New Legacies


faron_icon.gif perry_icon.gif

Scene Title New Legacies
Synopsis Faron Mathers is sought for enlistment into Messiah, his unlikely recruiter one Pericles Jones.
Date June 15, 2010

Buffalo, New York

An autoshop garage, the place of Faron's work.

Ah, nothing like a summer swelter to keep the blood running. The streets hazed in the heat. Hard to believe that the Storm was only last winter with how hot it was then. There were talks of an Evolved who could pull such an act off, but Faron didn't like to think about it. The less reason he had to drink, the better.

The garage, oddly, wasn't cooking as it was before. Al, the owner, had been neglecting to buy an AC because of the terrifying winter, but seeing the heat as it was, there really was a serious need for it. Of course, this also meant that many people were taking in their cars to get the AC fixed. That wasn't Ron's department, thankfully, and Al was hard at work in the garage proper doing his business. Left with nothing to do, the young man stepped out for a spell, feeling a bit stir crazy in the cramped auto-shop.

The car that pulls up on the street outside might need work of its own. It's a decrepit flatbed truck, one of those interminable Fords that will rust into pieces before it stops running, with a sagging suspension and an exhaust system of the sort to make a television Native American weep. To top it off, what paint hasn't chipped from its chassis is powder blue.

The AC in this vehicle seems, however, to be working fine, considering its windows are rolled up. When one rolls down, two things emerge - the sound of David Byrne's voice strangely informing you that this is not your beautiful house, this is not your beautiful wife, and the bespectacled head of the driver, one Pericles Jones. Spotting Faron, he lifts a hand, smile friendly if maybe a little nervous.

"Uh… hi," Perry calls out over the sound of the music, "Does Faron Mathers work here?"

Faron blinks at the man who had just appeared. He leaned forward, away from teh wall he was against to approach the man. "…Yeah, that's me. What do you need help with? If it's about your car, Al's probably the one you're gonna wanna talk to." He cocked an eyebrow. "…Is there an emergency with Maddy?"

Perry blinks. He wasn't expecting such success so quickly. This is the man he was told to seek out? This is the adopted son of a hero?

It takes a split second for Perry to recover from his surprise, but when he does he disengages the gear and hauls up the parking break, the ignition turning to quiet the engine, letting the old girl rest. "Hold on," he requests. Perry opens door and hops out, pocketing his keys, moving around the front of the truck and approaching Faron, a hand extended to shake, "I'm Pericles Jones. It's… quite an honor actually. To meet you, that is."

/An honor? To meet some auto mechanic?/ Faron shook his head with a smile. "You sure you got the right guy? There's nothing special about me or anyone around me." He waved his hand, dismissing the impending hand shake. "Sorry, but I don't quite have the time to be dealing with bullshit. You need your car fixed, we can put your car somewhere."

Perry is aware only that he is Evolved. He wouldn't be here if he weren't. The nature of his gift, that which places him among the chosen, is not something he's aware of. So when he speaks, it is only with an intent to convey conviction. The subaudible frequency that accompanies his utterance is outside his knowledge… but no less effective for that ignorance.

"Please… I need just a little of your time. This is very important."

At first, Faron is about to dismiss the man again, but something in his brain decides that maybe, just maybe… "…You have my attention. What do you want?" His tone is no less friendly than it was before, maybe less so, but Percicle, or whatever this guy's name was, had his attention.

Perry takes a deep breath - not the most effective public speaking technique, but he's lucky that he doesn't need rhetoric to make him persuasive. "Your father… I don't know how much you know about what he did, what he was part of after you last saw him. So I understand if this is hard to believe, or understand, but he was answering a call. Are you… have you ever studied ethics?" Oh, okay, maybe not the right tangent to go off on…

"Ethics?" Faron cocked his head, not quite understanding where this man was planning on leading him. "No. I've only been in public school, and they only gave us the general classes. I lived as a foster kid, no way I could go to college." He glared at Perry. "And I don't like to talk about Derek. He went crazy before he wandered off to join PARIAH. He left me and Maddy alone to take care of everything after the bomb went off, not even caring about us." It was obvious he held the man in a bit of contempt.

Perry's hands move in emphatic gesticulation, and he seems to get both brighter and more focused as Faron mentions this last detail. 'Not even caring'. For some reason, this bit of information is something the young man in glasses latches onto. "It would seem like that, yes. And I can't imagine your pain. But understand that it couldn't have been easy for him either. Quite the opposite. He gave up everything he knew in a single leap of faith. That is ethical. What you saw as madness, him going crazy, was the price he paid to do what he had to do. And I know people who knew him, who saw that. He chose to give up his whole life, to die for all intents and purposes, so that he could do what he felt he must. It's frightening, but that is the very nature of ethics, to appear monstrous."

/…What the hell is he talking about?/ Faron's stance seemed to be getting more rigid, more uncomfortable. "You really think that Derek really gave half a fuck about anyone other than himself? He got himself a massive savior complex, it seemed like, but all he wanted was to glorify himself, just like you are doing to him now." It almost seemed like Ron was done with this conversation, but some part of him wanted to here more, wanted to give this guy a full chance to vocalize.

There is no way this could ever have gotten as far as it has were it not for Perry's ability. The young man's mind has been thoroughly wired to find this kind of argument convincing, with no room left open for the possibility that it just sounds insane when anyone else hears it. Convenient that his beliefs call for the appearance of madness as a sign of ethical conduct. Still, even Perry can pick up on the failure of what he imagined to be compelling reasoning to penetrate years of understandable resentment, memories of abandonment.

"I do," Perry replies, believing each word, and thus making each word that much more believable, "And I'm not alone. He left a legacy… and we think it could be yours to inherit. Of course, the choice is always yours. It wouldn't be ethical if there weren't a decision to make. But…" a pause, "Are you willing to at least find out? His cause and your cause could be one and the same. You should know, either way."

Faron stared at Perry for a moment, the cogs in his head turning. Even at this point, without the need of Perry's ability, Faron could consider. "…Pericles, was it? Odd name for someone. I want to know some things about you." Faron went back to the wall he was originally on, sliding down the brick to the ground to a sitting position. "How did you find out about me, and who sent you? There's no way on the planet that you just decided to go on a pilgramage to find some no one outside of Buffalo who is related by adoption to your 'hero'."

Perry manages a smile as his archaic name is brought up. Deep inside, there is an unpleasant twinge, as there would be in anyone who grew up named 'Pericles'. Grad school is already hell for the shy and bespectacled. "I usually go by 'Perry'," he explains, "But I didn't want to seem too familiar."

Which is a funny thing to say to someone who has just pointed out the intrusive and arbitrary way you just barged into their daily life. "I can only go into so much detail," he admits. The beauty of it is that Perry doesn't know all that much himself. A fine strategy, limiting the extent of knowledge to prevent its leaking. "I'm part of an association of people dedicated to upholding what was worthwhile about the cause your father was part of. The people who did recognize what he did as heroic, and the people who want justice against those responsible for his murder."

"So he's dead." Faron shrugged. "Can't say that I'm broken up about it. I figured as much, taht he got martyred or something." He looks at Perry. "You're dodging the question, though. I'm surprised you actually managed to convince me this far, so I suggest you start making sense quick. Let's say for the sake of this argument that I /didn't/ know what Derek's cause was. What was he trying to do? Cause change?" It should be noted that this was the first thing that popped in his head, almost as if he was hoping such at a subconscious level.

Perry's instinct is to quibble over the term 'change'. Were it not for Faron's reminder that Perry has only just managed to keep this conversation going, he would likely try and turn this into a discussion of what constitutes change versus, say, a people heroically achieving their communal destiny. Fascinating stuff if you're a wackjob. So, likely wisely, he just nods, but he still doesn't simply agree, "More than that. He knew change was inevitable. It's what will change, and what that change means that he wanted to have a hand in. The bomb, registration… these events can never be unmade. There have been and will yet be consequences. The question is: who will decide what those consequences will be. Your father didn't feel it right to sit by and let those decisions be made for him, and for so many others," a pause, "Maybe for you as well."

Faron perked up as Percy seemed to mention him. "…For me?" /Does he know? About my ability? How could he know, I haven't told anyone!/ It was obvious Faron was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as something struck a chord in him. Seems like Perry found a sweet spot. "L-legally, Evolved are supposed to get themselves registered, regardless of what they want. I don't think anyone wants to be put in jail for years."

Perry scowls, "Law is a dead letter," he says, grave, emphatic, "Without a just spirit to move it. And a body politic will sicken unless it lifts itself into action, out of lassitude and apathy. Faron, you heard of the H5n10 influenza strain? The so-called Evo-flu?"

A thoughtful look appeared across Faron's face. "I think I heard something about it on the news. Can't name what happens exactly." Faron gave him an odd look. "What makes you bring this up? You're jumping around all over the place, makes me think you're trying to make a sort of patchwork quilt of facts."

"The same government that erected the registry, the same government that had your father killed in cold blood, is responsible for the development and release of that virus," Perry says, trying to pull that patchwork a little tighter, the turns of his wandering argument slightly less disorienting, "They've made every Evolved their victim. A virus doesn't sort the just from the unjust. It was an attack on every Evolved living. So I ask… is that your concern?" Which is to say: are you one of us?

Faron looked at Perry thoughtfully. It was obvious: he knew. He didn't know how he knew, but the man knew Ron was an Evolved. He didn't feel like hiding it from someone who already knew what he was. Why waste the energy. He glanced over at Perry's wreck of a car. "…You're car is pretty messed up, Perry. First off, your serpentine belt is loose, and, most obviously, your muffler is loose. The transmission needs some serious work done to it, the spark plugs are almost out of charge, might wanna change those soon. Fuel injectors look pretty crud-covered and your pistons are covered in all sorts of rust, meaning you haven't had an oil change in a while."

Faron looked back at Perry with eyes of fear. "…Yeah, I'm one of you. In all honesty, I'm scared. Scared shitless. I don't want to be taken away if I'm deemed 'too dangerous'. But at the same time, if I don't register, they'll take me away anyways. And if I register, how will that stop the next big bad thing to happen to the world? How will that change?

That's something incredible. Not that there's so much that is obviously wrong with his truck - it takes no special power to tell that the squealing noise it makes when starting up is not a sign of vehicular health. But extending that potential to other mechanisms, to the workings of a armored truck, a tank, a piece of artillery… To effortlessly know them in a way even the most dedicated engineer could not after years and years of study…

"They make us afraid, because they live in fear themselves," Perry says, meeting Faron's eyes with a steady gaze, "What we can do, what your father helped begin and what you can help continue… they have every reason to be frightened. But that is a fear belonging to the weak, those who would rather stifle human potential than admit their own insufficiency. Last men, all of them."

Perry shakes his head, "If you take up that legacy, you won't need to register. When they come to know you, they will know you on your terms. Until then, we look out for our own." At this, Perry turns, and moves over to the open window of his car. Reaching inside, he pops the glove compartment and extracts a red scarf and a black cellphone. These objects are offered to Faron on his return, though only after a glance around. Best not to be seen, if it can be avoided.

Faron stares at the two objects for a tense moment. After a while he gets up. "…There is no legacy to pick up. Derek Mathers is dead, his tale ended." Faron reaches to grab the objects, holding in each in seperate hands. "From his ended legacy, however, a new one will begin. I don't exactly know who you work for, or what you do. However, I think we can help each other." He looks at himself, then at the cell phone. "…Am I supposed to travel with you? Am I going to act as a militia, just living life until I'm called or whatever?"

"The phone is untraceable," Perry explains, wanting to get the nitty gritty out of the way, "Speaking the name of an ally into it will automatically connect you to them, if they are there to pick up. The scarf is just a visual marker. You'll need it for when the call comes. And the call will come. Soon, most likely. We have a great deal to do. For now, though, continue your life as normal. I need to let my people know you're with us." For the second time, Perry offers his hand in a shake, hoping for more success this time, "Again, it's an honor. I am proud to have been here. This is a turning point. It is for all of us. Knowing we are not alone, and that we are far from powerless."

Faron considered the outstretched hand for a second. He put both objects in one hand, reaching out to shake Perry's, although with caution. "I hope to meet with your organization more. If I'm going to be a part of this, then I can't be left out here alone, can I?" In his mind, he was still wondering if this was the right thing to do, but he was passed the point of no return. He didn't have a choice anymore. For the first time in his life, he was part of something bigger.

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