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

[turntoash]

[The narration has a point. Might be best to see what they want her to see first, then dig as necessary.]

Let's keep going, then.

[peccatore]

In that case, 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.

[turntoash]

[Ashwyn snaps her fingers to freeze the memory. Now - time to touch everything.]

[She'll examine the men first. Do any of them look familiar? Who are they shooting at? Is there anything valuable in their pockets? Anything else she can glean about them?]

[peccatore]

Well, let's go down the list.

One: No, nobody looks familiar - unless, of course, by sheer cosmic coincidence, one of the men present here happens to strongly resemble anyone from Ashwyn's world. These things do happen.

Two: It seems there are two groups of men shooting at each other.

Three: Their wallets are reasonably loaded.

Four: They are all wearing striped suits and hands. At least one of them has a cigar. These are criminals; mobsters. But... if the visual language doesn't translate to Ashwyn's world, she might have no way of figuring that out.

However, the good news is that the gunfight itself is of little importance. Since time is stopped, she'll have ample time to notice a familiar blond man watching quietly from the shadows.

[turntoash]

[Point 3: Ashwyn doesn't know anything about paper money, so unfortunately this doesn't mean much to her. She still takes the wallets though.]

[Point 4: You are absolutely correct, narration. She doesn't understand anything about who these guys are. She will, however, see if the guy with the cigar has any fresh ones on him.]

[Once that's done, she'll sidle up next to Marco.]

So what's this about?

[peccatore]

"Uh--"

Marco is 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 (but will Ashwyn even able to tell the difference...?); hair combed neatly, with small sideburns. He wears glasses now.

"Do you mean, this," he gestures at the gunfight, "Or..." he gestures at himself.

[turntoash]

Mostly the guys - those guns are way meaner-looking than anything I've ever seen.

You're looking sharp though.

[peccatore]

"Oh, uh, thanks. It, er, it was the fashion at the time--"

"He's STALLING," the Father grunts in disgust.

[turntoash]

[She points at the Father.]

Didn't ask. I'm the one who froze this memory, and I'm talking to my friend. He's not doing a godsdamned thing wrong.

Anyway, Marco, how about these striped guys?

[peccatore]

"Right, er. They're gangsters."

[turntoash]

Gotcha.

[Ashwyn takes one of the pilfered cigars and slips it in between her lips, lighting it with a lick of flame from her thumb.]

So... why are you here?

[peccatore]

"... To eat."

But first, the memory needs to resume.

[turntoash]

[Ashwyn nods wordlessly, takes a slow drag on her cigar, and snaps her fingers.]

[peccatore]

And things resume.

It's only when the gunfight dies down, two or three men left on the ground bleeding to their deaths, that Marco walks in.

Perhaps it would have been obvious by now, even if he hadn't told you, Ashwyn, that this is his 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.

[turntoash]

[Why didn't I give Ashwyn a hat so she could tug it down over her face in times like these. Just know the spirit is there even if the fabric is missing.]

Marco... tell me honestly. Is this happenstance, or did you organize this?

[peccatore]

"I... of course I didn't. I, I couldn't have... Crime was rampant in this city, back in the day. I was just... This was the best way I found to..."

He starts trailing off even before the Parents cut in with their admonishment:

"He thinks being a vulture makes him any better!"

[turntoash]

Marco, I'm not condemning you. You answered what I was hoping you would.

[And again she wheels around on the Parents.]

And y'all. I get that y'all are just one part of the massive tapestry of self-loathin' that Marco's quiltin' more and more of every day, but - for the love of the gods, shut UP. What in the hell did he do here that's any different, on the whole, from me enjoyin' a nice rare steak or a fresh slab a' blastbacon? Callin' him a vulture. Gods above. Marco, these guys aren't doin' you any favors, y'hear me?

[peccatore]

"... I know. I know that now."

But the Parents are not deterred.

"So this isn't enough for you?"
"So you want to see real depravity? Real sin?"

[turntoash]

Show me the worst you got.

And you, [she says looking at Marco,] don't forget. No matter what they're about to show me, I got your back. I said it and I mean it.

[peccatore]

Marco visibly pales in fear before everything blurs again...

The surroundings soon settle into something that looks like a hotel room. That is the last pleasant thing there is to say about the scene. Lying on the bloodstained bed is a half-naked young man, his neck and shoulders covered in bite marks. There are some scratches on his body, too. Sitting on the side of the bed is Marco. He's half-naked, too. Right now, he's covering his face - weeping - but his hair appears to be styled similarly to when he was Luigi.

"I c-can't keep doing this..."

[turntoash]

[Another dead body. She promised herself and Marco that she wouldn't look away. That she wouldn't turn away from the truth.]

[She snaps her fingers.]

Marco. I think I have a pretty good guess on what happened here. What I want to know is who he is... and how long ago this was.

[peccatore]

These questions are reasonable enough. He uncovers his face with shaking hands; it looks like he was growing a moustache when this happened.

"About... fifty years ago. I think. It, it was the last time. The last time I let myself be tempted."

[turntoash]

[She rounds the bed, inspecting the body, checking under the bed, in the nightstands. You know, like normal.]

Did you know this guy, or was it just a fling?

[peccatore]

There isn't much in the way of personal effects in the room. It seems this was a one-night stand.

"... I was lonely."

The Parents loom large over Marco.

[turntoash]

[Ashwyn aims a blazing glare at the Parents.] Don't you fucking dare.

[Then... she rounds the bed again. Sits on the floor and leans against the bed near where Marco is.]

You said this was the last time. What did you start doing after this?