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Marco's Heart
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.
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he wishes he knew these people's names]
It's done. You didn't mean to. You have to keep onward now.
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yeah lol so does Marco buddy"O... Onward..."
Adrien may be doing an excellent job of ignoring the specters following him, but Marco can't quite keep himself from glancing their way.
"I'm sure there's more. I'm sure they want to show you."
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closes his eyes for a moment, bracing, before looking up]
All right. Ready.
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... But their surroundings are starting to blur, as is Marco.
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 it isn't long until the Father interrupts -
"No, not this one. Further ahead."
Unless Adrien finds a way to stay here, everything will blur and move on again. Maybe this memory is visible elsewhere, though.
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The gunfight isn't terribly important, though. 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, as well.
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. . . despite the fact that he knows there's no point at all, he goes to try to render some aid to the dying men]
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And just like that, Marco halts, looking directly at Adrien with an expression that isn't too far off from that of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
"That-- That's going to make this more difficult."
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The Parents, relentless, see an opening.
"He thought he would sympathize!"
"Our poor, misguided, foolish son..."
"Life is life! Death is death! Why does it matter? Why would it matter where you steal life from?!"
"A sinner judging sinners. Does he think he's any better?"
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I sympathize. Everyone needs to eat.
[slowly exhales] I know they're not real here. I know I can't change it. Go on, if this is how it went.
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The affair is much more deliberate and controlled than what happened with his parents. 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.
"He's USED to it," the Father says with open derision.
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I understand.
[though he's shivering]
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Marco can't keep himself from staring at Adrien as he shivers -
"He wants to touch him!"
"You can't touch him. You can't comfort him. You're the reason he feels sick to his stomach."
- which can't go uncommented on, apparently.
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staggering up and neatening his clothes, holding his hand out again]
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And, apparently struck by a sudden realisation, Marco yells, his grip on Adrien's hand tightening.
"WAIT! W-Wait, please, he-- he doesn't need to see that. He, he already knows. He already knows what I've done to, to those men...!"
The Parents say nothing, but it's hard not to feel trapped by the weight of their judgemental aura.
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It's your choice.
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They may very well be passing over it. Their surroundings are taking a While to solidify again. Everything seems to be growing darker...
"Then THIS one is no use either," the Father says.
"He already knows when we joined you," the Mother says. "You're bared so much of your heart to him..."
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I won't turn away from anything. But whatever I see is up to you.
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He takes a deep breath, and Adrien is now in a CEO's office - clean, but sparsely decorated. Impersonal.
As usual, it's night time. This is obvious from the large glass window overlooking the city below. Marco - and he looks almost identical to the Marco that Adrien knows - sits at the desk, which is lousy with notes and documents and files. He stares straight ahead, expressionless.
A Mother's familiar voice pipes up, but it doesn't seem to be coming quite from where the Parents were just now. It's simply in the office, somewhere nearby. Present.
"Oh, dear son. Finally."
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he wants to offer his healing, but that's not really how that works in here, is it]
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"This is... your will," Marco mutters.
"This is the will of the Lord," the Father says.
"God's will through us. Through you." The Mother again.
"Can you do it? Will you do it?"
"I... have to do it. For my soul." Marco casts his gaze at the contents of his desk.
"For your soul."
"Then you will be saved."
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"I'll tell the world that the supernatural is real. That magic is real. That it's a threat to them. I'll.. spread fear. Until all humans understand the danger they're in."
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