itinere | Network | Action [OTA]

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It had been late, just like every night in his new office had been. The Punisher trial might have gotten him noticed enough to get here, but it sure as hell wasn't enough to keep him here. He got the very pressing feeling that Hogarth was testing him and if the small amount of sleep he'd gotten that first week had proven anything, he was intent on passing each test with flying colors.

He was grateful for the distraction, except for when it left him too groggy to realise he was heading to the old Murdock and Nelson office at six in the morning. Or when he couldn't help but think a drink at Josie's would make for a nice break only to realize that his usual drinking buddies were more than a little out of pocket at the moment. Luckily the new job meant he had a lot of work to focus on and not a lot of time to think about how everything had changed between himself and Matt, or even himself and Karen.

So when he finally turned off the light, grabbed his coat and headed out the door only to find himself on a sandy beach, he figured he was simply dreaming. He walked along the beach, taking in the beauty and breathing in the fresh air before the came to the edge of a small city. The city itself didn't really go against the idea of a dream, since it seemed like a mismatch of different eras and styles all pushed together. He took it all in until his feet began to ache and his stomach began to growl. Physical reactions that seemed surreal in a surreal dream.

Foggy sat on a bench, and that's when he discovered the PDA in his pocket. He stared at the message for a moment.

"Itinere?" He glanced around him, making eye contact with the first person who happened to be passing by at that moment. "Excuse me. Can I ask you a question?" He didn't wait for an answer. "What's Itinere?"

[Network]

I've heard of perks before, but my own tropical paradise accessible through my office?

I know we're not tax lawyers, but this can't even come close to being a write off for Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz.

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A door never there before, yet a door nonetheless. He didn’t know how it appeared or where it came from. It was simply there—maybe always had been—and he opened it knowing that there were no others left for him to take. Consciousness freed itself in that moment, from a faint whisper to a tangible existence, and he was left wondering how it could possibly be achieved, if perhaps T’Challa had pulled a fast one on him, while standing on the other side of a doorway that was now a blank wall.

The device in his hand welcomes him, tells him to find his reserved room. He thinks this must how people go mad.

Not many options are left but to wander, to try to understand what there is to understand if there's even anything to understand. Reconnaissance. He doesn’t get far before he’s stopped, a stranger asking in confusion similar to his own, but he admonishes himself for not having looked away when they tried to catch his eyes. He smiles a smile that comes too easily, something for show, and shrugs in reply.

(He feels both arms. He's going mad.)

“Your guess is as good as mine, pal.” His eyes drop down to the man’s hand, and it’s the same device.

(They must both be going mad.)

“Lemme guess, you were welcomed too, and they gotta room for you?”

Claire was out for a walk and she heard someone. A familiar someone. The best buddy of Matt Murdock, in fact. Or, former?

She walks toward the disoriented lawyer to greet him. "Foggy? That you?"

Oh, Thank God. A New Yorker if the hint of an accent is anything to go by. He relaxes the tiniest bit and takes in the man in front of him. He's broad and muscular, more than a little intimidating if he wasn't smiling. He's also missing his left arm. That's kind of notable, though it doesn't really change anything.

"Yeah," Foggy says, holding up the screen of his device. "I'm not even sure how I got here. I thought I was dreaming."

Is he dreaming? He's not so sure anymore. He glances back up at the stranger and then gets to his feet, tucking the PDA into his coat pocket. "Though my usually dreams don't have one armed men with identical PDAs in them. At least not yet." He holds out his hand. "Foggy Nelson."

He glances up at the sound of her voice, surprise registering on his face.

"Claire." It's a little hard to forget someone who was there when he had talked down to gang members. He gets to his feet and moves towards her. "What's going on?"

Because if he's here and she's here, then something has to be happening, right? Unless his psyche is more out of whack than he realized.

She recognizes that look. It was the same look she had on her face, when she got here. He must feel so helpless now and out of place.

"Foggy. I thought I heard you. I thought I was hearing things. Did you just get here?"

If it’s a dream, it’s a really weird one, he thinks. But knowing doesn’t change that he's here within the dream (or hallucination?), experiencing this moment of mutual camaraderie over confusion with a stranger who has just introduced himself as...another word for confusion. With a last name. A part of him wants to laugh. Another part wonders if Hydra has his mind again.

“You shoulda seen the other guy,” he answers with a small chuckle and pockets the PDA when Foggy offers his hand. He shakes firmly. “James,” is all he offers back, pretending there's nothing else that follows. Bucky, his mind corrects.

“Weird name though, Itinere. Maybe it's this place? Since we’re being welcomed and all.” Though he doesn’t feel very welcome.

Foggy huffs back a small laugh, raising his eyebrows at the comment about the other guy. "You're from New York, right?"

He thinks he knows the hint of an accent, but it's also kind of different from what he's used to.

"Yeah, I think it is. I've just never heard of it. Or seen anywhere like this. And they've got a room for me? It's a little too Hotel California for my liking."

His brows raise. He’s rarely pegged so easily; Foggy must be a native. “Yeah. Brooklyn.” Decades ago, anyway. “You?”

He can’t parse what Foggy means by Hotel California. That’s enough to make it clear to Bucky that this isn’t a dream. Even dream nonsense makes sense in his head. Hotel California is a mystery, and not something that sparks a thought or memory.

“And I can’t say I ever heard of it either.” And he’s been all around. “But nothing’s free without a catch. Seems suspicious.”

[ Matt knows that voice. He'd set up the PDC a long time ago to notify him if a handful of people showed up (Foggy, Karen, Electra, Stick or Frank namely) and he'd told the PDC to notify him regardless of the time so when he's dragged out of sleep by that voice he initially thinks it's a dream or a mistake. He's been here months and that thing hasn't notified him like this ever. He props himself up on one elbow, grabs for the PDC and flips it on. When he first speaks, his voice is rough with sleep. He has to clear his throat and try again. ]

Foggy?

The person that Foggy stops happens to be none other than Spider-man complete with his spidey suit (because it's late and he still hasn't broken the habit of wandering around late at night in his Spidey suit despite the fact that crime seems to be non-existant or, at least, sporadic--and supernatural-- here). Of course, Spidey is from years before Foggy and Matt take down Wilson Fisk, so he doesn't recognize the guy in the suit at all.

"Hey! Hi." He glances around. "New arrival? I'm not usually the welcoming committee, but this is Itinere. This town, pocket dimension, space ship. Whatever you want to decide it is."

Should he have ninja'd out of there when Foggy caught sight of him. Probably?

It's pretty common for Lucy to be awake late at night and on the network. She pretends to work slash keeps Jill company while she actually works at The Houndstooth. It's no Josie's but they have food, alcohol and you can actually drink the water if that's the way you roll. Lucy has exhausted her flirting skills (oh who are we kidding, her flirting skills are never exhausted) and is poking around on the network. It's like Facebook, but not as busy and not nearly as many memes.

"As far as I know, we aren't a write off. It's more like an interdimensional Hotel California with less Heroin and more happy. Hi, I'm Lucy."

"Hell's Kitchen." He grins despite the situation. At least he knows he's dealing with a realist. Or at least James doesn't look like the kind of Brooklynite that all of New York has taken to making fun of. He looks like the old school kind.

"Exactly," Foggy says, giving a small nod of his head. Now they're definitely on the same page. "How'd you get here? I walked through what I thought was my office door, but we're definitely not in New York anymore."

"Yeah, I guess?" He wrinkles his brow in confusion. "But where exactly is here? How long have you been here?"

That's a lot of questions without giving her any time to answer. He stops, his shoulders dropping slightly. "Sorry. I just have no idea what's going on."

"Believe me, I've only been here 2 or so months and I still have trouble knowing what's going on. I was going to try to get back home. I'm trying to find work here, to bide my time, while I think of ways to get back home. But, the fresh air, the nice weather...the lack of stress, is convincing me to stay."

What she wants to say, is because of Matt, but that might not be a good reason anymore.

Matt?

[ He's surprised by the sound of his friend's voice and the sleepy timbere to it. ]

Is that you? What's going on?

Okay, he hadn't expected to see a grown man in pajamas and a mask but he guesses since the Avengers, there's been a lot of people who have clung onto this whole superhero thing.

Correction, a kid in pajamas and a mask. That voice is definitely adolescent.

"Dream? Is dream an option? 'Cause I'd really like to wake up if so."

Yes! Hotel California! That's exactly where his mind is going. He's glad he's not the only one.

"I'm okay with Happy as long as it doesn't involve heroin, I guess. Hi, Lucy. I'm Foggy."

He stares down at the text for a moment.

"Interdimensional?"

No heroin. Though, I guess there could be heroin. I'm not really in the heroin business. I wonder, if you wished for heroin would they give it to you? Or do they limit wishes to things that aren't self destructive. Great. Now you're going to make me wish for heroin.

[ She actually will wish for heroin just to test this out, but Foggy doesn't have to feel too guilty. Drugs aren't Lucy's bad habit. She'll flush them. ]

Multidimensional? I only got through high school chemistry because I had sex with the smartest kid in the class and he did all my work for me. I don't really know what the proper terminology is, but there are people from all sorts of worlds and timelines here. Different earths even.

[ Matt actually sleeps here. It's crazy. ]

Yeah. Foggy. It's--it's me. Give me...where are you? I'll come meet you.

[ He can probably hear the sounds of Matt scrambling, getting out of bed and getting dressed.]

Ah, home of the Irish legacy, though Bucky has no idea of the current affairs of New York City. Given the way, Foggy’s dressed, it’s probably better if he doesn’t assume either, unless he wants to make it absolutely obvious that he’s a man out of time.

“Y’know,” he stalls. “That’s a very good question.” Because he doesn’t really know. One moment he was what he presumes is unconscious, the next he’s here. “I just remember coming through a door, and when I turned around, it was just a wall.”

“You’re right though. Definitely ain’t New York. Too much fresh air.” He tosses in a cheeky grin for good measure.

They aren't pajamas! This is a high tech super hero suit! Okay...it's a super hero suit and it's not spandex either! He was totally doing this at the same time as the Avengers.

20! Fair enough though. He probably does still sound adolescent.

"Not unless you've done a lot of peyote or LSD in your past."

If wishes were heroin, this would be Miami.

[ Yeah, that didn't make much sense to him either, but he's not really sure how he got on this heroin conversation anyway.

Or into a conversation this open. Wow. Was that what Monica was promising when she'd asked him in 9th grade to do her history paper? He might have thought harder about saying no.]

Okay. So like, a kind of purgatory or inbetween place.

I'm not sure.

[ He glances around, looking for some kind of landmark. ]

There's a bar here. A little nicer than Josie's. The water might actually be drinkable.

Foggy actually snorts, glancing around.

"Yeah, I don't think I've smelled one pile of garbage since I got here." He glances back down at his phone. "Look, there's strength in numbers, right? Do you want to go check out this place together?"

"Well, you know what they say about LSD..." He trails off and then shakes his head. "They don't say anything. So is that your costume? What do you call yourself?"

They've all got names now, right?

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