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A Little Priest; Captain America
Topic Started: Sep 17 2013, 02:07 PM (246 Views)
Spitfire
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Superspeed with Pyrotechnic Effects
Date: June 15th
Time: 1245




Spitfire was beginning to wonder if part of her punishment...sorry...rehabilitation was to see the minimum amount of people possible. After Joey’s visit, that hadn’t been too much of a bad thing. But, even as much as she loved Pietro and enjoyed seeing him when he could come to see her, life was...dull. Her quickfire brain needed stimulation beyond that of a normal young woman and books were slowly piling up and up and up in her cell. Other than the prison issue clothes she wore, they were the only things she currently ‘owned’. They let her out for exercise of course, but she wasn’t at a summer camp and so, for most of the time, she was shoeboxed away in some half-forgotten corner of the old Thunderbolts lockdown. Maybe a year or two ago she’d have been conscripted into their service, but somehow even now that did not seem appealing to her. Of course she couldn’t stay as she was forever, but that didn’t mean that atoning as a pet prisoner was something that felt right for her. So for now that left her to a lot of sit ups and reading the Discworld series for the tenth time.

Suffice to say, mealtimes were one of the best times. One of the very best things was that she could not be underfed. Mutant or not, there were still rights that had to be upheld. It wasn’t a daily international food party, but whoever was in charge of overseeing her culinary delights was making a fairly good effort to provide the young Englishwoman with home comforts at least a couple of times a week, and there was always plenty of tea for her to drink at meals as well. Jac assumed this was due to some sort of good behaviour and she assumed this meant basically not trying to kill anyone or break out.

Sat alone in a long but narrow room, the platinum haired girl poked at the pile of mashed potatoes on her plate that went with the chicken and gravy, two plates of bread and fruit close by as well as water and tea. It wasn’t exactly a ‘bad’ day, but it was a day when she had too much time to think and not enough to do to stop herself from thinking. When she had been living in the Savage Land, the former Acolyte had often been guilty of thinking too much about what had happened, had she messed up and gotten it all wrong, but now? Now she had her former life to think about, how she had absconded, was Joseph alright, where had Magneto gone, what had happened back in January…

That especially. Turning her fork over, she poked at the table with the bottom of the handle. It still felt like a weird dream, even now. Spitfire wished she could have the physical proof of the event, but the beret and her Grandfather’s dagger had been entrusted to safekeeping before she had handed herself in. After all, it wasn’t like SHIELD would have let her keep the weapon and Jim wasn’t going to lose it. Not after...Well, that was another weird thing to think about on top of everything else, but at least she now knew why she produced fire when she ran.

There was a buzzing sound, followed by a series of very loud clicks and the door came open, causing Jac to look up in surprise. “Hey, my lunch isn’t over yet. I still have fifteen minutes, I know my rights - oh. Um. Good afternoon.”
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Captain America
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You think this letter on my head stands for France?
He sat his tray down and took his seat without any air of pomp or circumstance, and a quiet and hissed noise of discomfort seemed to slip from between his lips when he sat straight, the injuries of the last half year better but not completely healed into nothingness. Still, his face was not overly grim nor shadowy, and if one would have asked him, he would have told them simply that today was a good day.

"Hello."

By good he would mean quiet. The Illuminati seemed on the run, SHIELD and other institutions putting a crackdown on the criminal forces outbound on the orders of Omega Red and they'd put heavy moves on Zebediah Killgrave's web of lies. They'd yet to catch any of the big fish; the Spirals or the Namors or the Exoduses, but he was optimistic and hopeful. After Barnes and 'Lukin', what more could he do? Steve Rogers was far from perfect, but he was sure he could try to find a silver living, even where there seemingly never had been anything of the sort.

"I'm told," he started, talking between bites, careful not to speak with his mouth full. "That I. Owe you a large debt of gratitude for all that unfortunate business a few months ago."

He looked across the table at Falsworth. The girl was the grandson of one of his dearest friends. Steve's memories of that night were hazy at best, but now, with the tampering that had taken place, well, it was even worse. He wondered just how much he owed her, just how much everyone here owed her, or any of the men and women who'd traveled back to save the future from the past.

"So." He began again. "Thank you, Miss Falsworth."
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Spitfire
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Superspeed with Pyrotechnic Effects
So, first Joey and then Tommy and now… Idly, Jac wondered if there was any significance in it and more importantly, if a couple of muppets were going to be her next visitors. But Captain America? She hadn’t seen this one coming. A blush started to spread across her face and down her neck, illuminating the couple of inches of skin visible above the neckline of her undershirt. When she had been little, she had seen all the old films, all the old stories, her Grandfather had told her them. When she was eight, she had gotten a genuine Captain America war bonds poster for her birthday. It wasn’t the only thing she had, but it had always been the pride of her little collection as a kid. Now, she had her Grandfather’s own weapon and his beret.

A little shyly, she continued to eat, peeking at the Captain between mouthfuls. As he thanked her, the blush returned at an even brighter shade of scarlet and she waved her fork nervously. “It’s alright. I was just...there...Really, you don’t have to thank me.” Spitfire shrugged off the thanks as she always did. As usual, she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had just done what had been necessary and even then, she’d been far from perfect.

“I’ve never really done anything for thanks. Approval, maybe, I don’t know. It’s complicated,” inhaling deeply, Jac began to push her potatoes into a little mountain as her thoughts turned to what she had been doing with her life for the past four years. She wasn’t sure what the Captain wanted with her, as if he’d wanted to just thank her, then he wouldn’t have made the effort of coming to eat lunch with her. “You can call me Jacqueline if you want...If it’s not a breach of protocol.”

Not knowing what else to talk about, she looked at him, properly this time and smiled. “My Grandfather used to tell me about you, and the others. Every time I went to visit, I’d ask for a story. I’m sure I only got the child-friendly versions, back then when I was little I didn’t know any better though. All I knew was that I wanted to be part of something bigger one day, to make some kind of difference,” her head dropped down as she stared at her tray of food. “What I used to do, it wasn’t always bad and destructive. But it’s hard to make people understand without them thinking I might be trying to excuse myself. I’m not, but not everything was bad. Honest.”

Feeling suddenly painfully awkward, she drank half a glass of water in one quick gulp. “Sorry, you just wanted to eat lunch, didn’t you.”
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