The music spilled into the clubhouse from the lonely jukebox. Marco stood quietly chalking a poolstick. The clubhouse was empty except for himself. A hand reached out and grabbed the triangle to rack up the balls. It was his hand. Or more so the hand of his copy. Marco was a mutant. A rather special one at that. He could break off into multiple copies of himself. How many he wasn't quite sure. He had never had occasion to split into more than 30 at one time. He was sure he could do more than that, but the need never arose. Marco smirked at himself and watched as he quietly racked up the balls.
His copy was wearing the exact same thing as him. A pair of tight jeans ripped at the knees. A black leather jacket with the buckles hanging down at the waist and a t-shirt that said "Live free" with a sunscorched highway stretching out across vast desert. When Marco made a copy they were exactly alike in every way. Every hair the same. Every garment of clothing duplicated. Right down to the untied boots he wore. It was like having a mirror at all times, only he could control the reflection and enlist it's help.
Marco could feel each of them, his copies. They littered the room around the clubhouse. He was asked by Johnny Rome to keep watch. Johnny was acting club president since Carson Falco had gotten pinched and was being held in a super max prison. Yeah, it'd be awhile before Carson got out of jail so for the time being Johnny's orders were that of law. Johnny wanted him to watch over the club while everyone was away. Most of the members were out right now, causing chaos and wrecking havoc. Marco wasn't into havoc. He liked a little chaos as long as it was controlled chaos. More than anything he joined the fools for a bit of acceptance and to fit in. They were mutants like him and he had no other family.... Marco had found a home in the fools. Marco put his powers to use and made several copies of himself to help 'guard' the place. Still, he was bored out of his mind.
He was standing there chalking a pool cue. He was the original. His copies were all busy with tasks of there one. Each of them controlled by a minuscule thought somewhere in the back of Marco's mind. He didn't have to concentrate at all to control them. It was child's play. He could feel himself getting a little dizzy. A copy of himself at the bar was doing shots. Another stood over by the darts board throwing darts. One leaned on the jukebox leaving through the music to find another good song as the one on the radio was about to wrap up. Two copies of himself stood by the door like a couple of bouncers. The wind blowing their hair around there face and the real Marco could feel the breeze kissing his skin even though he was in the center of the bar where no breeze blew. It was slightly odd, but he was used to it. Another of his copies stood off in the corner fixing his hair and admiring himself in his leather jacket. Marco had recently gotten a new patch. Sgt. At Arms. It looked nice on his jacket. He was proud of his status within the club.
"Break." He told himself handing himself a stick. Marco took the stick from Marco with a cocky confident swagger he strolled around the table and leaned over it. "I am going to beat your ass." He said to himself with a grin. One thing about Marco's copies. He could hear muttering all around him. Most of the time it was under control, but at the moment he didn't give a shit. He could control what each copy said individually, but if he didn't filter it his copies would say whatever random thoughts were cycling through his head. They just blurt out his inner most thoughts. That was a real freaking problem before he learned to control it. Marco couldn't be around anyone without fear of accidently saying something that could get his ass kicked. People just weren't meant to hear everything that popped into your head. "If you say so." The real Marco replied. His copy only spouting what had slipped into his head a bit of trash talk that he parroted back with no real mind of his own. Marco leaned over the table and broke and sunk two balls.
The Marco by the jukebox was bitching about there not being any good songs in the box. The one at the bar was mumbling about having to stay and guard the place while everyone else was out having fun. The Marco tossing darts was saying nothing at all and the one checking himself in the mirror was saying how good he looked. Marco took in all of this information from all of these copies. He only SAW with his own two eyes, but he was somehow aware of what was happening by the bar, the jukebox, the dartboard and the mirror. He knew and had situational awareness of all of it the same as if he was standing there himself. His copies were an extension of himself and they fed information back to him biometrically. It was wild! The truth was, if it was up to Marco he would be out doing the same thing everyone else was doing. Stirring up a little trouble and trying to have a little fun. Instead he was stuck here, babysitting the club.
Last Edit: Apr 22, 2018 19:41:56 GMT by Marco Pierro
Stepping out of a door into the main hall of her church she was followed by other members of her youth ministry. They had just spent the last to weeks in some small poor village in the not so great areas of Africa. The trip had been funded by a mysterious donation by a 'kind' soul. Megan didn't bother to say a word even though she knew who this donor was.
Her parents considered her gift something given from the heavens. She was lucky to have understanding parents instead of some kids who had been turned out at a younger age. Lying to parents wasn't exactly something she felt great abut but she had a side job. By chance of accident she had drawn a door into a random fbi agents office.
Instead of leaving it be she went through files and started catching some of the bad guys and serving the a bit of justice. In the same process she confiscated some of the blood money and used it for something good. Tonight she had a bigger target that she had been reading up on from stolen files. This Group known as the fools had many crimes that they were accused of. Mostly stolen cars and less blood crimes and thanks to fbi work there were pictures of their hideout.
once her parents went to bed she grabbed her dufflebag and started to use chalk to draw a door on her wall. Once it was finished a beautiful oak door formed and she pulled it open to see a dimly lit office. Peeking into the room everything seemed quiet so she carefully stepped into the room. Quickly she started to stuff money into a bag. What she didnt notice was the infrared beams of a alarm system. Moving a inch to the left she set it off and a loud alarm went off.
The last ball sank and there was a smug look on Marco's face. Can you really brag about winning when you beat yourself? "Don't beat yourself up." Marco jested. Even his copy rolled his eyes as subconsciously he knew just how corny that joke was. Each copy seemed to have it's own personality, it was really just his wavering mood and subconscious thoughts dripping through them like a slow drip coffee maker. Instant sarcasm, with only half the calories of coffee! "Play again?" The real Marco asked. He went back and forth in his head on the thought. Apparently he was a sore looser as well. The copy shook it's head. "You're just too good for me." He said sarcastically to himself. Marco smiled a cocky grin. He nodded as if he expected to hear it.
Suddenly there was an alarm filling the clubhouse. It drowned out the music on the jukebox and everybody looked up. The Marco at the bar looked up in a hazy slur. He was drunker than his original, who only felt the residual effects of his booziness. The Marco throwing darts turned his head as he let one fly and sent a dart into the skull of the Marco modeling the leather jacket. All of the Marco's felt a sharp stabbing pain in their temples. It surged through all of them like a hivemind. One brain controlling them all. One set of pain receptors taking it all in.
Marco clutched at his head. "What the fuck is that?!?!?" He almost growled. His copies all shrugged their shoulders. He had never heard the alarm in the clubhouse before. Hell, who was stupid enough to fuck with the Fools? He didn't even know this place had an alarm system. It was kinda like having a guard dog protecting a boa constrictor. Marco and the Marcos stumbled out of the room. Each of them groaning and grabbing at the shooting pain in the side of their heads as they searched for the source of the alarm. The last Marco out of the room still had a dart planted firmly in his skull. Blood dripped down the side of his face as he followed with an almost goofy grin on his face. He too was feeling the effects of Mr. Boozy Marco.
It didn't take them long to find out what was going on. The copies all split up and searched the whole clubhouse. Within a matter of seconds one of them was shouting "In here!" It was the Marco with the dart in his head. He ran forward and with the telepathic command of the real Marco rushed over and threw his arms around Megan restraining her. He tackled her to the ground in a clumsy attempt at restraint. Boozy Marco had fucked up the motor function for the whole lot. The effects of course would go away if he absorbed all his copies and waited for the buzz to die away. Though absorbing him now would just make the liquor hit him that much harder.
Darthead Marco stared at Megan as he pinned her down. His eyes searched her face. She didn't look like a hardened badass. Not really, She was a blond haired dough eyed bambi who looked slightly surprised and all together in over her head. "You can't be in here!" Darthead Marco cried. His voice was stern and almost equally surprised. He wasn't expecting to get any actual excitement while guarding the clubhouse. A moment later the real Marco showed up in the doorway. He hung off the door frame and stared at what was going on. He absorbed his copies seeing that it was just a single girl, and kinda cute rather. Alcohol.... Equals bad judgment.
His copies seemed to fall apart on a molecular level. They seemed to just crumble and break away like tiny grains of sand being blown away in the wind. The Marco grasping Megan let go and disintegrated right before her very eyes. Molecules rushed across the floor and they came from all different directions. Like Goku summoning a spirit bomb the particles raced towards him and became one with him. Some absorbed into the tips of his fingers. Some to the toe of his boots. He seemed to shin and glow. His molecules racing back to him lit up like tiny fireflies as they became part of one orginism once again. It happened so fast. And then there was one. Marco so no need to gang up on the girl. He hadn't noticed the sack full of cash. "What the hell are you doing in here anyways?"
His voice was more curious than it was angry. He was more than a little buzzed now. He resorbed drunky and now he was getting hit over the head with the weight of his drinking. He stumbled a bit and used the frame of the door to lean on. A cool rocky smile spread across his lips as he took in the long blond curls at the ends of her long strands. He thought about diving into the depths of her beautiful blue eyes and he just wanted to dip his finger into that creamy complexion. She was a dream. And he thought guard duty was going to be boring. Yep. Bad judgment all around.
Last Edit: Apr 19, 2018 1:11:35 GMT by Marco Pierro
This wasn't good and she hadn't counted on criminals to have a security system. Seemed kinda ridiculous that thieves didn't want to be stolen from. Before she had a chnage to make a get away some guy was rushing her and then they were on the ground. She struggled a bit and noticed the dart in the back of his head. A scream escaped her lips as she tried to get away from the zombie man.
After a few moments the guy seemed to just disappear into nothing. All the particals glowed and returned to the one in the door way. So this guy was a mutant which is something she had not read in the stolen fbi files. Finally she stumbled to her feet and just blinked a bit kinda frozen in fear. This guy was supposed to be a criminal but he was attacking her.
Grabbing the bag full of cash she tossed it over her shoulder. "Um im the cleaning lady... I got hired to... ahh never mind. I gotta go." She started to lie but gave up realizing the guy was obviously drinking and probably wouldn't remember her. Moving across the room She opened the door that stood alone in the middle of nothing. "Have a good night sir."
Her tone was polite and she went to stepped through the portal only to hear foot steps behind her. Thinking she had a clean get away she stepped into her room and stood in front of her bed. When she turned to close the door the man from the other side came barging through and tackled her onto the bed. The door disappeared and her blue eyes stared up at him for a few moments.
There was no time to act. There was hardly time to think. Suddenly she was picking up a bag of cash and Marco's eyes widened. He didn't know what was in the bag at first until he saw a wad of cash fall out of the top as she clumsy moved towards a door. Where the fuck did that door come from? He thought. Marco was confused. Suddenly the door opened and it was standing free form i the center of the room. Inside the door was a bedroom of sorts. It was unfamiliar. Marco had never seen that room before.
She was making up clunky excuses. Marco, even in his slightly buzzed state didn't buy them for a minute. Suddenly everything clicked. All the tumblers fell into place. She's robbing us! Marco thought. He started to run towards her. Her hand was already on the doorknob pushing the door open fully. Marco watched it all happening in slow motion before his eyes. If Marco let this chick rob them and get away Lulu was going to have his head. She would probably making him duplicate himself a hundred times so she could kill him over and over and over again. This was bad!
Without thinking Marco started running towards the mysterious doorway. He dove to try and dive through the door but he was going to come up just a little short. He knew it too. He felt the hope sink from his heart and then without thinking he split. Marco sent a copy through the open door that shut just as his left foot fell in. Marco was left sitting there. The door collapsed in on itself and imploded into nothing, and then he was alone. He was alone in a ransacked room with missing cash and an alarm screaming in his ear. Fuck this was bad. This was very bad bananas. Marco scrambled to his feet and turned off the alarm. He reached in his pocket and shot out a quick text to Ironsides. - Major problem at the club. We got jacked!!!! -xoxo Marco sent the message forgetting to take his stupid signature off. That XOXO shit was for the various women he usually texted from that phone.
Marco ran his hands through his hair and suddenly he was very much sober. The daunting task of telling Lulu made him fearful. He started to pace a bit. It took a few moments for his copy and the thief to make it through the door portal and to wherever they landed, but when they came out on the other side Marco could feel her room around him. He could sense her room in his mind like a memory only it was playing in real time in his head. He closed his eyes and took in the details. Marco's copy landed on the bed with the blond. Marco was controlling him now. Marco2 stood up from the bed. "You! Who the hell are you? Where are we?!?!?" Marco2 cried.
Looking around the room he saw floral wallpaper and christian books on the shelves. He saw a cross hanging on the wall and an old 1970's style television sitting in the corner. The drapes were patterned with bright flowers and outside it was dark. There was a small desk clamp on the table, still turned on. It offered the only light in the room. It was intimately lit. All the makings of a kinky orgy with someone's grandma he supposed. Marco2 snatched the bag of cash from the floor and quickly slung it over his shoulder. Marco2 had no powers here. He was just a copy. The copies could not split off into more copies. Marco prime had to be present for that. He was just a vessel. A Marco shaped vessel being telepathically controlled from states away.
Marco had never been in a situation where he was controlling a copy in another state. He was surprised to find that his telepathic link was intact and the distance didn't matter. They were beating with the same heart and firing neurons from the same central nervous system. Marco2 stared at Megan for a moment. He spoke with the words running through Marco prime's mind. "You're a mutant?" He asked quietly. He clutched the bag of money but made not threatening moves towards her. He just watched her carefully. He was still a little freaked out.
The man Grabbed the bag of cash and he was off the bed. He seemed rather shocked and confused about what was going on and truthfully he should be. He was a long way from home in her bedroom. "Like im going to give you my name. I know what happens to people who mess with criminal clubs. I wanna live thanks." She spoke as she sat up on her bed. "You may wanna keep your voice down before my daddy comes in her with his best friend Winchester."
Megan warned in a hushed tone not really wanting to wake her daddy. This would be hard to explain but she was sure she could play innocent. "How about you just give me the money and i don't start screaming." wouldn't look good for you to be in my room in the middle of the night." Megan moved to the wall and picked up some chalk. The guy seemed to calm his tone real quick and asked her if she was a mutant.
"You mean you can draw doors and open portals to any destination to? That explains why everyone thinks im weird." Taking the chalk to the wall she started to draw a door. She had two destination in mind and it would depend on him. "Look nothing personal but i stole that money for starving kids in africa. I'll make you a deal, Give me the money and i send you home or i can scream for daddy and you go to jail."
Turning around she stepped a bit closer to him. Her hand reached for the back and gripped on of the straps. Her nose scrunched up as she stared at him and looked over the features of his face. For a moment she stared think about that fact that he was kinda cute. A bit of blush came to her cheeks before she let go of the bag and turned around.
As she explained her powers to him he could hear the sarcasm in her voice. He cut his eyes at her and shifted his weight. "Cut the crap lady." He snapped. He was annoyed, but he did keep his voice down as instructed. He scolded her in whisper form which took all but all of the bite out of his words. They came off his lips with no pepper, no sting. "YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE ME BACK RIGHT NOW!" He demanded. For a moment based on the design and layout of the room he had thought she was some sort of time traveling mutant. That would have made just as much sense. He looked at her with a mixture of annoyance and fear.
He was annoyed by the situation, but he was afraid of what Lulu might say when she found out how he goofed up. He tried getting firm with her. Marco2 had no doubt that he would be okay even if her father came in with a shotgun. A shotgun blast to the chest would hurt like hell yeah, but it wouldn't kill him. At most it would kill off the copy and leave Megan alone, wherever she was with all the Fool's money. Lulu could very well kill him if he lost their only lead to where the money was, but the shotgun certainly wouldn't. Marco2 took a step back towards the window. He had the money in his hand.
He looked down out the window and tried to determine if he could make that drop without breaking his copy legs. Nah, it was a bit high. Suddenly she was stepping closer. Those big blue eyes so deep and so pretty just batting at him and in that southern voice he almost dripped into the floor. He could feel his legs getting looser as they threatened to buckle under his weight. Marco2 swallowed hard. Somewhere back in Detroit Marco was taking a big nervous gulp as well.
Marco was no stranger to the ladies, but he didn't have the same kind of game that Buster did. He didn't have the constant stream of one night stands that William did. No, Marco had thousands of copies of himself and usually every one of them struck out with the ladies with a thousand different approaches. He wasn't bad looking and he was pretty charming otherwise, he just wasn't all that smooth with the ladies in most cases.
For a moment, foolishly, he thought she was about to kiss him. Then he watched her fingers dancing along the straps of the bag. Of course. She just wanted the money. Marco2 was getting sidetracked. Somewhere, back in Detroit the real Marco was watching all this play out in his head like a movie he had already lived. It was like a memory that was happening now.
Marco closed his eyes and watched as Marco2 stared back at Megan. "Starving kids in Africa? Lady, are you freaking kidding me? You can pick up a phone and make a difference in their lives for only 25 cents a day! You don't need all this!" His voice was less stern now but he was still whisper shouting at her. His voice was as angry and as quiet as he could possibly make it. He felt ridiculous. He felt like a husband yelling at his wife for spending the kids college fund while trying not to wake him up because they were arguing above it's crib.
Suddenly there was a creak in the floorboards outside in the hallway and a voice. "Megan? Babygirl you alright in there?" It was her father's voice. Marco2 froze. His eyes went wide with horror as his muscles tensed ready to hurl himself out the window. At the very least he could make some attempt to get the hell out of there. He kept an eye on the chalk in Megan's hand too!
He knew what she did now. She made freaking portals to anywhere she wanted. All she had to do was draw a door and open it and shove him in and he could be a starving kid sitting in Africa himself. Marco2 looked at her and tried to talk to her using his eyes and eyebrows. They screamed. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO DO? Keeping in mind that she held most of the cards here. He couldn't loose this money. Lulu would snap off his legs and shove them down his throat. It didn't matter if he was in Africa or not she would find him.
Last Edit: Apr 23, 2018 19:55:48 GMT by Marco Pierro
Megan was standing there with the chalk in her fingers. The door was half drawn and she stopped because he was demanding she take him back. "What are you going to do if I dont?" Her nose crinkled a bit and her brow furrowed. Truth was even when trying to be intimidating she was at the least a cute angry bunny. "What do you need all this money for? Drugs, Guns, Hookers? Have you been to africa and seen the skeletons of a child that 25 cent a day could afford to feed?"
Her tone was quite and rather flat as she blinked her blue eyes at him. Megan wasn't a flirt and by no means did she know how to make men do what she wanted. Truth was she hadn't even been on a date really because she was to busy doing gods work. So trying to talk sweet to him wasn't going to work. When there was a knock at her door she watched the mans face.
It was her father checking on her and she could see the fear in his eyes. "I'm okay Daddy. Just a bad dream is all. Love you good night." Sweetly her voice called at and she heard his foot steps going back down the hall. Moving back to the wall she finished the door and opened it. Grabbing the guys arm she moved quickly through the portal.
He didnt have time to react and when they were on the other side she shut the door. It was mid afternoon and the heat hit you like a punch in the gut. They were on the edge of a village the central of the sahara. Hoops and hollers of a zebra heard that watched them filled the air. " Her eyes shot a look at The tattooed man before she headed towards the willage. Some of the kids came running up with big smiles on their face.
"Miss megan!! You came back to stay with us?" Voice chimed in around her and she just smiled at them. Her gaze went back to Marco before she followed the kids through the village. Stubborn would get him no where and right now he was stuck.
Marco2 was shocked. He held his breathe tight in his chest. That's it. They're going to send me to jail. It's all over man. Marco was worried for maybe a few seconds before he realized it was only a copy. He could do what he did the last time he had a copy caught and sent to prison. Simply reabsorb his copy and quietly slip away. He could absorb over long distances. It wasn't like he had to be in the same room with them. Although he had no idea where the hell his copy was. So you know what? Bring it on! I'm not scared of prison. He thought. Marco2 got a bolder more defiant look on his face. But she didn't do that. She sent her father away. Marco2 listened to the footsteps thudding down the hallway.
Marco2 almost breathed a sigh of relief, but before he could he was being pulled through another fucking dimension. He let out a startled cry as he fell face first through another doorway. He was really starting to hate doors in general. He was going to hang some 70's beads in his door frame. Marco2 landed hard with a groan. As he hit the ground his bag came flying in after him. A large duffel bag stuffed with dense heavy cash. The bag flew through the portal and came crashing into the back of his head. He had started to get up before the bag knocked him back down.
Cash spilled out of the bag and Marco2 quickly scooped it all up and back into the bag. Marco2 scurried to his feet. He watched a few kids running up the girl and calling her miss Megan. Marco2 raised an eyebrow. It was so damned hot. He was already sweating here. This portal travel bullshit was a hard pill to swallow but he couldn't very well argue with what his own two eyes were telling him. It was night time only moments ago, now he was i n the sweltering heat in what appeared to be.... Africa? A zebra ran passed them. Yep. Africa. One of the kicks came up and stuck his hand down into Marco2's pocket.
The kid's arm went elbow deep down into the pocket. "What the fuck..." Marco2 protested. The kid pulled out his cell phone and ran off with it. "Hey get back here!" He started to chase the little thief but then realized that Miss Megan was disappearing over the hill. He couldn't loose her or he would be stuck here. He had a bag full of cash, but it wasn't the local currancy. He didn't even have his passport. He wasn't thinking logically. It was just so damn hot it was hard to think. Marco at the fool's dice club had to actually remind himself that he wasn't really stuck in that sweaty Sudan hell. "Follow her dumbass! We need to get that cash back here!" He yelled at himself.
Marco2 followed Megan and her screaming happy entourage of children. "Hey you can't just leave me here. What because I'm not some boyscout saving rain forests you think it's cool to just fuck with people's lives? News flash lady! That doesn't make you a hero that makes you kind of an asshole." Megan stopped walking for a second. Marco2 was standing behind her with a big bag of stolen cash, trying to point the finger and call her unjust. Tomato, tamato. All he knew was he had to get this cash back to the club pronto. He really didn't have time to play Steve Irwin in an African jungle.
Marco2 stood behind her holding the duffel bag. She wasn't walking anymore. Maybe his words had reached her. One of the little African children looked at Marco2. "What's ass-hole?" He asked with growing curiosity. Marco2 looked over at the kid. He smirked. "Wait til you're old enough to date kid, you'll hear that word a lot." The kid scratched his head and turned his head slightly to the side. He had no idea what Marco2 was talking about. "Look. Send me back and I'll talk to my boss about maybe making some kind of donation to your...." Marco2 looked around at the kids. "Organization. This is just plain extortion."
He was powerless. Copies couldn't make copies. All he could do was appeal to her better nature and give his best pitch. She saved sick kids in Africa for crying out loud. Surely she wasn't the type of person that wanted to see a guy ripped limb from limb. "If i don't get this money back though, I'm seriously a dead man. You think I'm safe because I'm in Africa? Well, I'm just a clone sweetheart. My real body is back in Detroit and it's going to get mangled by some very pissed off people if i don't get that money back!" That's right Marco, pulled at her heart strings. He thought.
Megan was already almost back to her churches base camp when Marco came up behind her. One of the kids had run up with the phone he had 'borrowed' and megan got it back. Turning around to face him as he raised his voice and called her a asshole just made her frown. She listened to him raise his voice and vent his frustration.
Not once did she flinch or even back away and people had started to gather. When two of the armed guards of the town came up behind marco one pushed the barrel into his back as megan grabbed the bag of cash. Grabbing a sattelite phone off the table she handed it to marco. "You get one phone call." She spoke before looked at one of the guards.
Speaking to one of them in the native tongue she told the guards to lock him in a cell until his attitude calmed down. "Maybe some time in an African jail will open your eyes to how easy your life is. Megan spoke as she walked inside with the bag of cash. Sticking it in a wall safe she spent her day caring from the kids and teaching them more English.
"What is asshole miss megan?" One little boy asked and she just blushed a bit. "That is a word we dont speak. Its a bad word and no god person talks like that. Now off to your homes children. So the Lions dont get you." A soft smile on her face as she carries a plate of food to the prison.
When she gets there she sees a plate of mush left on the floor inside Marco's cell. The food they fed to prisoners was basically dirt an some old moldy mushed bread. In her hands she carried so cooked meats and vegtables. "Have you calmed down now? I'm sure you'd much rather eat this than what they wanted to serve you."
Spend some time in the fools and you get used to the idea of being in jail. Marco2 was in jail now. Though at the same time he was a free man. It was maddening. It was like having part of you mind locked away where you could not think. Marco stood in the fool's clubhouse and part of his mind was just ..... bored. His copy was as human as you or I. In a manner of speaking. It talked, it walked, it breathed it sang. If you cut him he bleed and he felt the pains of hunger. Still, he didn't touch that bowl of mush. He wasn't THAT hungry afterall. Marco2 sat in his cell and stared out the tiny window that was provided.
He wasn't surprised when he heard that voice calling out to him. To Marco2 it sounded a little smug and preachy. Who the hell was she to judge him for her choices? We all didn't grow up in a fairy tale. Not every single one of us have a family that gave a damn about you. The only family he ever had that ever cared about him was the Fools. He would do anything for those guys. Even if it meant stealing and breaking the law to line their pockets and put food on their families tables. Some of the guys had families. Carson had a daughter. Eddie had kids, somewhere. He didn't see them, but he sent a check.
"What's it matter?" Marco2 asked. His voice was solem, broken, but not at all threatening. He didn't bother to look away from his little window. The view wasn't particularly interesting. It was just a tree and some tall grass swaying in the wind. But he did not look away from it. Mostly he didn't want to look at her. He felt pretty powerless. The fact that he let her bring him all this way and end up with the money said alot. Maybe he wasn't cut out to be a fool. That is why his leather jacket wasn't on his shoulders, but instead across the cell in the floor. He didn't want to look in her direction also because he didn't want to see the logo of the club he failed.
Marco2 was stuck in Africa. Marco was all but sure he was in deep shit. Hell, they might even strip him of his jacket. Marco didn't have his jacket on either. It laid across a pool table at the club. He poured himself a drink. Moving over he sat at the bar and nursed a drink. Might've had something to do with the reason Marco2 was so meloncaly. Alcohol was a depressant. Marco sat at the bar and swirled his bourbon around in his glass of ice. He took another long heavy sip and stumbled off the stool. Taking one last look around the clubhouse he knew it was probably the last time he was going to get to see this place he called home.
Marco2 actually did look at Megan now. His eyes were soft and quiet. There was no anger swirling in them, just accepted defeat. He didn't feel bad about the kids in Africa. There was no room. He was too busy feeling sorry for himself. He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the bars. There was a film of tears daring to shrink wrap his eyes, but he didn't cry. Instead he got that tough guy attitude. It came crashing back to him like a warm jacket in the dead of winter. "You know what, take the money. Do what you want with it. Feed every kid from here to Nepal, but just know you ruined a man's life." He didn't expect to guilt trip her, but she had to know she very well may have blood on her hands. How is she any better then him?
Marco2 stumbled and fell against the wall. He was obviously drunk. Emotional, and throwing a pity party. Even if he was out of this cell and had a gun in his hands. He wasn't sure if he would have put a bullet in her head. Marco just wasn't that type of guy. He left the bloodwork to the assholes. Buster and William were all to happy to get blood on their hands. Marco was more of a white collar criminal. He was a thief, not a murderer. Marco had never killed in the name of the club and thank god Johnny had never asked him too. Marco2 wiped his mouth with his arm and looked at Megan. "I'm a deadman." He mumbled looking back at the floor as if he was trying to stare a hole through it.
This guy was in a jail in Africa with very little options and her whole purpose was maybe to get him to change his ways. Though honestly he was sitting here wallowing in self pity and it did make her feel a bit guilty. Then again this man stole things from people who worked hard for them so maybe it was his fate to be a dead man. Megan didnt bother to say anything but instead she left the jail and headed back to her office.
Moving through the building she pulled the bag of cash from her safe. Grabbing some chalk she headed back to the prison and opened the cell door. Roughly she handed the bag back to Marco and went to work drawing a door. On the floor a door materialized and she jerked it open quickly before staring at Marco. Her nose crinkled a bit as she looked back down at the shining light from the portal.
"Go! Back to your meaningless and sinful life of crime and violence. I dont have time for pathetic losers who wallow in self pity." Her words were mean and she felt instantly bad about speaking them. Turning on her heal she walked towards the exit of the prison house. "That door will close in 3 minutes. Better go quickly." Was the last words she offered before going back into the african evening to help out around the village.
She would return home to her bed later but at least she could help them make dinner for the village. For the life of her she couldn't get the image of the mans face out of her head. That tattooed criminal was cute but definitely not someone her dad would approve of.
Marco2 started to get drowsy. He was in a bit of a drunken stupor. He always was a bit of a lightweight. He closed his eyes. Quietly he began to think about what would happen if he stayed in Africa. Surely there were some places here that didn't smell like complete ass. Surely there were places here people could call home. He could change his name. It would have to be something easy to remember and something that looked like it matched his face. Marco2 fell asleep thinking about it.
Marco2 was asleep. Back at the fool's dice club the real Marco was passed out on the bar. He sat at a stool leaning over the bar. Drool quietly pouring out of his mouth. His hand still clutched a glass of whisky. He was trying to drink his problems away. Like alcohol was the great answer. Booze never gave anyone any great ideas. All it did was cloud your judgment and make you the worst version of yourself. The cell door opened and suddenly Megan was standing there holding a bag of cash. The metal door clanked and the sound woke up Marco2. The sound woke up the actual Marco as well, half way around the world.
Marco sat up and wiped the drool from his mouth. Marco2 did the same. He listened to her carefully and watched her drawing a door. She gave him back the money and told him to leave. He woke up strangly alert. He was not crying anymore. He was beyond caring abotu what happened to him. He was only thinking about one thing now. A way out. Maybe Africa was his new start. It was hot as hell here, but people lived here. Somehow he was forgetting that he was still in Detroit.
He was like a scout team to see if this place was good for him. It wasn't, he would hate living here, but what he didn't realize was it wasn't actually about Africa. It was about this girl. Now he was trying to find excuses to stay, not because he was afraid to go back without the money but because he honestly wanted to stay. To get to know this girl. She left and Marco2 went to speak, but in the end he said nothing he watched her walk out the door and close it behind her. Marco2 stared at the portal. In the center he could see the clubhouse. He could see himself sitting at the bar and staring at nothing, nothing at all. The only thing was.... He couldn't see the portal from the other side. Marco was not aware of it. Not really, not anymore than the sense tht his copy was staring at it. It was confusing.
Marco2 picked up the bag and stared at it. There was a lot of money in here. He stared at the door for the longest time before finally closing it with the toe of his shoe. He lifted the door up and flung it closed. Marco2 stood there for a few moments just to think about what he was doing. It was crazy. He wasn't the type to throw everything away on a random chance, but he was also a romantic at heart. What if he met this girl for a reason. What if their fates were tied together and he was destined to be here. Marco believed in all that shit. Soul mates, destiny, fatal attraction, all that shit. Every time he looked at her his heart was racing. His blood pressure was also skyrocketing but that was besides the point. Marco2 was willing to listen. He walked to the door and opened it.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't thinking selfishly. And it felt kind of good. He didn't have blood on his hands like Buster. He didn't have the rap sheet like Sean. Marco really wasn't a bad guy, he was just a guy used to looking out for himself and himself alone. He stepped out into the sweltering heat. He had to wince against the sunlight as it was bright and terrible and being a dick. He still had the money in his hand. He saw Megan standing there. The obnoxious light from the sun enveloped her and made her glow like an angel. She turned around to look at him, those bright blue eyes.... God those eyes. He thought. Maybe he was thicking with his smaller head, but he still felt like he was doing the right thing here.... "Okay." He said quietly. "Show men." Marco2 dropped the bag between them and actually smiled.
I was a rather hot day even fr africa but she literally just left a few hours before hand. So the temperature was something that she could deal with. After all she was going to have to head home and tell her parents she was till alive. A flash of the tattooed mans face came to mind but she just shrugged it off. He had to be back to his criminal ways and she would pray for his soul.
The moment she thought she wouldn't see him again there was a duffel bag tossed at the ground by her feet. Blue eyes blinked a bit and stared at him for a moment. "Figured you'd be back on home by now." She spoke in a deep southern accent and picked up the bag. "Kry die vragmotor. Moet na die stad gaan." She spoke to one of the men at the serving table.
"My best friend gave me the best advice
He said each day's a gift and not a given right
Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind
And try to take the path less traveled by
That first step you take is the longest stride"
"Come on then." There was a smile on her lips as she grabbed his hand and headed towards the vehicles. "Make sure you keep your hands and limbs inside the convoy. Would hate to have a lion chew them up." Laughing a bit she tossed the bag into the back and climbed on board. One of the men took the drivers seat and the other took stand on a gun mount in the back.
'Against the grain should be a way of life
What's worth the prize is always worth the fight
Every second counts 'cause there's no second try
So live like you'll never live it twice
Don't take the free ride in your own life'
"Why did you stay?" Megan looked over at the man as they rode the dusty roads. The truck came to a stop as a few elephants went to cross in front of them. The herd was all around them and crossing headed to the local water hole. Zebra's, wildebeest and other smaller herd animals all followed. The plains land was beautiful in its golden nature for a desert.
Soon the truck started to move again towards a rougher part of the country. "Keep your eyes to yourself when we get in the city. Dont look at the soldiers." She spoke grabbing some old scarves to cloak her face. The truck slowed to a crawling pace in the city streets. People sat on the sides of the road in front of their houses. Small children were basically bones and Megan just keep her eyes ahead of them.
On the center of town they stopped at a embassy and she carried the duffel bag inside. Moving over to the cashier desk she put alot of the cash onto a card in local currency. Some of the rest she took and bought a safari hat for The stranger. "I dont think i ever got your name.." She spoke before heading into the market were she shopped for supplies.
Some of the children were begging off on the sides and she gave them all a loaf of bread with some dried fruits. There was a frown on her lips as she looked at marco. "So tell me how rough your life has really been."
As Marco2 stood there he stared at her. She blinked at him a few times as if she couldn't believe that he chose to stay. Honestly he couldn't believe it himself almost. There was a big part of him inside his head that was screaming right now. Telling him that he was a complete idiot. Then again. He had never made the best choices in life. His choices had led him to the fools and that was the closest thing to a family he ever had. They saved him.
Marco's parents cared for him deeply, that was until they found out that he was different. Marco didn't discover his powers until he was about to start his freshman year of high school. His mother had knocked on his door and asked him if he was ready for school. She opened the door before Marco told her to come in and she walked into a room with 12 copies of her son. She started to scream but it got caught in her throat. She chose to black out instead. Marco stood ashamed. Later that night he could hear raised voices of her mother arguing with his father. He heard his mother tossing around the words "Freak" and "unnatural" It was at that moment Marco had decided to bail.
It was Carson Falco himself who recruited Marco to the Fools. Just a scrawny kid with no food and no roof over his head. Marco didn't know much about the fools, but he was more than happy to deliever stolen car radios on his bike. He would shove them in his backpack and bike around trying to unload them. Sometimes he even helped steal the radios in the first place. Marco wasn't above getting his own hands dirty.
Carson told him where the dirty pawn shops were. The places that didn't care if things were aquired legally or not. It was fun at first. Marco just kind of grew into the life. He saw the Fools as family and crime literally fed him when he had nothing else. He supposed he never really thought it was wrong. It was just him taking care of himself like he always had. Doing what he needed to survive.
"Thought about it." He admitted when she suggestioned she expected him to be long gone by now. "Something told me to stay." He was never the type to put much faith in god. God had never realyl did much for him. Marco believed that all of his fortunes were earned. He believed that he worked to get where he was today. He fought and scrapped for every bit of what he had. Now, he wanted something different. Maybe just maybe he wanted to step out of his violent criminal past and become something better. He didn't know. This was pretty much all he knew.
As they got in the convoy Marco2 didn't say much. He was quietly contemplating his choices up to this moment. So what if Lulu was going to be pissed. Back in Detroit Marco wasn't even at the clubhouse anymore. Apparently some other shit went down and him getting robbed was the least of the club's worries at the moment. He used the oppurtunity to quietly slip away. So much shit had gone down for the fools that he wondered just what the hell he was doing. Did he even want this anymore? He was a smart guy. He could make an honest living.
The real Marco was walking through the park. His hands were stuffed in his pocket. He was dying of a heat stroke, even though he was in windy Detroit he could feel the sweltering African sun. His mind was on his path ahead of him, and at the same time he was in two different places. A piece of his mind was in the moment in Africa. It was like trying to think on a descion and having a conversation at the same time. Thankfully multitasking was a strong suit for him. He sat down on a bench and started feeding the pidgeons. Back in Africa he answered Megan's question. "I don't know if i want to be that guy anymore." His words hung on the air and haunted him. He did't really believe he could change. But it sounded nice.
The city was busier than he expected. Soldiers were everywhere. He was beginning to wonder if anyone else even lived her besides soldiers. Some of them gave him suspicious looks. Marco just shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and looked away. His Fool's Dice jacket wasn't on his shoulders either. Not here, or in Detroit. He didn't want to look at it. He didn't want to wear it, and not only because he was burning up. He watched and said nothing as she changed the money out for the local shit. His big brown eyes watched and his adam's apple bobbed like he was going to speak up and didn't. His lips parted slightly but he stayed quiet.
When she asked him.... He told her his name was Marco. There was a long pause. As if he had revealed some terrible secret. As they stepped out of the place Marco2 finally did speak. There was something nagging at him that he had been meaning to ask. "Why do you, do what you do. I mean... You could do literally anything. Why do this?" He watched as some children ran past him and he watched them for a moment before turning his attention back to her.
She gave them some food and they were happy. Marco didn't get the magic of giving. He was one of these kids once. Hungry, uncared for and trying to make it. That was before he found his club. He was realizing now that it was everything he was. Without the fools... He wasn't even sure who he was and that scared him. When Megan asked about his past he just shrugged. "I was a street kid. I struggled. I got over it." He kicked a rock down the street. He tried to act like it didn't bother him. He put up that tough guy wall, that was about as thin as a piece of paper. "No big story."
Last Edit: May 3, 2018 0:22:26 GMT by Marco Pierro
