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He rented an apartment above a soda pop shoppe, it always smelled like sweets – which only attracted the rats. He didn’t keep food around for long, usually opting for a Salisbury steak from the diner down the way instead. Every now and again he’d go to a cabinet, greeted by some fat fucker who had gorged himself on the stale box of crackers Marco had long forgotten about. Thankfully they stayed out of the bedroom, which is all he cared about. He let them live alongside him rent free so long as they respected the boundaries he’d put in place. They were around the place more than he ever was anyways.
The message came when he’d been showering, hearing the noise of the incoming capsule over the sound of water rushing in his ears. Always so fucking loud – it had undoubtedly saved his ass a couple times but still, could they not figure out a way that wasn’t so fucking loud? It had the Handler’s letterhead and her signature candor.
She was all hard angles. He’d fantasized what her skin would look like if he sliced into it slow, how the blood would look on her ever red lips. Not that he had anything personal against the Handler, just where his mind would go eventually if he spent enough time with a person. He donned his suit, shoving his sketchbook into his pocket and heading to the Handler’s office.
He let Jaime and Caeser take the lead in the office, he didn’t need to know anymore than whatever was in the folder. It was more fun if he was able to add an air of mystery, it’d been years since a real fight. He glanced at the photo, wilting with disappointment. They needed the three of them for this half-man? Marco could tell even in the photo, this man didn’t have the guts to stand up against the likes of one of them let alone three.
Marco looked to the other two, his eyes low with disinterest. Maybe between the three of them they could be back in time for dinner. Cracking his knuckles with anticipation, he nodded to the others gesturing for them to lead the way.