Marco's Heart

[peccatore]

You find yourself in a bright white, circular room. It's nearly empty; too bare, almost clinically so. But the bareness of it means that what is visible here stands out:

A podium in the center, where a familiar figure sits, head buried in his hands. Three paths running from the podium to three different spots near the edges of the room - not corners; circles don't have corners - where three doors leading seemingly nowhere stand with no regard for their complete lack of structural support.

It doesn't take you long to figure out where you are, does it? You only have to decide where to start.

Comments

[too_cleverfox]

Missing bodies? We're any of those close with your son?

[peccatore]

"Bless him... He wants to help."
"Such a noble young man...!"

...

It seems that's all they have to say in response to that question.

[too_cleverfox]

Just trying to understand.

Is this the first time he turned?

[peccatore]

"Yes, of course."
"Of course it is. This is the day our son died."

[too_cleverfox]

What happens after all this?

[peccatore]

"You want to see more?"
"There is so much more. Look, look, we can show you...!"

Their surroundings are starting to blur, as is Marco. This memory is coming to an end, apparently.

[too_cleverfox]

Isn't that the point of this whole mess?

[He closes his eyes for a moment so he doesn't get too disoriented]

[peccatore]

It looks like the scene is going to settle on a cobblestone street under a cloudy night, with a familiar blond man following a captivating scent, but Nikolai might not even have the time to open his eyes before the Father interrupts -

"No, not this one. Further ahead."

- And everything zooms, indeed, further ahead, until the world settles into place again for real.

Now they're in a back alley, where men in striped suits and hats are locked in a gunfight. It is, once again, night time.

[too_cleverfox]

... Well, I sure definitely traveled forward in time.

[peccatore]

"When is this? Where was this?"
"Two hundred years later? Maybe less?"
"So much time."
"So much sin. He only remembers some of it."

The gunfight isn't terribly important. It's only when it dies down, two or three men left on the ground bleeding to their deaths, that Marco walks in.

He's looking a lot more put together these days. Dressed formally, in a style that marks him as a respectable member of society rather than a criminal like the other men here; hair combed neatly, with small sideburns. He wears glasses now.

[too_cleverfox]

[huh. Again, he has an idea of what will happen next, but he'll wait and watch]

[peccatore]

It is, in fact, simple to put two and two together. This is Marco's dinner.

The affair is much more deliberate and controlled than what happened with his parents (or what it sounded like, at any rate). One by one, Marco kneels at each criminal's side, bites down, and simply drinks until there's no more left to drink. Neat, silent and methodical.

He looks torn about it when he's done, all the same.

"Look at him. Scavenging like a vulture."

[too_cleverfox]

Better than murder.

[He clears his throat to see if he can get this Marco's attention]

[peccatore]

It works. Marco flinches, flustered in a way that seems very typical of his present-day self.

"I-- I agree. But that doesn't mean I like it."

[too_cleverfox]

Sure, but what are the alternatives?

[peccatore]

"This was... the best I could find, I think." He sighs. "When I moved to New York."

[too_cleverfox]

Exactly.

Pardon me, as I'm going to sound exceedingly harsh here, but you chose to live, rather than die, correct?

[peccatore]

"That's... correct."

The Parents' shadows loom over Marco. He seems to be bracing himself...

[too_cleverfox]

Then why are you making it so hard on yourself?

[peccatore]

"I--"

The Parents are the ones who answer instead.

"Because he is a coward!"
"Because he knows his choice is selfish!"

[too_cleverfox]

[he turns to the parents and rolls his eyes a little]

Yes yes, I know that, I want to hear it from him.

[peccatore]

"... Why? They're right. Death... Death would be the right choice."

[too_cleverfox]

But that's not what you chose. So why are you still alive and kicking? What reasons keep you around?

[peccatore]

"Selfishness. And cowardice."

... But he's clearly answered too quickly to have given it any thought.

[too_cleverfox]

Selfishness for what? What keeps you wanting to keep going, to keep living?