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Tommy Shelby had been busy for a long time. Since the war, his reign and hunger for power only grew - along with the coldness inside his heart. He seemed to find no love nor comfort in anyone these days... since Grace that is. The woman who had played with his heart, betrayed him and made him feel things he hadn't felt for a long time. He had been driven by her betrayal to become better, stronger and smarter. Although the latter seemed almost impossible as he was the most strategically intelligent man anyone could ever meet. It was his emotional intelligence that let him down, and never knowing what you were feeling (apart from the repetitive emotion of anger that had become extremely recognisable) was a weakness in his eyes. So he vowed never to feel again.
John and Tommy have become distant, but mostly because Tommy had strayed from being a brother and preferred to be a boss. As much as the family of the Shelby's were the tightest family in Birmingham they were also extremely distant nowadays. They had all found someone to love and care for: except Tommy, who had refused anyone to even try and understand him. The emphasis on the metaphor 'stone cold' was as accurate as his eyes were blue.
Johns voice and heavy accent had resonated from the ground floor of the building to Tommy's office round the back. He heard John asking for him and knew he would be sent to him in due time. When a knock at the door resonated and Tommy allowed him in John hadn't drawn his attention at all, it was the copper-haired woman who had taken his full attention.
He had been marvelled by her bone structure and the trail of hair that reached just below her shoulders, it's feathery texture garnering an analysis of what amount of money she would spend on products. The clothes she wore had confused Tommy and he had no idea where they could've been from. If this girl was from London and creating new trends, this was certainly new... and certainly welcomed. He studied her for a moment longer, making a quick judgement of her character. She stood shyly, with no pretending of the fact she was very nervous about whatever she was doing here in his office.
"Brother... don't tell me you want to remarry?" The girls eyes widened and she looked at John in surprise. "No, we've come because... I'll let Rowan explain... and before you say it's fuckin' stupid, just 'ear her out." He waved his hand for this Rowan girl to speak what it was that troubled her so.
"Hi... Mr Shelby, I-..I'm Rowan-..." "We've said that love, get a move on. I've got things to do." "I came from... from... from the future Mr Shelby." He looked at her in disbelief before he laughed with the gruff voice he had gained with the constant smoking of cigarettes. "Tom, please, 'ear 'er out." John said, interrupting his chuckling. "Take 'er back to the madhouse John. I want no part in this stupid fuckin' game your tryna play. The both of ya's." He placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a glance at the redhead. She slammed her hands on his table before stepping back at the realisation of what she had done and who's table she had taken her anger out on.
"Listen, I know it sounds crazy... but I can prove it to you... it's 1920, right? October? This month your planning on taking over Camden, London. There are two sides, the Italians and the Jews. You're siding with the Jews, Alfie Solomons, he's dying of cancer and you once had two barrels full of ammunition that were meant to be parts of motor bikes and in wanting to get rid of them you were planning on selling them to the IRA until Grace Burgess ratted you out... now, how would I know that?" Tommy stood up and adjusted his coat making Rowan step back and rub her hands together in anxiety. He pulled out a gun and loaded it full with bullets.
Rowan took a breath in preparation as she knew she was gonna have a gun to her head and she would have to talk her way out of it.
Yet... John was the one feeling the barrel of the gun on his head.
"You tell her that? Hmm? You betray the family John, I have no hesitation to take your eyes out. But shooting ya' well that would be me rid of ya' for good. Won't it?" "I told her nuffink Tom, some of it I didn't know myself." John said, staring Tommy in the eye and looking towards Rowan. She cowered away, standing against the door. "What number of bullet wounds did I receive in the Great War?" He directed the gun at Rowan and she looked down. She could easily get this wrong, and then it hit her.
"You weren't shot... you were stabbed twice and burnt from a fire. You also almost suffocated from the collapse in the tunnels, but escaped with two others."
"...Nobody knows about the second wound... how the fuck do you?" He cocked the gun, ready to shoot her, though he wouldn't: he was far too curious. "I know almost everything about all of you, you're a part of history that I took up studying a few months ago. In 2020. Your family are infamous, you most especially, I know your birth date and death date and almost everything in between. I promise, I'm not lying and I'm not crazy. Just look at my clothes, I'm pretty sure skinny jeans weren't popular or even existing in the 20s. How about this?" She walked towards him hesitantly and opened her necklace showing the picture once again, in colour and on photo paper.
