MARCUS
Chapter
I
Seven, come on baby, daddy needs a lucky seven. Marcus voiced to himself silently, while being the target of malicious intent from the majority of the box game's players. "Roll the fucking dice puto!" The middle-aged Latino man on the opposite side of Marcus ranted.
"Alright, alright. Calm down Pedro, no need to get antsy here. We all know you're in a rush to get back home, so that you can pop your little sombrero on, and watch sweaty men kick a ball around while you chant stupid shit in Spanish." A sly smirk crept on Marcus's face at the stereotypes he'd just blasted the random man with.
BANG! The small playing board rattled from the man slamming his fist onto the surface, showcasing his obvious outrage for his competitor's stereotypical offenses, glaring heavily as if to renounce his previous statement.
Marcus laughed, clearly amused at the amount of stress he'd made the man exude in the couple of seconds they'd exchanged vocal confrontation. Rubbing the two dice between his hands, Marcus swiftly released, allowing the two tiny cubes to hit the wooden platform.
The anticipation elevated the atmosphere, which seemed to make everyone around him that much more tense. Time seemed to slow as the dice came to a conclusion, the first of the cubes hit six putting a smug grin on the fat Latino man's face, his teeth stained brown. "Karma is a bitch ey puto?" Boisterous laughter rushed out of his throat, along with a handful of curses, and insults.
Marcus began to laugh as well, bringing his voice louder than the oppositions' in a manner of mockery, and ignorance. The loud laughter of ignorance continued on from both individuals until the final dice stopped silencing one of the two voices.
Marcus scoffed in mockery at the old man, as the final dice heeded, landing on the number one. Still laughing hysterically, Marcus continued his banter throwing back the snide remark the Latino man had arrogantly voiced moments ago.
"Karma is a bitch ey puto?" Marcus reached into the betting stash, taking the entirety; the full $1,200, quickly pocketing the cash, then removing himself from the playing board before the players got smart realizing there were four of them, and only one of him, jumping Marcus, then taking their money back.
"Thanks for the game ey." Marcus chuckled to himself, as he walked away hitting a corner into a dark alleyway. He slowed his pace, pulling out a cigarette, and a lighter, lighting the end, then popping the thin material into his mouth as the substance burned elegantly. Marcus inhaled heavily, removing the cigarette from his lips, to exhale the fumes; bronze smoke quickly filled the vicinity of air around him.
"Ey puto," was all Marcus heard, before a thick, hairy, arm reached for him grabbing his shoulder, jabbing him viciously in the stomach so hard, that the remaining fumes from the cigarette rushed from his lungs.
Marcus wheezed out in pain, as several more swift jabs made contact with his chest, jaw, and rib cage, swiftly being thrown to the other side of the alleyway, into the opposite brick wall head first with superhuman strength.
"All that big talk earlier esé, but you ain't shit holmes. Maybe if you're lucky you'll die quickly, oh you better pray you die quickly, because the things I'm going to do to you boy." As he said that, a disgusting grin crept to his lips, insinuating the worst possible outcomes regarding his statement.
Marcus's head spun, as he attempted to recover, wincing at the pain pulsating throughout his entire body, especially in his midsection. Slowly creeping to his feet, he felt up towards his left side; multiple ribs broken, fuck me..
Physically, he was outmatched, he knew this. He wasn't going to win this in a straight up fair fight, especially not now, with several broken ribs, and whatever the hell else was fucked up. "Fuck it" Marcus called out to the demented creep, with steroid strength. "There's no possible way of me getting out of this, you win."
The man awkwardly nodded his head repeatedly up, and down in approval never breaking his estranged grin of deceit, and utter disgust. Slowly, he walked over to Marcus, never breaking his slow tempo which seemed to increase the malevolent atmosphere.
"Wait.. Wait!" Marcus shouted in a panicked tone, causing the middle-aged man to halt momentarily, before continuing his stride towards his prey. "For fucks sake allow me a damn cigarette before I die you demented fuck." Marcus held out his hand in futile efforts to halt the ghoulish stranger from getting to close, before he could kneel, and pick up the remaining portion of his previously lit cigarette.
Plucking the remaining bit from the ground, he put it to his lip, the substance still burned dimly. Marcus sucked in every bit of the fumes he could muster, as the man inched closer, now only a couple feet away from his target.
The tension heightened, in only a matter of seconds Marcus would be dead, or worse.. A plethora of rigorous events played through his mind, each act more violent, and malicious than the last. The same hairy arm reached out, grabbing Marcus's forehead with the strength of ten men, the amount of pressure would crush his skull in a matter of seconds if this continued.
He smiled, his disgusting teeth radiated pungency, only to be clarified moments later at the opening of his rat-hole of a mouth. "You're kind of pretty, just my type chico." He licked his lips, moving his hands across Marcus's face, his hands smelled of sour tart, and raw fish.
Sick fuck, Marcus allowed the dimmed cigarette to fall from his lips, as he released the bronze fumes withheld in his lungs. The bronze smoke shot out viciously hitting the monstrous Latino directly in his face.
"AH! AHHH! AHHHHH!" He screamed in agony, as the bronze smoke encircled the vicinity, burning the man's flesh. Marcus swiftly took advantage of this, ignoring the virulent pain in his midsection, summoning whatever strength he had left to remove the bronze knife from the inside of his boot, rushing forward, dagger first, at the revolting man panicking from the burning fumes that continued to engulf him.
With no remorse, Marcus plunged forward, burying the knife deep into the man's chest, directly where his heart would be. Crimson liquid rushed to the surface, spilling forward, leaking down from the knifes' hilt, onto his arm, he could feel the life draining slowly from the estranged man's body, as the blood transitioned from a blood-boiling warm, to a stagnant cold.
Looking into the dying man's eyes, Marcus caught wind of relief. The man's eyes flickered from a dark brown, to a frightening gold, back to dark brown. The spirit had been purged from the man's body, at the expense of its hosts' own life.
"Fucking Eidolons." Marcus sheathed the knife, fumbling throughout his pockets for his cell, then dialing a frequently used number.
"Wolf?" A feminine voiced asked.
"Yeah, it's me. I'm next to the Gambler's Den on St. Patricks, come pick me up, and bring the good stuff, I'm pretty beat up Hummingbird."
"Really? The Gambler's Den of all places Wolf? Gah! You're such an idiot sometimes! On my way, stay put, and don't get into any trouble.. Anymore trouble I m-"
Marcus hung up, before he could get the full extent of her lecturing. Cassandra, aka Hummingbird she was a handful, but she was someone Marcus trusted, and cared for dearly. They'd known each other since their days at Camp Half Blood several years ago; they'd even dated for a couple months, before Marcus decided to leave camp without warning midst Gaea's wake.
...
"Here, stupid." Cassandra said, handing him a half, empty bottle of golden liquid. Wolfing the drink down till the very last, he coughed in disgust at the bitter taste of the concoction. "What the hell is this?" He continued to gag, spitting out of the car's window trying to remove the after taste as best as he could manage.
Cassandra's lips pursed into a smile, finding pleasure in her colleagues discomfort. "Sadly that's the only kind of nectar we'd had left, we haven't had time to go on supply runs thanks to the increase in demon appearances, after Gaea's defeat last month."
Marcus's stomach groaned in detest, at the rancid nectar he'd subjected it to. Even so, at least his ribs had begun to heal, he could feel the pain lessening ever so slightly as the minutes passed by.
"You remember how everyone thought that Gaea's defeat, would mean peace, or at least a couple months of relaxation back at camp?" She asked him. He silently nodded in approval, of course he remembered, how could he not? That was around the time he, and Cassandra were going steady, when they were really serious about each other. He'd promised her, that they'd take a trip down to Miami Beach for the whole summer if things went right.
Of course, that didn't happen.. And you can only imagine the hateful banter he'd received from her, when they first met again in their little association of demon hunters.
The car swiveled right, as Cassandra made a sharp turn onto an abandoned street's dead end, which harbored their base of operations. "Home sweet home." Marcus joked, "something like that." Cassandra finished, removing herself from the vehicle, and heading inside of the beat-up abandoned apartment building.
They headed up the stairs, onto the top floor, stopping at a large black door with the word "hope" engraved on the door in Greek. Cassandra knocked on the door, awaiting for a response. Three knocks answered back; code language for: "State your names."
"Hummingbird." Cassandra answered back.
"Wolf." Marcus joined in.
The door slowly creaked open, revealing a group of teens, and adults all sitting around a round table, and a couple of computers, and TVs. Stepping into the room, Marcus was the first to be greeted:
"Pretty boy not so pretty anymore." Said a short, Hispanic boy with dark brown curly hair, and a sense of humor that could make even the dullest person crack a smile. Marcus smirked, Mole, aka Conrad was the teams infiltrator, and informant, and he was damn good at it.
Conrad was only fifteen, but the kid was nothing short of a genius, he was one of the many sons of Hermes after all. He'd come through on multiple occasions, especially on scouting missions for resources, and demon hideouts. Marcus honestly, didn't know where the group would be without their little boy genius as their backbone, and inside man.
"Boy genius" Marcus laughed, placing his hand on the kid's head, and messing up his already ravaged hair. Deep down, Marcus thought of Conrad as the little brother he'd never had, or wanted for that matter, but he cared for the little guy.
"I take it things went smoothly?"
Marcus looked up, he hadn't noticed that their leader Leon had been in the room. "Yeah, things went alright. You know how Eidolons are Hawk." Marcus shrugged, wincing a little at the slight pain residing in his rib cage.
Leon nodded in agreement, "troublesome demons, taking their hosts' life, even after being purged" Marcus nodded back. Leon, and Marcus coexisted, they weren't on the greatest terms, but they didn't hate each other, the reason for it all, was because of Cassandra.
Cassandra had formed a relationship with Leon, a couple weeks after Marcus had left Camp Half Blood, only to be reunited a month later here, in their little group of demon hunters. Naturally, things didn't go so well between the two men, as Cassandra's feelings for Marcus still were there, but she also was very much in love with Leon. The blow back led to Marcus, and Leon not being buddy, buddy, but it was probably for the best, the two had clashing personalities in the end.
"Well" Leon continued. "I've got some important news.. Everyone, listen up."
A/N: Review & Follow. Criticism of all kinds, is encouraged.
A/N: I'm positive you all will avidly enjoy the character Marcus. Cassandra as well. Leon will appeal to some, but not all; Leon's character will be complicated so to speak, especially with his history..
A/N: This takes place a month after the defeat of Gaea.
A/N: The reason why the nectar tastes disgusting to Marcus is because of insert spoiler here you'll just have to read the story, and find out.