(no subject)

[the_man]

There's no announcement.

There's no fanfare.

No humorous misunderstandings.

Nick Fury enters the bar, sits down at a table, opens the newspaper he was carrying, and starts to read. It's the New York Times.

The relaxed pose he is cultivating is somewhat at odds with all the black leather, kevlar, and hidden weapons he is currently sporting.

Comments

[acts_of_gord]

It happens that way sometimes.

The paper gets more of a curious look than the man; Gordon doesn't see many of those these days, so it seldom hurts to see who's carrying what.

[the_man]

"I find the Times to be overly pretentious...at times," Fury says in a perfect deadpan.

"But, if you skip the society section, it's tolerable."

[acts_of_gord]

"Better than some of the alternatives," says Gordon. "I was checking the date more than anything."

You never know who might be from your own timeline, after all.

"It was a decent paper, though. Considering the alternatives."

[the_man]

"It's a little old. I'm catching up. Busy week."

Notice how he doesn't volunteer what the date on it actually is.

(That's classified.)

"Was?" Fury raises an eyebrow.

[acts_of_gord]

If it's from any time after 2005, then the fact that it exists at all is a miracle. Before that is still up in the air.

"Was," Gordon confirms. "We don't have it any more on my side of the door."

(The man's not acting like a newbie. Why should it be assumed that he is?)

[the_man]

"Did printed news finally bite the bullet? Or is it no longer in existence for a more sinister reason that I am not gonna enjoy contemplating?"

He already looks like he's not enjoying it.

[acts_of_gord]

"The second," says Gordon, and takes a moment to readjust his thinking. "I'll save you the contemplating. Earth was invaded. It didn't end well."

[sunbaked_baker]

"Care for a cinnamon roll?" offers the nearby baker, smiling, with her tray of baked goods. They're the last of the afternoon's baking, the few that hadn't sold right away; she had been offering them to patrons at each table, making a circuit of the bar room in an effort to make the day a clean sweep.

Each cinnamon roll is roughly the size of a human skull, fragrant with yeast dough and warm cinnamon, gooey with vanilla icing made from scratch. The baker herself is in her mid-twenties, with long red hair and blue eyes, wearing a flour-smudged, sunflower-dotted blue apron over her yellow t-shirt and green jeans.

[the_man]

"Thank you, ma'am. Don't mind if I do. Should I pay you direct, or drop it off at the bar?"

His grin is sunny, disarming, and apparently genuine.

"It looks like I might need some coffee to go with it, after all."

[sunbaked_baker]

"To me, if that's all right," Sunshine grins, serving one of the gigantic cinnamon rolls onto a small plate and setting it on the table. She even throws in a napkin, just in case he's not the finger-licking type (she caters to both).

Her Dark Sight might tell her there's much more going on with this man under the surface, but that's hardly surprising with Milliways' clientele. There aren't any signs of overt danger or threat, in any case, so she doesn't mind the sunny, disarming smile. Her own smile is pretty sunny as well.

"The baking's to pay for my tab, though Bar's the one who's going to have to deal with the inter-dimensional exchange rates. I never mess with them." Life's too short. "Since there's really no way of telling what something's worth on-hand, I just ask people to pay what they'd pay for similar in their world."

[the_man]

Fury has absolutely no intention of causing her any trouble. However, his shadows have shadows. There is a seething mass of things going on under the surface.

"Seems fair. Let me get some change."

He stands (he's tall), walks carefully through what little crowd there is, and has a brief conversation with the bar. Walking back, he offers Sunshine a ten dollar bill.

"Cheap by New York prices, I admit."

[sunbaked_baker]

Sunshine would be the basest form of hypocrite if she judged anyone harshly for having secrets. She doesn't pry, for she hopes the same courtesy will be extended to her.

"Shiva wept," Sunshine says in surprise, rather wonderingly accepting the ten dollar bill. "Ten blinks from my world would buy four of these."

"Though that shouldn't surprise me any - most USAs I've come across are much better off than my Independencia." And not just economically.

[the_man]

"I know plenty of hungry people who would probably pay you ten dollars just to smell this," Fury assures her.

"I might take some back to the office just to make them jealous. Is your Independencia on Earth?"

[starrydome]

The paper is watched with interest. Elrond has never seen one before after all.

The interested gaze of an elf lord is a powerful thing indeed.

[the_man]

It sure is. Powerful enough for Fury to lower the top of the paper a few inches, and look back.

He raises one eyebrow. It is a very eloquent eyebrow.

"If you're that hard up for entertainment, I can offer you the sports section."

[starrydome]

Elrond smiles. " My apologies, " he says. " I could not help giving in to my curiosity. I have never seen such an object before. It is printed? "

He steps a little closer. His footfall is almost silent, despite his height. And build. He is elegant, butI he is not willowy. His clothing is soft and comfortable and adorned with delicate silver embroidery.. His hair is loose and very long indeed.

[the_man]

"It's fine. And yes. It's called a newspaper. It's a little old-fashioned these days, but there are still plenty of them around. This one is pretty famous, on Earth."

Fury's outfit looks very dramatic, but not all that comfortable. Except maybe the boots. Elrond could probably recognize that some of it is armor. Being as he is a smart guy and a warrior himself.

[starrydome]

"Newspaper ," Elrond repeats. "Made for quick production and light packing?"
It certainly looks that way.

He does see that the Man's clothes are made for protection, likely from weapons, and as he does not recognize the material, that fascinates him too.

He bows his head slightly in greeting. "My name is Elrond Half-elven," he says.

[the_man]

"Precisely. Widespread, easily available and up to date news in one convenient package. The whole business model has changed dramatically now, but that was the original idea."

He nods in return, after a very brief pause. "Nick Fury."

[ostro_goth]

"Greetings," says a tall medieval warrior carrying a battle axe. He has never known Nick Fury as a man of many words; a curt greeting has often been all that was exchanged by way of conversation.

Then, Teja looks again.

This is not the Nick Fury he used to know.

But so very similar in expression and demeanour, with the long coat, the beard, the eye-patch.

Interesting.-

[the_man]

The bald head, lack of ruffles, and gun might be a little different.

And no one would mistake this Fury for being English.

"Same to you," he says, looking up from the paper. Teja's clothes barely get a second look.

[ostro_goth]

"I took you for one Sir Nicholas Fury, for a moment," Teja says, by way of explanation for that greeting.

[the_man]

"I am Nick Fury," he says. "Just a different one. No Sir attached, and a little later in the timeline."

[ostro_goth]

"Such things may be known, in your world?" Teja asks, astonished.

For most that come in here, their own reality is, at first, the only one that may exist.

[the_man]

"Dimensional theory is a field of science, on my world. The idea isn't a new one."

Fury eyes him.

"We've never made official contact with an alternate universe, however."