[center] [h1]Redial and Denial[/h1] [img] http://i.imgur.com/jzzw4on.jpg [/img] | [img] http://i.imgur.com/tTVHMCk.jpg [/img] [h2][color 33ec06]Marcus[/color] | [color b0c4de]Brent[/color][/h2] [img]http:// i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img] [color=silver] 𝕋𝕙: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ. / / ℍ𝕪𝕒𝕥𝕥 ℝ𝕖𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕪 ℍ𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕝 / / 𝟚𝟘𝟘𝟘 [/color] [sub]Collab with [@ERode][/sub][/center] [hider=Redial] After the events that had left him both sprawled in a heap in front of a broken trolley and subsequently slightly sore from a stupid little dancing game, Marcus had taken the opportunity to explore the penthouse some more. Currently he was standing in front of what he imagined would be described as ‘modern’ art. He pondered the meaning, allowing the subtle colors to wash over him. Despite the fact that he didn’t understand it [i]in the slightest[/i] he felt something stirring inside him. A sort of tickle which seemed to rise from just below his stomach, somewhere in the intestinal tract. Something that filled him with – Oh wait. That was just his phone vibrating. He pulled the device out of his pocket just as it stopped its vibration, flicking it open curiously to see who on earth it would be that would call him. Not many people had this number, and the only person he could think of would be… [quote Max] 2 Missed Calls 1 Missed Text [quote] [color f7976a]Call me[/color] [/quote] [/quote] [i]Oh shit[/i] Marcus quickly dialed the number, stepping out into the cool air of the balcony. It was chillier twenty stories above the rest of the city, and Marcus shivered slightly as he waited for the dial tone to stop. Finally, after two rings, someone picked up. “[color 33ec06]Heya Max! I just got your text mes-[/color]” “[color f7976a]MARCUS WHAT THE FUCK!?[/color]” “[color 33ec06]And a ‘good evening’ to you too.[/color]” “[color f7976a]My little brother is out fighting a Cat 4 – a city destroying monster – and I have to learn about this from some news lady?[/color]” “[color 33ec06]That sounds like the gist of it, yeah.[/color]” “[color f7976a]WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?[/color]” “[color 33ec06]I didn’t want you to worry![/color]” “[color f7976a]I’M WORRIED, YOU DIPSHIT![/color]” “[color 33ec06]Well then clearly this wasn’t a very well thought out plan.[/color]” A sigh from the other end of the phone. Marcus could immediately picture the other end of the conversation in full detail: Max was leaning on her desk with one arm, the other one massaging the bridge of her nose in frustration. “[color f7976a]Just do me a favor from now on and warn me when you’re about to go and potentially get yourself killed, alright?[/color]” Max’s tone was exasperated; no doubt she was running her hand down her face at this moment. “[color 33ec06]I guess I can do that, since you asked so nicely.[/color]” There was another long pause, as neither sibling quite knew what to say in the situation. Marcus was reluctant to talk, especially after the ‘get yourself killed’ comment, while Max was trying to figure out a nice way to phrase her next question. An attempt that completely failed. “[color f7976a]You alright, Marc? You looked like shit in that interview.[/color]” A long silence, followed by a sigh. “[color 33ec06]Yeah. I’m fine. Some things happened that I really wish [i]hadn’t[/i], and it’s been tough lately.[/color]” Boy, if that wasn’t the understatement of the month. “[color f7976a]You want to talk about it?[/color]” “[color 33ec06]Not particularly.[/color]” “[color f7976a]Mmhmm. And some of those questions the reporter asked, you want to talk about [i]that[/i] yet?[/color]” “[color 33ec06]No.[/color]” “[color f7976a]You really should talk to someone about that. Even if it’s just one of your roommates or something.[/color]” “[color 33ec06]Or, I could keep doing what I’m doing and move on.[/color]” “[color f7976a]You’re gonna give yourself an ulcer like that.[/color]” “[color 33ec06]And you’re gonna give me a headache.[/color]” Another long pause. Maybe Max was right – it probably wasn’t good for him to be bottling up all this shit; especially after his little meltdown in a dingy motel bathroom. But he just…wasn’t ready to talk about it. Even though it had been months…he just didn’t want to face it. “[color f7976a]So…how’s it feel being famous?[/color]” The statement was lighter in tone; clearly Max’s attempt to start cheering him up. “[color 33ec06]Not much different, really. Except I keep turning on the TV and seeing my own face, and it surprises me every single time.[/color]” “[color f7976a]Did you see the little nickname they’re giving you?[/color]” “[color 33ec06]Time’s Scar? Yeah, it’s actually pretty cool![/color]” “[color f7976a]I’m pretty sure it’s just 'Time Scar', actually.[/color]” “[color 33ec06]Oh.[/color]” The disappointment in Marcus’s voice was evident. “[color f7976a]Hey at least it’s better than…[/color]” Max started, apparently cut short by something on her end. Something that Marcus was pretty sure he could guess the identity of. His ears strained to hear Max as she talked to something else for a moment. [sub]”[color f7976a]Oh hey…talking on the phone…yeah…no you can’t…ugh, [i]fine[/i][/color]”[/sub] “[color f7976a]I’m putting you on speaker phone, because [i]somebody[/i] is an annoying pain in my-[/color]” Once again, Max was cut off by something on her end, only this time it was an interruption by another voice. Another peppier, bouncy voice. “[color f2550d]Zip zip boi![/color]” “[color 33ec06]Hello Sammie.[/color]” Marcus said with a sigh. Samantha Jenstien, the utter bane of both Max and Marcus’s lives. The excitable, always hyper active ying to Max’s more down to earth and serious yang. The constant teasing and joking with Marcus as if she were a second older sister. And not only was she Max’s best friend and roommate, but she was her co-pilot as well. The one in charge of making sure they didn’t get blown out of the sky. At the very least, Marcus had to appreciate her for pulling Max out of a few close calls. “[color f2550d]How’s it feel to be famous, Markie?[/color]” Sammie shouted, probably from the other side of the room. “[color f7976a]We were just talking about that actually. Before you so rudely inter- are those peanut butter M&M’s? Oh, you are just the best![/color]” “[color f2550d]And you say I never do anything for you.[/color]” “[color 33ec06]Quick question, when you say ‘famous’…exactly [i]how[/i] famous are we talking about?[/color]” Marcus asked hesitantly. If either of the two would know the answer to that, it would be Sammie – the social media hound. “[color f2550d]Last video I saw on Youtube got a couple million before it went down. But there are videos everywhere analyzing the segment. If you’ve involuntarily twitched while filming that, someone has a video pointing it out.[/color]” “[color 33ec06]Oh…good.[/color]” “[color f2550d]Yeah, you’re everywhere: Youtube, Dailymotion, Vimeo…I even saw that segment on Por-[/color]” “[color f7976a]Sammie![/color]” Max interrupted, her mouth clearly somewhat occupied by M&M’s. “[color f2550d]’Petite Blond Gets Tongue Lashed by Busty Female Reporte-‘[/color]” “[color f7976a]SAMMIE![/color]” “[color f2550d]Alright. Jeeze. No fun! You need to lighten up a little bit, Maxie![/color]” “[color f7976a]Mhhmm, so you say. Over and over again.[/color]” And so, for the next half an hour or so, Marcus filled the two in on what had happened. How they’d ben sent out to fight a category four beastie, how he’d been put on Evac team and had managed to rescue a few civilians (although he conveniently left out the whole ‘gargoyle and abes’ incident), and how they were in D.C for some reason now. “[color f7976a]God I hate that place; everyone’s so stuck up or snobbish. Exactly what you’d expect from a city full of politicians.[/color]” “[color f2550d]See if you can find Major Lopieh’s house! Throw a brick though his window if you can![/color]” He told them about the fancy hotel they were in, and how nobody around them seemed to care very much for subnaturals. Despite the sympathy and Max's insistence that he was just a kid and didn't deserve to be treated like a different species, it wasn’t too long until the conversation wound down to a conclusion. “[color f7976a]Alright Marc, I’ll let you go then. Sounds like you’ve had a long couple of days.[/color]” “[color 33ec06]God. You don’t know the half of it.[/color]” “[color f2550d]Don’t get into too much trouble! I don’t want to turn on the TV and see you lighting telemarketers on fire or something![/color]” “[color 33ec06]I’ll try not to; although I imagine you’ll be the first ones to know if I do. Stay safe out there you two. Keep an eye on Max for me, Sammie![/color]” “[color f2550d]Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem![/color]” “[color f7976a]Stay safe Marc, talk again in a week or so?[/color] “[color 33ec06]Sounds like a plan.[/color]” “[color f7976a]Love ya, you pain in my backside.[/color]” “[color 33ec06]Yeah yeah, puke barf.[/color] With that, Max hung up, leaving Marcus alone on the balcony. He sighed contently, smirking at a joke only he could hear and shaking his head at the night. It was good to be reminded that he [i]wasn't[/i] alone. No matter how hard he tried to get rid of her, he could always count on Max being there to pick him back up a little bit. God. Barf-o-rama. [/hider] [hider=Denial] Dappled light shone within the private pool, the light shimmering underwater as small waves lapped back and forth. A whiff of chlorine could be smelled, but it was the warmth radiating from the nearby hot tub that was more obvious, and the subdued lighting of the area gave it a calm vibe. This was a pool meant for recreation, not competition. But still, no one was swimming in it. Only a lone figure stood on the balcony above, looking down. Marcus Howell, the Time Scar. Walking out to the patio, Brent called out from behind casually, [color=B0C4DE]"Yo, Marcus. Not gonna take a dip?"[/color] Marcus turned quickly upon hearing a voice, relaxing a bit when he realized it was only Brent sneaking up on him. He turned to face him, still leaning backwards on the railing as he did so, the cool night breeze ruffling through his hair. "[color 33ec06]Nah, I'm not much of a swimmer, myself.[/color]" he said, looking over to the softly shimmering surface of the water. He preferred the water au natural - for some reason the sting of salt water in his eyes was much more preferable to the sting of pool chemicals in his eyes. He always felt like there was a bit of a film on him after coming out of a pool. Besides, water was meant for activities, not for silently floating around in; that was another thing he'd never quite understood. "[color 33ec06]You gonna hop in? I can leave if you'd like![/color]" [color=B0C4DE]"Leaving? When this is your chance to admire up close the body of a Greek God?"[/color] Brent smiled, pulling off a generic bodybuilder pose, [color=B0C4DE]"But naw, don't have any plans for that. Got a minute or two? Or were you waiting for someone?"[/color] "[color 33ec06]Nope, just out enjoying the sights.[/color]" Marcus said, looking over the horizon. The little dots that made up the lit buildings below seemed to stretch on forever, rivaling the stars that the light pollution blotted out. "[color 33ec06]What's up?[/color]" Brent took a breath, a normal, not too long, not too short breath. No need to overthink it. No need to overdramatize it. No need to get his own emotions involved. Just a simple, one-breath questions. [color=B0C4DE]"What happened inside the APC, Marcus? Back in Wisford."[/color] Marcus reeled for a moment, trying not to let the sheer distress that the question had forcibly pulled to the surface show. "[color 33ec06]I'm...not exactly quite sure what you mean.[/color]" he lied, his voice threatening to give away in the moment. His eyes scanned Brent's face, trying to figure out how much of this question he was actually being asked. Did he know somehow? Know what he'd done? Did he know that it was his fault Savannah was dead? [color=B0C4DE]"I couldn't see what was happening in the APC before I fired my shots,"[/color] the arbiter replied steadily. Steadily, even as his heart rate began speeding up. [color=B0C4DE]"What was happening inside the APC?"[/color] He took another controlled breath. [color=B0C4DE]"Where did that gargoyle come from?"[/color] "[color 33ec06]I-I...[/color]" Marcus stammered, feeling his own heart starting to pound in his chest. He cleared his throat slightly, attempting to hide his nervous stuttering, taking a small breath. "[color 33ec06]I don't know.[/color]" Of course he knew. He'd seen the scarf. He knew what had happened. "[color 33ec06]I-I mean...I was watching the doors; waiting to shoot the first mage that opened them.[/color]" he said, averting his eyes. No answers. Or, at least, no answers that satisfied him. And the worst thing was? He was looking away. As if Brent was interrogating him. As if he was feeling guilty for something that wasn't his fault. Wasn't? Of course some of it was Marcus's fault, if he had unwittingly let in an enemy subnatural. Perhaps he was even more at fault than Callan, who simply made the incorrect decision in the heat of the moment. But, at least, he was less at fault than himself. How much, though, did Brent want the truth to be spoken out loud, as opposed to maintaining the friendship he had with this scarred time-leaper? [color=B0C4DE]"Ah, ok."[/color] He said, after much deliberation. [color=B0C4DE]"Do you think that...Sophia would have seen what happened then? Or was she also beside you?"[/color] "[color 33ec06]No.[/color]" Marcus said suddenly, his attention snapping back to Brent. Would she have? She had been right there, watching for survivors, she probably had a pretty good idea of what happened. If Brent asked her...she'd doom him without even realizing the terrible secret he was hiding. "[color 33ec06]She was...also watching. For survivors though...I think her power was active.[/color]" Marcus said, his voice slightly strained as he struggled to make up a story on the spot. Something he should have worried about before now - an alibi. Some way to deflect or change the incident, or at least alter how it had happened in other people's minds. Too fast. Amethyst eyes narrowed, a bitter taste reminding him of everything he disliked. Too sudden. He swallowed. Too clear. [color=B0C4DE]"Marcus, y-"[/color] [i][color=000000]Don't care as long as you leave an impression, huh?[/color][/i] [color=B0C4DE]"...thanks for telling me this."[/color] When had he cared that much? [color=B0C4DE]"Sorry for bringing up such a painful topic."[/color] He looked back over the city again. He was in the clear - he didn't know if Brent actually believed him, but he had stopped his questioning. He should have been relieved, but he just felt sick at his stomach. He could tell Brent; tell him everything that had happened. Spill his mistakes and guilt out for him to judge. Maybe he would condemn him. Maybe he would understand. But he'd never know the answer to that question. "[color 33ec06]Don't worry about it. I'm sure it wasn't any easier for you to bring up.[/color]" [color=B0C4DE]"No,"[/color] Brent said, turning, [color=B0C4DE]"It was easier."[/color] Yes, this was easier. Turning away. Walking away. [i]Running[/i] away. [color=B0C4DE]"It wasn't your fault."[/color] He hated himself. [color=B0C4DE]"Not at all."[/color] [/hider]