Marcus

The room held an ominous red glow, and was coated with an interior design which seemed to surround both a respected John Gatti theme and gave the notion that this mighty lord which sat before me was a previous understudy of Shinobu Tsukasa. Shadowing over the mysterious body before me stood a hulking suit of what appeared to be ancient samurai armor wielding a great sword which held the phrase “Now I am death, destroyer of worlds.” inscribed into it. Along the wall it read eleven rules, which I myself was formerly familiar with. I looked across the table, as the character before me released smoke from his mouth and expelled it in a way that it was carried as if the wind itself bent to his will, and the heated smoke and smell of rotting flesh and fermented tobacco surrounded me. He leaned forward, into a small beam of light, his slicked back black hair glimmered and exposed a streak of red along the left side as if there was reason for it. His eyes illuminated with a yellow glow, the glow pulsing in unison with his breathing. He spoke, “Mr. Echols”
“Excuse me?” I replied.
“Hold the surprise. How could you simply walk into an establishment such as my own and have surprise by our knowledge.” He said as he leaned back and threw three loaded folders which slid across the gloss of the black table between us. He continued, “November 22nd, 1963, body count, one. April 26, 1986. 31 immediate, skyrocketing to approximately 4,000 within a week. March 3rd 1991, 9382AU, every member, dead. Every act, every plan, every course of action; Hell! every breath you’ve taken, I know about. I know everything.”
My tongue was held by my nervous mind, but I felt the inspiring touch of courageous flame from between my lips, after a moment's pause. “You may have knowledge about my past, but like any good book, you can read it if the author writes it, but what about the author masterpiece in the works? Don’t think for a second that you’re in control. I may have walked into your building, but from the moment my heel rolled onto the floor, everything you ever held the strings of was cut, and tied to the fingers of a new puppet master. I came here to kill a god. Now die.” He began to boom in laughter, as I rose up out of my seat. Two figures silently grew behind me, as if the shadows themselves became animated. The suit of armor once thought dormant groaned as the rusted metals grinded against each other and the beast rose for precautionary measures. The man grew silent as his entertainment built itself to concern, and his smile pulled itself down to a frown. He stood, his build being complemented by the massive exoskeleton of a monster of war. He spoke once more “I do believe you should excuse yourself now.” I stood my ground in a silent exchange of looks. He shouted with a commanding voice, “Krieger!” as he spoke that single word as if he was calling upon a loyal dog, the armor was illuminated by a great blue inner glow, and it flowed with life. The mighty goliath wielded it’s weapon in a combating pose. I quickly snapped to my waistband and grasped the cold oyster pearl grip of both Vincent and Jules. I held both figures in front of me in their still, with my now fire breathing hands. The ancient warrior moved in a way that was no longer so very ancient, as his master began to flee. My mighty hands shouted in attempts to maim, and prevent escape.
 I exclaimed, ‚ÄúOrias! Gabriel! Devolvat in deos!‚Äù The shadows which accompanied me came together, and formed a figure far surpassing the might of that which charged. With the malicious head of a dog, and a great black massive tunic