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

[eudaimoniac]

Spread fear?

[peccatore]

"Spread fear." His voice is heavy with guilt now, but the papers on his desk show no sign of hesitation or remorse. No... typical sign, anyway.

(Some of the files appear to contain news articles about mysterious phenomena. Part of them certainly sound supernatural in nature. Others could very well be talking about the weather.)

(Some of the documents appear to contain drafts for a 5-to-10 year timeline - a mission plan of sorts. They're full of handwritten notes. The year 2016 is circled and underlined on one of them. The word "PUBLIC" is right next to it.)

(The smaller notes are all handwritten, and quite hard to follow. They appear to be collections of thoughts. One of them reads, "11/11/11 dark clouds pierced by God's light heralding good news.")

[eudaimoniac]

Ah.

What happened?

[peccatore]

"I pulled strings. I... spent money. I earned people's trust. Enough people believed me that fear did spread. Just like I wanted."

[eudaimoniac]

And what next?

[peccatore]

"Then... During an event that I funded, that man revealed the truth about me."

He takes a deep breath.

"The truth... The idea was always to reveal the truth. But it was meant to be in the end."

[eudaimoniac]

I remember. He tormented you.

[peccatore]

"... Do you understand what I was trying to do, Adrien?"

Marco gulps. His shoulders tense like he's getting ready for an incoming blow.

"I-- I'm going to tell you. I am. I've kept you here long enough, in... in circumstances that... I wish could be better. But do you understand what I wanted?"

[eudaimoniac]

[gently] I think so. But from the outside, there's always a chance I'm not seeing it fully. You should explain it to me yourself.

[peccatore]

Marco nods - maybe not quite as fearfully as when this all began, but he certainly doesn't look at ease, either.

"I... wanted to be the last non-human standing. That was the long-term goal. And, and once that happened..."

[eudaimoniac]

I see.

Was there a war like that? As you meant?

[peccatore]

"No. Being caught lying long before I intended to reveal myself wasn't exactly good for my public image. And that... that threw a significant wrench into things."

[eudaimoniac]

Was this when you were hospitalized? Did you know, exactly, that you were ill before? You didn't, did you?

[peccatore]

"A few more things happened until then, but-- but yes, essentially. No, I had no idea. It--" He glances down at the desk again - at his timeline, at his notes. "It doesn't seem like an excuse."

[eudaimoniac]

. . . It's a sickening thing to want to make happen. We both know that. Not much more to be said.

Still. It's possible that when you wake up, people are going to want to talk to you about this. Maybe they'll ask what you were thinking. How you could justify it. They'll believe you'll have an answer for them. They're not going to understand that above all, you were mad.

If that happens, you don't listen to them. You listen to me.

[peccatore]

"... Okay." He nods. "Okay. I'm listening."

[eudaimoniac]

There's no accounting for what's done in that state, not really. We can quibble over the degree of responsibility, but . . . analyzing it will never provide an answer. Safeguard your health in the future; that's all there is.

The guilt isn't useful. Not the way you're worshiping it. I think that's clear.

[peccatore]

Marco stays silent, but he's looking down at Adrien's hands again.

The Parents say something in the background. They sound... muffled.

[eudaimoniac]

[beckoning him up for a hug]

[peccatore]

Marco springs up, circles the desk and practically throws himself into Adrien's arms with a sob.

[eudaimoniac]

[really squeezing him tight, rocking him a bit]

[peccatore]

"Thank you... T-Thank you, Adrien, I'm sorry..."

[eudaimoniac]

I know.

I'm not saying you shouldn't feel the guilt. That's no option at all, not for any of us. But it has to start meaning something else, all right?

[peccatore]

He nods. He just keeps nodding.

[eudaimoniac]

I don't hate you. I promise. You can—you can go on now with no more killing.