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

[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?

[peccatore]

"I just... stayed away from people."

ashwyn, are you SURE you want to add Marco's Deep Physical Repression to your puzzle. are you sure it's worth it

[turntoash]

[LOOK SHE HAS TO PULL AT ALL THE THREADS OKAY]

How did you eat?

[peccatore]

That question, at least, seems to remove a fraction of the weight from his shoulders.

"I could afford to buy blood by this point. Local, sometimes. Imported from a friend, when possible."

[turntoash]

...okay. Okay. That's- that's good to know.

[You can just... buy blood??]

[She tries to ignore that any other day, Marco would be the kind of guy she'd be chasing down - on foot, if necessary. Everyone deserves a chance at redemption. She believes that with everything she is. But, seeing what Marco has in his past...]

[She thinks of a man named Marid Veladim. She shudders. It's different, when you're the victim. She knows Veladim deserved a chance at redemption too. But she can't square it.]

[She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.]

Still here, Marco. You're not scaring me off that easy.

[peccatore]

(Many things are possible when you have enough money, and at least a few connections.)

Marco's hands tense on his lap, trembling slightly.

"... Even though you've seen the last door?"

[turntoash]

What part? The part where you organized a tournament for reasons I still don't know, or the part where a guy put you in chains and you lost control?

[peccatore]

"... You're almost there."

You can feel the Parents' eyes on you, Ashwyn.

[turntoash]

[She closes her eyes.]

You made the world aware of supernatural threats. You funded a tournament for magic-users. You got dragged out into the light. Er, metaphorically.

I haven't seen everything yet, of course. But there's a thread here.

Something to do with the tournament entrants, I think.

[hesitantly:]

You were... planning on feeding on them. Or turning them.

[peccatore]

"..."

Marco frowns.

"Good lord. I'm not sure if that would have been better or worse."

"Why guess?"
"Why is she trying to guess?"
"There's still more."

[turntoash]

[She sighs. A relief, honestly.]

Right. Not enough information yet. Let's do it to it.

[She stands and readies to move on.]

[peccatore]

You know how it goes by now - though, as the memory starts to change over, Marco gets the chance to say...

"... This one should be quick. You already know. Then... Then there's just one more."

The world eventually coalesces into a highway on a rainy night. Something flickers off to the side, barely visible to anyone on the main road. Some smoke billows from that spot.