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Seeking Clarification; Quicksilver [closed]
Topic Started: Jul 14 2013, 09:11 PM (401 Views)
Union Jack
Unregistered

6th June 2013, 1200hrs
S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier Interior, Thunderbolt Lockdown Corridors



Doing your duty was simple when you were able to detach your emotions from the situation and tackle the problem with a focused and single minded devotion that required very little thought. To follow the objectives one by one until finally achieving what was expected of you. As a soldier of Her Majesty's Armed Forces, as part of S.T.R.I.K.E. as Union Jack, Joey understood his role and took to it with a dedication that always gave him strength. It was so easy, when ramifications meant no personal cost beyond that of your physical self. For a time, the regenerative mutant had grown used to having very few people that he cared for attached to his world. Certainly there were figures he respected, even liked, but none that could weave a cordial of emotions on his spirit. His parents were safely removed from harm in the more sleepier setting of Kent, so the most Joey had to worry about them was if his old man was in the dog house or not. Yet coming to the United States had placed the normally reserved Chapman into a twist of circumstances that had him wrestling with convictions and consequences that though he expected to take place one day, wasn't ever truly prepared for it now.

Staring at the glare of a computer screen, hands resting atop the keys of a keyboard, Joey sat silently, lips pressed tightly together as his blue-green gaze were lost in the artificial glow of a report he was having difficulty completing. A report regarding one of the targets he had been searching for over the course of approximately three years. A report about Jac. Had the situation been different, and Jacqueline was captured in Britain, then Joey's role in whatever developments Falsworth's arrest would've taken would likely have been minimal beyond the point of her resultant incarceration. Yet because of his position within S.H.I.E.L.D. and duties to his S.T.R.I.K.E. paymasters, the Englishman was further tasked with gathering as much intelligence from the female as he could. Now forced to face the female in such a cold environment, remembering the chastity of duty became all the more difficult when the eyes you looked upon kept drawing up hidden memories that you had long considered forgotten or guarded feelings you thought were dead. Compassion was not a soldier's weapon. It only made the clarity of dedication more fraught with insecurities that could likely end up getting you or your comrades hurt.

Allowing a quiet sigh to lift from his exasperated lungs, Joey linked his fingers and then lifted them to cup the back of his neck as he continued to stare through the screen, the letters and numbers blurring into a hypnotic brightness. Separating duty and emotion when it revolved around a person who was as important to Joey as Jacqueline once was, proved a task insurmountable. On the one hand, she was a villain. Heartless and merciless who killed anyone to further her mutant beliefs. Convictions that were not only misplaced but wrought bloody and damning consequences. A criminal that deserved to spend the rest of her days in a cell that afforded no quality of life. But nothing could ever be as black and white as simply that. This wasn't just some faceless bastard that was blindly evil. It was Jac, a woman that given all the evidence was exhibiting an unshakable remorse, who found herself thrown into such a traumatic series of events, that her consciousness latched onto those she was captured amongst and became enchanted with their beliefs. Had she not been gathered amongst such people, she would probably never have exhibited such violent tendencies. Yet whilst the psychological after-effects were no doubt harrowing for the female, it did not excuse the crimes she was part of. And served as the crux of Joey's vacillation.

"Sir? Maximoff is leaving." Glancing back to the guard stood behind, Joey followed the woman's gaze into the cell Jacqueline was confined to, the female entertaining a visit by the son of Magneto. "Cheers..." Chapman mumbled, rising, having sat in the observation room to fill out the report, it was by no mere coincidence that Pietro just happened to meet with Jacqueline today. Whilst not privy to whatever conversation the pair shared, Joey wanted to talk to the man about his former lover. A man that had at one time been part of the very same vilified organisation that Jac once belonged to, and now stood shoulder to shoulder with the dedicated operatives of S.H.I.E.L.D. as a Defender. Why exactly Joey wanted to talk to him, was covered in half truths. Holding to the old verse of dedication to one's duty it might be gleamed that speaking with Pietro, a man that knew Falsworth well during her tenure with the Brotherhood might merely be an extension of one's obligations. Yet in reality the conflicted Englishman was seeking another point of view to his own ineffective understanding of how the woman he once thought so highly of, had fallen so low. Exiting the observation room only seconds after Maximoff had vacated Jacqueline's cell, Chapman quickly made after the man, raising his voice to call across, "Mister Maximoff? I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time."
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Quicksilver
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Superspeed/ Superstrength
Visiting with Jac was not something Pietro enjoyed. Not because he did not care for the girl, you understand, in fact quite the contrary. He did not like it because he did not like to see her there, in the ugly orange jumpsuit, confined to a cell. It was terrible to lock a speedster in an enclosed space. How could she run? How could she exercise her powers? He knew the hardships she was facing.

But he also knew how important what she was doing was.

So, he visited. Every day he visited, unless he was out on a mission, but that was not often these days. They were mostly confined to the helicarrier and that was nearly as bad for him as it was for Jac. These visits did them both he, he imagined, and every visit he made her understand how very proud he was of her. She would be a defender someday, like he was, and those misdeeds of her past would be forgiven. She was no madman like his father's normal lackey. No, she was just lost and angry, and that Pietro understood more than anyone truly realized.

He had left her because she was being taken to have her lunch, and there was no visiting during mealtimes. So, Pietro had bid her good bye, and reminded her that he would return the next day barring a world ending cataclysm. Then he headed out of the lockdown and into the helicarrier's working area, moving at a pace just faster than normal but still a snail's crawl compared to his normal speed.

"Mister Maximoff? I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time."

Pietro looked to the man who had called his name and then he said, "Chapman. is it? Yes, we received a briefing about you just before your arrival. What can I do for you? A moment is the same as an hour when you are as fast as I, so I am as inconvenienced by one as I am the other. How can I help you, sir?"
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Union Jack
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It came as no surprise that Pietro had been debriefed as to Joey's arrival. Working within an organisation such as S.T.R.I.K.E. or S.H.I.E.L.D., intelligence debriefings happened on a regular occurrence given the world of espionage was a constantly evolving field that could change overnight with overwhelming consequences. Especially given that Chapman had himself been appraised to Maximoff's position amongst the Defenders months in advance in correlation with S.T.R.I.K.E.'s own update on the status of the Brotherhood and more importantly its pockets of cells within his homeland that had become ever more paramount in the weeks after the madbomb detonations. That itself a logistical minefield in terms of security and counter-threat assessments.

The terrorist group had its influence felt across the world. Joey himself had some knowledge of the various cells that had taken root in Britain itself, mostly considered to be in the East End of London, yet the sphere of influence went much further. The rhetoric had tendrils that had drawn impressionable minds in Glasgow, Manchester, Newcastle and Belfast. Keeping tabs and having concrete intelligence to use against such an underworld organisation was rife with inconsistencies. Gaining access to the group fraught with difficulties, and the masterminding of infiltrating the mutant terrorists near impossible thanks to the mandate of re-education and suspicion surrounding new members.

For the past few years Joey himself had been working more indirectly on rooting out such units, assisting counter-terrorism special operations whilst his search for the Falsworth siblings carried forward at a snail's pace that had resulted in many frustrated dead ends. A fruitless search that had seen him deployed at Calais, Paris, Amsterdam and Bruges as well as unrewarding investigations in London, Dover, Liverpool and Birmingham were time consuming and costly. It was why the recent capture of Jacqueline was so important to Britain. It was seen as a breakthrough that could help dislodge the sphere influence that the Brotherhood had enjoyed in all the years since Magneto and his Acolytes had begun their path of terror.

It might also serve in the possible apprehension of Exodus.

Though the result for Joey had far more personal consequences beyond that of hopeful possibilities of Jacqueline's cooperation. Approaching the son of Magneto, the Englishman nodded, extending his hand by way of polite greeting whilst he responded, "That's righ', hope you don' mind me interrupting your day..." It was less a question in truth, the spy had planned to find Pietro at the earliest convenience, for right or wrong, duty or personal desire, the position he felt himself now at left the Englishman with a narrowed perspective that had done little to set his conflictions at ease. "How is she?" Chapman asked tentatively. The question no doubt pointless, but nonetheless actually stemming from his once deeper feelings.

"I was hopin'..." Joey paused, nose wrinkling at his wording of what he wished to ask, his sentences reflecting his unease at the lack of tact he was about to use. "There's not really an easy way to ask this, so excuse-me manners as it'll be blun'... I'd like to talk abou' your time in the Brotherhood, with Jac. Why she would find 'erself drawn... to those convictions and... and beliefs. From what I've been led to believe, you and Jac were-are close. I feel you migh' have a be'er understanding of her situation than me having experienced i'for yourself..." Joey sighed as he finished. Yeah there really was no easy way to go about this, not exactly the best front foot forward in getting to know your new peers.
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Quicksilver
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Superspeed/ Superstrength
Quicksilver stopped in the hasty walk he was using to make Chapman hustle beside him, and he turned to look at the English superhero, "Mr. Chapman, are you a mutant? Do you understand the war declared upon us? Humanity would have us in camps, at best, murdered in our beds, at worst. They hate us and they fear us, and there's little we can do to change that opinion. Ask Spitfire how she came to be part of the Brotherhood, how her life was saved by them when Shield was ready to capture her... or worse. You don't seem to understand, sir, that the work my father is doing is at the end of it all meant to further our people. Magneto believes he is a patriot for mutantkind and name me a revolutionary who was able to fight his oppressors without being called a terrorist by those he has not yet overthrown."

He began to move again but this time at an excrutiatingly slow pace so that Union Jack could keep up with him easier. "I am not my father's favorite child... if he has one. I have not been able to ever coax a pleasant word from him, a moment of pride, respect, never would he say that he loves me, and I have abandoned all hope of receiving those things, yet... Jac was able to get them all, and she was able, where I was not, to temper his rage. He is not a terrorist because he enjoys the act of murder. He saw his people lined up and slaughtered once before, thrown into camps and starved to death, worked to death, beaten to death, because they were of the wrong race. How can he not fear this will happen again? And, this time, the enemy race is not a weak human one filled with frightened grandmothers and beaten down fathers. Mutantkind is superior, and if Humans have decided that they wish our extinction, it is an declaration of war."

Pietro shook his white haired head, and said, "Jac is a girl of strong convictions, and I love her only slightly less than I do my dear sisters. She has seen me through madness, through my own incarceration, and supported me when I was incapable of supporting myself. There is nothing I would not do for her, and the fact that she has allowed herself to be placed in a cell where there is no room to run speaks volumes about her quality of spirit. A speedster is only ever captured when they want to be."
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Union Jack
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The quickness that Pietro was walking took some strides to get used to, causing Joey to feel like a small child at first, hurrying with small rapid steps in order to keep up with an adult until the speedster abruptly stalled, turning to look upon him. It took a pace or two for Chapman to realise, the silver-haired mutant that swift in his movements, but any malaise certainly wasn't displayed as the Englishman remained quiet, listening to the insight, almost challenge that Maximoff gave light to. Frowning at the question, the indications and opinion worded drew on deep rooted concerns that Joey had first hand experience of thanks to the world shifting events of twenty-ten. With surprisingly precise accuracy, Pietro perhaps unknowingly described a perfect image of the landscape that was the World Without Xavier, down to the murders and death camps, the hate and fear that had gone out of control and had become mindless and sickening in his own beloved Britain.

Yet Joey had to believe that the horrors he witnessed would not come to pass in this world, that whilst tensions were at their limits, that something would keep the world coming undone and resorting to such extreme measures. As naive as that was. "I am a mutant, sir." The Englishman began, it no doubt known to those that read the file pertaining to his position as Union Jack would know that Chapman himself had a regenerative ability, though Joey himself was not vocal about such things. The British public needed to believe that Union Jack was immortal, to lift confidence as an unstoppable fighter for the common good. If it was an advantage in the field then so be it, but that belief that Jack couldn't be killed meant that Chapman himself never mentioned his mutation outside of official circles. It was good that Joey appeared as just a simple, hard-working lad, born to a Docks worker. It aided the distinction that Joey was no more super than any average man, and could never be Union Jack.

A truth the Kent-born lad never shared with anyone that didn't have high-level clearance, which meant even his parents had no inclination. He was just Joey the soldier. Yet whilst he believed in communion, he seemed to practice exclusion.

"But I do not see myself as defined by my mutation." Had the mutation surfaced earlier in his life, perhaps his views would be different. "I see myself defined by who I am, my dedication, hard-work and honesty. Maybe I am unable to make that distinction between 'us' and them' because I've not fel' it..." He frowned. Jac had mentioned in the conversation they shared that Joey was part of the 'human army'. At first he hadn't really taken it to heart, too many things were going on in that conversation for those few words to catch his attention, yet the more he thought about that difficult reunion, the more those words offended him. Chapman was bloody proud to be part of the British Army and now its Intelligence Service. He loved serving his country. Somehow, with just that simple judgement, that pride felt tainted. The British Military served and protected the British people. Man, Woman, Black, White, Christian, Muslim, Mutant, Human, there was no difference in Joey's eyes. A belief he wasn't going to yield.

"Or perhaps I don' see there any difference between mutant nor humans. We all bleed red and wipe our arses the same way." He bluntly added, crude but certainly not meant to offend. In the British Military, you tended to call it by how it looked.

Nodding quietly as Pietro referred to Jacqueline's brush with S.H.I.E.L.D. in the weeks after the Apocalypse, Joey's expression settled in a regretful condemnation as he hung on every detail that Maximoff divulged. That revelation was a truth that hadn't been shared with S.T.R.I.K.E. and did affect Joey's view on not only how Jacqueline came to be where she was, but of America's and Britain's relationship. Having only recently seen it, the Englishman was still finding himself unable to swallow that injustice. Typical of the view many British soldiers had of the Yanks. When you needed tact, they used a sledgehammer. The term friendly fire brought up a surge of other memories as well. It was a bloody travesty what had happened, and condemned Jacqueline to a future of severe consequences that had things been handled far more considerately, she would never have chosen. Or he hoped at least.

The term 'patriot for mutant-kind' resonated with Chapman as the two men began to walk once more, although this time at a speed that was certainly affording more to Joey's sensitivities, though not that he noticed. Too engaged in the conversation, appreciative of the honesty given and unique insight that Pietro offered, Union Jack was fully absorbed in the frank exchange of views. For once it almost felt like being at home talking to Stewart. "But by employing these tactics of aggression i'only serves t'escalate the confrontations between those tha' adopt such extremist views, thus further dividin' those tha're mutants from the grea'er society. To try t'enforce change this way only pours oil on the fire. Someone throws a rock a'a mutant, the mutant throws a bus a'the human, i'won' end there. Such inflictions only cause more pain, resen' and hate and serve to invite more severe repercussions."

Gone with the conversation, Chapman was hard pressed to notice how far they had walked, as he continued his musings, "Yet by making tha' distinction, tha' mutants are superior, why does your father not realise tha' in some ways, he is becoming tha' which he despises? Hitler once rallied together the supposed master race, now he's doing the exact same thing. Sure there are those with wondrous abilities, but we're all gifted. By making it 'us' and 'them' he only instigates subjugation." Maybe it lie in that inability for Joey to see himself as anything else but Joey, that the Englishman struggled with Jacqueline being swayed into the Brotherhood, albeit pushed as she was. They had both learned from their families about the Second World War, at one time during their adolescence, the two friends believed in things that were the same.

Yet circumstances were now changed irrevocably it seemed. Shaped by the different paths, that Joey was only really beginning to comprehend of his former lover, "But self-image might not be accurate when dependant upon your own philosophy..." He muttered, "A villain crafted by an intolerant world tha' doesn' understand having no' experienced i'for themselves..." Sighing, Joey reacted to his own insight with an uncomfortable glance away from Pietro, unsettled by his own discomfort at how he handled his reunion with Jacqueline. "Bugger." Mumbling under his breath, when the silver-haired man began to speak about the girl Chapman was once so close with, who was now incarcerated in a dreary cell, Joey brought his gaze back. It was good to hear a first hand account. A witness to Jacqueline during such a time that reports and intelligence just simply didn't offer.

"Yeah, she was always 'trouble'." Joey smiled a little as he reminisced. Things certainly weren't as black and white as it seemed when Joey was handed the unenviable task of finding and capturing Jacqueline and Brian Falsworth. In all the months since the agent had frequently found himself operating more in the grey for the good of his country. Shadows where Joey was willing to go to, to carry out duties to his country, to his beliefs in the home he identified so strongly with. Perhaps for Jac, she was only doing the same for a group inflicted upon her. It certainly didn't mean she had accounted for what she had done by giving herself up, but maybe it was the start of some sort of atonement. That his Jac was there it was just skewed under circumstance.
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Quicksilver
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Superspeed/ Superstrength
"But I do not see myself as defined by my mutation." Had the mutation surfaced earlier in his life, perhaps his views would be different. "I see myself defined by who I am, my dedication, hard-work and honesty. Maybe I am unable to make that distinction between 'us' and them' because I've not fel' it..."

Pietro stopped dead in his track and listened to the nonsense that came out of this man's mouth. He looked at him dumbfounded as this guy expounded on his idealistic views on how we are all one people or whatever foolishness he was saying. He reminded Pietro quite a bit of Alexander Summers and for a moment he wondered that even after everything this world had been through that there were still people like this.

Finally, he said, "What world do you live in, Mr. Chapman that such a wonderful place exists where a man is judged on his deeds and not his mutation? Do not presume to lecture me about my father's crimes. I was in his service not because I wished the domination of humanity, but in an attempt to stop him from becoming what it was he has become. You have clearly never felt the presence of my father, and how when he speaks to the young and frightened what he says promises an end to fear. You may have been fortunate enough to pass for human, to convince the world that you are simply a talent human, but many are not. What of them? Have you ever had a brick thrown at your head by someone whose life you have just saved? Have you ever held your mother's dead body and known that she was stoned to death for the crime of bearing mutant children? Until you have, you have no right to pretend there is no 'us' and 'them.' Humanity made that division, not mutantkind."

Pietro glared at the other mutant, wondering how old the young man, not much Pietro's junior, but though he might have seen war, he seemed very innocent and unworldly to the speedster. He sighed though, and held up a hand, "Forgive me," he said, the closest thing to an apology he ever made, "I am a man of passion, and my father is one of those things that gets my ire up. Magneto could be a savior, has been a savior, but anger and thoughts of vengeance have stripped him of his... well, I suppose humanity is the word, though to say so makes it sound as if mutancy is equal to inhumanity."

After a momentary pause, as if trying to clear a foul wind from the air, Chapman turned the topic back to Jac. "She is a speedster, sir," Pietro said, puffing out his chest with pride, "We cannot help but move and often that means we step where we are not supposed to step. That is why she is who she is. If you have been honored enough to know her, then you are lucky indeed. I have seen her risk her life to save the world, and I am proud to count her in my clan."
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Union Jack
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Stopping dead, Joey could tell he had struck a nerve in the silver-haired male as soon as Pietro brought his sharp gaze back to look upon the Englishman. Eyes dark with whatever having been said clearly serving to antagonise the man's pride. Sometimes though, that was the way things had to be done and Joey was no shrinking violet. Standing his ground, brows creased though not intending to be aggressive, Chapman remained silent as Maximoff responded, the man close to admonishing him for his outburst. Yet for all that was said and done, the Englishman continued to listen and absorb what he could, only deeming to vocalise his own thoughts once the man had finished. "Mister Maximoff, I do not mean t'presume anything. If I've over stepped me bounds then say an' I'll apologise." Voice level as he spoke, Joey's blue-green gaze remained level on Pietro's stare.

"Qui'e simply, I've never been in a position to question a member so close t' the top of the brotherhood hierarchy, let alone Magneto's actual son. You're right I haven' been in the presence of your father and do no' come from a place where I was ever pu' in a situation to be captured by his spill." Hands balled into fists and shoved deep in his pockets, Chapman occasionally gestured with his shoulders as he replied. "Had I no' said anything about my mutation, i'would be hard for anyone to look upon me and think mutant, and because of tha' compared to others, I am fortunate. Bu' before my mutation surfaced, I had already served in the British Armed Forces, something I worked sodding 'ard and tirelessly for. An 'onour I would not 'ave had if not for that 'ard work. So I 'ave truly believed that if there is something from life you wan', then you work bloody 'ard and maybe one day you'll 'ave i'."

It was his way for so long, that it was hard for Chapman to not feel that some things in life could be resolved with a kick up the ass and some elbow grease. Born thanks to his mother's views on politics no doubt, often sat in her company you'd be hard to prove she couldn't solve every problem in the world by tea time. But beneath that idealism lurked memories that the Union Jack wanted to protect from everyone. Life for a mutant in the World Without Xavier simply wasn't life. It was extinction. "As idealistic as that may seem, I'm not blind. We are staring at a future that holds serious pitfalls we won' ever get up from." Chapman's voice grew lower, hardening, brows furrowing the more he responded as those dark memories surfaced from within. "I know very bloody well how i' feels to be hunted for what you are, I've seen the very worst of it an' it is a hell that I will do anything to preven'."

"But in this world there is still hope, and I place my 'naive' faith and 'idealistic' beliefs in this world and its sense of compassion t'not give in t'such extreme radical views as we 'ave come through the darkest of times before." Slowly his feet found themselves moving once more across the stale metallic flooring, for the first time his gaze had lowered and departed that of Pietro's stare. Chapman very rarely opened up regarding anything to do with what happened to him in 2010, and whilst he gave away very few details of what he saw, the effect the memories he had on his thoughts still troubled him even now. To prevent that future from taking place in this world wasn't simply duty. It was a must. Gradually, Joey found his voice once more, as he sombrely spoke up yet still kept his gaze to the distance. "Every generation has its own revolution. The Spring of Nations, the Fall of Tzars and Defeat of the Third Reich...the Civil Rights Movement and the End of the Cold War, each generation has its rebellion against what is wrong in society. Now it's our turn..."

Sighing, Chapman muttered under his breath as he ran a hand through the back of his hair, angling his elbow awkwardly up to the ceiling, "Just bloody hope that we can keep it from all going tits up."

Glancing back to Maximoff as the man apologised, Joey's expression drew more welcoming, slowly burying the raw memories of a world where mutants were hunted beneath the surface once more, enabling him to form a small wry smile as he shrugged. "You got nothing to apologise for Mister Maximoff. I sought your opinion and you gave i'. No bullshit or daisies. And I honestly appreciate tha'. Lets me have a glimpse of things in this world I've yet to understand, and the insight to perhaps, one day, do so." Sometimes protocols and etiquette needed to be left at the door, niceties and manners though appreciated could often coat what needed to be heard with what one might think others would want to hear. Save for a few feelings and protecting the ever delicate sensitivities. Sure for some it might be needed, but Joey sought the insight as cold as it was, and needed it that way. Best to be brutally truthful than to politely lie.

As Pietro spoke of Jac, that wry smile couldn't help be impressed and slowly curl into a small smirk, though it was still tampered by the inner conflict of trying to find an equilibrium to the problems she represented. "Risk her life to save the world?" Joey chuckled, though clearly wanted to know more with both brows lifted, "The only time I saw her risk her life was t'bunk fifth period maths so she could sneak out and join the line for tickets to see Bon Jovi over at Wembley. A long line of middled aged women still caught in the eighties with big hair, bright red lipstick and shoulder pads, and there in the middle was a blonde fifteen year old girl with do-it-yourself shredded jeans and a school blouse knotted over her brother's Franz Ferdinand shirt..." Pausing that smirk grew into a grin, "...thinking about i'...she'll probably marmalise me for telling you that!"

Glancing back behind him towards the area the Falsworth female had been incarcerated, Joey caught himself thinking further, before he gave light to such thoughts, his features firming once more as he looked to Pietro, a man that had stood for the Brotherhood and now was part of the Defenders a man Joey himself had to now trust. "I can't help wonder though if we know two very different Jac's. Some of what she has done I find hard t'accept, le' alone understand. And I've known her since...since we were both kids... I thought this would be easier, instead it feels like... I dunno. Like the ball's stuck in the mud no mah'er how 'ard you kick i'."
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Quicksilver
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Pietro looked at the Englishman for a very long time, all of about seven seconds, but for him it was a lifetime. He carefully weighed his words and then he said, "When my sister and I 'evolved' at sixteen, we spent years wandering the hills and mountains of Transia. We roamed through Transylvania, Symkaria, Serbia, Romania, hiding from the world because we thought our powers a curse and a punishment. To make matters worse, we are Roma, gypsies, and there are few places in this world that welcome my people with open arms. But, my sister was sick though, her abilities hurt her, made it hard for her to see the world as she once did, and I, who had always been cared for by her, was suddenly her caretaker, and not a very good one. I had never hunted. I had never built a fire. I had no idea how to survive in winter. As the first snows of winter fell, I knew that I could not keep her alive in such dire circumstances."

He thought about that time, and there was a distance in his voice, in his eyes. Pietro Maximoff had very few things in his world that he considered precious, but his twin was one. "Do you know where we found refuge during the winter? In Doomstadt, under the protection of Emperor Victor von Doom. His lands were opened to gypsies during the harshest of seasons, and the Emperor himself made certain food and warm clothes were distributed to those who had none. The man now leads the Illuminati, intends on conquering the world, but still, he remembers his roots as a poor gypsy and does what he can."

Shaking off his melancholy tone, Pietro focused back on Chapman and said, "Not all actions one makes are the right ones. There are factors and personal histories that must be taken account of. Doom remembers being the lowest, and so seeks the highest. My father has seen his people slaughtered in camps, and so will become what he hates to prevent his race from extinction. And, Jac was rescued by darkness and so for a time believed that there was her place. But I have seen her rush into danger to save others, myself included. I have seen her use her speed to save life after life in times of trauma and disaster. I have stood beside her while she saw the result of the abuse of power and the madness of rage. The girl you knew was a child. I know a woman, who has learned that there is more to being a mutant than power."

Turning away, Pietro said, "I will stand beside Jac whenever she needs me to. I will support her when she does good and I will stop her if she does bad. She is now of my clan, and she has earned her place there. You would do well to stop your judgments and approach her as with a clean slate. After all, if your mind is closed, what right have you to have your mouth open?"
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