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]

So your redemption was going to be to destroy anyone supernatural, one by one... ending with your own death.

That's why you organized the tournament, isn't it? And that's why Kaphlar hates you so much.

[peccatore]

"... The tournament was part of it." He nods. "Propaganda. A few of the participants were paid to be bad actors, but none of it was rigged, so-- so ultimately, the results were outside my control."

It all sounds insane to him now. He can't imagine how it sounds to Ashwyn.

"I don't know if that's why that man hates me. Maybe. It would make sense."

[turntoash]

How far did it get? Your plan, I mean.

[peccatore]

"The news spread all over the world. So, so did at least some of the paranoia. And the fear. But... When I was unmasked, it was all over."

[turntoash]

I... see.

I need to think about this. I'll go investigate the last door in the meantime.

[peccatore]

"... I don't think there will be anything of use to you there."

[turntoash]

No?

What's there, then?

[peccatore]

"Just... Nicer memories." He sighs. "Nothing of note for the investigation."

[turntoash]

I need the full picture, Marco. That means the good with the bad.

I'll see you on the other side.