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Jackson Keller
0 · 1,763 views · located in 
The Infinite Void
a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Jag
Equipment
The pulse pistol is a modified weapon seldom found out of arm's reach for Keller.
So begins...
Jackson Keller's Story
Jackson Keller did his best not to react to swiftly to the concept. Whatever this woman across the table was, she certainly didn't look like someone that could handle herself around an FTL drive. "Is that so? And Wing City isn't full of pilots with busted up ships to keep you busy?"
Jackson Keller rubbed the finger on which the ring sat as he responded somewhat impatiently. "And I'm not long for it. Soon as I find someone with credits and a chance to offload some cargo."
Jackson Keller felt alarms going off in his head. He was used to being careful and someone just offering themselves so fully to any cause just didn't fit into his view of the world at the moment. "Mechanics don't tend to have much need for the cargo I'm offloading and don't normally come packing the credits when they're out of work. Not to mention that I'm pretty fair with a wrench myself," he said. The last was a lie. Sort of.
Jackson Keller pushed himself up from the table and stood quickly, wishing he was armed at the moment. "And how the hell do you think there's something up with my FTL drive. A request from who?"
Jackson Keller leaned forward slightly, placing an open palm on the table. So much for a relaxing night. "Provided that I trust you -- which I don't, or that I need anything you have to offer -- which I don't...what's the request?"
Jackson Keller would have taken a wild guess at a number of things that she could have possibly said at the moment, but the words that poured out of her mouth were anything but expected. "Right," he said with a skeptical glare. "Okay, you're losing me here. What are you talking about?"
Jackson Keller shook his head sharply. "Look, if you're looking for someone that's running on the idea of faith at the moment, you came to the wrong table. The question I'm asking is simple. Why?"
Jackson Keller shook his head again, this time with a laugh of incredulity. "You have a seriously warped idea of fun. Okay," he said with a deep sigh before extending a hand away from the table. "You win. Lead the way."
The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Wing City Lake: Beach
Jackson Keller followed in short order, having mentioned about having to run by a pick up something first. Her words were following quickly by the metallic sound of a synthetic round chambering in a pistol that the pilot held out be his side. "I think I've been a good little player in this game for long enough. Why should I trust you?"
Jackson Keller staggered a few steps back, raising the pistol at the ships and then the woman for an instant before speak above the sound of the ship's engines. "I'm not taking another step until you tell me why you're doing all this. And don't tell me it's fun or because you were bored. I want a reason, whole and actual."
Jackson Keller dropped the gun back down to his side out of pure shock. "You've got to be..." A smirk out of pure confusion and amusement rose to his lips. "And you just, what? Picked the first guy that you noticed at a bar?"
Jackson Keller laughed out loud, shoving the pistol back into the back of his pants beneath his jacket, holding his hands out before him with palms opem and facing the woman. "Are you even...do you ever hear yourself? This is crazy! Forget this," he said, turning his back and facing back into the road leading back into Wing City.
Jackson Keller turned around slowly. The incredulity of earlier was completely gone, the amused smirk replaced with a resolute and somber stare. "There's no such thing as no strings. Everyone gets burned and, if you're lucky, they actually have the heart to use a real weapon and let you see it coming." Crossing his arms in front of him, Jackson shook his head one last time. "Take care of yourself."
Jackson Keller felt something snap. Reaching beneath his jacket, her removed the pistol and levelled it at the woman from the distance that he'd already put between the two of them. "I don't know what you are or what you think is going to happen, but I do know how fast a bullet travels. Follow me and I'll show you. This is over."
Jackson Keller continued to back away. "Find someone else. I'm gone." With his free hand, Jackson reached into his pocket and felt the small capsule there, no larger than his thumbnail. One left. He'd been hoping to save it, but he didn't feel like taking any chances tonight. Flicking the capsule down onto the ground between them, the capsule first flared and then burst into a blinding light. The best ones knew when to run.
The setting changes from Wing City Lake: Beach to Gambit's Bar
Jackson Keller slipped back into the bar, looking a little disheveled, alarmed, and now carrying a pistol tucked beneath his jacket. The smirk and laid-back mood from earlier in the day was clearly gone. Brushing shoulders without regard for another patron, the man came to lean against the bar and rapped the weathered surface with his fist twice. "Drink. The synthetic cheap stuff, I don't care. Just something quick," he ordered with a lost exhale.
Jackson Keller finally had the drink poured before him, a short glass with a dark brown liquid. The synthetic bourbon distillation carried a terribly bitter aftertaste, but it was cheap and always in supply unlike the classier beverages. At a time like this, the pilot wasn't about to argue with his baser instincts. Slamming back the first drink as quickly as possibly, Jackson stared down at his right hand and the ring seated there. "You sure know how to pick 'em, don't you."
Jackson Keller felt the burn in his throat from the synthetic as he stared down through the bottom of the small class, eyes peering through the slightly warped glass. Part of him craved another. "No, that's more than enough fun for one night." Setting down the glass, Jackson reached into his left pocket and retrieve a few credits.
Jackson Keller clamped down on the fumarello between his teeth while stepping into Gambit's, a flash of energy and life in his eyes that had been sorely missing of late. Considering he'd almost been kidnapped his last time entering the bar, Jackson was in surprisingly good spirits. Good enough to burn one of the few tobacco products left in his possession, anyway. He'd quit tomorrow, he promised himself for the hundreth time.
Jackson Keller couldn’t resist the urge to arch his own eyebrow in return upon the approach and more-than-suggestive remark. “Well,” he said, taking the cigar out of his mouth and fishing the small tube out of a jacket chest pocket, “wouldn’t want anyone to think that this place wasn’t on the up and up, would we?”
Dropping the slow burning thing into the tube and clamping it back shut again, Keller tiled his head to the side as if to ask if the person was satisfied a hint of irritation in his features.
Dropping the slow burning thing into the tube and clamping it back shut again, Keller tiled his head to the side as if to ask if the person was satisfied a hint of irritation in his features.