This Is My Life. This Is My Song. I'll Fight The Powers That Be.

[vesper_verde]

Marcelo had started regular patrolling in earnest when he wasn't trying to spend the night with Stephanie. It felt good to get the suit on. It covered his scars well and he had added a little protection to the spots where a sword had run straight through his body. In addition to his normal patrols, he used what little superhuman power he had to keep tabs on what Sebastian Shaw was doing. Since he could listen to things at a distance and fine tune his hearing from there, he tried to be careful not to blip on any of Shaw's cronies' radar.

Though that was where he picked up Shaw had put a bounty on Marcelo Alencar da Silva's head. The target wondered if this was the first time the same man had bounties on his head for two separate identities. He doubted it, but he liked to think he was pioneering in some way.

Ignoring the tabloid stories about him and Stephanie being on the rocks was easy enough since Marcelo didn't read tabloids nor did he have a secretary who did anymore. It was harder to ignore Helena when she scheduled a visit with him during office hours. The hour-long visit started pleasantly enough. It actually lasted that long because despite his small, almost heartfelt prayers, no business came up to interrupt the visit with his ex. It turned slightly awkward when she started sounding out if the tabloid reports were true or if Stephanie had gone to rehab or something of the sort. Then it got into well-controlled infuriating when Helena casually brought up some information she gathered about the time Stephanie and Marcelo weren't together. Marcelo was more than happy to escort Helena from his office after the hour was done.

He wasn't quite sure what the future had in store for him, but the Brazilian billionaire figured everything but the impending wedding would give him a headache at the very least.

Comments

[ngm_marauders]

Harpoon knew that he had to keep on the good side of the ledge once it got closer. He played a fairly conservative game, jabbing with his harpoon, short controlled attacks that were probably not so difficult to dodge, but very hard to properly counter.

He wished he had another few slayspears, but it couldn't be helped. At least this way, he'd get to see the look in his eyes when he killed the man.

[vesper_verde]

Marcelo was feinting a few counters but not really trying to get anything through. He needed to gauge how the man handled his spear and the length of his reach.

"Spears going limp, cagalhão?" His heels were just about hitting the ledge. Marcelo needed to do something soon or Stephanie was going to be widowed before ever getting married.

[ngm_marauders]

Harpoon had been playing, really. It was a game. He jabbed quickly, without commitment. And Marcelo seemed to be doing the same.

The Brazilian was up against the wall.

It was time to strike now.

Harpoon struck the most stable stance he could and drove the spear, as fast and as hard as he could, right towards the Brazilian's chest.

[vesper_verde]

Stable, while good for footing, did not offer the flexibility that a master capoeirista had. Marcelo was not trying to block the spear strike; instead, he tried evading. The attack was at his chest, so he went under it. He spun around and kicked a sweep at one of the man's legs.

[ngm_marauders]

Harpoon had put a bit too much weight into a shot that he was counting on being too fast for Marcelo to properly counter or evade. Suddenly his weight was a bit too far forward. And then Marcelo's feet were sweeping at him.

By themselves, one of the other might not have been a substantial problem. Even combined, he'd have been able to recover easily if he hadn't been on a ledge. But he stumbled forward and then there was the ledge.

And then the inevitable fall several stories down onto the ground. It was only about a second before everything went black for him.

All that was left was a crushed broken shell of a man, blood oozing from every orifice.

[vesper_verde]

Marcelo hadn't quite meant for it to go that way. He straightened up, wide eyed. He walked over to the edge and looked down to the street below.

"Meu pau de óculos..."