Marcus: the Hero & the Villain

Marcus: The Hero & The Villain written by Michael A Gomez 2005-2006

1

Marcus's Decision

The blood on Marcus's sword was still fresh from The Kill with his last victim's DNA splattered all over his weapon and his battle armor. it even blinded his vision as it ran down from his protective helmet into his eyes that seemed to make him see things through a veil of red. Even as the sun shone upon him Darkness was everywhere around Marcus and this was his apocalypse and his God was nowhere to be found in his heart.

He could hardly believe for a minute that this was his calling and his duty in life, unlike his country Brothers, who seem to believe it was. he wholeheartedly disagreed with his fellow Rebels and was tired of War tired of the bloodshed and was looking for an escape.

And much like his father Julius a warrior before him who Marcus had not seen in 17 years due to the same fate, from the destructive ravages of War, he was seriously considering abandoning the fight for Atlas and running away to where it was safe and where the tide of blood would no longer rise, but unlike Marcus, Julius continued to fight and would willingly meet his destiny, even if that meant certain death.

For Julius though Duty and honor were Paramount as were dignity and integrity but Marcus was filled with fear and much uncertainty and lacked the faith and the courage and didn't believe in himself, nor in God for that matter. he would scoff at the memory of the lessons, he was taught at the temple by the holy men. Especially, the admonitions about trusting in the Lord.

Even remembering his dear friend Edwin who he loved, as Edwin loved him, the only one that Marcus trusted and had taken him in when Marcus had run away from his aunt, who had been his caretaker.

And Marcus sat there looking at his blood-stained sword laughing in mockery over the sermons of the holy men, saying aloud, "where is God? where is his help? Did God help those who I killed? How is it that these very religious men fell so easily to me who does not believe? Ahhh, Whether, I believe or I do not, it is the same thing is it not?", looking at his sword as if speaking to it and demanding an answer Marcus continued, "how do I trust in someone or something that I can't see? that I can't touch? that I can't hear? that I can't smell? That I can't taste or that I can't sense...hmmm?

Tell me holy men!" meanwhile, he's looking at his sword and imagining his own blood smeared all over it, covering every part of metal on the blade. looking as if it had been dipped in a barrel of his own blood Marcus felt shivers and spoke more to his sword, "how would you feel piercing through my flesh, huh? and ripping my insides apart, hmmmm?" Pausing a moment in contemplation and picturing this as his body quivered. he continued, "no man knows this because no one has succeeded in battle against me. but you, you know the joy of ripping through the sinew of flesh and Marrow and bones of men's mortal vessel.

You have carved up God's creatures like a mad Butcher and then they are served up to God like a main course and that is the Fate of us all ?! Including me?! Such a cruel purpose and what a sadistic progenitor we serve.

fools, fools, every man who fights is a fool. There is no glory Eternal, for a Hero! and no shame Eternal, for a villain! but only a longer lifespan for a coward. so if I pick you up in my hand and go into battle alongside my brothers then I am a hero? ha!

And what if I turn from them and abandon my brothers what then am I a villain? ha! ha! What if I leave this all of it behind and go to my lover, who is one of the enemy of my people, from Ganesh? And we live together on the outer skirts of her country? for love, I would renounce all my way of life and as for Atlas, I would hold only bitter memories of pain andheartache, but to live with my lover in a foreign land is where my Paradise resides. eternally melting in the pot of her infernal kiss, ahhhh, how my life's hunger would be satisfied because she is all that I need and all that I want in this mad existence. For my very breath alone with its every inhale and it's every exhale pronounces her name with a resounding Symphony of syllables that blows Like the Wind.