[hr][center][sub][color=cecece]Present - Morning[/color] [color=734e66]◈[/color]  [color=cecece]Marth Oldfox, Scott Knight (Ace of Blades)[/color] [color=734e66]◈[/color]  [color=cecece]The Docks District[/color] [color=734e66]◈[/color] [color=cecece]Marth[@Memoria], Scott[@Captain Uni][/color][/sub][/center][hr][table][row][/row][row][cell][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5661930][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1069869642589409300/1510779496528216104/Marthclearskin.tuxpi.jpg?ex=6a1e0e8c&is=6a1cbd0c&hm=ffacb6a1330c56c3396c58a262f646a336b30b5302261befbd5e089b405a61ce&=&format=webp[/img][/url][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5662033][img]https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1069869642589409300/1511931255661527090/Scottbanner1.tuxpi.jpg?ex=6a223f35&is=6a20edb5&hm=3eeaefca6e97ef33ea516955eb9c5181c8054a2407e432109fc7551ecc91e8dd&=&format=webp[/img][/url][color=2e2c2c]▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇[/color][/cell][cell][quote]

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The city went on. 


That was the worst part of it perhaps. Not Bruno’s hand around his wrist. Not the obsidian smoke coiling between their shoes like something alive and listening. Not even the awful knowledge opening inside Marth with the cold precision of a door unlocked from the wrong side. 

The worst was that Calder City went on as usual. 

Beyond the alley, the morning hummed with its indifferent little errands. In this small, wet slit between buildings, one more foul thing pressed itself into being and the city couldn’t care less. The city had so many pockets and corners and places where harm could happen quietly enough to become no one’s business until afterward.  

Marth looked at Bruno’s hand on his wrist and then looked at Bruno and said again, [b][color=dee5f7]“Let go of me!”[/color][/b] only there was more alarm in his voice, an unusual tone that settled like a fragile thing stirring with desperation. Bruno’s jaw only trembled. And for one almost tender second, Marth saw the man he had loved in him. The beautiful, careless man who had once taken his hand and whisked them to the top of a half-finished tower just so Marth could see the sunrise before the city gave its morning exhale. 

Then Bruno’s thoughts rose sharp and bright. [i]Take him now[/i]

Marth’s stomach lurched. [i]Take him now. Somewhere quiet. Make him listen. He’ll understand once we’re alone[/i]

[b][color=dee5f7]“No…”[/color][/b] Marth whispered. But the world had already become too small. He felt it begin, the strange tug in the air, the world loosening around its edges, the alley preparing to vanish. It was a sensation his body knew too well. Once it felt like a secret door opened to somewhere beautiful. Now it felt like being stolen. Marth’s pulse leapt as Bruno’s grip tightened. And Marth understood, with a grief so clean it almost felt like calm, that he was not going to reach him this time. 

Marth lifted his free hand and touched two fingers to his temple. The thought struck Bruno’s mind like a bell thrown down a stairwell. Not memory. Not image, at first. Words. [i][b][color=dee5f7]Stop. Let go. Stop. stop stop stop stop—[/color][/b][/i]

Bruno flinched, but did not release him as the sensation of being smoked away became more visceral. So Marth did the thing he hated most about his gift. He pressed the suggestion deeper, threading it through fear until the mind believed the body had already begun to suffer. 

A snake, then. Not a real one of course, it was never real. Only the idea of one, cold and heavy and impossible, coiling around Bruno’s throat in the theater of his own mind. Bruno’s eyes widened as his hand around Marth’s wrist spasmed open. Marth stumbled back as Bruno dropped to his knees, both hands clasped to his own throat, gasping, choking on nothing. There was no snake, only air and Marth standing and staring at him with a face full of horror at what he was doing. 

[b][color=dee5f7]“I’m sorry…”[/color][/b] Marth whispered. 

Bruno doubled forward, dragging air into lungs that had never been denied it. His mind believed otherwise and his body obeyed the lie. That was the ugliness of it, of Marth’s psychic gifts. Marth took one step backward and then another, watching as Bruno’s knees scraped against the wet pavement, his breaths ragged and broken. Marth’s hands were shaking. Guilt arrived at once when he saw Bruno looking at him, ruined and frightened. 

But then the alley seemed to tilt, so Marth turned and ran. 

At the far end, daylight waited like a promise it had not yet decided to keep. Behind him, Bruno gasped, then coughed, then breathed. The effect was already thinning. Marth felt it unravel the moment his eye contact broke and his focus slipped beneath his own panic. The false telepathic image of the snake loosened. The mind corrected itself and Bruno’s body remembered air. 

Marth ran faster. Almost there. Almost—

Obsidian smoke bloomed in front of him. It arrived with a sound like a match struck underwater. Marth stopped abruptly, struck by fright as Bruno stepped out of the smoke. His eyes were wet, but not only from fear now. Deep sadness worked through his face, an emotional bruise spreading under skin and beneath it came rage, dark and humiliated and no longer trying to dress itself as love.

Bruno moved toward him. Marth stepped back, but there was nowhere to go. He had a brick wall at his shoulder and the city beyond the alley bright and moving and useless. Bruno’s hand shot out for Marth’s arm, fully committed now, the intention loud enough in his mind to make Marth cold from scalp to heel. 

[i]Take him. Take him. Take him now![/i] 

The smoke began to rise, black as burned glass. Marth had time for one breath. Only one. 

Just as Marth had started to inhale, something struck Bruno in the back of the head, a dull thunk as the object bounced off of his skull and then clattered to the asphalt. He gave a shout of pain and pivoted to look at what struck him, finding a blue apparition of a sword, the edge dulled enough that it wasn’t even a blade but more of a club. The wisps of smoke began to dissipate as the sword did the same, and a figure approached the two men from further down the alley.

The stranger’s expression was hidden behind the blackened visor of a motorcycle helmet, his outfit reminiscent of a city biker with the leather jacket and riding gloves. As he stepped forward, the discarded trash accumulated in the alley crunching under his boots, he lifted a finger at Bruno and spoke: [color=cadetblue][b]”Get away from him, or the next one will cut right through you.”[/b][/color]

Marth’s breath came back to him in pieces. For a moment, he could only stare at the place where the blue sword had been, wondering if it had been a miracle or a hallucination, or very practical violence. The terrible pull of teleportation loosened. The world, which had been about to vanish, stayed. Marth pressed one shaking hand to the brick behind him and the other to his heaving chest as he looked toward the helmeted stranger, breathless with relief. 

On the other hand, Bruno touched the back of his head, then turned with humiliation already sharpening into rage. [b]“Are you fucking serious?”[/b] he snapped, glaring through the alley at the mysterious figure. Marth flinched before he could help it, and something ugly flickered across Bruno’s face when he noticed. Shame, maybe. Or only the anger that came after shame. He took a step forward, shoulders tight, eyes wet and furious. [b]“Piss off!”[/b] he shouted, [b]“This has nothing to do with you.”[/b] 

The masked man stood his ground, the heat of his glare still being felt even behind the mask. [color=cadetblue][b]”It has everything to do with me,”[/b][/color] he said, his tone dripping with venom, [color=cadetblue][b]”I’m the one who watches over these streets. You start a problem down here, I show up to solve it.”[/b][/color] His outstretched hand shifted from a pointed finger to a grip as a new blade manifested in his grasp, still too dull to cut but a weapon nonetheless, the tip of the blade pointed at Bruno. [color=cadetblue][b]”Last chance to walk away.”[/b][/color]

Bruno let out a laugh, more of a sharp bark. [b]”Oh, I get it. You’re some wannabe cape going around beating on people because it makes you feel big.”[/b] He took a few steps closer, the wisps of smoke beginning to appear around him. The masked man stepped forward to meet him. [b]”Come get me, then.”[/b]

As soon as the words left Bruno’s lips, the masked man swung his sword and a cloud of smoke enveloped Bruno. The blade cut through the smoke, scattering the veil and revealing his target was no longer in the cloud. The vigilante pulled his blade back, his head jerking around wildly trying to find the man.

A fist met the back of his neck and he stumbled forward, using the momentum to turn his body around and face his attacker. Bruno rushed forward, rearing his fist back for another punch, but the masked man was ready for the attack. The blade held low by his hip swung upwards in an arc that connected with Bruno’s wrist, a sharp crack ringing out as the dulled blade struck the arm. Bruno cried out in distress before grasping his wrist in the other hand and backing away. The would-be hero stepped forward and jabbed the weapon into Bruno’s chest, the man doubling over and gasping as the air was knocked out of his lungs.

Pitch black smoke rose around Bruno again as he groaned, the vigilante lifting his sword up high to bring it down on the man’s head. The haze enveloped Bruno just as the blade was brought down and the weapon passed through the cloud only to strike concrete. When the smoke cleared, Bruno was gone, and the vigilante grunted in what might have been either annoyance or pain. The ghostly blade in his hand dematerialized and he leaned down to place his hands on his knees, taking in steady breaths.

Marth did not move when Bruno vanished. For a brief instance, he only stood with one hand pressed to the damp brick and the other curled close to his chest. But his wrist ached, so his hand went to his wrist, not dramatically though, just there, thumb brushing the place Bruno’s fingers had held too hard, as if checking whether his body still belonged to him. 

The alley had been all motion a moment before with smoke, blade, fist, breath, and the ugly crack of force against bone. Marth couldn’t help but flinch during all of it. Now it held itself in a strange little pause, unsure what to do with the silence left behind. Where Bruno had stood, a little black obsidian smoke unstitched itself into the morning. Marth looked at it until it was gone and then he looked at the masked man, hesitant. He swallowed. There was gratitude in him, yes, but it had arrived with fear on one side and pity on the other, so it did not know how to stand by itself. 

With what resolve he could muster after witnessing such a distressing escalation, Marth took one careful step toward his masked savior. 

[b][color=dee5f7]“Are you hurt?”[/color][/b]  he asked. His voice came out softer than he meant it to. Not weak. Only shaken. And then he exhaled. 

The man stiffened instantly as Marth spoke, his steady intake of breaths coming to a halt. He stood up straight and turned to face him, trying to look strong, in control. When he spoke, it was in a practiced cadence, like he had been rehearsing these lines before: [color=cadetblue][b]”I’ll be fine. Did he hurt [i]you?[/i]”[/b][/color]

Marth looked down at his wrist, where Bruno’s grip had already begun to leave a faint, ugly bloom of bruising beneath the skin. Marth tried to hide it away. 

[b][color=dee5f7]“Only a little,”[/color][/b] he said, though his voice made a very gentle lie of it. [b][color=dee5f7]“I think it will look worse than it is.”[/color][/b]

If the masked man noticed the bruising, he didn’t give any indication of it. He came closer to Marth. [color=cadetblue][b]”I’m just glad I was able to step in before it got any worse,”[/b][/color] he said, setting his attention fully on the other man. [color=cadetblue][b]”I can take you to wherever you’re going, if you want. Make sure he doesn’t come back and try anything.”[/b][/color]

Marth looked back toward the mouth of the alley too, watching the careless whispers of the city pass by like nothing had just happened here. And without warning, he let out a soft laugh, thin and gossamer-light and disbelieving, not because anything was funny, but because his body had not yet decided what to else to do with all that fear. Better to release it into the ether, he supposed. 

[b][color=dee5f7]“Thank you, by the way.”[/color][/b] he said, still a little breathless, his fingers curling carefully over the bruising at his wrist. A momentary blip of pain washed over his countenance, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. 

[b][color=dee5f7]“Truly. I don’t think I quite understand how that didn’t become worse.”[/color][/b]

The vigilante nodded in response. [color=cadetblue][b]”There’s no need to thank me. I was just doing my part.”[/b][/color] He took in a breath, looking back at the wisps of smoke that were almost gone by now. [color=cadetblue][b]”Who was he?”[/b][/color]

Marth glanced at the masked man, then down at the wet pavement, embarrassed by the whole shape of himself in that moment. The whole, small wreckage of it. 

[b][color=dee5f7]“He’s my ex...”[/color][/b] Marth added quietly. [b][color=dee5f7]“Which is a long story, and not a very elegant one.”[/color][/b] Another small, disbelieving laugh left him before he could stop it. 

[color=cadetblue][b]”Don’t feel like you need to explain it,”[/b][/color] the man responded, trying to sound reassuring. [color=cadetblue][b]”So where were you off to?”[/b][/color]

[b][color=dee5f7]“Ummm…”[/color][/b] Marth started, looking back toward the alley opening, [b][color=dee5f7]“I was only heading to Liberty Lake, but…”[/color][/b] he adjusted the strap of his satchel, more to give his hands something to do than because it needed adjusting, [b][color=dee5f7]“...you’ve already done a great deal. I don’t want to take you farther out of your way.”[/color][/b] 

It was then that the masked man let out a laugh of his own, lighter than the low tone he had been taking on throughout the conversation. [color=cadetblue][b]”It wouldn’t be a problem, really. I just want to make sure you stay safe.”[/b][/color] He paused, before reaching out a hand for Marth to shake. [color=cadetblue][b]”You can call me Ace. Ace of Blades. What’s your name?”[/b][/color]

Marth looked at the offered hand for a half second longer than politeness required. His wrist still ached and he suddenly found himself briefly suspicious of hands. Then his expression softened, and he reached out to take it carefully, his grip gentle but sincere before pulling away.

[b][color=dee5f7]“Hm. Ace of Blades…”[/color][/b] he repeated quietly, with a small, almost hopeless smile, not recalling any known superheroes operating in Calder City by that name. 

[b][color=dee5f7]“That is rather grand, isn’t it?”[/color][/b] The tease was mild, warmed through with gratitude rather than mockery. [b][color=dee5f7]“Marth.”[/color][/b] he finally added. And after a brief moment of contemplation, his gaze settled on this Ace, as he called himself, Marth scratched his brow, still a bit weary by the whole of it, but grateful, and truthfully, wary that Bruno might return as soon as Ace is gone. 

[b][color=dee5f7]“But umm, okay. Sure. Why not. If [i]you’re[/i] sure. I guess that would be nice.”[/color][/b] He smiled again, lovely as a precious, fragile stone one locks away in an heirloom jewelry box. 

Though his expression was hidden behind his mask, Ace’s reply made it seem as though he was smiling as well, his tone a far cry from the growl he put on when confronting Bruno and the professional voice he had carried through most of the conversation. [color=cadetblue][b]”Great. Let’s get out of here, then.”[/b][/color] He turned, motioned for Marth to follow, then began to walk out of the alley.

[b][color=dee5f7]“Ok.”[/color][/b] Marth said softly through a warm smile and then followed behind him. 




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