The righteous get to be right, but we get everything thing else.
This would most likely have been what Marcus was saying or at least thinking if he were coherent enough to form complex thoughts. Marcus's mind was vibrating like a humming bird's heart and informing his appropriate tactile systems that the small brown monster-like plush toy hanging from the Commander's wife key chain visually tasted like fecal matter. Marcus snapped his eyes shut and pivoted his head. When he opened them again the large bald Vietnamese brute was standing over him. He appeared to be in a less than positive mindset. He tasted like rhubarb.
Synesthesia is the technical word of this particular discombobulation. This being when, for what ever reason, the brain's wiring jumps track and you suddenly see tastes or hear feelings. This was, of course, happening to Marcus due to the considerable amount of LSD he had ingested some twelve hours ago. At the time it had seemed like a good enough idea. Synesthesia, in fact, was one of the key reasons he liked to trip. He liked forcing his mind to think the different thoughts. Whomever said we only use ten-percent of our brain was full of it, but there are surely ways to use it we don't know about. Of couse, there are all kinds of ways to break it we don't know about either. However much Marcus idealized the narcotic, in his current situation he found the effect less than beneficial and even down right unpleasant.
While it was not helping, the LSD was not the reason Marcus was having such difficulty forming thoughts. Neither was the copious amounts of alcohol he had more recently consumed. Additionly, it was not realted to the fact that he had not slept in the past thirty-six plus hours. Being drunk, tripping, exhausted and fornicating were in fact Marcus's natual state of being and would often not significanly change his abality to reason. At the time, Marcus had in fact been partaking in all four just seconds prior to having his thoughts shatterd along with a tooth or two by the Comander's fist.
He fell off the Commander's wife and onto the Commander's expensive carpeting. Durring the decsent head bounced nicely off the bureau. A good bit of blood flowed from his nose and a decent sized gash along the side of his face. It would surely stain the carpet, but that would not prove to be Marcus's only counter attack for he quickly realized he landed on something sharp. It was in fork. A simple enough dinner fork placed careless aside after dinner to enable jab free copulation. His mind was still not clear but his reflexes didn't seem to mind. He moved like a rabit and was quickly upon his feet. He sunk the fork cleanly in to to the Commander's back about an inch above the kidney. He did not miss the kidney by mistake but rather on purpose as Marcus has no desire to kill this man, but knew that he would surely pivot his weight downwards as he turned to his wounded side to remove the weaponized fork. Marcus then used this shift in the Commander's weight against him connecting with a strong upper cut to the Commander's jaw. The combined force of the the upward blow and the Commander's downward movement caused his brain to bounce of the back of his skull giving him a concussion and knocking him out.
The Commander's body landed half on the bed and slowly slid to the floor. The Commander's wife looked at Marcus while pulling up the sheets to cover her bare breasts. Shocked only for a second, her mind rebounded and went quckly to work attempting to calculate how many people the Commander was likely to kill when he awoke. Mainly, she wondered if the carnage would be limited to those fucking his wife, or in fact be extended to the aforementioned, his betrothed and perhapse a few unfortunate memers of the house staff.
The Commander let out a small moan. Marcus moved to the body and rolled it over such that it was not pressuring the fork. And removed the fork. Blood sprang from the wound and the Commader's shirt turned red. Marcus rubbed his eyes. His brain was a trampoline that only let thoughts take root for a brief instance before bounding the back into the stratosphere. He took a deep breath in through his mouth and exhaled through his nose.
Perhaps another man would not have acted so quickly. But Marcus was a man who killed people. Some could say that he killed people for a living, as it was true the majority of his wealth could be directly attributed to deaths he himself caused. However, he never directly exchanged money for murder. Rather it was just how the game played out. Some might argue that Marcus killed for a higher reason. Some might argue that he did not kill at all, because until now he hands hand never been bloody. But they were bloody now. Well, at least one of them was.
At this point Marcus would have liked to comfort the Commander's wife and let her know that everything was going to fine. Unfortunately, or perhapse fortunately depending on perspective, Marcus knew different. Marcus knew that it was very likely that things would not be fine for her and perhaps never would again. In addition to this, he knew that this was all part of the plan. Time heals all wounds, that is if you live long enough. Marcus also suspected that the chances of her living long enough were quite slim as well. First things first, Marcus put on his underwear and stretched out a hand towards the Commander's wife.
Time to go.
This would most likely have been what Marcus was saying or at least thinking if he were coherent enough to form complex thoughts. Marcus's mind was vibrating like a humming bird's heart and informing his appropriate tactile systems that the small brown monster-like plush toy hanging from the Commander's wife key chain visually tasted like fecal matter. Marcus snapped his eyes shut and pivoted his head. When he opened them again the large bald Vietnamese brute was standing over him. He appeared to be in a less than positive mindset. He tasted like rhubarb.
Synesthesia is the technical word of this particular discombobulation. This being when, for what ever reason, the brain's wiring jumps track and you suddenly see tastes or hear feelings. This was, of course, happening to Marcus due to the considerable amount of LSD he had ingested some twelve hours ago. At the time it had seemed like a good enough idea. Synesthesia, in fact, was one of the key reasons he liked to trip. He liked forcing his mind to think the different thoughts. Whomever said we only use ten-percent of our brain was full of it, but there are surely ways to use it we don't know about. Of couse, there are all kinds of ways to break it we don't know about either. However much Marcus idealized the narcotic, in his current situation he found the effect less than beneficial and even down right unpleasant.
While it was not helping, the LSD was not the reason Marcus was having such difficulty forming thoughts. Neither was the copious amounts of alcohol he had more recently consumed. Additionly, it was not realted to the fact that he had not slept in the past thirty-six plus hours. Being drunk, tripping, exhausted and fornicating were in fact Marcus's natual state of being and would often not significanly change his abality to reason. At the time, Marcus had in fact been partaking in all four just seconds prior to having his thoughts shatterd along with a tooth or two by the Comander's fist.
He fell off the Commander's wife and onto the Commander's expensive carpeting. Durring the decsent head bounced nicely off the bureau. A good bit of blood flowed from his nose and a decent sized gash along the side of his face. It would surely stain the carpet, but that would not prove to be Marcus's only counter attack for he quickly realized he landed on something sharp. It was in fork. A simple enough dinner fork placed careless aside after dinner to enable jab free copulation. His mind was still not clear but his reflexes didn't seem to mind. He moved like a rabit and was quickly upon his feet. He sunk the fork cleanly in to to the Commander's back about an inch above the kidney. He did not miss the kidney by mistake but rather on purpose as Marcus has no desire to kill this man, but knew that he would surely pivot his weight downwards as he turned to his wounded side to remove the weaponized fork. Marcus then used this shift in the Commander's weight against him connecting with a strong upper cut to the Commander's jaw. The combined force of the the upward blow and the Commander's downward movement caused his brain to bounce of the back of his skull giving him a concussion and knocking him out.
The Commander's body landed half on the bed and slowly slid to the floor. The Commander's wife looked at Marcus while pulling up the sheets to cover her bare breasts. Shocked only for a second, her mind rebounded and went quckly to work attempting to calculate how many people the Commander was likely to kill when he awoke. Mainly, she wondered if the carnage would be limited to those fucking his wife, or in fact be extended to the aforementioned, his betrothed and perhapse a few unfortunate memers of the house staff.
The Commander let out a small moan. Marcus moved to the body and rolled it over such that it was not pressuring the fork. And removed the fork. Blood sprang from the wound and the Commader's shirt turned red. Marcus rubbed his eyes. His brain was a trampoline that only let thoughts take root for a brief instance before bounding the back into the stratosphere. He took a deep breath in through his mouth and exhaled through his nose.
Perhaps another man would not have acted so quickly. But Marcus was a man who killed people. Some could say that he killed people for a living, as it was true the majority of his wealth could be directly attributed to deaths he himself caused. However, he never directly exchanged money for murder. Rather it was just how the game played out. Some might argue that Marcus killed for a higher reason. Some might argue that he did not kill at all, because until now he hands hand never been bloody. But they were bloody now. Well, at least one of them was.
At this point Marcus would have liked to comfort the Commander's wife and let her know that everything was going to fine. Unfortunately, or perhapse fortunately depending on perspective, Marcus knew different. Marcus knew that it was very likely that things would not be fine for her and perhaps never would again. In addition to this, he knew that this was all part of the plan. Time heals all wounds, that is if you live long enough. Marcus also suspected that the chances of her living long enough were quite slim as well. First things first, Marcus put on his underwear and stretched out a hand towards the Commander's wife.
Time to go.
