Now. I've made no attempt to hide the fact that I loathe Marcus Steven Rover in amongst friends. It's a hate that would rival even the worst of enemies. He's a two dimensional character that really needs to be repeatedly kicked in the most painful place you can think of. He's a pretentious little upstart to say the least. I mean think about it. He's the kid that when you played hide and seek together - you knew exactly where he was and you made sure he was locked in the cupboard for at least three hours.
Not that I ever did that of course.
Anyway. I'm driving him insane for my own amusement. Well that and Rap's. She don't like him either. His loss of sanity is shown in the italics in the fic. That's him and his special friend... *snickers* Again - the timeline here is uncertain... The words "Alternate Universe" come to mind. I'm good at those. Especially the twisted versions. Its all about the self-doubt, loathing and just not feeling that he's good enough for the rest of them (because he isn't but that's another story for a different time).
I'd also like to mention that I finished this on Monday 12th of May after I had spent two hours in the A&E because we thought I had broken ribs. The funniest part of that was trying to get a hold of the Law School. I'm a nimrod. And to the person who managed to get my entire profile deleted... Do please contact me. I'd love to make friends and find out the reasoning behind your purpose. Was it because the sentence structure didn't work out to be "The cat sat on the mat." Was it a wee bit too difficult my darling? Couldn't find a dictionary/theosaurus to make all the big bad words go bye bye?
Disclaimer: It's funny. No matter how hard I look in my legal text books, I still can't get around the whole "Forgery is illegal" stance that they take. Bastards. So the HG universe belongs to me as much as all the money in the world does and the circus music to somebody else probably... I hate clowns. They are evil.
Oh and the bit in italics at the very beginning and the very end, belongs solely to me. Although thinking about it now, I may have subconsciously lifted it from somewhere... Sorry.
And there's that bit "Roll over red rover". Yeah I've bastardised it a wee bit but for the life of me I can't find the original. All I know that it was in this programme/movie and it was sung in a kids voice and it was supposed to be scary.. Kinda like the "Tommyknockers" song. But that was actually scary.
Dedication: Rap. You're a naughty little blackmailer and I'm gonna kick your arse.
Thanks: Georgina - lovely work as a beta. Mind you... You are an English Major I'd expect nothing less. And as for this being "Twisted Brothers Grimm" in your own words... Awww. I don't think anyone has ever said something that nice to me before. To Evatenshi... You're lovely too. Thanks for encouraging me and kicking me when absolutely necessary. To Karen.... For picking the title as I suck and can't decide with my mAD LAtIN 5||lLZ (in joke) and making me make it more obvious. I really have to learn the art of not being subtle. ;) And finally to Rap... For being a nasty little blackmailer. *kicks* Draw more wench.
Side note: It came to my attention that Damien from over at mashsomemetal.com has done something similar to Marcus. It was not my intention to copy and I believe that mine's going in a different direction and I have cleared with her. Showed her the before posting copy etc etc. Sorry about that - again I apologise.
____
"Tell me a story." said the little girl. "Tell me a story where there's a happy ending and nobody gets hurt."
"But darling." said her mother. "There are no happy endings. They all end the same way. In death and insanity."
~
"And the winner is... Marcus Steven Rover!"
The crowd cheered as their hero graced the spot light yet again. The screams were deafening and the darkness loomed as only he stood illuminated.
He threw his fist up into the air. Waving it like a madman.
"This one is for the kids..."
He was the world, and as the life of light he didn't even notice the night fall. All he saw was himself as the glorified centre of the universe. The unknown little boy that grew up to be a famous man. Just like he'd dreamed of being.
"Well done little Marcus."
The roar of the people had been replaced with the very loud cry of silence and he hadn't even heard the change in the air. Everywhere was black. It littered what he hoped was the ground and prayed was the sky. He was stunned, clawing his throat - desperately trying for air.
"What's the matter little Marcus?"
"The matter?" he shouted. "Look around, this is the matter..."
Quizzical looks from those around him. He offered a sheepish one in return.
"Sorry." he said. "I thought... Never mind. Its nothing."
He tuned back into the clapping and ignored the rest of them. He was the champion and that was all that mattered. These people were here to see him. Not the show, not the teams, not the loud mouth behind the screens - they were here to see greatness.
And the show must go on.
"Indeed little Marcus. The show must go on..."
The hero took his last moment of glory then fled while they chanted his name - expecting more than he could give. He ran like the child in the man's body that he was.
"Flee little Marcus. Run, run as far as you can..."
The voice he'd been hearing for a few days sounded less and less friendly as the moments passed and it peeked deeper into his subconscious. He thought perhaps it was the Vanguard... Then again - mind games were never really their strategy. Rika however was another matter entirely. He wouldn't put this one as beneath her level. The woman had no standards.
"Tsk tsk little Marcus... I thought you knew better than that?"
Knew better than what? It didn't make sense. None of it did. Maybe it was just a game. Maybe they were just trying to get the better of him for once. He could see it now. They'd catch him on the surveillance tapes, arguing with himself. They'd show the tape and accuse him of all things unimaginable and whilst he denied the false accusations they'd bring in everyone that played a part in his life and then they'd yell surprise...
Because that's how it went.
That's how it had to go...
Right?
"What's wrong little Marcus? Are you afraid of me yet? There's really no need. All I want to do is be your friend..."
And still he ran. Through the throngs of people, into the Dragon's quarters and finally locking himself away in the darkness that was their storage area for the moment. He played with the lighting so that only the most dimmest of shadows illuminated the room - so he could make out the blackness into fuzzy shapes of usefulness.
Injuring oneself while hiding away from an invisible voice of treason was not a good way to keep up a professional appearance. After all. There was his image to upkeep.
"But didn't you just ruin it with your tawdry behaviour out there little Marcus? Whatever will the fans think?"
"They won't think anything." he said defensively. "They'll understand that..."
"Oh they'll understand alright little Marcus. Of course they will. They always do."
He sat down on a crate - filled with what he didn't know, and nor did he care. A small halo of light trapped him. A simple barrier of light blocked him from the rest of the world. His path contained in about two steps each way he turned.
"Oh is poor little Marcus chained to the floor? Is the poor little boy locked away in a tiny cell of nothing?"
"Shut up!"
"Poor little Marcus stuck here with me. Poor little Marcus wanting nothing more than to flee!"
He pulled his knees up against his body and whimpered. It made no sense whatsoever. He'd entered the games like he'd always wanted. Admittedly how he got in was not how he'd expected. He did prove himself though. That was the main thing. And then he'd done it again. And again.
Over and over he proved himself.
"That you did little Marcus. And we're all so proud of you. You wouldn't believe it even if we told you."
He played the game so well. Defeated the Vanguard, gained respect from his peers, had his own personal fan club. Then it had started. At first it was only a nagging little feeling of doubt. He hadn't put enough effort into it. He could have done better. He should have seen that the Vanguard were up to something. Then finally the feeling made a jump into words. He remembered them like they'd happened yesterday. The patronising voice, damning his ability to do his job like the professional he was supposed to be.
"Poor little Marcus. It should have been so obvious to you but it wasn't. How could you not see it coming? They've done it to you before, what made you think that they wouldn't do it to you again? Silly little Marcus."
And that's when it had begun. The taunting. The abuse. He'd kept in check for his team mates. He wasn't going to let them know he was losing his grip. He made a joke out of it. Kept saying to himself he'd let Zerve keep the job of hearing things that weren't really there. Made more sense that the Moonbeam keep being the Moonbeam all by himself. There probably wasn't room enough for two of them on the team, let alone the planet. And anyway. Whatever voices Zerve may have heard - they can't have been like the one that was stuck in his mind.
"That's right little Marcus. I'm all yours forever. There's no-one else out there like me."
Sick twisted laughter followed. He shivered and tucked himself even further into a ball. He'd love to find solace in himself - but how could he it with that inside of him? His own personal demon which he'd done nothing to deserve. All he'd ever done was be the best that he could be. He'd thrived in a field where gear pilots were many and they were all trained. He was a prodigy though.
A natural talent that could just do what everyone else had to be taught to do. Sure he worked for it - but not as hard as the rest of them had too.
It was a gift. It was a game...
"And you never worried about flaunting it to anyone, did you little Marcus? Had to prove your point didn't you?"
"Hey, I deserved all I got! I won those fair and square. I never once cheated..."
"Of course you did little Marcus. And you graced the podium like a saint didn't you?"
"Of course I did." he murmured aloud. "I had to. Its what a good duellist does."
"Oh but you didn't though and you know it little Marcus. You weren't so precious after a few months on being on top of the game."
"Hey, I never changed. Everybody else did..." he started aloud before being cut off.
"Sure little Marcus. And you never once abused what you won. You never once aided in making a fool out of anyone else."
"Wallis deserved it. The entire lot of them did. They cheated in every way possible. They tried too..."
"It doesn't matter what they tried to do. It's what you did back. They all thought you were the innocent one. The perfect one that brought back honour to the games. You were just following in the traditions of Augusta weren't you? But. You deviated from the path though."
"I don't understand what you mean. I never did anything wrong. It was me. Everybody else tried to bring me down. They never accepted me for me. To them I'm just the little boy and I've proved myself over and over again!"
"Oh my little Marcus. No need to act so petulant. I still love you, you know. It's alright what you did. I've forgiven you. You need to forgive yourself my little boy."
"There's nothing to forgive!" he exploded. "Absolutely nothing at all! I don't know who you are and I don't know why you're doing this to me but just stop it! Its not funny anymore and it never has been. Seriously. What do you want?!"
"You know what I want little Marcus. You're just too blind to see it right now. Shall I show you little one? Shall I bring you into the rich folds of love? Shall I make you one of us? Shall I give you what you've always craved but never could seem to keep a hold of?"
"I don't know! Just shut up. Just leave me alone..."
"Shall I save you little Marcus? Shall I stop you from going where you are headed? Shall I give it all up to protect you?"
The voice was gone again. Rover choked down a sob that was threatening to come up. He was a Champion, not a weakling. He wasn't Wallis, he was Marcus. He was a Dragon, a noble creature. He wasn't a Vanguard. He'd never allow himself to become one of them.
The room he was in seemed like it was trying to swallow him whole. The wide open cavern of nothingness symbolised everything he was inside. Everything he'd swallowed to become yet another empty shell stuck in a game where any sign of weakness would be an automatic disqualification from the scene.
He could have turned to them. He could have done a lot of things but did he really want to be drummed out? Left in the cold desert one night to be eaten by one of the many beasts of legend that lurked in the darkness. Could he face being left alone when all he had ever wanted was attention? Could he leave the spotlight after spending so much time in it?
Marcus found himself sinking into the depths of his unknown. He was curled up as small as he could possibly get himself. Whether he did it out of necessity for his own safety or whether it was a latent thing that his brain could vaguely recall as a subconscious memory of being loved, it didn't occur. All he wanted right now was to let go and find the one thing he had been searching for.
~
The new room was pitch black. He felt like he was drowning in the darkness. He struggled with himself and yet still he sank further down. He opened his mouth to scream but out came nothing. The sound, it died as soon as he formed vocalisation.
Things weren't the same here. They were different. He had no more control over himself. He was on autopilot, with no way to switch off. Somebody else was playing with the remote control.
"That's right little Marcus. And there's not a thing you can do to stop it."
He turned, trying to find the source of the voice.
Nothing but the dark.
Then came the music. Childlike but sinister. A warped version of a tune that usually bought joy into the lives of many. The jangle of music that was the circus theme was broken. The continuous roll was lost in shards.
"C'mon little Marcus. Sing the tune with me..."
Crazy laughter then the voice of a maniac singing his way into fantasy stardom. It echoed all around Rover, causing him to cringe as it drew closer and then danced back. Like so many others, he couldn't resist the cry of it. A soft hum of the tune escaped him and then it slowly built into words that everyone knew and couldn't help but break into song with.
"Doot doot..."
"Bad little Marcus." scolded the voice. "That's not how this version goes. In this one. You're supposed to scream."
And scream he did. The sound of a jeering crowd lost in the depth of the unknown jolted him and then the heavy spotlight fell down on him and burned the sight from his eyes momentarily.
He was in a giant arena. Around him were the three rings that nowadays gears played in rather than their human counterparts. These rings however, were just right for a human. A series of whip cracks and horns made him jump. He tried to dart into the black, to try and find a way out but with every step he took, he was followed by the giant lamp.
"Ladies and gentlemen. May I present to you the Champion. Marcus Steven Rover!"
A volley of catcalls and then the same voice hushed them again.
"Tonight our little Marcus will perform feats that will amaze and astound you and all the while he'll be trying to find his way out of the performance. And what we have planned will make sure that he never does!"
Cheers this time round and the light got brighter. He could almost see the people sitting in the stands. There were hundreds of them - if not thousands.
Then it fell dark.
"For his first amazing act. Our precious little Marcus will be dancing for us. Like a gear on a remote control radio wave."
Something took control of him. He was an immovable object, stiff like the metal that made up his gear. Soft music filtered into his brain. A haunting melody he'd heard so many times before but could never really place. It was dark yet light, happy but oh so very sad. It was almost like a child looking up over at a parent, knowing that they'd never see them again but neither ready to admit it because neither of them knew for sure what the future held in store for them.
"I miss you daddy."
No time for words, no time for sorrow.
And then he danced. He had the grace of a professional even though the only training he had came from the dark force controlling him. And as he spun, he felt the cool drops of misery touch him once again. He spun faster and faster until he was sure that he was going to crack...
"Rollover, rollover my darling red rover"
He became a skilled acrobat. If he was in his right mind to pull something that resembled a coherent line of progressive thought, he would of felt the stress on muscles never used before and he would have realised what was happening. His body was changing under the stress. His mind warping his surroundings even further.
And somewhere beneath the surface he understood the shifting changes in the black desert that was his mind. Almost as soon as the light dawned, it got covered with rough sand and laughter. Hands reached out to him and he reached back eagerly. He wanted to know he wasn't alone here in this nightmare. He wanted to believe that there was others out there, trapped. Confined within the restraints that were so demanded of him within the everyday scope of things. He wanted to give up that little lost feeling of inferiority that was growing steadily and had been ever since he started. He wanted recognition.
He wanted to go home...
"And home you are my darling little Marcus. The Red Rover has come back..."
"This isn't where I belong." he said, the childish pout evident in his tone.
"Oh but it is little Marcus. Think about it carefully. Where else have you been so fully accepted without one word of question directed against you? Where else have you been encouraged like this? Where else indeed little Marcus? Look at what we're offering you. Unconditional love. All you have to do is just be..."
The voice trailed off. It left Rover with a dead sense of instability and loss.
"All you have to do little Marcus is say that one little word. You say that one little word and then you can have everything you've ever wanted. All the bad things will all be cast away and you'll feel so much better for it all. Stay with us my little Marcus."
"I don't want too."
"Let go my little one. We won't question you here. We would never do that. Think of all you could have here which you don't back with them... There would be no need for self doubt. There would be no need for you to question yourself ever again. You think they don't trust in you. You think they hate you... Don't you my little Marcus?"
He was at a loss for words. This was his voice of reason... He watched as a shape formed within the belly of the beast. A deeper black against the already lost veil of shadows.
"Think about it my little Marcus... What really have they done for you? Did they ever accept you for what you are - like I have?"
The blackness reached out and stroked his chin. Familiar callouses dragging their hardness against his soft chin. The thing reached out again to pet his hair, after drawing back in only an instant. He folded into this next touch like gear ready to be melted down.
"See my little Marcus. See what we can offer you. Never the falsities of fake smiles and snide congratulations. Only this. You'll have no more need to be accepted, you just will be. Never the need to be acknowledged for your work.
"All... All of this? For nothing?" he asked hesitantly.
"Of course little Marcus. I would never expect anything from you."
It was all laid out for him. Options after option, choice after choice... Stay or go? Stay here and be safe. Stay here and have the world at his disposal. He' never need to prove himself ever again. He wouldn't have to face his peers and wait for them to say what he so needed them to say - but ultimately they never did...
So he began to wait. He began the long wait for the answer to come to him in a violent hailstorm of knowledge.
Within that would lie the key to everything, nothing and something. An arduous task but he had the time. There was nothing else for him now but.
~
He let himself go. He could almost hear Zerve telling him to go with the flow. Absorb the positivity surrounding him, let go of the negative waves...
So he did.
And as he swayed, toppled and entertained the crowd, he felt himself give it all away. He said goodbye to his life to become a subconscious act to perverted sanity.
And as the crowd laughed with joy, things became lighter and lighter. He waved to the children, threw kisses at the women and nodded politely to the men. He danced amidst the falling ruins and fires of chaos. He threw back his head and howled something in between pain and grief and sheer happiness.
Marcus Steven Rover was home with the clowns of hell.
The landscape changed yet again and all he saw was the purity of it all. His mind refused to see or feel the suffering that his body was going through. It refused to acknowledge that all around him was nothing but a giant ball of hate. It lost the translation of daemonic looking forces and made them human.
It lost the fight against its hosts self-loathing and just accepted its fate.
And like so many others. Fallen beneath the happy call of insanity, a little boy waited to be loved. And in between the pauses he screamed blue murder.
Just like the rest of them.
~
"But if there are no happy endings then what else do we have to look forward too?" asked the little girl, her curiosity piqued.
"The only thing anyone can look forward to my darling. The sweet kiss of oblivion. Now go to sleep and if you are lucky you might wake up in the morning."