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

[queenamongrooks]

[From the way he moves to his overall demeanor, Mal is not putting her guard down around this man. She knows his type from a mile away.]

I'm sorry are you supposed to be someone important to my friend? I haven't heard a thing about you. Perhaps you just didn't rate.

[peccatore]

"Really, now?" He smirks. "I guess Marco isn't the kind of guy to tell a lady about the people he wants to kill."

[queenamongrooks]

Oh, are you one of his lovers then? One that got away and started causing trouble?

[peccatore]

"Uh, no? I'm straight."

[queenamongrooks]

Oh. No wonder he wants to kill you. With that sort of tone, I'm halfway there myself.

[peccatore]

"Aw, don't be like that. I'm sure we just got off on the wrong foot."

His grin is unconvincing, but he opens the door regardless.

[queenamongrooks]

Somehow, I highly doubt that.

[She does not wait for him at all to enter.]

[peccatore]

That's fine. He just follows her.

On the other side of the door is an arena - no, a TV set. It is certainly styled as an arena, though. Nearly all the seats in the audience are filled. Aside from the camera crew, four people are in the arena:

A shorter, chubbier girl in a corset.
A taller, sturdier girl, bound tightly in vines.
A less spidery, but perhaps sleazier version of the figure that has followed Ashwyn in here,

And Marco.

[queenamongrooks]

Tormenting a couple of young women are you in this one are you? How am I not surprised?

[peccatore]

"Excuse you," he says, his arms crossed, "The only one I'm tormenting here is Marco, got it?"

[queenamongrooks]

That remains to be seen.

[Mal transforms into a cheetah to clear the distance between her and the arena, landing defensively between Marco and his tormentor.]

my copypasting failure earlier... let us not mention it...

[peccatore]

And now it's the less spidery one that's crossing his arms.

"You know there's no stopping this, right? It already happened?"

"... I do appreciate it," Marco says quietly.

[queenamongrooks]

[Angry yowl before she transforms back.]

I know that, but the things we do in here matter in different ways.

Are you girls alright over there?

[peccatore]

"Yeah," the one bound in vines says. Her ginger hair is in a short bob, though hers is a bit more modern than Mal's. "We're just, uh..."

"We were... here, when this happened," the other girl says. Her soft voice and her glasses seem somehow at odds with her fashion. "But that's about it."

[queenamongrooks]

Darling, if you're going to wear something like that you have to own it. Speak up.

Marco, where exactly is "here"?

[peccatore]

Marco hesitates before answering; even when he does, he avoids Mal's eyes.

"... This is a TV set for a... a competition. A tournament. For non-humans and other people with supernatural abilities."

[queenamongrooks]

Ah. Something like the haymaker court, then.

[She turns back to address the spidery man.]

Let me guess, you were about to challenge Marco to a bout?

[peccatore]

Despite the sneer on the man's face, he seems strangely delighted to answer the question.

"That might've made sense, if your friend wasn't a dishonest bastard."

[queenamongrooks]

Oh come now, these sorts of engagements have a bit of secrecy. Is that not the state of your world? Keeping a lid on who exactly *is* a supe to the humans?

[peccatore]

"Heheheheh... Ahahahahah! It sure was! So why don't you just shut up and let this play out already, huh? Might answer a few questions, might raise a few~"

[queenamongrooks]

Show me what you're going to show me but if you tell me to shut up again I'm putting a bullet in you.

[peccatore]

He raises his hands in a way that completely fails to be appeasing, and things play out as they are apparently supposed to.

The version of this very annoying guide that was in here to begin with announces, opening his arms with a broad, sweeping gesture:

"Thank you sooo much for coming, Marco Evangelisti! Man of the hour! Man of the YEAR, the way things are going!"

Marco's eyes quickly dart around... but they seem to linger on Kieran a moment longer than anywhere else.

"Mr. Kinra, I'm not sure what you want from me."

"Oh, just looking for a chat," says the man who's apparently named Mr. Kinra.

"In front of a live audience? In front of cameras?" Marco stretches his mouth into a practiced smile. "I think my office would have been a nicer venue."

"Maybe." The lanky man's grin, in turn, twists his delicate features into anything but. "But I thought, 'Gee, wouldn't it be funny if the organizers had Good Samaritan Mr. Evangelisti on speed dial?' And lo and behold, they did! Now why is that?"

"I'm not a difficult man to reach."

"Unless someone tries to invite you to an afternoon picnic, am I right?"

[queenamongrooks]

[Mal rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.]

Is that supposed to be damning evidence against a public figure?

i keep. leaving the wrong names in my copypastes. and i'm so sorry

[peccatore]

"Not yet," Mal's guide whispers with a devious grin before the events resume their course.

Amid a nervous stammer, Marco starts to say...

"If you wanted to go out for lunch, there were far more harmless ways to--"

But this Mr. Kinra interrupts.

"I know I'm gorgeous, but I don't swing your way. Besides..." Another step closer to Marco. There is a dangerous glint in his eyes.

And then, things happen very quickly.

"Between you and me, Marco? I get the feeling nobody's -" (he's winding up for a punch) "- gonna be calling you to dine out -" (but it isn't a punch; a bright blue flame blazes to life in his hand) "- after today!"

Kinra swipes. Mortal danger whizzes inches past Marco's nose, and that is when he stumbles back, hissing in the dead silence of the arena.

The wrong names thing is kinda funny in Mal's case imo, changeling interference in dreamspace

[queenamongrooks]

[Mal reflexively takes her derringer from it's holster on her thigh and points it at Kinra.]

Not another move Kinra! I don't care it's a memory I'm not going to stand by while a friend gets attacked!