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[Graded]Distant Glance; (Marcus)
Topic Started: Aug 31 2014, 02:48 AM (1,004 Views)
Sinjin
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^________^
Raindrops kept falling on his head for a while now and though the wind blew cold and harsh against his skin, Gryffin did not move. He did not even twitch or flinch. He simply sat still on that hill. His eyes were cold and distant; far too distant for what an observer may see, for as he trained his sight over the horizon and the overcast sky, his heart was searching further than any light and vision his eyes could capture. He wanted his home, he wanted his time. But it had been quite a large shock when he had learned not too long ago that he was in neither of those. And his sense of security had left him astray, now sitting at the edge of a hill just outside of Dandelion Sector, woefully trying to will this nightmare to end.

But the sky would not let up and he knew his wish would not be heard, let alone be considered a wish or a prayer by any god. He was long gone from the Fiore he knew and the crumpled, disarrayed, torn pages of a newspaper lay in pieces on the ground next to him. A gust had blown bits into the air and his eyes caught sight of the wet letter marks on the paper– the date of the publication– almost seventy years into the past. Here, the wars did not exist; his home was not built; and he, himself, was alien entity in a land that so young that it almost seemed it was not Fiore.

Though he spared a glance over to the back and saw Dandelion Sector’s walls. It wasn’t as ruined as it should be, but his cold and almost lifeless gaze could tell that it was the same Dandelion Sector of his time. A melting pot of the illegals and the syndicates. And it was just last night that he and his commanding officer, the Lord Knight Garius had watched over the ruined walls before they would take action to pursue the cults into the city.

But who would have thought that in less than a day, he would end up in the same spot, staring at the walls, only seventy years earlier. And he clenched his fist as he stood and let out a frustrated bellow that echoed through the hill.

Still, life would have to move on and he wasn’t one to simply give up and let his fate be decided. I’ll find my way back,he thought as he then summoned his courage and strength to enter the city’s folds and there, searched for a way to be of use and survive. Most importantly, the currency of his time was useless in this time, so he would have to find a means to obtain the necessary resources to live on his own. And though his mind was filled with thoughts of justice and the ideals of the knights, he also knew that those were petty words and closer to lies than truths. Corrupt servicemen survived longer and even in his time, they ruled. So if he was to survive, he would have to find his own means of justice, and to do so, he would have to look at society’s scum with a more objective sense, yet cynical view.

Thus, as he wandered in the dark alleys of the fourth district of Dandelion Sector, he was surrounded by a group of dark clothed men and leather vests and hooded faces. Like a prey, he knew they would attack him without hesitation, and like a pup, he they would eventually make him their own.

“Are you lost, boy?” one of them said.

“Yes,” he answered, not wanting to delay the inevitable. “Are you?”

“We all are,” the man said with a snicker, followed by a hushed chuckle of the others. “But that is only natural, so we stick together to survive. Don’t we, boy?”

“Is it”

“Aye, because even this world is lost.”

And Gryffin readied his hand by the hilt of his sword as he was pushed to the wall and the others grew closer. He knew there was no shortcut, but he knew he had to accept the inevitable. A little initiation or the sort.

“Close you eyes, boy. It’ll hurt less and you won’t feel lost anymore.” the man gave a toothy grin as the first punch was pulled.
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Marcat
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The Dandelion Sector was hardly the place for a knight, much less one who had a reputation about himself. The last time Marcus had been in the Dandelion sector, he had played a key role in taking down a local criminal gang and retrieving a lost weapon for the knights. No doubt Marcus had made quite a few enemies for himself from that incident.

Now he was back in the Sector, this time investigating matters. With the current political uproar that was sweeping Fiore, there was also great turmoil. Figures and organizations once thought to be non-existant have appeared from the shadows to support their favored candidates. More importantly to him, however, far more sinister plots were beginning to arise, everything ranging from assasination to propaganda to influencing the voting. The knights, in a preventative effort had deemed it important to send someone down the Dandelion Sector to investigate, someone to keep an eye out for suspicious activity and report it back.

Marcus, a knight known to work best when alone and someone with prior experience with in the Sector was sent out. He was to simply keep a low profile and gather as much information as possible. He was also given the permission to act on his accord, if necessary.

A long time had passed since the last time Marcus had entered the Dandelion Sector and he was a far cry from the man he was back then, but that didn't stop him from taking the needed precautions. In this case, Marcus wasn't too concerned with being found out so much as garnering too much attention. Fighting a couple of bandits was little more than child's play for Marcus, but if he raised too many eyebrows, there was chance that people would find out what he's up to, then matters take a turn for the worse.

Marcus was dressed in tattered and grimy clothes. He wore a long brown cloak to conceal his spear and shield, which were slung along his back. His armor was also hidden away in the bracer on his forearm. His face was also smeared with dirt to conceal it.

He walked the street of the Dandelion Sector quietly, avoiding the probing glances of the passerby. Whenever someone called out to him, Marcus would ignore them and disappear into the buildings, never to be seen again. The less attention he drew to himself, the better.
Edited by Marcat, Aug 31 2014, 04:53 PM.
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Sinjin
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^________^
It was a simple job today. Gryffin was a bit thankful because he didn’t get enough sleep lately due to be forced to be the night’s watch at their second base. He didn’t like having to wait with a pile of priceless artifacts, as if any minute another group would appear to massacre the living out of him and carry away their stash with his bloody body left on the floor. It was frightening – the thought– but it never did happen. The next day would come and he would still be breathing and the boss would send someone else to relieve him of his duties. He got stuck to menial guard shifts because he was still a kid, so he said, but now he was given another task because he was a kid.

As it was midday, he walked down the alleys of the city, with just a dagger in strapped around his waist. His red sword, Ironheart, was confiscated so to say, or more likely taken hostage because he was still the new guy they got to join not too long ago. About a week now or so, and yet he wasn’t at all complaining. He didn’t have much right to it and he figured that instead of moping of his hopeless case of being sent back into the past, he’d rather live a life and perhaps one day he could figure things out.

He was wearing just his red coat today, the pauldrons he left with his sword back at the base. This helped him look less of a sore thumb in the slums. For his task that day, he had to contact an information broker in the deeper part of town. He was still knew so he had to be wary of any suspicious people trying to meddle in their affairs. Being in one of the gangs around, there was conscious effort to keep their territories protected and this so called information broker was their way to gain more territories.

He was already expected when he reached the man who was pretending to be selling steamed dumplings on the sidewalk. He sat on the sett stones as he was handed a steamed bun and casually ate while listening to the man speak the words to him. It was information about the handing off of tools by the sewer that night. Apparently, the truce between another gang was settled when his boss agreed to share tools (which were actually weapons). This was in an effort to unify their grounds against a third group who had been spying on their area for the last few days.

Gryffin swallowed hard, the last bite having been accompanied by a bitter truth that the informant spoke– that they were being watched by the authorities and that perhaps the truce was in fact a ploy to get rid of their group should the exchange happen that night because word around town was that the police force (no matter how small and pitiful they were) were seemingly confident and harassing younger gang members, and perhaps have aligned with themselves with the third group was eager to demolish his boss’s group and the one they were supposed to have a truce with.

“Don’t choke now, boy. The best is yet to come.” the man said as Gryffin stood up, seemingly deep in thoughts.

“No, I...” he said as he realized he seemed almost conspicuous but regained his composure. “It was delicious.” he finally said and then turned to leave.

“Boy, you left your bag.”

Gryffin stopped on his tracks and turned slowly only to catch a satchel thrown at him. It clanked with the sound of iron and was heavy enough to know it contained some sort of weapon inside. He looked confused at the man but the man simply smiled and said, “The gift your old man had been asking for. It’ll come in handy sooner than he thinks. And when things get too fast, boy, don’t be shy to use it.”

“You mean to ki–”

“Oh my! It’s already this late? I have to set up shop on the next street! Much more clients over there!” the man suddenly broke into a jovial mood as he cleaned up his moveable dumpling stall and began to wheel it away.

But not before he moved past Gryffin and gave a whispering warning, “It’s not swords that kill, boy. It’s information. You should have known why you were sent here.”

And it left a chill down his spine as the man left. With his heart thundering in his chest, he almost became paranoid at the thought that he was now being watched and he knew he had to get back to safety as soon as possible. So he ran.

He bumped into someone along the way– a man in dirty clothes and cloaks, and no doubt had some sort of metal item on his back as it felt painful when his face struck the man from behind. But as this was Dandelion Sector, there was no need to apologize and he made sure not to meet the man’s gaze for he didn’t seem like someone he recognized from within the area. Could be a spy.

So he breezed past the man without another word and disappeared into the gathered crowd who seemed more intent in gossips than keeping an eye for pickpockets.
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Marcat
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Marcus slunk about the city, moving quickly from one place to the next, his steps confident and with purpose. It a necessary facade he had to put up to keep suspicion away from him, people here were a cautious lot and always kept an eye open for danger, no doubt a result of their living, and the sight of a stranger wandering the streets idly was sure to raise alarm. Should Marcus make a wrong move, no sooner would he make it to the next block before word got around, Dandelion residents were not only cautious, but remarkably gabby.

As for where Marcus was actually headed, that was a different story. He wanted to find as much information as he could in a relatively small amount of time without getting embroiled in any plots or schemes. The last thing he wanted was to get himself intimately involved with some crime syndicate. Essentially, Marcus would be forced to regulate himself to the role of bystander...an inconspicuous bystander that is.

A movement to his left alerted Marcus to something, he focused his attention to his surroundings, watching his shadows for someone tailing him. Concern rushed through his conscious, why was someone following him? Had he done something to raise alarm? He had made sure to be quiet...

Despite his alertness, Marcus didn't stop moving, still pretending that he hadn't noticed a thing. Another movement in the shadows, this time Marcus was certain; someone was following him. He considered his options; he could turn around and incapacitate the tailgater, but that might make things worse, especially if someone was watching. Marcus decided it was probably just a rookie mugger or thief, he could tell that much from how he managed to detect them easily.

Marcus darted to the left, into a tight alleyway. He sped up, putting full force into his sprint and clearing a metal fence in one jump. He rolled deftly and kept on running, dodging a few more obstacles before he reached a crowded street. Slowing down, Marcus weaved into the crowd, disappearing amongst the people.

As he moved, he felt a body suddenly bump into his back. He wheeled about in surprise, looking around for the person. Instinctively, Marcus patted down his pockets and checked his finger for his ring. When he determined that he hadn't been pick-pocketed, Marcus shrugged and kept on walking.


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Sinjin
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^________^
Gryffin went down the streets as fast as he could, avoiding eye contact with anyone else. He was cautious because he knew he was being watched somehow. He knew that someone knew he was the marked bait. And he knew that even his boss knew about it and still made him go do it. Was it a sign of what was to be expected from his supposedly new family? He shook the thought away. This was just a simple political game happening and he was targeted as much as anyone in their little gang. Him more so because he was the new kid in town. But that didn’t mean they should make it easy for him.

He reached their little hideout at the far end, turning a few corners and dodging the low rafters of a dilapidated building, still fighting to keep stand, and through the darkness of the gaping hole in the wall of a factory where he would have to grope against the grimy and cold walls to find the marked scratches that showed the way, until he found the door knob. He turned it and heard the sudden silence that echoed when the mechanical whirring sounds had first drowned the path. He then pushed through and entered their fold.

At once, a blade was up to his neck as he looked up to the side and found the man who pulled the most punches back then. He grinned with his golden tooth reflecting the dim lights of the room before. As per usual, he leaned closer and inquired if he was followed, to be dealt with if he was, and coaxed to be made drunk had he successfully did what the boss told him to. They were a rough gang of some sort, but some also had finesse.

The man in a blue dark coat with a sleazy hairstyle and stolen walking cane approached him by the door and he was glad for it to be free from a knife next to his throat. He was escorted to the inner chambers of the hideout where the rest of the higher-ranked of the gangs were and their boss sat at the centerpiece which was a throne made of some rare old tree.

“What do you have for me, boy?” the boss said without looking up from the book he was reading.

“Tonight’s meeting.” Gryffin answered as he noticed shifting eyes amongst those inside the room. “And security patterns. Patrols and–”

At that, the boss looked up to stop him from speaking anymore before motioning a finger to make him come closer. And next to his ear, he whispered something that made Gryffin’s anxiety all the more tenacious.

Later that day, he found himself walking along the streets that their gang controlled. A little bewildered because he was told to get some money owed by some ramen stand instead of anything more serious about their plans for tonight. But as he walked along the streets, the boss’ voice resounded in his ears, “You can get your sword from the ramen house. If you’re still unsure, don’t show your face again. But if you’re settled, stand on the steel ramp north of the sewer tunnel before nightfall. You will understand by then what I mean and speak to no one of this. You’re still a kid no matter what, so I figured I’d give you a choice that adults often ignore.”

And he knew that something was about to happen soon that involved a great deal and whatever decision he might make– to run or stay– he would have to bare the consequences of it.

He stopped just outside of the ramen shop and stared at the sign for a long time before he managed to make up his mind.

It was at this moment that the streets were hushed and inner gossips revolving a gang fight was spreading out like flies on a sweets rampage. But the news was hushed at the sight of unknown men and even the crooked police were being shun away by gossipers. Still, the air had a certain feel for that particular inevitable clash, and the people were slowly moving away from the sewer tunnels at the end of town.
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Marcat
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Marcus kept walking, an innocent bystander and nameless face in a crowd to many, though he was far from it. His gaze shifted under ever so casually, observing the nuances in the street, waiting for the slightest hint of criminal activity. In Dandelion, tracking criminal movements was difficult, not because they hid their actions so well, but because the city had grown accustomed to it, which seemed to camouflage the felons in sort of roundabout way.

He prowled the streets, pretending to be as busy he could, checking wares, haggling with merchants, even buying a small trinket. Though for as long as he stayed, Marcus saw nothing that could hint to something amiss going on; save for the random bouts of petty crime or mugging, nothing seriously troubling was going on. As he waited, he did his occasional good deed; when he rounded a corner and found two men kicking a fallen figure, he plucked two pebbles from the ground and knocked out the two men by pelting them on the head, when he spotted a pickpocket, he'd retrieve the item a drop it in front of it's owner. Each time, he disappeared into the crowd before anyone caught nary a glimpse of his face.

Nonetheless, Marcus quickly caught on to something. He started to hear gossip and conversations spoken in hurried whispers. He heard small snippets of conversation, words like 'gangs' and 'war' were being thrown about. The onlookers were getting angsty and even the corrupt law enforcement arrived to get people moving.

This was exactly what he'd been waiting for. Marcus weaved through the crowd and into a alleyway. He quickly scaled a building and perched on the rooftops, surveying the streets below him. The activity all seemed to be centered in a particular area, a street with a ramen shop and a few sewer tunnels.

With his target sighted, Marcus descended from the rooftops and hid in an alleyway, away from the sight of prying eyes. He reached slowly for his weapon behind his back.
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Sinjin
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^________^
Gryffin entered the ramen shop and was instantly seen by the shop owner. He was a large man with an imposing structure and hardened face that he seemed like another gang leader who saw to it never to bow to anyone else. So when he rounded the counter to face Gryffin, the boy felt a sudden chill creep down his spine; he only reached the man’s chest as the other clearly towered over him. As he waited, trying to remember courage and sort through his words, the shop owner beat him to it.

“I heard you’d be coming but I figure you’d be taller,” he said in a deep voice that made the rest of the staff in the ramen shop look away. Perhaps they knew better than to stick their noses into unwanted business. “Wouldn’t think Arroz to have a soft spot for kids.”

He grinned and Gryffin could only smile weakly before he opened his mouth to respond, “Well, I was sent here to get my sword.”

“That depends,” the shop owner said as he took out a spare stool by the high counter and gave it to Gryffin. “We need to have a certain amount of understanding first, boy.”

Gryffin didn’t like the sound of it. He accepted the stool and sat on it, it raised him considerably but he still looked up to the larger man. He could almost imagine being flung away with just a backhanded swing. This man was so huge he could very well be a monster fighter. But he kept to himself, silenlty staring at the other as he nodded.

“Arroz may be a sneak but he’s not as bad as you think he is,” the shop owner began, eyes intently studying Gryffin’s every response, “He can be vocal, he can be cruel, but he never leaves a friend behind. I don’t intend to be the one to break our friendship either.”

Gryffin’s eyes suddenly turned sharp and the man noticed this.

“Perhaps, we are coming to an understanding then, boy?”

“I don’t know. Are we?” Gryffin replied. Then he looked around and saw that all the staff’s eyes were looking at him, “First, tell me why I was sent here. As far as I’m concerned, I’m only here to take back what is mine and then leave. He said so that I can do whatever I wanted to after–”

“But that’s between you and Arroz. The one standing between you and your sword now is me. If you want it back, you’ll have to settle it under my terms.”

Gryffin gritted his teeth and furrowed his brows at the statement. He knew better than to have felt a little elated to finally be free from this gang. It was like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. “So, what exactly are your terms?” And he knew he would regret asking for it.




It was almost nighttime and Gryffin, wearing his red coat armor and pauldrons, now with his red stheel sword sheathed to his side, walked towards the fence that led to the sewer tunnels. He cast cold eyes to the dark hollow entrance and could already foresee a rather dangerous situation to be in. But he shrugged as he lifted a hand to rub at his sore cheek, dry blood apparent with a cut to the side of his lips. He should have known better that in Dandelion, pacts were signed with blood and pain, and the normal custom was a good beating. He was only thankful his new boss had not left him half-dead like the first, but perhaps it was because he needed to be able to still move and do what he was tasked to do.

The command was clear and echoed in his mind: Find the enemy, kill him. And he felt his heart race and his hand shake at thought of it. But he merely shook his head as he climbed over the fence and went towards the backside of the tunnel sewers.

In just an hour, the two gangs would meet. A band of police would also arrive as told by the informant. And it would not last more than five minutes to tint the waters red.
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Marcat
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Marcus hung by in the alleyway, staying away from sight, hood brought down low to conceal his features. He was thankful his cloak hid him so well, concealing his weapons from view, otherwise he would've been long spotted. Iustitia seemed to itch on his back as Marcus waited patiently for his cue, he would have to precise if he wanted to accomplish his goal. He needed to get irrevocable evidence of criminal undercurrents and get himself a witness, that should be more than enough to consider his mission a success.

All of this relied on timing; if he sprung his trap too early, then he would alert them of his presence and lose his chance, spring the trap too late and well...the implications presented themselves at that point.

After a period of time, a boy walked out of a ramen shop, the same boy who was at the epicenter of the disturbance. He looked like he had just been in a brawl, but he now had a sword sheathed at his side. Marcus furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the boy, he looked familiar somehow...but he was sure that he never saw him once in his life. It was weird.

Nevertheless, the boy was moving towards the sewer tunnels, prompting Marcus to follow him, keeping out of sight as he moved into position, he stood to the side of the tunnel, waiting for the events to start.

Within an hour, Marcus heard the sounds of footsteps coming down the sewer tunnels, it was a large group - two of them from opposite sides of the tunnel. Immediately, Marcus knew what was about to happen; a gang war.

Whether it was turf or vendetta was irrelevant; this was exactly what Marcus needed. A gang war was the perfect distraction for him to enter, wreak havoc and kidnap someone without someone noticing. Slowly, Marcus reached for Iustitia at his back, his hand wrapped around the hilt.

The gangs met each other in minutes, both them sizing each other up, yelling taunts and insults at each other. Then, they charged at each other, colliding together with shouts. There was the sound of weapons hitting bodies and cries of pain.

Marcus counted exactly twenty seconds before he jumped in.

He ran forward, activating his armor as he ran, the Talos Suit appearing a single fluid motion, enveloping his body in metallic black and brown armor. Marcus jumped forward and landed right in the middle of the fighting. In one smooth motion, Marcus flicked his cloak, releasing a giant roar that exploded from all around him, knocking the entire crowd to the ground, leaving Marcus standing along in a circle of fallen of men.

He unsheathed Iustitia from his back and held it at the ready, a clear challenge for anyone to fight him.


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Sinjin
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^________^
As he neared the tunnel, Gryffin could only feel life. The beating of his heart, the beating of life, the sound of hatred, love, worry and all other things that consume the human mind. In all honesty, he was ready to vomit as he held his sword with shaking hands. So he paused just by the turn of the entrance as he tried to calm himself. He counted in his mind until he settled his nerves and only then did he hear the commotion that had suddenly started.

The thing was, he wasn’t supposed to join. He was there to assassinate. So he rushed into the tunnels but remembered the path that was instructed. He reached the corner and disappeared into the shadows. It was a secret path to a catwalk above that delved into the shadows of the tunnel. He listened as the argument grew louder, each gang trying to put off the other. He heard Arroz and he heard the opponent leader. They weren’t so much as bickering but only playing sweet mind games. But it was their second-in-command who were both so temperamental who were ready to explode. And it did.

The fighting broke out before Gryffin could find his target so he needed to get closer. He slid down the pipelines to reach the ground level only to quickly find himself defending against an assailant. It was different now when it wasn’t a simple brawl to prove his worth, not when the enemy was clearly trying to cut his neck. But he wasn’t filled with fright either as he had experienced war and that was more frightening. So he took his stance and carefully defended until he found a way to counter and knock the man out. He was not the target so he didn’t have to kill him.

As he pushed through to find the man he was supposed to kill, he felt a sudden wave hit him and he crashed back to the ground. It was the result of a sort of roar and before he knew it, everyone was a bit shocked on the ground before they started to stand up and went back to fighting– some clearly attacking whoever did that while others took the opportunity of the other gang’s confusion.

He, too, took that as his opportunity to find his target so he weaved through the madness until he found something very familiar in the middle of the chaos. It was dark there but he saw the arrangement of the armor yet he could not believe it. Instead, sparked by a sudden assault to his side, he swung his sword to counter. Filled with adrenaline, he pushed through until he neared the lone man who was being flanked by all. And when one of his former allies fell to the ground, he jumped over his back to launch him high up into the air where he could twists and fall for an aerial strike at this man.

And it was only when he was close to him did the face shock him. Marcus Faldin. Young but him. “Nana!” So he pulled back his sword at the last minute as he crashed to the ground. But when he looked back to this time’s Marcus, he was filled with disbelief that he wanted to cry out but couldn’t. Instead, he filled his head with doubt because it was just impossible. So he rushed towards Marcus and crossed blades with him. That was the only way to find out for sure.
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Marcat
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Well Marcus had gotten the distraction he had wanted. His entrance had put the fighting in total disarray, scattering the crowd along the tunnel. He stood in the middle, weapon at the ready, waiting for the first foolish gang member to attack him.

Marcus' plan was simple; ruin the fighting, scatter the gang members and capture himself a straggler and bring him in for interrogation. Simple, sweet, and to the point.

Despite the shockwave knocking the people to their feet, the gangsters were unharmed and quickly scrambled up their feet, yelling insults at Marcus. Three men got up and charged at Marcus, swinging lead pipes and chains at him.

Marcus caught a steel chain with his outstretched hand and pulled, sending the gangster who was still holding on it flying across the tunnel and into another three people. Marcus knocked the second out with a punch. The third gangster tried to hit across the head with a heavy lead pipe, but Marcus cut it in half with Iustitia. The man stood there, staring at his sliced lead pipe with shock, looking from Marcus to his weapon. Marcus smacked him upside the head with Iustitia, knocking him unconscious. The whole exchange lasted less than ten seconds but it was more than enough time to prove his point.

The crowd all around him seemed to still be fighting, but they paused, staring at Marcus. At that moment, a silent agreement was made between the gangs; kill the guy in armor first, then kill each other. Suddenly, all of them stopped their fighting and headed straight for Marcus.

The knight adjusted his stance quickly, shifting Iustitia to a wider grip to accommodate the tight confines of the tunnel. In theory, Marcus should've been overwhelmed by the sheer numbers, but he managed to deal with them fairly well, partly because he himself was as strong as several men to begin with.

Marcus incapacitated the first five men who tried to grab him, then deftly leaped away to dodge the crowd. His spear went into a flurry, parrying, slashing and stabbing furiously as he repelled the countless strikes at him. He held his own pretty well, though a few wayward shots would make it past his spear, though they struck armor and didn't harm it in the slightest. Growing fed up, Marcus pulled his shield, Arcem, off his back and equipped it on his arm. He used his shield as a battering ram to push straight through the mob, clearing a path.

Suddenly, a voice tore through the grunting and the shouting, a boy's voice, calling 'Nana'. If he wasn't so preoccupied with fending off an angry mob, Marcus would've wheeled around to see who said that; because who yells Nana in the middle of a gang war and more importantly, who were they referring to?

The fighting took a brief pause; Marcus had managed to either scare or injure most of those who were coming after him, save for one. A boy, he rushed at Marcus, who only had a moment's notice to hold up Iustitia to defend himself. The boy's sword and Marcus's spear clashed together, their weapons interlocked. There was hardly much strength behind the attack, Marcus barely thrust back, but there was technique. The boy's swordplay was not that of an amateur, someone had given this boy martial training.

Within a second, Marcus realized his assailant was the same boy at the ramen shop, the one he had followed here. Looking at him closer, Marcus could see he was still quite young; no more than fifteen years of age. The knight began to wonder what could possibly bring a boy like him down here, in the Dandelion Sector in the middle of a turf gang war. It didn't fit.

Nonetheless, Marcus had to finish the current task at hand; find his informant, then attend to this matter.

He pushed back against the boy's attack, easily overpowering him. Marcus stepped forward, using the other end of his spear to twist the sword out of the boy's hands. With him disarmed, Marcus thrust his chest with an open palm, using just enough force to knock him down to the ground.

"Stay down, kid." He muttered to the boy. "You want no part of this."
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NSRP One Piece Explore Pokemon Godai TOGETHER WE FALL: A NON-CANON NARUTO RP FF:Adventure Scarlet Night Overtale, A Post-Pacifist Undertale RP Red Like RosesSengoku HorizonRorupurei
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