Status

Recent Statuses

12 mos ago
Current Man, Mahz is still on his really long vacation, huh!
4 likes
1 yr ago
Better not leave me hanging like Sayori.
3 yrs ago
This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends This is the way the world ends Not with a bang but a 훌 쩍
5 likes

Bio

Got nothing to say here, sooooo yeah.

I'm a bookworm, gamer, and obviously roleplayer since I'm on this site :P

Anyways, those are a few things that I'll say about myself... for now. Maybe I'll update this a little more in the future.

Ciao!

Most Recent Posts

Marc Kurosawa

Location
Southern District - ???

Interacting With
N/A



As he shuffled down the sidewalks, the boy could only pout and furrow his brows as he shifted his head at irregular variables, golden eyes gleaming for a split second before losing their luster. He could only silently mouth out boring to himself in the most exaggerated way possible before going back to fidgeting with his phone.

"Alleyway Ogre... The Steel Girder Lady... Yurei Inu..." He began murmuring as he scrolled through past Urban Legends he investigated. One was a lanky homeless man with thick clothing, the other was a LARPer who looked like Guts if he was a poorly made Gundam, and the latter was a Shiba Inu that got into flour before getting lost.

Honestly, sitting on the curb and going over these stories seemed like a better alternative at this point as he caught something out of the corner of his eye. This gave him a bit of pause since the fellow in a car was in a poorly made disguise.

And by that, it was just a cough mask and some tasteless dark shades.

This was probably the best thing he could take note of when coming here today, other than those two supposed gangbangers who were drinking and frantically doing Sudoku like their life depended on it. Though, before he was going to look away, there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind that forced him to do a double take.

Blinking, he quickly scrolled through, finding the topic labeled Yakuza: Tortured Souls and began scrolling through the topic before stopping upon seeing the name Kang Daehyon and some of the pictures posted before some of the members were told to knock it off by mods.

Regardless, the pics matched the profile - bold eyebrows, combed auburn hair. Couldn't see the dudes eyes because of the gaudy shades, but it made Marc muse for a sec. If this really was this Kang Daehyon dude, what was his business here? Was he filming for a movie? Was he about to be ran off by one of his friggin' secretaries?

Stopping time was a tempting thought, till he noticed one small detail outside of the guy being incognito - there was naught a soul in sight that looked to be recording this. A small, catlike grin formed as he began slinking not to far behind the guy, pretending to text someone on his phone.

Marc didn't have to wait for long as the two briefly chattered before disappearing into the building, leaving an opportune chance for the boy to make a mad dash for the closing door. Thankfully, it was more than enough time as the blonde slid his foot between the frame and the door, preventing it from shutting.

As it bounced on his foot, he slowly let the door shut, slowly and gently dragging his foot out before leaving it just a little open by the hair of his toe cap. He could feel the cool air escape the room as he leaned in, looking to listen for any sorts of information that could be deemed interesting.
Marc Kurosawa

Location
Central District => Southern District

Interacting With
N/A


Staring up at the ceiling, it felt as if he was watching some YouTube videos at the lowest settings as the dull, almost monochromatic room slowly came into focus. The boy could barely stifle a yawn as reached over to grab his phone on what could be considered the most organized portion of his room aside from his desk - a plain nightstand with no real outstanding properties or design, aside from the lamp, glasses, contacts case, and of course, Marc's cellphone.

Had to go for the first important thing as the teen blinked, momentarily closing his eyes to avoid the blinding shine of the screen. Once he adjusted to the light, he swiped in his code, held the device as close as he could to his face and squinted, and checked up on the topic Ducking posted to see what had become of it.

Scrolling down, he clicked onto the next page after not finding said topic only to look at the locked symbol by the side of the title. "They really need thicker walls," he mumbled to himself nonchalantly before rolling off the side of the bed.

Eh, he would give this one a 4/10, his heart really wasn't into it as he sat up, cracked his neck, and stretched his arms up, yawning once again before grabbing his current set of contacts and popping them in. Making up his bed, the only thing he really cleaned up outside of his desk, he disappeared into his small closet before coming out with duds like a tank-top, a light jacket with a hood, some jeans, etc.

Dumping them onto his bed, he cruised outside, eyeing one of the two doors adjacent to his bedroom as he passed on by. The lone couch and chairs always looked out of place in the living room since it was only really him and his mom living here. Instead, his first, albeit brief stop was by the living room as he snatched up the remote, before taking one step into the kitchen.

Between flipping on the tv and surfing the channels until he got to the news station, he was digging through the cabinet and fridge for particular items, always peaking out to get a good look of what was being showcased before going back to his business.

...

...

Thirty minutes went on by as Marc had devoured natto, an egg, and was just getting through a bowl of miso soup as he leaned over the counter, eyes peeled and ears on high alert to see if there was any reports about that one man he had encountered or if there was any areas here that was a hotbed of activity, only to get the same old reports, much to the boys chagrin. "Same old shit as usual..."

With a scowl, he powered down the tv and lightly tossed the remote back onto the couch before cleaning up, only to get out another set of utensils, plates, and so on and made another set of natto and an egg. Leaving those two on the counter, he opened up a drawer and left what looked to be a paper stained with soy sauce, egg yolk, and other types of food with the words "4 u" written neatly on it.

With that said, the rest of the morning was basically a chore, with him doing the usual of showering, brushing his teeth, getting dressed up, and opening the blinds up, giving a decent look at the higher buildings, as well as the streets below.

And that was that. Another dull morning before the arrival of the storm that was known as "the rest of the day." Once dressed, he mentally checked off a list of everything he had - cellphone, wallet, other thing, gray thing, red thing, glasses, something something, eh, he was good to go.

The biggest question remained though - what district would he explore today?


Honestly, if the sky was a face it would be on the verge on the tears right now, but it was nice to say the least.

A smirk followed as he trudged down one of the sidewalks he was on after arriving about five minutes ago, often keeping an eye on the vicinity. Even in spite the happy-go-lucky smirk and glassy, lax eyes that was distracted at any tumultuous events, he was constantly vigilant. Spying down alleys, identifying people who passed his way, and even charting some of the buildings, he did it all, though he did come to one conclusion.

He had no idea where he was going. No, he wasn't lost, the graffiti around here make it look like a delinquents are exhibit; they all stood out from the rest, there wasn't one like the other.

Well, aside from that lizard being curled around a fish, and that kanji that said pride. It was pride, right?

Anyways, for living in Tenoroshi, he seemed almost like a tourist in a foreign land, opting to swiftly pull out his phone as a means of escape. On some cue, he began incessantly scrolling through the website once more to see if there had been any updates; who knows, there could be some mysterious urban legend he had never heard of about this place!

Though, after five minutes of wandering around in a circle, he found himself unsuccessful in his endeavors; no updates, no new 'real' posts that piqued his interest. Shoving his phone into a side pocket, Marc pushed his glasses up onto the bridge before pocketing his own hands as well, leisurely strolling through another block with the same grin he had on his face as before.




Marc Kurosawa

Location
Central District

Interacting With
N/A


Following that, he nodded in response to the man, crossing his arms with a self-assured smirk on his face as the officer reproached his efforts, though it came more offhand than anything else. He thought little of it as the man prattled on, staying silent as he went between trying to get a look on the situation on the van without looking too suspicious.

If anything, he kept it up, lightly nodding with that same expression on his face as the officer applauded him for his own work before stating not to do that again. "Yeah, yeah, alright, I'll try not to get too involved next time," he smiled in the mans general direction as he departed and disappeared into the truck.

And in a few moments, the weight of the city crashed down onto him once again. Despite the overbearing weight, he stood there, along amidst the trash in the dank alleyway, waiting a couple of seconds before he was certain the van carrying the man was consumed by the cacophony of this place.

And then, he took a whiff of himself.

Bleugh!

Ugh, yeah, that scent was still lingering as much as his face was starting to become a prune. On reflex, he began wiping down his jacket with his hands, despite understanding full well that the odor was going to continue staining his shirt. He couldn't tell if he wanted to go home at this point, or just...

Nah, he still had to check out those Whispers in the Wall... somewhere in the Red Light District, or was it the Western District?

Marc wasn't exactly sure as he leaned against one of the grime saturated walls, tapping the code to open up his phone, only to discover that it was working perfectly fine now. He had access to the internet, hell, could call his Mom or Rin if anything as he glanced at his three contacts.

That is, before looking up at where the van once was, giving that area a thousand-yard stare before attaching himself to the world once more. Popping off the side of the wall, he walked at a leisure pace, recomposing himself as the maverick of the streets as he went against the flow once again.

"Child, people, bell, birth, sorry, fix, joy."

Those words replayed constantly in his head as he calculated how long it would take him to get on a train and ride his way to the Redlight District as he began shuffling fervently through the crowds. Another set of words began beating through his head before he shut off his phone.

"Look for the place where the light glows brighter as the cats fortune wanes."

The Whispers in the Wall.

Supposedly based on what he read, that Ducking had multiple accounts and rumors she recounted about people reporting about this area, from these whispers giving you the answer to anything you want, to it whispering a persons future with it being different for each person, to it just being a glory-hole.

Of course, this could be one of the buildings that had cheap walls you could hear through with people going on a drunken rambling, so it could just be that. Couldn't hurt to give it a shot, among other things as he strode swiftly through the crowds, hoping to at least make it in time for the next train ride to the Southwestern District.





Hmm... so they were going to have to do this, huh?

...

Yeah, no he wasn't gonna do this, at least not yet anyways. The thief was staying put, not as willing to march on to his impending doom as his other peers, but he was going to do his best to delay the inevitable. Resting the side of his head on his hand, he went about surveying the Ultimates before turning his gaze over to Momoe. She looked to have the same thought as him, because when he’d finally found her, her head was in the process of turning toward him as well. The two were staring each-other down and Aurel saw a faint smile on her lips, despite the distance between the both of them.

Aurels gaze lingered a few seconds too long on her before realizing the smuggler had caught him staring, with the main tip being that smile. That damn smile. Blinking, he turned his head back down to staring at the masses, his eyes alternating between them and Momoe for the next minute, though that wasn’t going to last too long.

Following that, he rose up from his seat and slowly began to trudge downwards towards the bear, sighing as he did so. As much as he would like to wait, better to get this over with than let these feelings fester.

“Pretty interesting, right?”

Momoe’s voice resounded from behind Aurel. She must’ve followed him as soon as she saw him make a move, because when he slightly nudged his head to glance in the direction of her voice, she was only a couple of steps removed from him. “Don’t worry though; I don’t really want to be stuck with you either. I just want to get this over with,” she said as she continued her stride towards Monokuma, her expression having softened but still showing amusement.

He gave a shallow nod in response to the girl before slowly turning his head back forward, pressing onward towards the bear. "At least we have that much in common," he murmured flatly, sighing as he ruffled his messy hair.

He remained silent the rest of the way down, pondering on the circumstance as the crowd slowly abated as they received their handcuffs. Before he knew it, it was him and Momoe's turn to receive their handcuffs. Well, it was now or never as the thief snatched their pair of handcuffs from the bear and briefly inspected it.

Despite having seconds thoughts, there was really no more time to contemplate it as he gingerly attached the cuff to one of his wrists before rubbing the area around it. With a grunt, he slightly angled his head in Momoe’s direction, extending the his cuffed hand towards her before offhandedly remarking, "Hopefully this is the closest either of us will ever come to being arrested."

The cuff was grabbed roughly, soon followed by a click as Momoe came to stand right next to Aurel. She showed off her own cuffed wrist, then made sure he couldn’t look away from her eyes. The smuggler didn’t look very pleased.

“Real cute. If you’ve got the guts to crack jokes like that, at least look me in the eye while you’re doing so.” She turned her face from Aurel to Monokuma, then back to the thief. “Let’s get off the stage,” she said. “I’m tired of this bear’s face.”

"You and me both." Hopping off the stage, he walked alongside the smuggler in the general direction of the enclosure - or, at least he thought he did. It wasn't a few seconds and the arm that was affixed to the cuff was flung horizontally into the air, with the same being said for Momoe. Blinking, he looked over to Momoe. "... where are you going?" he asked. She took a step back and turned to face him.

“What? I said we’re getting out of here. Don’t tell me you’re intent on sticking around?” Aurel only gave a brief nod of his head, indicating that, yes, he was going to stick around.

"Flare's thought process is logical, plus there's one thing I want to test out with these cuffs," he said, confirming his reason for lingering around the area. The thief eyed the girl for a brief second before nonchalantly tugging at their bindings. As much as he would hope Momoe would follow along, he expected her to act contrary to this plan. His suspicions were confirmed when the chain returned to him with no resistance, reeling back into the device around his wrist.

“Good. Gives me a reason to test out the release function,” Momoe flatly retorted. She lowered the arm she’d used to push the button on her cuff and turned her back to him. Momoe then cocked her head back over her shoulder. “You can find me at the labs when you’re done, hotshot.”

So much for using their time optimally.

"... was hoping you wouldn't do that," he sighed, feeling the freedom of being able to move his wrist again after like... what, thirty seconds? The only thing he could really do was frown back at the girl while grasping onto the cuff. Momoe just grinned.

“Sure, and I’d been hoping you were just gonna follow along, but neither of that happened, did it?” she snidely remarked. The smuggler aimed her head back in front of her and began to step away from the boy.

The thief could only just roll his eyes before plopping down onto the seat, rubbing the side of his temples. His mouth was slightly agape, though it did dawdle between closing and opening for a second, like a nutcracker. "If that's the case, then..."

He murmured before looking up, glaring at the back of Momoe's head before giving what he considered to give a suitable response. "... then if you need me, I'll be here."

Momoe didn’t look back at Aurel, but she still lazily gave a thumbs up to the boy behind her. “Sure. You’ll be here,” she half-heartedly replied, pocketing her hands and exiting the area.
Marc Kurosawa

Location
Central District

Interacting With
Suspicious "Policemen" with enough red flags to mistake them for Communists (@ERode)


Huh?!

That was not exactly what he was expecting from the trodden suit... especially catching another whiff of the man as he scrunched his nose before holding his breath. Marc could only really wriggle around as the guy clamped down on him like he was a living jaw of life. Seriously, how strong was this thin dude?!

Not even stopping time could help him out of this very awkward situation as he was held in place for a bit, struggling as he might to break free... before he said something?

Honestly, he heard most of what he said, but the pungent odor was still hanging in the air clouded his thoughts. It wasn't until the screeching sound of some tires and stumbling back could the boy really process the whole situation, let alone words.

... child, people, bell, birth, sorry, fix, joy? What? What did that man mean, why are the men in black here... wait, did someone call the police? No... that wasn't right, his phone was out... and if someone called the police earlier, how did they know to come to this specific place? What did they want with the man?

What do the numbers words mean?!

A brief wave and flash of this Officers badge was enough to sway him from his brief reverie, recomposing himself as the teen took a quick whiff of his self before shivering with a level of repugnance. The smell got into his clothes, he was being interrogated by some sketchy cops who magically honed in on this location, and something in the back of his head was screaming that stopping time to think was probably a bad idea at the moment.

He had to think quickly.

"... eh? Uh... yeah, I'm fine, the guy just hugged me for helpin' him out... I think," he paused to look over the man in the suit before continuing on, acting none the wiser as he scratched at his neck.

"Got assaulted by some Yakuza lookin' dude back there who was kicking the guy in the chest, and I managed to drive the guy off," he jabbed a finger turning his back to look at the way he came.

"... wait, is this guy dangerous or something?"


Zun - Airport
Clover (@Gentlemanvaultboy), Otsana (@redbaron1234)


"Hunting someone huh," he murmured almost inaudibly, still giving off that relaxed vibe as he placed hand on his hip. There was a languid smirk and a light, fruity chuckle that lasted a few seconds at her playful display all while commending her own abilities. Even so, his gaze remained on her till she was at his side, as if he was carefully evaluating or examining the woman's capabilities.

Still, he pried his eyes away, peering down onto the pamphlet, he began scrutinizing each advertisement that popped up, thoroughly surveying every word, design choice, and even name... and honestly, he was... less than impressed.

Then again, one of the first things he saw at the airport was a friggin' McDonalds; why should he be surprised at this point.

He continued meticulously skimming through each portion, going over certain restaurants twice before mentally declaring them to be no different than any other place he could find, whether it was in Germany or Nevada. Jonas' eyes were flitting over to the next set of brochures till Clover pointed out something about a Sunrise Cafe.

That? He... honestly didn't think much of it, aside from the fact that it wasn't as gaudy or had the myriads of garish designs that one fancy pickle place did. Though, his eyes did light up when she prescribed her conception of what she saw from this place. While he normally didn't go as in-depth at her, he gave a shallow nod.

"And more than anything, we'll get a good taste of what the local culture is like, although," as transfixed as he sounded on heading there, he lagged a bit with his last words, almost if there was some reluctance... he was even rubbing his lips right now as he furtively glanced down at his pockets. A particular thought involving a certain mercenary danced across his mind, till-

*Bzzt*

*Bzzt*


Well, think of the devil and she shall reply.

"Ah, gimme a moment Clover." In an instant, a hand flew into his left pocket before ricocheting out with a cellphone in hand. A few taps on it and Jonas was reading off her response...

I'm kinda hungry; will be outside,
want anything in particular?|

Otsana
|Well, shit. Coup or Tourney,
I'm prepared.|

|And if you could, grab some
kebabs. Heard this place is known
for them.|

Jonas
|Gotcha; also, might of made
a new friend. She seems to be a
connoisseur of food and recommended
Sunrise Cafe as being a good place.|

|We should check it out some
time. I'll see what I can do about
grabbing some kebabs.|


... and punching in his own response to the wolf girl. Giving a short sigh, he plopped the phone straight back into his pocket before grasping at the red parchment and giving it another look over... now that he thought about it.

He looked behind him, keenly eyeing the entrance to the airport with a sharp, almost stoic glare back. "I wouldn't mind, though I'm waiting for a friend to get her crap and she isn't exactly a light traveler," Jonas gave his satchel a nice, taut, ruffle as he smiled with a great amount of radiance all while being followed by an airy, whimsical chuckle.

"How about something closer, like The Brethren's Rest? It's bit of a hole in the wall, aaaaand from what I can tell 'bout the customers, it's most likely a hub for Nomads to go to." He jabbed a thumb behind him at the airport, turning back to look at her as he suggested another possible alternative.

"Which also means it be a good place to get information on that person you're lookin' for... soooo, whadya say?"

Zun - Airport
Anna (@wxps350), Ivory (@Anza)


...

...

Hmm...

The constant rhythmic tapping of a pencil reverberated through his hollow skull as he stared at the notes all meticulously dotting the page. The red orbs hovered, scouring the vicinity and absorbing the information before the scratching continued across the parchment. It was no different than an artist utilizing their own style, with this one detailing every step, every article of clothing, bags, shapes of their face, body, actions, reactions, sounds, and more with each passing word.

...

...

The sound of paper flapped through the air, changing from one page to another as the furious scribbling continued. This repeated for a couple of minutes, detailing every single event, from the... "minor" interaction he undertook with the man by him, to watching the outrage of the Nomads and possibly anyone else who came to watch the tournament, to those who had a brief reverie at a particular restaurants bar in the airport... The Brethren's Rest he believed it was called.

The skeleton man chuckled; it was a hollow, airy one at that as his head slowly peaked away from the parchment, before going to scan the area. He would smile if he could, but the closest he could get was rattling his bones... this was a melting pot of cultures, at least for one day.

So much to study, so much to do! He could do this all d-

...

...

... day. Right, he also had to do... that.

And those fellows were that dour reminder. As much as he would love to... there were his other duties he shan't disregard. Shutting the book with a resounding pap, only heard by him and him alone, Aldous delicately set the notebook on his lap before extending a bony arm to the right. Slowly, a small, pale sphere of spectral light formed from the palm of that hand.

Wisps of ethereal energy whipped about as the basis of a skeleton began to silently form, not drawing a whole lot of looks, aside from the occasional child pointing absent mindedly to an almost frightened stare that he was certain came from a tourist. Once it was completely made, it rested on the seat, awaiting whatever orders their master gave it.

Aldous brushed off the notebook before placing it under him... and pulling out the numerous notebooks that were resting beneath. Scooping them up, he placed them in the arms of the skeleton, who held onto them with dear life before rising up and excitedly clattered away after Aldous shooed it off.

Scratching the side of his mandible, he too followed, rising up, but heading in the completely opposite direction. While his servant rushed off out of the airport, he continued in, going deeper than ever before. Aldous' red orbs were completely focused on the hooded figures, especially the... new one who joined them, but however, he couldn't disregard the bar he was eyeing a couple of minutes earlier.

However, the way his body traipsed told a different story as he approached a set of two young women, both looking to be in their early 20's and both being Nomad's based on their ki... that and the blonde one attempted to instigate a fight amongst the crowds, something he especially took note of.

"Ah, pardon me if I'm being so intrusive ladies," the robed bones rapped and tapped together as the necromancer gave the duo a short bow and a tip of his crown as his fingers slipped it over his eyes for a brief second before pushing it back into place. Once firmly back on his head, the crown revealed the floating crimson orbs where normal eye sockets would be as they stared contently at the two.

"I am Aldous Mercer, a Cultural Anthropologist, studying the different sorts of Nomads and people who come through Zun almost every day," he placed a hand to his chest as he patted one of his at his rib-cage.

"However, I know naught of everything, especially those robed fellows... they're part of a rather inclusive cult here in Zun and peculiarly, only those that lack a trace of mythical blood, or well, have a pulse," that same hand rose, now pointing at the hooded figures scurrying after what looked to be some airport passengers before continuing to rattle on, bones and all.

"I wish to learn more... is it plausible you two could provide adequate assistance in my endeavors?"
Marc Kurosawa

Location
Central District

Interacting With
Injured(?) Suit (@ERode)


Did he... really just fall for that? Damn, not only did he probably have less hair on his balls than this tricky dude, but he was enough of a dullard to fall for his display! Marc couldn't help but pause time for a second just to recompose himself, sniggering and shaking his head, snorting between each breath.

The tough guy attitude of this gangster mofo, him taking the bait, and still acting less disciplined than the preschoolers he saw on his way to school was just too much.

No words really had to be said in his stopped time, this mongoloid's actions said enough as a few minutes passed before raising a fist to his throat and making an ahem. He casually jammed his hands into his pockets, holding them there as he unabashedly stared at the crowds, giving as much of a shit about them as they did about the man.

Guess he shouldn't keep the world waiting.

In an instant, his hands flew out of his pockets, face contorting back to the former way it was before he stood in his frozen time. Probably helped the act a bit since it almost appeared as if he flinched due to the minor amounts of whiplash. His lip was trembling as he put away the throwaway umbrella before slowly kneeling down, placing one arm under his shoulder and the mans arm on his back.

His eyes glistened with an almost youthful naivete, keeping the facade as much as possible until he could ascertain the man had dissipated into the sea of people, flowing down a dissimilar path as Marc. Of course, the crowd still gave a bit of a wide berth to the scene, but steadily they began to normalize around the duo.

And then... a sigh of relief.

Rising up with the man in tow, his first thoughts went to calling a hospital or something. He squinted at where the Yakuza "Princess" disappeared off to before popping his phone out of his pocket. Punching in the password and scrolling through only left the blonde with a perplexed gaze. At this point, his mouth was just as agape as the singing man next to him as he began fiddling around with his phone.

... the hell? No matter what he did, there was just an all around lack of reception... even more bemusing was, well, he was in the middle of friggin' Tenoroshi for crying out loud! Honestly, he was mildly agitated, so he just plugged the phone right back into his pocket. Ooook, soooo...

If he couldn't get hold of a hospital or something, then the next best logical place to go was...

"Ishikawa!"


He might have an idea of what to do, though...

... eeeeeuuuuugh!

Marc scrunched his face when he caught a whiff of not only the guy in general, but his breath. He could stand the stench, but that smell, hoooooo. His nose wrinkled and shrinked, lips puckered in disgust as a shudder shot down his spine... maybe he wouldn't mind hanging out in the back... aaaassss long as the guy didn't wander off.

"... oooouugh... c-come on, we shouldn't loiter 'round here..."
Marc Kurosawa

Location
Central District

Interacting With
Some Jackass Yakuza Maybe(?) (@ERode)


Marc blinked, almost convulsing a little as he slightly tipped to the side before readjusting himself. His jaw was slightly agape, eyes glued completely to the scene; it almost looked as if he was going to well up into tears or inelegantly barf on the side of the street.

-mp.

The sound was like a heartbeat, nearly constant and consistence, though it went off a few intervals as it continued to transpire. He took one step forward, almost as if he had a shuffling gait before another passed on by, almost ignoring how the young man was reacting.

Whump.

He could only push through the crowds before finally getting someone to excuse him, catching a few glares as Marc forcefully jammed the phone into his pocket and continued to flow sideways against the current. It was difficult rushing towards the scene, especially since so many were indifferent to the seemingly distressing plight he was in.

Whump.

Until then, finally, he came upon the scene, interjecting himself into this bubble of violence, bubble of misfortune, the bubble that didn't seemingly exist to all these people. Marc's eyes were vibrating, his lips were trembling, almost making an irregular chattering of his teeth. With one hand clenched in a fist being held to his chest and the other outwards, open, ready to grasp at the situation, he could only fearfully utter one sentence in between the periodic-

Whump.

"Uh-Uncle Hideki? Sir, what the hell are... are you doing to my uncle?!"

...


A few minutes ago.

The dimly lit lights of the cityscape harmonized with the rhythm of the drizzle, the sizzle of their song being barely heard amongst the scattering crowds, all singing to their own tune, all flowing down their own path... but him? Oh no, Marc wasn't a part of the current... in fact, he was more or less pushing against it, going in the opposing direction, swimming up the stream, pushing against the crowds of people.

Some made his life a bit easy by weaving through the side. Other times, he had to duck out of the way himself, earning possibly a scowl, grimace, glare, or two, but nothing else before the droplets returned to the regular flow of the district.

Maybe this wasn't exactly the best of ideas to return at such a busy hour. The young man sighed, unresigned, pushing forward with a phone in one hand and a transparent, disposable umbrella in the other. His face felt a bit sticky, possibly tasted salty if he decided to lick it, mixed with the light sprinkle of the springs dew.

"Hm... I should check out those Whispers in the Wall, or something," Marc pondered, eyes pasted on the illuminated screen for a brief second, scrolling through the latest posts of the Urban Legends subforum before tearing his eyes away from the screen.

The glow reflected off his face as he astutely gazed over the crowd, picking away the faces of the crowds... and strangely enough, picking out a kindred spirit flowing against the current, plastered as all hell. Drunk, maybe? Or lost in his own world like him. A small smirk briefly followed before he was somber, unsmiling, eyeing the mans ragged appearance. Good god, he could smell the guy from all the way over here.

While there were judgmental thoughts that followed, there was another tune that followed.

Where are his friends?

Is there anyone worried about him?

How long has he been like this?

What happened to put him in such a blissfully ignorant state?

What happened...

Marc didn't know whether to be content about letting the man continue to bumble on by, at least until that deplorable scene followed. The only details he could make out from between the rapidly, uninterrupted crowds was that the dirty man had bumped into... collared crisp shirt, tight, expensive looking pants just from the quality.

And the sound of a violent whump.

People surrounding the vicinity watched as they continued to march, blindly following the tune of the cities Shepard, the Mayor... whoever that might be.

Whump.


Mothers turned their children away, teenagers took their eyes off their phones for a fleeting second before continuing to text.

Whump.


And it became normalized; the metronome to the city streets. The brutality of someone being mercilessly assaulted. A beat that continued to follow, a beat the crowds did not condemn, a beat they rationalized that was ok...

Whump.


It was a beat he refused to follow, a beat he could not agree with as Marc clutched his phone, feeling as if he could crush it as he watched the one-sided beat down continue, no retaliation from the helpless man lying there... he did nothing to dissuade his assailant.

Whu-

...

...

And then, nothing.


There was no fanfare, no special ability that caused his eyes to glow with a blue luminescence comparable to the All Seeing Eyes of God, oh no... there was just the deafening sound of silence and stillness. Any cool breeze that blew, any conversation, the sounds, the world, it all abruptly stopped as Marc continued to stare at the scene.

Marcs world... his frozen time.

No matter how long he stood and stared, nothing would change the raw feeling in his gut, cold, curling crushing his stomach. It was comparable to butterflies in ones stomach, or expulsing said contents out of his body. Schoolgirls disappear and adults don't bat an eye, a man is beaten and bruised with people passing on by.

There was merely an embittered scowl plastered on his face, whether for anger or discomfort, he didn't know as he let his umbrella and phone go, turning to walk towards the scene. Of course, like many things in his world, they stood still, unmoving, porcelain statues.

... and that was the main issue; unable to push anyone to the side, he had to resort to... other methods to traverse over to the scene that many were giving a wide berth.

Climbing up onto one of the people, it was still a bit of a challenge, but he steadied himself after a couple of seconds of wobbling a bit. Of course, once that was settled, he clambered over to another person, and another, before finally hopping off, and rolling into the scene. Honestly, it would of been badass if he could of just front flipped... but there were too many immovable objects around, too many thing to bump or injure himself on.

But that was not why he was here, oh no. Marc slowly began to rise, eyes like flames seeking any smoldering embers to burn away, to add to the fire. Blinking, he pushed up his glasses till they were firmly against the bridge of his nose, approaching the scene with a scrutinizing glance. He squatted down, staring at the man with his beady eyes, scrunched up nose, and clenched teeth as his foot was half-buried into the other sods chest.

And then, he chuckled.

Marc just shook his head, smiling disdainfully at the whole scene rubbing his chin as he continued to judge the man.

"Heh, you're really a pathetic piece of shit for getting bent so out of shape for some random ass dude bumping into you, y'know that," he stopped rubbing his chin, clenching his hand and leaning in so he could press his fist against the gangsters crotch. As he did so, he produced a small popping sound, the only sound of wind in this scenario before backing up and rising up, studying the duo more as if he were a detective at a crime scene.

Circling the two, his mind wandered and he pondered. Not a minute could of passed before he noticed something. He couldn't tell if it was the drizzle or not, but there looked to be a small, ephemeral smudge Marc noticed before sneering.

"Are you pissed about dis' guy getting such a widdle, widdle shmudge on youw pwecious shirt pwincess?" The insults were shot, but would never land. This was the world he only knew, and the mockery of treating this man like an entitled child throwing a tantrum would stay in it.

While talking trash to the guy, myriads of thoughts traveled through his head as he assessed the whole situation. How might he deal with this? As much as Marc considered to try and fight back, there was the main issue of his tattoos. It was one of the few things he noticed when circling the man like a vulture, and considered the man to be a possible Yakuza member.

While this was completely founded on looks, Marc didn't feel like doing anything stupid now, especially picking a fight due to the implications it could have... well, unless the gangster instigated it.

Marc shook his head and sighed before taking a seat, going between ideas, deciding which ones to nock and which ones to hold before he rose again.

"Uncle Hideki? Sir, what the hell are you doing to my uncle," he said in his most worried voice he could, putting emphasis on the horror of it all before clearing his throat. He recited the line a couple of times, all with different degrees of inflections in his voice, even going so far as to how his body language would portray himself. Hell, he even went above and beyond, coming up with other lines to respond the the (possible) Yakuza member if they said anything... though, he couldn't plan for every scenario.

He wasn't a gypsy after all.

In any case, after at least five minutes passed on by, he sighed before brushing himself down, doing some stretches, and doing some mock do re mi's to 'test' his own vocals. Once that was over, he went into a pivot, twirling around, spinning with an imaginary partner before coming face to face with the statues from before, impeding his way back to his spot.

Well... second verse, same as the first as he gracefully used a child as a footstool to scramble up onto the shoulders of another person. Rinse and repeat before he found himself making a similarish pose as to what he had a few minutes ago.

"... and time... resumes."
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