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Thread: Heroism 2.0

  1. #311
    Member JHarrisford's Avatar
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    Co-post with Serra_Angel

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    Marcus had spent the cab ride thinking over what he would need, his first move had been to inspect the flat that Allstone had purchased in town, in his name. It was...sufficient and well stocked. Not that he wouldn't bring in his own equipment. After all that was done, and only after all that was done, did he move to venture to meet the man Allstone had directed him too. When he climbed out of the cab his expletives were mild, but heartfelt.

    Marcus stood looking at the palatial manor in front of him. What a piece of over indulgence and overcompensation. Huge beyond necessity. He could hardly believe he was here. What sort of man was this Jacob Harrisford that would live in such a ridiculous place. It's not like he was the bloody queen.

    Shaking his head in a mixture of disgust at the place, and disbelief at himself for even bothering to come here, he walked up to the front door. He dressed like a brooding vampire, dark slacks and gray dress shirt and his great coat flapping behind him making him look more ominous. With his hair unkempt, his piercing dark eyes, and his aquiline features he looked darkly menacing. He didn't care. He rarely cared what others thought of him. People held very little interest to him, except on a scientific level.

    With a deep sigh he lifted a hand and rang the bell. He half expected the sound of the bell to be as loud and ostentatious as the manor. Instead it was silent...at least on this side.

    Jacob had just finished hanging up his charcoal pants and black dress shirt in the closet next to his dark grey overcoat when the doorbell rang. He frowned as he listened to Syren's rigidly sweet voice as she climbed into the shower. Without him. He quickly hurried into a beige linen suit with light blue dress shirt and fastened his cufflinks on the way into the bathroom where he ran a handful of water through his hair and re-parted it down the side, then roughed it up with his fingers. He buttoned the front of his shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone, on the way down the marble stairs, and paused in front of a mirror long enough to tuck his shirt behind his belt and tug the edges of his sleeves to perfection.

    For a brief moment Jacob pondered it might be nice to have a butler if for no other reason then to not have to sprint from his bedroom to get to the door in a timely manner. Where was Alex anyway? That would have been convenient, too.

    Jacob opened the door to a stranger.

    The man was dressed in dark clothes, almost identical to the ones he had worn only hours before. In them was someone who didn't seem particularly pleased to be here. And they say he looked broody sometimes.

    A cab sat idling in the driveway.

    He wondered.

    Jacob realized he hadn't yet greeted his guest and offered his hand. "Pardon my manners. Jacob Harrisford, and whom might you be?" He put on a charming grin and a relaxed stance. He had no idea who this man was, but until he did he would have to play his part.

    "Not a bloody tourist, if that's what your thinking," snarled Marcus, his politeness somewhat shredded thin by his discomfort and disgust at being here. He fished in his pocket and pulled out the ultra-plain 'business' card.

    "A guest to my flat gave me your card, said we might be interested in doing business. I was disinclined to believe him at first." Marcus tried to keep the annoyance from his voice and failed. Pain was seeping into the periphery of his mind and it would only make him more short tempered.

    "Bloody tourist?" Jacob echoed, concern brushing his face as he still held out his hand in the polite gesture. "I never accused you of being..." he's not American. Jacob blinked. Finding someone from his home town, at his door... He accepted the business card and glanced at it. "Allstone." Jacob whispered the name and took another moment to study the card in more detail. So he is still out there. Somewhere. Why didn't he show up this afternoon?

    "Do come in. I'll put the kettle on. Then we can talk about your business." Jacob studied the features of the strange man. The unkempt hair. The hyper-aware eyes. The strain that was apparent throughout his body. It was almost as if the man was in distress. But why? He stepped politely out of the way and led the man inside.

    "Yeah that was him. Allstone. Couldn't get the chap off my front stoop, finally had to let him in." Because he knew much of what he shouldn't have thought Marcus but he didn't voice that.

    "I understand what you mean. I tried to get him to go away, too, but he was awfully well informed. I decided to hear the bloke out." As if I had a choice, he thought, remembering their first encounter.

    Marcus stepped into the foyer and looked around. "Americans," he muttered under his breath. "Big cars, big guns, big houses, tiny dicks."

    Jacob snorted. "I suppose, though I seem to be getting use out of most of the space." He stepped into the kitchen and added water to the kettle and set it on the stove. "Ten years ago I would have laughed if someone told me I was going to buy this place." Jacob plucked the canister of tea from an overhead cabinet, knowing he hadn't bought the property for what was above ground. He was doing his best to keep his exterior light, though inside his mind he was racking his brain for pieces to a larger puzzle. Allstone's game-plan.

    "Marcus Aurelius Doyle, at your service," he said still gawking a bit at the size of the place. How many people lived here? You could shelter a small army. He pulled out another business card, his own, and handed it to Jacob. His was also very plain, but it at least had an occupation and an address, sort of. Anyone in London knew where it was so further description was not necessary...and he rarely did business outside of London.

    Marcus Aurelius Doyle
    Consulting Detective
    221B Baker Street


    He hadn't had time to make new ones for his new quarters, and new business apparently, established here in Gotham City.

    "It's a pleasure Mr. Doyle," Jacob smiled, setting two tea cups between them. He took a moment to glance politely at the card he had been given - and then did a double take. "You're joking."

    "I strike you as the joking type Mr. Harrisford?" Marcus responded in a very dry voice.

    Jacob smiled over the edge of his cup as he drank.

  2. #312
    Member Serra_Angel's Avatar
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    Marcus eyed the tea askance and then finally took a cautious sniff. "It's actually tea and not lukewarm water that tastes vaguely of grass clippings!" He was genuinely surprised. He hadn't had tea, actual tea, since he deplaned in this ridiculous country.

    Jacob's shoulders shook with genuine laughter. "Of course it's real. What kind of host do you take me for?" He mocked offense, smiled again, and took another cautious sip of hot tea. "I hate to be a bore, but I must ask what brought you here. Why did Allstone send you?" His face and posture took on a more serious tone as he set out a small amount of cream and a tiny silver bowl of sugar cubes, just in case his guest preferred them.

    “You've seen my card. I've done quite a bit of work for New Scotland Yard, and even more in the private sector. I may not be the man you want to hang around all the time, which is fine, I don't want to hang around you either. But I am very good at my job and have a reputation for discretion. I work alone, in solitude, in my own quarters. Allstone strongly suggested that I move my practice here to assist as needed with your current...how shall we say...project.” Marcus didn't elaborate further—either on the incentive Allstone offered him or his own personal reasons for coming.

    Jacob nearly sent out a witty retort, but then the gentleman's hand slipped into his coat pocket and Jacob eyed him, intensely.

    Marcus took a sip of tea and glanced around. Finally he shrugged and pulled a letter from his pocket. The envelope was much dirtied but the letter inside was clean and was only slightly crumpled. He was reluctant to discuss things in more detail here, however he also wished to be on his way and the sooner this got handled the better. Still he would let Jacob steer the conversation, if he wished to reveal more so be it. Marcus already knew much...but it was not his secret to tell and he was unsure just how safe it was to talk openly here in the kitchen.

    Jacob relaxed as he heard the sound of paper and was relieved to see the letter. Though, the last one he had received hadn't been very comforting.

    “Letter of Introduction” said Marcus as he slid it across to Jacob. “Allstone already set up a flat in town with much of the equipment I require, though I have plenty more to ship over if needed.” He sipped his tea and watched the man across from him.

    Jacob skimmed the letter, reading quickly, and then read it again while sipping his tea. His eyes glanced over the paper at the man in his kitchen who still looked uncomfortable, but content with his cup of tea. Unique talents? I wonder what those might be? There were no obvious signs of superpowers, and there was nothing in his body language that provided any clue. Still, investigation skills, chemistry skills, research skills... these were all things that the team critically needed. So how much did he, himself, really trust Jake Allstone?

    "Pardon my bluntness, but you do seem like a fellow who wishes to get straight to the point. If you've met Mr. Allstone, and you are here, there is more to you than meets the eye. The letter mentions certain...unique talents. Do these perhaps aid you in your research?" he asked.

    Marcus laughed out loud. It was a creepy sound, sort of hissing and darkly humorous.

    “I'm intelligent” he said without any hint at modesty. “In our current society that is sadly, the most unique talent I have, and its value is immeasurable. The rest” he gestured vaguely “often just gets in the way.”

    He paused and pulled out a slim cigarette case from an inside pocket of his coat. He was about to open it, looked about, then with a heavy sigh put it back. This was not the place, but he could feel the pain seeping into his bones, it would not be long before it would permeate his whole being. He could handle it for a time, but it clouded his mind so much, disturbed his focus.

    Jacob raised a brow at the lack of modesty, but apparently it wasn't false pride - and that was acceptable to him; as long as it didn't become a hindrance. Then his guest pulled out a cigarette case, looked about, and slipped it back into his coat.

    "Do you need a light?" Jacob offered, opening a few drawers searching for a matchbook. He had seen a package of them that the caterers had left last week. "I don't mind." It had been a long time since he had drawn on a cigarette. Some forty years, nearly. "I don't think anyone else is down stairs at the moment."

    “The rest is pain. It is doubtful you will find anyone who understands it quite as well as I do. That is perhaps not incredibly useful to your project, however I occasionally find it to have value.”

    The immortal frowned. Pain? Was that what he was watching? It made the way he looked, the way he moved, make sense. He forced back any feelings of pity so they would not find their way into his expression, but he couldn't help feeling for the poor man.

    If it was a chronic physical pain...Jacob was suddenly, vividly reminded of a recovered memory. The tea cup shook in his hand and he set it on the kitchen island. The desert. The heat. The blisters. The hunger and thirst. He knew he had died as he walked South, for days before he was found.

    “Thank you Mr. Harrisford but I don't smoke tobacco.” Marcus shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he felt the pain growing inside. He gave a ragged sigh and shifted to a more comfortable position, pushing the rest of his tea away, unfinished. His eyes darkened in some nearly-imperceptable way as he looked at Jacob.

    “Do you always carry your pain so close to the surface?” he asked idly as he watched Jacob.

    Jacob blinked back to the present. How had he gotten so tired that he had slipped that far into the past in front of a near stranger? He needed to take a few days off. By himself.

    It was not physical but emotional, layers of it. Marcus continued talking, not waiting for an answer. “Does it not interfere with your life? Humanity generally buries their pain, believing it to be a hindrance. They never learned how to cradle the pain of their memories, to accept it as a part of themselves. Emotional pain is a funny thing, I can take it from someone but it never seems to help, only make them bitter. One must learn to accept it on their own, a truth that few understand.” Then he shifted topics, swiftly but perfectly smoothly as if the random change didn't bother him in the least. It didn't, he was able to ponder multiple topics and thoughts at the same time, he often forgot others could not. “I shall be opening my business within the week, Mr. Allstone provided me almost everything I needed already. Except business cards as you might have noticed. With the recent news regarding the re-emergence of a team of supers devoted to protecting the world I expect business will be quite good.”
    Marcus spoke of pain in a strange way. It was casual, and yet intimate. "Pain is a part of life," Jacob said, his brain not having switched gears so easily. "It makes us what we are." He wondered if his guest wasn't about to smoke, what it was he had in the case. Medicine perhaps? "No, it doesn't always interfere with things. I'm...in a transition phase, I suppose." It was the truth, but a poor excuse for not being an attentive host.

    "I'm sure your services will be needed, and appreciated." Jacob made a mental note to have James check out his guest’s credentials later in the day. Obviously if Allstone had sent him, he was good and likely trustworthy, but Jacob wished to have his own set of information. Allstone had never steered him wrong, but he was also never forthcoming with facts.

    Marcus nodded curtly.

    “Transition phase? Interesting. You say it makes you what you are yet...” His words trailed off as he mused. “Also Interesting.” His words not judgmental or sympathetic or anything on the emotional spectrum. Instead he spoke as one might speak discussing a bacteria colony in a petri dish; clinically and factually.

    His eyes drifted to the ceiling as he thought. His thoughts veered from the topic at hand to potential research. He almost yanked Jacob's pain to himself, almost. It was such a very intimate thing, drawing another's pain into himself but it would give him answers to questions that were only now sprouting in his mind. Jacob would never do though, not now that Marcus had agreed to work for Allstone, and by extension Jacob. He would have to study further, find others in “transition” phases. Shouldn't be too hard, once he got things settled and felt like expending the energy. Plus he would do his best to make sure any research was by consent of the subject.

    “Mr. Allstone has already retained my services,” he said shifting topics again “you need merely look me up, or send a missive. Meanwhile I shall legitimize my presence by setting up a professional headquarters. We shall see if the law forces here are as welcoming, or unwelcoming, as New Scotland Yard.” He fished in a pocket again and pulled out two slim metal cases, about the size of wallets.

    Jacob laughed lightly, his shoulders bouncing once as he did. “You’ll likely find it all evens out, albeit in different areas. Americans tend to be more rigid with their rules and procedures, blinded to a fault some days, but most of them are socially lax. You’ve been forewarned.” He smiled.

    “Here,” Marcus said after glancing at the cases and selecting the one with the digital readout of “Jacob” to slide across the table. “Mr. Allstone paid me extra to deliver these. Is there someone by the name of Syren here?”

    Jacob’s smile softened almost imperceptibly. “Yes. She lives here also,” he confirmed, taking the case marked with his own name and opening it.

    The immortal pulled from it a crisp letter and unfolded it, leaning back against the stove as he began to read.

    Mr. Harrisford,
    I’m sorry for my abrupt disappearance, but there was something I needed to do. I’ve been following a handful of people who have worked with several discoveries involving the blood of the invaders. What I’m doing isn’t safe and I saw no need to risk the lives of anyone else, including Syren.


    Jacob smiled knowing that he could never reveal Jake’s clear concern to the woman he was falling for. Then why didn’t you have me go instead you bastard? There’s no reason for you to risk your own life either if that is the case!

    If you don’t receive another letter from me before the end of the year, all of the files in my room are yours.

    Jacob, beware of Marcus. He is brilliant and true to his word, however he tows the line on ethics and can easily be pushed into using less than desirable methods in order to achieve his goals. In that way he is very dangerous and should not be underestimated.

    Jake


    Jacob read over the last paragraph again and pondered on its meaning. The truth, he realized, was that this didn’t make him uncomfortable at all. In fact it could be used to achieve his own goals when he might not be able to cross certain lines in front of the rest of his team. Back at the police station a few weeks ago, he had been responsible for the death of several unknown men who were after the body of the most recent victim. He had no problem with killing evil men or using extreme tactics to gain necessary information, but that wasn’t a part of himself he ever wanted his friends, people like Shelly, to ever have to see.

    Jacob folded the letter and placed it back in the metal case, then slipped it into his pocket. “You come highly recommended, Mr. Doyle. He tells me you are a man of your word and produce results. If you ever need…anything, let me know. I’ll do what I can.” Truthfully, Jacob wasn't aware of what he was promising, ultimately, but he saw Marcus as a unique tool to be carefully utilized as needed. Still, there were many things he would need to learn about the new man first.

    "You are welcome here anytime. I'd be happy to provide you with a proper tea this weekend if you'd like. Perhaps you can meet some of my other associates? Or we can keep it more intimate if you'd prefer."

    "No. I need nothing at this moment in time." said Marcus as he rose, hiding stiffness in his body. "Thank you for your hospitality, and tea that doesn't taste like weeds soaked in piss. "

    He laid the second metal wallet, the one with Syren in the digital display, on the table. "If you would please see that the woman known as Syren gets this, I will attend to my other projects for the day that I may be free this weekend. I must admit that the idea of a proper tea would be welcome."

    Spoiler: Live a Good Life 

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