(2016-08-23) Can't Read Pete's Poker Face...
Log Title
Summary: Pete Wisdom makes contact with John to begin a "displacement" case file.
Date: 2016-08-23
Related: http://marvelreborn.wikidot.com/log:2016-08-22-another-new-client-for-murdock http://marvelreborn.wikidot.com/log:2016-08-28-legal-referral-moral-advice
NPCs: Father Mulhaney
Scene Runner: NA
Social/Plot: Social

Homless Shelter - Chelsea - Late Evening

The problem with coming to homeless shelters late, is they're packed. Most homeless folk are busy during the day. Whether it's tax-paying jobs or street performing, outright begging or just being in New York… now, they're all here. And so is Wisdom.

After stepping inside, he quietly spoke to one of the attendants. If Johnathan Plank would have given his name to the people here, Pete would be led to him, if he were around. The attendant takes Pete to Father Mulhaney. It's obvious the Father thinks the business dressed Pete is a social services worker. After a brief interaction about their mutual acquaintance Mat Murdock, the priest explains that John has been very helpful the last few days and a model resident off and on for the last month. But the man’s behavior is odd, possibly one of those the mental system has failed. Mulhaney say John is mostly functional, has kept to himself but wakes up screaming in the middle of the night from time to time. He doesn't think he is a public danger and seems to genuinely feel sorry for the lost soul.

The Father walks Pete over to the soup kitchen lines and points out a thin tired looking man with a hair net and plastic gloves serving mashed potatoes to the ever shuffling lines. The man’s eyes glace up, transfix on Pete for a moment then he returns to work.

"Excuse me, sir," Wisdom said to the thin fellow. "Would you mind having someone cover for you for a few minutes? Mr. Murdock directed me to you, and I have a few questions if you have the time."

John listens and takes a moment too long to respond, "The law-speaker!” Another pause, “Okay, you must be whom he was referring to." His accent is not a regional dialect even Wisdom could place. He spoke fluently as if English was his first language, and it was articulate enough to insinuate the man was educated. There was a gentle timbre to it but it was odd. John asked one of the other volunteers to take his place and he removed his apron, hairnet and gloves and worked his way around the counter to the front of the line. "Where would you like to speak? There aren't a many closed-door rooms here."

Pete Wisdom's voice was a baritone and had a distinct Essex accent, including the slight lisp. "Where to? We could just walk outside," Pete said. "The streets aren't too populated at this hour."

"We can do that." John looks the entire shelter over quickly then walks to the wall edge and gently slices his way to the front door. He didn't look back to check if Pete was following. Every so often there would be a slight stagger to his step, a deliberate pause rather than a hesitation. John’s head shifted left and right in micro bursts as me moved, hard to notice but there none the less. It takes far less time following John out of the shelter than it took to push into it with Father Mulhaney. Once outside he pauses just outside of arms reach and doesn't really look at Wisdom, more rather he looks around the area as if expecting something to happen.

"The law-speaker Murdock said he was going to touch someone about my case. I need society codes and that I may not be the only one." John's voice has shifted, it starts becoming more nervous as the conversation progresses.

This man seemed completely off his rocker. Wisdom had to play it very careful, very cautious. "Society codes?" he asked the man, for clarification.

John forces himself to be still and look at Murdock. "Sorry. Social Security Codes. I don't have any papers to get any Social Security Codes. I can't get any papers to get any Social Security Codes. Something happened. I woke up in the hospital two months ago. The nurse-lady said my hometown couldn't be found. Which means my birth code couldn't be pulled up.” John forcibly exhales in frustration. He feels like he isn’t explaining himself very well, ”I can't work without codes. I can’t rent an apartment without codes. I can't get codes without papers. That’s why I went to the Law-Speaker. To help me navigate… this legal system." His voice was calm, sincere. His eyes still darted occasionally checking the walking crowd behind Murdock.

"Then Murdock is still, quite fortunately, the man to talk to. I, myself, am not a lawyer, I am an investigator," Pete said. "You said you woke up two months ago? And your hometown couldn't be found? Is this place - New York, anyway - different from what you remember?"

The wirery Irish looking man licks his lips and looks down at his hands as he begins rubbing his left wrist with his right thumb. "I'm not crazy. I went to Mr. Murdock because I know I'm not crazy, but what I am about to say is going to sound crazy." He takes a deep breath, "None of this should be here. Everything should be gone. But it's not. The storyline is even wrong. New York was here once… but that was before…" He starts to shake. It reminds Pete of some of the old War Vets having a hard time talking about a bad situation gone south… "Nothing is the same. Everything is wrong. It's all off. You people don't speak correctly, you sound weird. I don't know how to explain it." He is obviously holding back his full story.

"Then it sounds like *you* might be the one out of place, if you don't mind me saying. See, I'm aware of alternate realities. Alternate dimensions, or even timelines. There was a big to-do with all that. I don't know what, but I can tell you that the people I'm associated with are trying to get the best and brightest just to figure out what's what." Wisdom huffed. "I daresay I speak more properly than anybody else I've met, except for one man." Because no one speaks proper English like Captain Britain does.

A deep breath is taken, "Well, to me this place isn't story lined well. I see it too correctly. It's like a dream." John's eyes close for a moment as he shakes and then he exhales and calms himself. Deliberately, John crushes then picks up an empty beer can off the sidewalk. "I can see your reality Mr. Wisdom. It runs off the same rules and laws mine did. But I'm here, and so are you. Where is my world? Where are those who survived? I can't figure that out why I'm stuck here and not where I need to be."

"You're right. Because it's reality," Wisdom said. "Reality doesn't conform to the hero's journey. We're not in a sodding comic book." He listened to the man, frowning. "We're working on that. There has been some major disruption, and the people I'm working with are trying to establish connections to other realities, with the intent to send the right people home, and to bring the folks we've lost back." He clearly didn't sound happy about the circumstances.

John looks at the man as if he is about to take a calculated step, "Do you have a scribbler and a sheet of paper? And would you believe me if I said I might be able to help?"

"I do have a pen, and a notepad," Wisdom said, as he produced both from his coat. "And no, I won't believe you, because I'm sure you'll believe me when I say I'm highly cynical."

Before grabbing the pen, John casually throws the can over his shoulder, without looking, for it to land in the trashcan some eight feet behind him over the lines of foot traffic. Taking the pen and paper he walks to the store front window ledge and starts scribbling notations, "My annotations may not be what you know. But the first step to understanding how to get from point A to point B is to have reference points." Very quickly, in small short jotty notations, he pens out what appears to be elaborate math equations, "I was a researcher. We were working on making quantum measurements across realities. Parallel Computing. And this…" He flips it over, "Is what you would need to determine the frequency of a reality’s quantum probability matrix. Our frequency is probably different from yours. But it might give you a chance to build a road map." He fills up three pages back to front in short order. It's not the mad writings of a crazy person. It is coherent, but some of the symbols don't look like normal math markers. "Take that to your "best and brightest". Get me out of here when you believe me.""

Unfortunately for Pete, he was not a physicist, theoretical physicist, quantum physicist, or string theorist. He knew more about magic than he did about hard sciences. But once that was handed over to him, in short order, Wisdom gave a firm nod. "If this is legit," he said, "This is probably the most help I've had in this. All in one evening. Pardon me, but holy shit. Thanks, mate."

Johnathan Gives Pete a very strange look. Shit with holes? Mating with men? Who ARE these people? "I take it then you are like the law speaker? You can't change anything for me today?" The streets finally snatched his attention again and he is back to glancing about, keeping Mr. Wisdom in his peripherals.

"No. I cannot help you today. I'd have to get back to London. Then back to New York, likely the Baxter Building. This is, unfortunately, going to take time. Believe you me, if I can, I would like every extradimensional expat who didn't want to be here, gone." Wisdom was completely honest about that.

"What is this expat? Is it dangerous?" He is again looking very sternly at Pete. In all his head twitching, he doesn't seem to move his body much. It's like his head is on a weird sort of swivel.

"That is something that, I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you." Pete was honest about that, too. "But I will tell you this - I'm going to work with Mr. Murdock about getting you ID, and through that, possibly a place of your own. On forty-second and Fifth Avenue is the main branch of the New York Public Library. I recommend you access one of their computers… and learn about this reality, to better integrate for the time being. They'll be open tomorrow morning."

"All right, that is agreeable. The Library? The Academia House? Anything specifically I should key-type for?" Before allowing Pete the chance to answer John naturally ques up the next statement, "Since my situation hasn't changed I still need to help the father with the food platform. I will keep in touch with the Law-Speaker Murdock if you have questions about my papers. The sooner you get your "Best and Brightest?" on this, the sooner you can help me right?” He shrugs, “Is there anything else I need to do in the duration for you?" John starts making motions that he wants to go back inside.

"Just relax. Stay safe. And try to enjoy yourself. Whether for research or your own enjoyment. Walk through the parks. Walk along the river…s. It's New York!" Then he thought of something. "Oh. Look up idioms, phrases and expressions."

He nods and then starts to walk away, he turns back around after shivering. "One last thing that's bothering me since I notice you… If I may ask?" John looks like he is about to ask something very rude.

"Go ahead." Wisdom could take it. The guy was already weird enough.

"What are you? How are you a living energy conductor? Why isn’t it destroying your body?” He pauses for a breath, “It's not natural. Not plausible." John's face is deadpan, but his voice is worried.

"Welcome to this universe!" Wisdom said. "And we're all living energy conduits. We take in matter and process the energy from it, don't we?" Of course the guy was weird. But this was a new development that Pete poker-faced through, very well. Need this guy watched, safely.

Realizing he just got an avoidant answer, John turned his back on Pete with shuffling steps. It wasn't rude or dismissal, just he was done with the conversation. He then did his stepping - pause - stepping routine back into the homeless shelter.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License