The Truth is never a pretty subject. (Marcus/William/Maybe a hero or Two, PM first)

What can one do, today the media was all over the current attack in Chicago. The Black Star, known as America's top terrorist was dealing with driving a truck around. Within the truck was his motorcycle, which he parked very far from today's goal. He was picking up his money from the CIA in Langley, Virginia and he was disguised as one of there own suits. Different hair style, another face and a facial scrambler to hide any trace of his face from scans.

Currently today he was posing as a man named Lance Steersman of the CIA. He had dealt with him for the time being at his home, took his truck and clearance ID. After he had the okay, he walked through the front door and showed his ID. Carrying only a briefcase, and some heat under his suit that was a pistol to act the part. Currently he had hired someone out of the blue, a man by the name of William who was interested in only money.

Would he follow him in as his partner by taking his second disguise  or wait outside until he was ready to start. Maybe he had some other way to get in, but there would be no killing just yet. If he wanted his money, it would have to be done this way or else things would get messy pretty fast.

Washington D flipping C, the Capital of America. William had never been there, while conscious at least, before but he knew from word of mouth it was not exactly the best place in the world. You’d think people that think so highly of themselves would at least try to make their capital city, that they named after their 1st Ki-sorry President one of the best if not that safest places in the world. Either way, William was on his way there in a bloody car he stole back in Chicago after his little run in with the pyromaniac and the Police Commissioner. If there was one thing he hated about America more than anything else it was the fact that it was so bloody huge. In Europe you could drive forty-five minutes and be in the middle of another country, here you drove forty-five minutes and you’d be damn lucky if you made it out of the state you were in.

Needless to say even not paying attention to the damn speed limits, more like fun limiters, it took a hell of a lot of time for Will to find his way to DC. Most people would have taken an air plane, especially with the pay day William just made, but he didn’t trust the giant flying metal contraptions any further than he could probably throw them. Which sense he didn’t exactly know how heavy they were there was a possibility he could throw them, so he trusted them less than how far he could throw them. Shaking his head he pulled around the corner music blaring in his stolen jet black 2021 Viper and slowed down coming into a heavily populated area. “Bullocks!” Slamming his hand down on the top of the steering wheel, he couldn’t be late for this ‘meeting’ not with how much he was getting paid.

A ‘meeting’ he wasn’t completely sure what he was supposed to be doing at, but that was for the payer to tell him or not tell him when he showed up. It mattered little to him, only that he was told to wait for the man outside and when he saw him follow him and do what he said. What it was he was supposed to do exactly for William he didn’t know but he was hoping it was something to do with punching some people’s faces in. His skin had finally healed from the third degree burns he got from pyromaniac kid in Chicago and he was itching to utterly obliterate anyone who got in his way.  Pulling up to the building, he parked the car and got out walking to the front of it where he leaned against the wall popping his coat collar. Now it was waiting time...again.

Marcus was bored but that was no surprise, the young man meta human thing was always bored with the world around him, it was a curse that constantly afflicted him. He learned early on that in order to amuse himself he needed to bring out reactions in others and by reactions he meant surprise, anger, fear and so many others. Today’s persona was a rather over the top one, Marcus was no longer Marcus he was Alastair Whitwell from England, he was a an average sized man standing five foot nine rather thin as if he needed to eat a sandwich or two. Flesh a bit pale but not overly so, blue eyes a little murky, a single monocle placed upon his left eyes looking oh so fancy, underneath a thick well groomed handlebar moustache that was magnificent.

A clean cut face with a narrow chin and a hawk like nose, his trademark black bowler hat upon his head hiding a mane of dark blonde hair, his other trademark his long black trench coat covering his dark fancy business suit. A cane in his right hand clacked against the concrete ground as he walked towards the entrance of the building, his walk proud and elegant as befitting of a noble that he was pretending to be. He walked in like he owned the place, a cocky little smile upon his lips as he stepped towards the metal detector. Marcus wasn’t posing as a CIA member so he couldn’t get away with a badge flashing like the real members could, he waited his turn patiently until finally he was allowed to step through like everyone else.

The machine went off with a loud blaring sound and a female security guard stepped forward “sir gonna have to ask you to remove the cane, monocle and any other metal objects you might have on your person”. She spoke firmly with a hard look but Marcus was not intimidated in the slightest “oh come now, I hardly think that is necessary for someone like myself, can’t you see that I’m fancy?” he asked in a heavy british tone before striking a slight pose. The cane against the ground, his legs straight, monocle glinting in the dim light, face jutted out to look proud “fancy men such as myself have to keep such items upon themselves or they lose their fanciness” he stated loudly drawing the attention of others guards.

“Sir this is your last warning hand over the items or we will have to use force” she warned as he placed her hand on her hip as other guards came around to figure out what was going on. “You cannot take a man’s fanciness from him my dear!” Marcus declared boldly before slamming his cane against the ground. The guards were drawing their guns now and taking aim at Marcus who appeared to be quite calm, “come now old chaps I hardly think there is a reason for that” he said in a softer tone as he began to take a step forward. “Do not move from that spot or we will shoot you sir!” the female guard yelled harshly, “shoot a man of fanciness you say?” he raised the eyebrow of the eye with the monocle giving him quite the comical look.

“My dear I must declare you to be an enemy of fanciness and an enemy of fanciness is my enemy” he grinned at them as he cocked his head to the side. This was not your everyday run of the mill crazy, it was all just a game to Marcus because their bullets couldn’t hurt him even if they shoved a gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger he would be perfectly fine. This was causing quite the ruckus as he now had five guards aiming their side arms at him now, the people around were watching frozen as if waiting to see who would win the standoff between the guards and the fancy man………….