“Very well.” Yeah, he should have expected as much to be honest. Lucas wanted to do it his way. Marco was doing his.
“If it’s any consolation, I’ll deal with whoever did all that other shit to you.” Marco tilted his chainsaw to point at all the mud caked to Lucas’ clothes.
The adrenaline rush fading now, Marco realized he was rather cold. Being naked and wet in the rain does that to you. Marco wanted to finish up so he could get some fresh clothes on. Now all that was left was for Lucas to leave so he could finish what he started. If this was over than this was over.
Marco Tries To Take A Bath
Day 3: approx 1900 hours , Open! Also obligatory always Sunny title card.
"Andy, Abe, Axel and Morgan are mine. Thanks for the offer though. You can chop their legs off, or something."
Lucas didn't smile, not even a wry one. He had had more than enough by that point, and the damp conditions were starting to get to him too. He left, but not without checking back repeatedly until Marco was well out of sight.
((Lucas Brady continued elsewhere.))
Lucas didn't smile, not even a wry one. He had had more than enough by that point, and the damp conditions were starting to get to him too. He left, but not without checking back repeatedly until Marco was well out of sight.
((Lucas Brady continued elsewhere.))
Oh. A gang. You got jumped by a gang. If they’re all still together, that’d be something very fun. Marco kept that in mind, even if Lucas said he could handle it.
He was getting ahead of himself though. There was still his first order of business, what he came here to do in the first place. Once Lucas was a good enough distance away, Marco moved his chainsaw back by his clothes and went out to the ocean again, grabbing his shampoo and soap. The water was even colder than before, but even more of an necessity, considering he was wet and covered in sand.
It was a good cold though. He should’ve waited until the morning to do it, because it would’ve been the perfect way to wake up, but hindsight being 20/20, you all know how that is.
When he was done, Marco just put on a pair of compression shorts and his boots, then went back to the yacht, only mostly naked. The next hour was spent clearing the area for no threats, and the next eleven were spent sleeping. Marco awoke, sore as all hell. He stretched himself out. He felt great. He started his morning routine with some pull-ups before exploring the yacht some more.
Marco was spinning a fire extinguisher he found next to Ron with his feet as the announcements played. He hadn’t won the bka, but that’s okay. There was still good news. News number one was Steph’s killer. Volker really didn’t give a fuck about him, but the way he died had intrigued him. Who killed him even more so.
Quinn was racking up quite the body count, and she was trying to get all ‘creative’ it seems like. He didn’t care for it. Marco was creative, Arjen should be honored to go out in style the way he did, but that shit Quinn pulled? Shit’s just tacky. Still, she must be some sort of threat with all those kills to her name. Mark her up, Volker’s coming to kill her. She seems fun. Marco hoped when he finds her she’s like a dark souls boss fight, and not like a Spider-Man 2 Mysterio boss fight.
The next bit of good news, was that Adonis had killed. Adonis had killed somebody! Marco knew it. Nobody was truly good or innocent. If Adonis was he’d have died instead. Now he’s no longer one of them, but one of us. He joined the club, and Marco wanted, nay, NEEDED to find him. He was the only one who got Marco, who understood him. They were as kindred spirits, and Marco knew he could mold Adonis into his true potential.
It was time to go, but first, he needed a makeover. He needed people to know what they were seeing. Hell, Marco needed to know what he was seeing, he hadn’t had access into a mirror sin-
Oh shit. He’s never really seen his actual reflection since that ambush. He doesn’t even know how bad the damage is besides the sensations. He should probably check that out for himself. He went to the yachts restroom and looked at the mirror.
Marco felt sick to his stomach. That happened to his eye? Oh no, oh no no no... He knew it was bad, but damn, that’s bad! Yeah, they’re gonna pay for that definitely. Oh man, he had so much on his plate right now. So many people to deal with. He just needed to take it as it goes. Marco took a breath. He was calm again, he was all zen again.
He needed to complete the look to show everyone he was dead ass serious about fucking shit up, and his old dirty clothes won’t do. People always wanted him to play the villain, in every larp, every play, even real life. It was only fun in the plays and larps. Now it’s becoming fun, even in real life. Might as well embrace your typecast.
He ruffled through his bag. He pulled out a black sleeveless T-shirt with a worn white rib cage print on it. That’ll do. Next he pulled out a studded black leather vest with a red interior, covered with various old school Doom logos and sprite imagery, finished up with a modernized version of the Icon of Sin as a large patch on the back. That shit was expensive as fuck from Etsy, he was so glad that wasn’t taken. Next was a pair of faux leather jeans with buckles along the thighs and a pointless but none the less cool set of lace ups running along the sides of the jeans. He finished up by excessive accessorizing, including his same checkered bandanna, red suspenders and studded belt, but with the addition of a spiked leather arm band around his left bicep, a studded leather fingerless glove that went all the way up his wrist on his left arm, and finally a plain fingerless glove on his right hand for good measure.
He ruffled his hair in front of the mirror, and stroke a few poses, examining his new look. He needed something else. He still had some shit in his bag from that failed VtM larp he visited. Electrical tape, makeup kits, movie grade clip on fangs, Wesker contacts...
Yeah he can work with this. Marco took his glasses off, and popped the cracked lenses out of the bad side, not like he needed them to see anymore, anyways, then began to tape it up as a makeshift glasses eye patch. Once he covered that side in a black square, he took some red tape, and formed a little X over where the lens used to be.
He applied black makeup to just his bottom eyelids, going for that Jerry Only look. He finished up by putting one cosmetic contact in his good eye, and applying the fangs to his teeth. He put his glasses on and observed himself. Marco popped the collar of his vest.
Positively Demonic.
He went back to the table and saw the broken remains of his busted glasses lens, and got a good idea. He looked at his old red spiral T-shirt. He tore and cut the shirt up by moving it back and forth against the blades of his chainsaw. He took the shards and put them over one of the cloth strips. He then took the engine block and placed it over the glass shards, crunching and crushing them into a fine powder, before rolling the strip up into a small bag and tying the top off into a knot.
This’ll be a good surprise for someone.
The next thing he did was take other pieces of the shirt, to turn it into a sling for a chainsaw. Now he could rest and keep it with him at all times. Ingenuity. The remainder of his red shirt was turned into a bandanna to wrap around his right leg for aesthetic purposes. Nothing is wasted, everything is used.
Finally he took his makeup kit to the blade of his chainsaw. “This Machine Slays Bodies” was crudely scribbled in both sides. He’ll add tallies as he goes on.
With that being out of the way, he was ready to leave, taking the fire extinguisher with him on his way out. Maybe he could drop it off a height into someone’s head or something, show those terrorists what a real BKA was, maybe he’d never use it, but it was always good to have a backup, regardless. He put the extinguisher in his bag and zipped it up.
Today was shaping up to be a good day.
((Marcus Volker continued elsewhere.))
He was getting ahead of himself though. There was still his first order of business, what he came here to do in the first place. Once Lucas was a good enough distance away, Marco moved his chainsaw back by his clothes and went out to the ocean again, grabbing his shampoo and soap. The water was even colder than before, but even more of an necessity, considering he was wet and covered in sand.
It was a good cold though. He should’ve waited until the morning to do it, because it would’ve been the perfect way to wake up, but hindsight being 20/20, you all know how that is.
When he was done, Marco just put on a pair of compression shorts and his boots, then went back to the yacht, only mostly naked. The next hour was spent clearing the area for no threats, and the next eleven were spent sleeping. Marco awoke, sore as all hell. He stretched himself out. He felt great. He started his morning routine with some pull-ups before exploring the yacht some more.
Marco was spinning a fire extinguisher he found next to Ron with his feet as the announcements played. He hadn’t won the bka, but that’s okay. There was still good news. News number one was Steph’s killer. Volker really didn’t give a fuck about him, but the way he died had intrigued him. Who killed him even more so.
Quinn was racking up quite the body count, and she was trying to get all ‘creative’ it seems like. He didn’t care for it. Marco was creative, Arjen should be honored to go out in style the way he did, but that shit Quinn pulled? Shit’s just tacky. Still, she must be some sort of threat with all those kills to her name. Mark her up, Volker’s coming to kill her. She seems fun. Marco hoped when he finds her she’s like a dark souls boss fight, and not like a Spider-Man 2 Mysterio boss fight.
The next bit of good news, was that Adonis had killed. Adonis had killed somebody! Marco knew it. Nobody was truly good or innocent. If Adonis was he’d have died instead. Now he’s no longer one of them, but one of us. He joined the club, and Marco wanted, nay, NEEDED to find him. He was the only one who got Marco, who understood him. They were as kindred spirits, and Marco knew he could mold Adonis into his true potential.
It was time to go, but first, he needed a makeover. He needed people to know what they were seeing. Hell, Marco needed to know what he was seeing, he hadn’t had access into a mirror sin-
Oh shit. He’s never really seen his actual reflection since that ambush. He doesn’t even know how bad the damage is besides the sensations. He should probably check that out for himself. He went to the yachts restroom and looked at the mirror.
Marco felt sick to his stomach. That happened to his eye? Oh no, oh no no no... He knew it was bad, but damn, that’s bad! Yeah, they’re gonna pay for that definitely. Oh man, he had so much on his plate right now. So many people to deal with. He just needed to take it as it goes. Marco took a breath. He was calm again, he was all zen again.
He needed to complete the look to show everyone he was dead ass serious about fucking shit up, and his old dirty clothes won’t do. People always wanted him to play the villain, in every larp, every play, even real life. It was only fun in the plays and larps. Now it’s becoming fun, even in real life. Might as well embrace your typecast.
He ruffled through his bag. He pulled out a black sleeveless T-shirt with a worn white rib cage print on it. That’ll do. Next he pulled out a studded black leather vest with a red interior, covered with various old school Doom logos and sprite imagery, finished up with a modernized version of the Icon of Sin as a large patch on the back. That shit was expensive as fuck from Etsy, he was so glad that wasn’t taken. Next was a pair of faux leather jeans with buckles along the thighs and a pointless but none the less cool set of lace ups running along the sides of the jeans. He finished up by excessive accessorizing, including his same checkered bandanna, red suspenders and studded belt, but with the addition of a spiked leather arm band around his left bicep, a studded leather fingerless glove that went all the way up his wrist on his left arm, and finally a plain fingerless glove on his right hand for good measure.
He ruffled his hair in front of the mirror, and stroke a few poses, examining his new look. He needed something else. He still had some shit in his bag from that failed VtM larp he visited. Electrical tape, makeup kits, movie grade clip on fangs, Wesker contacts...
Yeah he can work with this. Marco took his glasses off, and popped the cracked lenses out of the bad side, not like he needed them to see anymore, anyways, then began to tape it up as a makeshift glasses eye patch. Once he covered that side in a black square, he took some red tape, and formed a little X over where the lens used to be.
He applied black makeup to just his bottom eyelids, going for that Jerry Only look. He finished up by putting one cosmetic contact in his good eye, and applying the fangs to his teeth. He put his glasses on and observed himself. Marco popped the collar of his vest.
Positively Demonic.
He went back to the table and saw the broken remains of his busted glasses lens, and got a good idea. He looked at his old red spiral T-shirt. He tore and cut the shirt up by moving it back and forth against the blades of his chainsaw. He took the shards and put them over one of the cloth strips. He then took the engine block and placed it over the glass shards, crunching and crushing them into a fine powder, before rolling the strip up into a small bag and tying the top off into a knot.
This’ll be a good surprise for someone.
The next thing he did was take other pieces of the shirt, to turn it into a sling for a chainsaw. Now he could rest and keep it with him at all times. Ingenuity. The remainder of his red shirt was turned into a bandanna to wrap around his right leg for aesthetic purposes. Nothing is wasted, everything is used.
Finally he took his makeup kit to the blade of his chainsaw. “This Machine Slays Bodies” was crudely scribbled in both sides. He’ll add tallies as he goes on.
With that being out of the way, he was ready to leave, taking the fire extinguisher with him on his way out. Maybe he could drop it off a height into someone’s head or something, show those terrorists what a real BKA was, maybe he’d never use it, but it was always good to have a backup, regardless. He put the extinguisher in his bag and zipped it up.
Today was shaping up to be a good day.
((Marcus Volker continued elsewhere.))