I can help with equipment, prep, planning." Already, his mind is racing. Questions. So many questions. "I'll need all the information you have on where he's being held and who has him. We will get 'im back."

Sophie nods thoughtfully, "Did he tell you about the greater mission? Did you hear about Pinehearst, and what they are doing?"

"Pinehearst." Jack grimaces around the word as if it leaves a particularly foul taste in his mouth. "I should've known. Yeah, I've got the scoop. So we bust in, break Peter out, and then all we have to do is put a stop to the most dangerous group of bastards the world has ever seen." Shaking his head and sighing ruefully, he continues. "All in a day's work. Man, we've got a lot to do. When this over, I'll be sleeping like a Chinese whore."

Sophie blushes and blinks, "I.. suppose so. But yes, there's quite a bit to do." she admits, "And I don't know if we can, but I know we have to try."

"Damn right we do." Jack says quietly. He looks up at Sophie and smiles. "Thanks for delivering the message. Now go on, get outta here. Talk to your friend, try and get my legs back for me. I need to think for a bit. If anybody needs me, you can find me here."

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