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Marcus spent a couple days on Jessica's couch before vanishing again. Such is his way of doing things. There's a particular sense of guilt in sleeping in someone's place and not paying for it. So maybe she did notice that the place was cleaned while she was out and he had left. Can't do a lot, but can at least make the place look decent as a thankful. Even left a bottle of whiskey on her desk, though it's for the best that she not think too much on how he might've gotten his hands on it.
But, after a couple of days, he comes by again. And yet again, such is his way. He comes, goes, vanishes, appears. Kinda seems like his thing. But at least here and now, he knocks on the door. Or well, what's left of the door. If there's a door. Either way, he knocks.
*
There's always a door — it's just never locked. Or in good shape. In fact, today the window in the door is completely broken, almost as if a fist had gone through it recently. Jessica Jones sits in her desk chair with her ankles crossed and resting on the desk. She holds a glass of amber fluid in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
SHe puffs on the cigarette and then blows the smoke slowly, languidly through her nostrils. Evidently she's feeling self-congratulatory today. At the knock on the door, she leans in her seat to peek through the busted window. Comically, her eyebrows lift, "It's open~" she virtually sings.
*
Marcus is wearing a slightly bloodied hoodie that heas yet to replace since leaving Hell, and comes across as someone who doesn't often get his hands on new clothing. The blood on the side, but he doesn't really look injured. Probably taken care of. There's just kind of a push at the door to open it, looking it for a long moment before shutting it. "Hey. Just me." he calls back, moving through, checkin on if it's still clean before moving into the office. "Just thought I'd drop by, that's all. See how things are going."
*
Jessica's chin lifts, and her head cants to watch Marcus enter. She lifts a single eyebrow at Marcus and she whistles sharply. "You look like hell," she deadpans. "And christ, you gotta get your shit together. Seriously. Function somehow." Somehow. She reaches for the bottle on her desk and flippantly tosses it towards him. "Pour a glass. If you're here, you'll drink. Because." She shrugs. "That's what we do at Alias Investigations. We drink and we know things."
*
"You know, that joke seems not nearly as funny these days." Marcus drawls, putting himself down into a seat, pulling over an empty glass and pouring himself a drink after he catches the bottle. A shrug. "Another demon. He looks worse than me. And then there was this hoopla at Macy's and…eh." Drink in hand he leans back. "What shit? The shit I own is on my back. So thankfully, there's little shit to handle. As for functioning, that's a day to day thing. Anyways, like I said, just thought to drop by. See if things were better for you than they are for me." The glass is sipped from.
"Talked to Doc Strange recently. Gonna go to this super seceret magic-user club. See if there something about the runes, brands, try to figure more out about it. Maybe even try to sort some shit about lost memory. Said something about the whole glowy vein thing could've been self-defense thing. If that's a thing, which I have no idea if it is." he waves it off. "Eh, it is what it is. Like I said, just thought to drop by. DIdn't want to overstay my welcome."
*
"That's exactly the shit I'm talking about," Jessica replies wryly. Her jaw tightens, and aggressively, her arms cross over her chest. She's never concerned about image; not the way women ought to be, or so she's told. "I have no idea who or what that is, but," her eyebrow lifts, "good for you? Seriously. At least you're figuring something out."
Her lips tighten into a frown. "Going to work on the memory, then? Or just wait it out? Someday it'll work itself out?"
*
"We'll see, I guess, eh?" Marcus nods, then giving a mild half-shrug. "Good for me or not, it's all about finding answers. And Doc Strange is the guy trying to close the Hellmouth. Seems like the man has got his hands full with shit. Not really sure what else he's doing, but the last time we talked, he seemed like he's burning the candle at both ends." There's a bit of concern in that, but it's set aside.
"Going to try anyways. I've come to the conclusive after enough thought that whoever did all this shit to me removed my memory intentionally. At least, I think so. Why keep the knowledge about the military otherwise. Why keep that, unless they wanted me to remember tactics and fighting ability? My working theory right now is they were going to plant memories in my head, or even a fake background before letting me loose. Just…never got that chance. So, I don't really want to wait for a day where it all just pops back in. Because it might never. The more I study about…there," he he makes a vauge gesture towards the brands, "the better I'll feel. At least, I hope. There's also this fear that the brands are slowly turning me into something not human. Dunno about that."
*
"He has an unfortunate name," Jessica states with a shrug. "Strange. Kilgrave." Her eyes narrow, and she manages a nearly sweet smile, "Be glad my name is Jones. Nothing telling about that name." Her lips twist and her lips hitch up on one side.
But the half-smile fades and her expression deadens. "Thought about investigating them?" She frowns. "Might be possible there's a paper trail somewhere that can be followed. There's almost always a paper trail. At least to figure out what they were going to do with you. Even the Germans had records, you know."
*
"These guys I don't know about. Nazis within the Nazis. I don't think they're just going to leave any paperwork out in the open. And I'm twenty years removed from their glory days. If this…Hydra is still out and about. Still functioning, I had no idea what they're doing these days. Never mind the fact that I'm pretty sure human experimentation isn't going to be something they're going to brag about. Besides, nobody I've talked seems to know they exist. Besides, I don't need them to get…me back." Marcus goes onto explain. "But if there's more, maybe I'm not seeing it. I'm a soldier, a homeless one at that, not a detective. Tell me to fight, I fight. And I don't normally ask questions about who."
There's a sigh. "I still hear them, you know. The voices. Only there's…four of them. The crazy thing is, it's all my voice, just…different. Strange says it's because I'm a conduit. Like, the elements are actually senitent or something. Or maybe it's me thinking they are. I don't know. When things get…out of control, I hear them more. The more in control I am, the less I am hear them. As for Strange. He's a good guy, been helping me figure shit out. And he doesn't even have to. Just…does."
*
Jessica's lips purse and her head ducks into a nod. "All I can say is resist them. Focus on something else when you hear them." Her eyes turn upwards. "I get voices talking in," she taps her temple. "Believe me." Even with Kilgrave dead, she hears him all the time. "Hydra," she repeats quietly. "I'll do some digging. Maybe I can learn something." Maybe not. But it's worth a try.
She nods at the praise for Strange, but doesn't have anything to offer in return. Her cheeks puff out and she shakes her head slightly. "Strange sounds like he's at least helpful. Good you have people like that."
*
"Just stuff like wanting to be freed. It's my voice, but it's not me. Not things I'd say. I just don't know if the elements are their own thing or it's something else. Maybe I'd know me if I knew what was done to me but, eh. One day at a time." Marcus offers, drinking again. "Look, Jessica. These are bad people that I pretty sure was pulling the strings behind the fucking Third Reich. Don't draw attention to yourself or anything. Dollars to donuts they're still around somehow. And I'm pretty sure once they catch wind of where I am, they're going to want me back to finish the job." He sighs at that. "Helpful, sure. Wish he'd let me in on what he's doing. Help somehow, but really, it's his ballgame on what he wants to let me in on. He's…a lot more powerful magic-user than me. I'm just some untrained yahoo." He dismiesses the rest. "Anyways. What about you?"
*
A skeptical lift of Jessica's eyebrows wordlessly suggests she doesn't take suggestions from anyone — not anymore. Getting ordered around without freewill means using freewill whenever it's had. Her eyes turn to feline slits at the question, "I've had a bunch of cases pop up since throwing," she points towards the door, "up. Even got paid for a couple." She manages a stitch of a grin. "I'm doing fine," she says wryly. "Alright enough."
*
Holding a hand up, Marcus seems to get the picture. "Hey. Warning given, just giving it beforehand so you know what to expect, that's all. There's also the fact that whatever vampy chick I was helping out against at Macys a couple days ago, dunno if you heard about that, but I was there. And this chick acted like she knew me. Creeped me the fuck out. Like I was some kind of topic of vampire gossip. Why the hell would a woman, vampire, whatever, happen to talk about me like she knew me? Was it because I was in Hell? Did she see me there? There's shit going on that I don't know about anymore. What was I before I was chained to that tablet?" Irritated, he picks the bottle up again, pouring another for himself. "Shit's fucked up. It's gets more and more fucked up the more I get invovlved."
*
"Life's fucked up," Jessica returns and her eyes turn upwards to the ceiling. "All of it. Have you seen the bullshit going down across Manhattan? That thing in the Park is wreaking havoc." Her lips purse and she shakes her head. "It's bad. And it's bad one of those fuckers recognized you. Even a little." She finishes her glass and sits up to pour herself another. "Whatever they did to you is messed up. But records. Something. Anything — " her lips quirk and she hums softly. "Any indication can't hurt, you know?" Her lips hitch up on one side. "People aren't just tools."
*
"You know, I would've agreed with that if I had only just gone to war and come back. Come back to Kendra. I was married, y'know. Kendra. She was British." Marcus sighs. "She said she'd wait for me, at a particular spot in New York, here. Said she'd wait as long as it took. I guess I can't blame her for not waiting twenty years. And then…well, seeing the same guy who looked like hadn't aged a day. I'm only guessing she moved on. Just hoped, wherever she is, she's happy now." He pauses at that, dredging up a rather painful memory. "Maybe. Records. I dunno. Not going to stop you Jessica. Just be careful. That usual saftey speel that I'm sure you've been told before and don't need to hear again. I know."
"Just. You're the only person besides Strange that really knows how out of control I get. If it happens again and…it doesn't stop on it's own. Stop me. Whatever it takes. The elements, they…there is no right or wrong for them. They just want to do what elements. Fire burns, wind blows…etectra." He laughs after a moment, leaning back in his chair, making the front legs rock. "Y'know, this is not what I came here to talk about. I was planning on if you wanted to get drunk and then fuck after. And here I am ruminating on just what a fucked up mystery I am."
*
"This isn't whiskey talk," Jessica waggles her finger at Marcus when he goes into details about putting him down. "Look. I'll do what I can to help folks. I heal fast. I don't get hurt easily. Blah blah blah." She brings the glass to her lips and then her eyebrows lift at the last. "I appreciate the directness of the comment." She actually smirks, "And, I think flirting is useless. People want something, they should go for it." The smirk fades some though, "But I… what he did to me… yeah, I'm not — " she rolls her eyes. "Fuck. I can't. Nothing to do with anything except it's been like three weeks since I snapped his goddamned neck. And earlier that day, I was giving into his every whim."
*
A hand is held up in a 'say no more' gesture. "Hey, I get it. I just thought, it's been twenty years, wouldn't knowing if that shit still worked right." Marcus grins a little. "Not hurt or anything. Just the first woman I met that maybe wouldn't mind letting off some steam. Not really a big deal. I asked, you passed, no worries about it. I just figure eventually I'm gonna have to move on from Kendra. While maybe mindless sex isn't the best way to go about it, doesn't mean it's not wrong either. But no, I understand. I guess that's maybe I why I come to you. Because I was close to being there. Or I am, what if I am. What if all this Hydra has to do is let out some signal and I start going on a rampage? I don't want to be their tool, y'know. You get it. Guess that's why I…dunno. You're a friend to me, I'll just say that. And if you got anything going on that you want another hand with. I'm here. I guess that's another reason why I came. It's the only way I can pay you back."
*
"You don't owe me anything," Jessica offers back with a one shouldered shrug. "Believe me. I don't know why our paths crossed like they did, and you literally got me out of hell. I think that makes things even." She smirks at the notion of letting off steam, "look, I'm one to indulge sex as a means to an end. Believe me." Her fingers lift. "Just can't right now." She nods once at the question, "If I've got something, I'll let you know. It's good to find folks to help when investigations are in progress. But right now," her head shakes. "Latest job was," she shrugs, "just had to find someone. Found 'em."
*
Jessica has reconnected.
*
Jessica has partially disconnected.
*
"Not going to hang the Hell thing over your head or anything." Marcus remarks lightly. "It was a shitty, no, beyond shitty situation and I'm not really sure how it could've gotten worse. No, scratch that, there were plenty of ways it could've gotten worse. But I wasn't just going to leave you there on your own. Or falling through the sky like a rock." He waves a hand at the sex thing. "Don't gotta explain things. You were I stand if your mood changes. Like I said, not huge deal." Clearly, being told no doesn't seem like it's going to ruin him. "Let me know, because beyond the Hellmouth all I'm doing is trying to figure out who I am. And I sorta need Strange for that. He's the 'Sorcerer Supreme' or whatever the hell that is. Assuming it's important. So yeah, came here to offer you myself. Not…like that. Because I need work. And eventually Danny is going to get pissed that I keep ruining all the hoodies she keeps supplying me with. Eventually I'll need to get my own place. But, it's kinda hard to find work when legally the government thinks you've been dead for twenty years."
"You know," his tone shifts, sounding a little more quiet, subdued. "What if I do get my memory back. What if I figure out who I am. Like, I have parents, who buried an empty casket. Do I even go back to them, looking the same as I did when I left them? Is that even right to do? Just show up out of the blue after they buried everything but a body?" He shifts a little, uncomfortable and drink again. "I don't even know if I should. But then again, I may never know who I am."
*
"You'll figure it out," Jessica states in return. "Don't worry about the parents/old life thing until you have to, you know?" She shrugs. And then nods, "And yeah, I'm sure I'll need help down the road. Things have been taking off, albeit, nothing exciting as of yet. Mostly jilted husbands." She manages a smirk, "But they pay good money for photos. Really good money. You could get in on it if you wanted. Just gotta be as subtle as possible when following wives around to meet up with the fellows they're having affairs with." Her tongue clucks, "Imagine there's a market for the other side too. 'Specially the wives whose husbands have apartments in the city. For business." Her eyes roll. "Obviously."
*
"Cheating spouses, huh." Marcus wonders. "Never really considered the extra-marital affairs as a way of income but…it's something to consider, I guess. Can't say I thought about it. But, you do well enough, so maybe there's something to it. Danny keeps talking about opening a gym or something in the Kitchen. Keep talking how she wants to be partners in it, but really, with the kind of money she has, I don't know if she really needs me. Still, I'd kill for my own place right about now, instead of bouncing from couch to couch, and trying to not wear out my welcome. But yeah, I'll see what I can do. Next time you get into something where you think it's going to need more than just yourself, let me know. I'm good at that. Hell, these days, it's the only thing I'm good at. And…" a thought out of the blue seems to pick at him. "…fixing bikes. I'm good at that too." Though he seems more surprised about knowing that than anything else.