"So…care to explain what brings you here?" Marco asked, as he went down the stairs, carrying an enormous first aid kit to the wounded stranger bleeding profusely in his kitchen.
"You're going to be more specific, Marco," Scott replied as he already pulled up a string from the plastic box, tying up his missing arm in order to restrict blood flow. He seemed unusually indifferent towards his cuts and bruises, as if they weren't on his body.
"Well, gee, I don't know, how about WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING ON MY KITCHEN FLOOR?" Marco yelled, unable to hold back his anger anymore.
"Great choice, for a topic, Marco. You want the long story or the short story?"
"I've got time, spit it all out!"
And so, Scott retold his story for the third time the last month, carefully going into every minor detail, as if he lived through those events in the third person. Marco was baffled to hear that, his jaw dropping closer to the floor as the story went on.
"So…let me get this straight. You deliberately let this Britt guy cut off your arm, just to trigger some sort of magic-inhibiting rune, in order to incapacitate him and escape?"
"Was I not clear enough?" Scott posed that question rhetorically, as he was pouring alcohol all over his chest and arms, in order to disinfect his wounds. Despite his skin was blistering, he didn't even flinch, not a groan escaping from his throat.
"Doesn't that thing hurt?" the self-appointed nurse Marco innocently asked, slightly disgusted to see the foam covering his deep slits.
"As if they were sprayed over with venom, then left to boil up in the heat of the desert…I've been hurt before, albeit long ago…It's something you learn to deal with, after a while…"
"Ok…weird…Now, to my second question…"
"And not last, I presume."
"Yep. Why are you here? Aren't there mystique healers scattered across any other dimension but here?" His awe was well-founded. There was no reason for Scott not to be in a pixie hospital, where, with a bit of fairy dust, he would be as good as new. Still…there he was, spilling his vital fluid all over the blue immaculate tiles of the Diaz's kitchen.
"There are…But, it's best I come here. All the other places are easily trackable. Nobody would think of looking for me here, be it friend or foe."
That last sentence was unsettling…Who exactly was he running from? Was it Britt's evil wrath, or was it…
"Wait…You mean you don't want Star or the Queen or Glossaryck, even to find you?"
"Precisely. Now, you may want to look away, this part gets horrendous," he answered grabbing a needle that already had surgical string put in. Without hesitation he started sewing through the pulsating flesh of the gaping hole in his arm. Marco almost threw up as he saw the necrotic tissue being mashed in, so that it would clog the biggest blood drain. Looking out the window, he became more persuasive.
"But, they're your allies…Why would you run from them? Shouldn't, well, Star be the first one to know if you got hurt, or killed, or whatever is it that you do, nowadays?"
"I assure you, I don't get beaten up and slaughtered on a daily basis, if that's what you mean," Scott replied, as he cut the unused string, starting to work his way on the dead skin of his arm.
"Don't avoid my question, Scott…What is it?"
"I'm not avoiding anything, Marco. I'm just concerned about my severe, life-threatening, health hazardous wounds."
"The tending of which, causes you no pain and no distraction…Spill it up, or…"
"I don't think you have anything to bargain with."
"Well, I've got a pair of dimensional scissors, therefore the means of telling on you."
"You lack the motive and will, though. You hate me, but in the way that you don't really care for me. Should something horrible happen to me, you wouldn't rejoice in it, but you wouldn't step in either. This is why you haven't gotten in touch with your best friend in four months. It's because you blame me for your relationship failing, just because I was seemingly intrusive…You kept an unsavory grudge, whilst moving on with your life. Quite paradoxical, don't you think? Does this answer why I am here, Marco? It's because I know you wouldn't rat me out, because you don't give a damn about me."
An awkward and heavy silence followed. Scott was quietly going about his business, while Marco was diving in what he said…That was…true. He did something truly contradictory in essence, and despicable to say the least. It was just…he was dismayed when his separation from Mewni had happened, and decided the more distance, figuratively speaking, he put between him and that world, the better. Now, he was realizing the error in his ways…
"Did…Did Star miss me?"
"At first, yes. The first weeks she tried reaching out to you, sending an endless amount of interdimensional letters, that I guarantee you have seen. Then, as she realized you aren't going to respond, she started blaming herself, for she had failed you as a friend, breaking your heart into a million pieces and all. After this self-loathing period ended, she finally began moving on, up until now. She is here, right now, you know?"
"Here? As in, in town, right?"
"At the graveyard."
"Wait…how do you know that?"
"You forgot who you're speaking with…But, if you want to know, there is a sort of interdimensional radar that I managed to create some time ago…That's not the object of the conversation, now is it. You made me sound like the bad guy, so I turned it unto you. Who is the worse of us? I didn't do a thing to hurt you, yet here I am in your house, patching myself back up, in a place where not so long ago I was more than welcome, but now you're expelling me from."
"Oh…right…"
Marco started thinking about what Scott said…Something there didn't quite fit and he had a slight idea of what this little thing was, yet his reasoning was overwhelmed by the harsh accusations of his former friend. They were as frank as they were true, which made them all the more hurtful. He used to be a lot warmer, but now he seemed to be as vile and vicious as the people they had fought before…What could've triggered this change? As they sat in silence, Scott healing himself and Marco meditating over the situation at hand, the blood Scott spilt on the floor, has now become one with it.
"Why do people change?" resonated inside Marco's head. The only answer he could've come up and that fit the premises he had was that something bad happened to them…A sorrow loss, a bitter mistake, a wasteful separation, they all drive one to the path of wrath. The question now arises, what could he had lost? If not he gained something he strived for a very long time: love. As he was pondering, Marco's gaze met the stump that was now Scott's right arm…Wounds…He never saw him getting hurt before. His keen senses and immeasurable power always had his back, so that he'd be kept from harm at all times. He was as sharp as usual…could this mean?
"Scott? Have you somehow lost your powers?"
Scott dropped the roll of bandages, letting the wrapping on his arm go unfinished…Looking at Marco as if he wanted to strangle him with his bare hands, he replied:
"No, Marco, are you crazy? What would make you think that?" he laughed somewhat maniacally at the end.
"It's just that…you seem to rely more on devices nowadays. You even brought a pair of dimensional scissors with you…although you used it to cut your arm remnants off. You managed to get in this shape, whereas you slipped unscathed from the most mindboggling situations earlier. Is this what happened?"
"The answer remains no. You'd better nose around your own problems, before you dig in mine."
"Okay, then…if you say so. Prove it," Marco simply said, crossing his arms in disbelief.
"I don't have to prove anything to you." Scott was reluctant to show his power and continued to mend his wounds, unfazed.
"Fair enough. You leave me no choice," Marco said grabbing the scissors from Scott's hand and dislodging the blades. "You either prove you are the Scott I know by performing some magic, or you die here, by my hand."
"You're not going to kill me, Marco. You don't have the guts to do it."
"Not the guts are what may be missing. I've killed that Skeleton King you sent to battle intruders, so slaying my foes isn't a problem for me. But you are no foe are you?"
"No, I am not… Do you really want to play this game? It's tedious and cliché as it is, do you really want to go through with this? You will not kill me, whatever you think you can do…"
"Oh, really? As I said, I have no problem in slaying my foes. And since you can't do magic, you're not the Scott I know. You're but a mere imposter, and are currently intruding in my home, so I see you as an enemy, an incapacitated one to say the least, making the kill easier than ever…"
"Seems like the absence of an innocent presence in your life had turned you maniacal. Shame it's only in your speech…"
"Oh, really?" Marco asked rhetorically throwing one of his scissor-daggers in Scott's right shoulder. The sharp, sudden pain made him drop the needle with which he was sewing back his deep wound and it left him gasping at another gaping hole.
"What the heck is wrong with you?" Scott yelled, suddenly getting up, but losing his balance right away and falling to the ground.
"I told you. It's either a little blast, or your life. I'd make that choice faster if I were you," Marco said as he threw his other blade, that lodged deep inside Scott's foot, pinning him to the ground. Such force was put in the attack; the dagger pierced his leg and dug deep in the ground. Only the tip remained visible, uncovered by flesh.
Scott's mind raced now. He wasn't scared of Britt and his inherent insanity, because he foresaw it. What is known is meaningless to be afraid of, but once the unknown comes, the terror arises. He hadn't any idea that Marco got, somehow, corrupted by an evil aura…He had to strike and purge as fast as he could, only to not die and let his mistake corrupt the world.
Fourteen hundred years of life lead to an intriguing mind. As age grows, so does the mind. Scott was able to think faster than other humans, slowing things down to a halt, not just when in distress, but at his beck and call. Marco was ready to grab the scalpel from the first aid kit and deliver a final blow, but that was minutes away from then…Now, what had caused this problem…what got to Marco. Two things come to mind, one that he had tried, but it failed. It was high time he played his other card…
"What's Hekapoo doing, Marco?" Scott asked, spitting a mouthful of blood, smiling deviously.
Marco in response threw his last blade at him, and it pierced his left lung. Not a fatal wound, but it drew a series of sickly coughs out of his chest. His question struck, but it was too late. The solution was simple now. He couldn't die. He just had to live, no matter what. No one could fight his war. He didn't want that…It was his mishap, his duty…It's best now that he came clean.
"Stop there, Marco…You win."
"I don't think I've made myself clear, but you either use your powers or you die," Marco said, his eyes glinting as he stepped into the moonlight. Scott was leaning against a glass door, tainting its purity with his filthy blood.
"You were right, Marco. I lost my powers…A long time ago. Now please, help me up, and I will tell you everything you want." The scene that followed was…bizarre, which in Scott's standards is quite rare and an instantaneous alarm signal.
The moment was brief, but Scott's analytic gaze caught it. Marco's shadow grew bigger behind him, then, for a second, it split in two, and the larger half swiftly squirmed into a corner, blending itself with the darkness and then fading back to wherever it came from. Marco seemed to shake off something, like a bad memory, then the usual kindness returned to his eyes. He seemed oblivious of what he did, and helped his injured friend back on his 'hospital' chair…A never ending series of questions followed…
"How did you lose them?"
"My powers were soulbound…My death meant that my soul was separated from my body…I got revived because Star split her soul in order for me to live on…She made a huge sacrifice, but I lost much more than I let out in the open."
"But, why? Wasn't it better to just tell the truth from the beginning, without all this hiding, all this secrecy?"
"No…You see, Marco…I am nothing without my powers. I'm arrogant, sarcastic, disingenuous, malicious, condescending and the list could go on. I have no idea how I managed to make people like me, especially how to get someone like Star, but…I just know that without magic I am just a regular old dude…Doomed to a mundane existence, and a trite life. I hate to admit, that I am but a powerhouse, unable to stand for anything as long as I am as weak as a regular Joe…"
"Wow…you really have some serious problems…You are so much more than a bunch of magic strewn together in a person…You are kind, warm, supportive, intelligent over the normal limit of geniuses…"
"Marco, I am an unending ball of self-loathing, putting on a mask of confidence to hide the lack of self-esteem below…My knowledge is useless at this point. Do you know why I actually came to you?"
"I suppose not because you missed me?"
"You're funny. No. First off, I went to face Britt, because I wanted to die. I got captured, laid on some stupid lines that built up to an inevitable conclusion…my death. But, during what I had found to be the most insightful conversation of my life, I realized that I can't. Not now. I still have something to live for, even though it's painful."
"And you chose to come to me…"
"Because you were the only one I haven't tried to come to. You're the sole person who wouldn't get at me for leaving you, for stealing your love, for all the wretched mistakes of my past. Even though you had the seed of hate inside of you, it got defeated by your knight like pure heart."
"I'm touched…But I can't say I find myself in what you say…"
"Don't make it harder than it has to be, Marco. You always did that…you always put so many things between you and your goal, instead of focusing on removing them. But, I haven't come here to discuss pasts. The present is what concerns me at the time. Would you mind handing in that bottle of sanitary alcohol? My scissors weren't really the most…disinfected of items."
Marco reached for the small bottle filled with sky blue liquid. He threw it across the room, Scott catching it with an unusual mobility, given his wounds.
"How are you still alive? With the amount of blood you lost, and the severity of your wounds, you should've been in the grave for hours now."
"I may have lost my powers, Marco…But there are some things not even I can explain to myself. I just let them happen."
The monotonous tone of Scott rubbing the healing rag, imbued with alcohol all over his wounds was interrupted by a loud thunder in the distance. A purple lighting cracked the sky, signaling the ominous storm to come.
"It looks like it's going to rain," Marco remarked, staring dumbfounded at the horizon. Scott didn't share his amazement, though. He was scared of what he had seen, yet kept it for himself. That was no regular tempest…The second the sky united itself with the dark ground, through a column of light, Scott turned to Marco.
"I told you Star was in the graveyard, right?"
"Right."
"How about you pay her a visit?"
"I wouldn't want that at the moment. It's enough I got you here, meeting back with Star as well would put me back a couple of months."
"I'm sorry to tell you but, I wasn't asking as much as demanding. There is going to be an unfortunate event going down there, right about now…I would go there myself, but…" Scott said pointing at himself with his stump.
"What…exactly do you want me to do, there?"
"Your choice. I highly recommend running, though. Take the girls and run as far as you can. You may want to…" Scott added, grabbing the two scissor daggers, taking a few quick breaths and then removing them, letting out a short scream," use these. Think of anywhere safe, but distant from here. I'll come to you as soon as I will be able. Will you take this mission, Marco?"
Marco didn't need to think it over. The 'yes' came out almost instinctively.
"Great then. I suppose I don't need to motivate why I can't go. Just, please, keep my situation completely undisclosed…Don't worry about your house, I'll clean this up before I come join you. When that shall happen, you'll come back here, and it will be as if nothing had ever happened. Deal?" Scott said stretching out his hand.
"Deal," Marco replied shaking his hand.
"Then off you go!"
The red hoodie Marco wore, soon looked like a small bloodstain on the dark green of the hedges. Scott remained to sew himself back up, and get in running order…Seeing the dark purple lightning strike again, he exclaimed loudly, but for himself, nonetheless:
"I'm sorry for what I did, Marco…I just can't live with this burden anymore…"
