wickedchouette | Entries tagged with mine: alfie solomons [devoutish]

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[Alfie is very used to the idea of having to pick the least-bad option out of a pile of incredibly bad ones, but this is the very first time he's had the pleasure of choosing between a densely-forested jungle that's said to be teeming with monsters, and a mostly-deserted village that's said to be haunted by malicious spirits. Both stories sound like children's tales to him, and so while he doesn't dismiss them out of hand, he's skeptical: being dragged away from his world and into a dream makes him a little more inclined to be open-minded than he would have at home, but there's a difference between being open-minded and being gullible, and he's determined not to let this make him completely lose his head.

While the village's bamboo houses and cobblestone walkways are very pretty, the amenities are dubious at best. No natives have made themselves known, and everyone he's talked to has been around for a few months at most; there's also no electricity, and only a primitive plumbing system. But there's shelter, and gardens to harvest for food, and safety in numbers, and for today, that's going to have to be enough - especially since the only alternative is blindly marching alone into the forest.]

Oi.

[Alfie says, sticking his head out the open window of the house he's been poking through and beckoning over the first person he sees - who, in this case, happens to be Hythlodaeus. They'd met earlier in the day, less than an hour after Alfie's arrival, but had only interacted very briefly: not long enough to have had a proper conversation, but still long enough for Alfie to have taken one look at him and bluntly said, "Fucking hell, what are you?"

There'd been no apology for that at the time, and there doesn't appear to be on on offer now, but Alfie's tone is at least personable enough.]

I think I've found my own evidence of the ghosts and ghouls you lot have been banging on about; come have a look, would you?

[Alfie greets and makes nice with newcomers when he comes across them, but he doesn't go out of his way to seek them out. He's not interested in being part of any de facto welcome wagon, especially not now that more and more people are filtering their way in, either to use the Meadous as a waypoint or to settle down and stay; that can be a job for people like Meulin and Harley. He does, however, notice new houses as he passes them by, and today there's one on his regular walking route. He takes note of the name on the mailbox - Beauregard, good lord - and is all set to continue ambling onwards when a flash of movement catches his eye. Is that--

-- yes. That absolutely is his cat, leaping up onto the windowsill and slipping in through the open window.

With a sigh, he turns and heads towards the door instead, giving it a firm knock.]

[Robots? Robots.]

[They're to be sent back from the exact point from which they were taken, and for Alfie and Royce, that means that they end up in Alfie's apartment in Camden Town. It's the middle of the night - nearly 1AM - but compared to Norfinbury, it's loud. They're a few floors up from ground level, but Royce especially will be able to hear men's shouts and laughs from the street, and the occasional car motor running. The air, too, isn't what either of them are used to now; it's certainly much better inside than it is outside, but still, it's a little smelly and a little sooty. Such is London in the 1920s.

Alfie, more than a little overwhelmed, stumbles to the bed and sits down heavily on it. Home. Home.]

[1920s gangster crime drama with Galway & co. goes here.]

[If one goes deep into the heart of London's wizarding community, and then goes deeper still down into the bowels of it, they might just find Alfie Solomons and his people. They're not the lowest of the low - most people, especially in this day and age, reserve that for Voldemort's followers - but they're pretty far down there. They're black market dealers, illegal bookmakers, racketeers, and occasional murderers.

But when something unknown and unfindable starts wreaking havoc in their warehouse, they have no idea how to deal with it.

At first they think it's simple sabotage: when Alfie, the gang's leader, comes in to find several shelves of expensive rum smashed to bits, it seems like the most obvious answer. The night watchman gets reamed out despite his being positive that no one could have snuck past him and into the building, and three more able-bodied men are posted alongside him for the next night. But it happens again - and again, and again, until it's been going on for over a week. Sometimes it's valuable and expensive product that's destroyed; sometimes record books are thrown across the room, their pages scattered; sometimes it's nothing but a tin of fountain pens that gets upended. Men are sent to patrol the halls at all hours of the night, scouring the building from top to bottom for any evidence of the person or persons responsible. Not so much as a footprint is ever found.

No one is ever hurt, but the waste of time, resources, and manpower are draining at a time when things are already strained; when they really can't afford to lose what they're losing. And even beyond that, the fact that somebody or something is so clearly running rings around them is making them the laughingstocks of the neighborhood. The gang is by nature closed-off and tight-knit, used to dealing with their problems themselves. But even though no calls for outside help are made, information still trickles out - a guy tells a friend who tells a friend who tells his pub buddies, maybe speaking a little too loudly at a crowded bar counter. Word spreads. Maybe word will eventually spread to someone who can actually do something about it.]

[Alfie's been on his own for nearly two years now, and it suits him fine.

No, that's a lie; it doesn't suit him at all. He's a social person at heart, despite being supremely shady and an all-around bad guy by most people's standards. But he's also a picky person, and very tribal, and being alone does suit him better than picking up people at random just because they're there and he's lonely. If he found someone that he got on well with, who he could trust and work well with, then maybe he'd change his habits. But he hasn't, and so he doesn't. It's just him and his dog, a gigantic mastiff named Cyril. He's good protection, and - if Alfie's honest - even better company. Alfie talks to him like he's a human, even though he's not the kind of person to believe that dogs can actually understand most of what's said to them, and on most days that's almost enough.

They move around a lot - it's safer that way - but they've been in this house for nearly a week now. It's a good location, bordered by a thick forest and not too close to any main roads, and Alfie had found a treasure trove in the basement: two big pallets of bottled water. The plan is to sit tight until the water's almost gone, then carry the rest along with him. In the meantime, the woods are good for hunting.]

Stay.

[He tells Cyril sternly on his way out the door.]

Guard the house and guard it well, and I'll bring you back a raccoon.

[Cyril trots over to the dusty couch, jumps up, and settles. He might not be able to understand Alfie's words, but he knows what his job is. Keep watch. Protect. Defend.]

[From here.]

Come here.

[Alfie reclines back, but he pats the mattress next to him insistently, eyes on Royce.]

You're exhausted; you come sit. I'll mess about with that.

[When it comes to gods growing into their powers and figuring out the logistics of interdimensional travel, it seems that things have to be taken in steps. Step one for Zephyr had been taking people out of their worlds they'd been kidnapped to and bringing them all the Meadous. Step three, Alfie hopes, will be sending people to any world that they would like to go to. But step two - that intermediary step - involves letting people travel freely from one god-world to another. And that's the step that's just been greenlighted today.

Gwen is coming to the Meadous, and to Royce.

Alfie's thrilled for him, of course, but he's also nervous as fuck and really unsure of what the hell this is going to mean for him, for them, for everything. He's not nervous and unsure very often, and so his first instinct is to scoot away - to find someplace quiet and solitary to try to sort out his head. Which is why less than an hour before Gwen is due to arrive, Alfie rests a hand on Royce's shoulder.]

I was thinking about going out for a bit.

[Alfie had always thought that, if and when he was able to leave Norfinbury, he'd just want to move on and forget as best he could. He wouldn't be interested in visiting other worlds. He wouldn't be interested in letting other people visit him. He'd want to close off as much as possible, to excise that part of his life that hadn't really been real, at least not as far as his own world was concerned. But as time went on, he'd had to admit that there were a few exceptions - people he would want to keep up with even after escaping. Royce Melborn had absolutely been one of them.

And so, when they leave, they keep up with each other. It's a little strange to have someone from another world visit - especially someone who, for obvious reasons, can't tell anyone that he's from another world. That strangeness rankles at Alfie a bit, but not nearly enough to make him not want to see Royce anymore - all it does is make him wish that Royce was from London.

Months go by, and then years. The visits never drop off in frequency, and they start to feel more like an everyday part of life - get up, go to work, pay a visit to a beloved friend in another universe, ho-hum. Memories of Norfinbury still make Alfie's life a little harder, and it still pains him that it's a part of his past that he can't share with his family. But still, he settles. He continues his organized crime work, he gets married (Royce is invited to the wedding, of course), and he and his wife have a little girl. Life goes on.

Until it doesn't. A little over three years after he gets back, war hits again, and with it come the bombings of London. When one of the first raids hits, he and his entire family are at his parents' place for Sabbath dinner, and the building takes a direct hit. Only six out of twenty-seven people are pulled out of the flat alive that day. Five more die of their injuries over the next few days.

And just like that, Alfie is alone in London.

He has friends on his own world, but he turns to Royce. He can't bear Camden Town anymore - it's too full of memories, and right now, every memory breaks him just a little bit more. So he shows up on Royce's world, uses his last bit of strength to matter-of-factly explain what had happened, and asks if he can stay for a bit. And then he promptly goes to bed and doesn't get up for three weeks.

Alfie Solomons is not a man who gives up easily. But this is too much, even for him.]

[Alfie Solomons and Royce Melborn have been inseparable since the day they met - a day that, even over thirty years later, they both claim to remember with picture-perfect clarity. There are some discrepancies in their retellings, but the most important details are the ones that they both agree on: Alfie (aged six) tossed a ball to a mate that ended up going wayward and hitting Royce (also aged six). Given that they both had somewhat rough-and-tumble lives - Alfie as the Camden Town-bred son of a big-time gangster, and Royce as a habitual runaway from the orphanage where he was meant to be living - they of course came to blows. The fight had ended with some nasty-looking bruises on both of them, and Alfie had ended up bringing Royce home for Sabbath dinner.

As the years went on, Royce became something of an unofficial fourth Solomons brother - Alfie's loyal friend, partner in crime, and twin. He kept coming to those Sabbath dinners, and to all the holiday dinners as well. When they were grown, he got a job alongside Alfie, working for Alfie's father's gang. And when the war started, all the brothers including Royce (even Henry, who was a married father of two at that point and therefore wouldn't have been drafted) signed up to go off to fight. Royce and Alfie, as it happened, ended up assigned to the same regiment.

They're two years in, now. They're thirty-seven, and they're in France. Like most regiments, theirs has been switching between serving on the front lines and being taken off to serve elsewhere and get a bit of a break. This is their fifth cycle on the front. They're nearly four weeks in.

The whistle of a bomb arcs overhead, and hits another trench about five hundred yards away. Alfie, catnapping in the corner, doesn't even stir - they've all had to quickly get used to sleeping whenever and wherever they can. He'll have to be up soon, though - in five minutes, it's time for watch duty with Royce.]

[It's still a novelty to wake up warm. Alfie revels in it a while, drifting in a half-awake state, comforted by the knowledge that he doesn't really have anywhere to be. It's shaping up to be a typical morning in the Meadous... until he cracks an eye open and sees a fox sitting on the floor next to the bed, its nose only a couple of inches away from his face.

He's aware that he should be intensely weirded out by this. He should want to jump up out of bed and shoo the animal out of the house with a broom. And yet... he doesn't. This feels normal. This fox is supposed to be with him - and more than that, it is him, in some weird way. Alfie has no idea how he knows this, but that doesn't affect his conviction in any way.

Without taking his eyes off the creature, he digs an elbow into the side of the man lying next to him.]

Royce. Wake up.

[Peaky Blinders AU Alfie/Lady-Royce stuff goes here.]

[From here.]

[Alfie hates the ice tunnels. Oh sure, they're a relief in some ways - the lack of snow makes for easier, faster travel, and not having to deal with the chill from the wind is nice. But they're also too quiet and too dark, and just all-around eerie. He's not really what one would call an outdoorsy guy, but he likes to be able to see the sky when he wants to.

Because of this, and because his back is acting up a little more than usual today, he's in a grumpy mood. They've just gotten into their house for the evening - one of the shittier houses in the tunnels, no less - and he's about ready to drop. He tosses his things on the floor, heads over to collapse on the couch, and says to Royce:]

Anything worthwhile on the network?

[He honestly cannot be bothered to check for himself right now.]

[From here.

If they're both asleep, Alfie will turn and try to tiptoe away, not wanting to wake them up.]

[The good news: they get out. They escape Norfinbury, and once they're out of the town's iron grip, all of its effects on them disappear - no more MN poisoning, no more radiation sickness. They're still malnourished and underfed, and the dead among them are still dead, but they're out.

The bad news? They can't go home yet.

It's some sort of time- and universe-travel issue, which Alfie honestly isn't even trying to understand in full. Using the town's power, they'd opened up a portal, but they hadn't had time to fine-tune it. When they'd all jumped through, they hadn't even been sure it would work - but with the town collapsing around them, they'd all been desperate enough to try anyway. It had ended up dumping them all at random into New York City - or some version of it, anyway - in the early twentieth century. Stark and the other tech wizards are working hard on the issue, pooling their knowledge and using this world's resources to figure out how to safely repair and direct the portal to send them all back home, or wherever else they want to go. The ones who can't help with that are, essentially, left to their own devices. Tony the billionaire sets them up in a nice hotel in a decent neighborhood, and provides them with enough money to live comfortably on as long as they don't go too crazy with spending. For Alfie, Royce, Emily, and Tifa, he's able to find a two-bedroom suite that's available to be rented by the month. Nobody knows how long they're going to be stuck, and nobody wants to take the chance of being left without lodging.

After all the trauma of the past few months and the chaos of the past few days, their little group isn't wild about splitting up even just for a few hours. But Emily desperately needs a doctor's checkup, and Tifa convinces Alfie and Royce to go ahead and scope out the room while she (with help and advice from the more modern doctors) takes her to a pediatrician. And so they go.

The hotel is towering, and looking up at it makes Alfie feel dizzy, so he focuses straight ahead as they approach the front entrance and its automatic revolving door. He has the envelope with their room number and key, and as they walk, he hands it to Royce.]

We're on the sixty-first floor - larger rooms at the top only. Fucking hell, I hope they've got a lift.

[From here.

As promised, Alfie leaves Royce the bedroom, if he decides to move in there and claim it. He stretches out on the couch, letting his hat fall down over his eyes, and dozes off pretty quickly. The blanket and towel he'd given the kid stay with him. He has no plans to take them back, not tonight and not ever.]

[If twenty-first century London had been overwhelming, twenty-first century New York City is even more so. The buildings are taller, the crowds are more dense, and the streets feel claustrophobic - in some places it feels like you can barely see the sky. It's dizzying when he looks up, but it's hard not to look up, because the sight is breathtaking. He isn't actually sure how much he likes it, but he can't look away.]

Here, can we get to the top of one of these?

[It's a creepy thought. He's never been so high in his life. But he knows that if she says yes, he's going to want to try it, because the curiosity will burn if he doesn't.]

[Tifa is mad at them. Again. But again, they haven't budged.

When Alfie had heard that the Undertaker was nearby - just a couple of days away - he'd let Royce know immediately, and they'd quickly decided to split off for a bit to go hunt him down. Six months ago, Alfie would have planned to go alone, leaving "the girls" behind. But somewhere along the line, Royce has become something else. She's become a partner in crime - someone that Alfie can unequivocally trust to understand how he thinks and acts, because she thinks and acts the same way. It's a relief to have that, even though he'd never expected to find it in a woman.

They've been gone for a day now, having split off that morning, and calls from Tifa are still annoyed and clipped. Emily is doing well, at least, even though she's also a little wounded about them having left her. For the third time today, Alfie promises them both that they'll do their best to be back soon. He also knows it's something he can't promise one hundred percent.

With a heavy sigh, he hangs up. Then he goes to look for Royce, who he assumes has gotten a head start on searching the house.]

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