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Mark, the Unremarkable

Do I know you from somewhere..?

0 · 628 views · located in Wing City Gardens (East)

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Jerico Do'Lantul

Description

Standing at about 5'10", he is of average height. Everything about him seems remarkably unremarkable, to the point where one might question whether or not he was a person, at all..
As of the Lt. "Ironhand" Straken character arc, he has changed his appearence. He now wears his hair shorter, and wears more rugged, military-style clothing.
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Personality

Real name Mark Sellers, but rarely, if ever, uses this name. Instead, he goes by a variety of fake names, sometimes using as many as three in a single outing. In spite of all appearences, Mark carries with him a dark secret that only a few in the entire multiverse know; Mark is an assassin. One of the best, in reality, in the fact that he has never been caught in all of his many years of activity. This may be due, in part, to the fact that Mark posseses a special ability unlike any other; the ability to, for lack of a better term, be unremarkable. For reasons unknown, Mark's face is just the perfect ballence between handsome, enough so that people will trust him, and generic, to the point that one will never be able to place his name with his face. This goes beyond an ordinary play on the fickle minds of sentient beings, however. It doesn't matter if you're the most intelligent, memory-bound individual in the entire multiverse. You will never remember Mark's face. Even within moments of losing sight of Mark, many have reported being unable to pick him out of the crowd.Even in pictures, Mark will be unrecogniseable. In a side-by-side comparrison, it MAY be possible to identify him, but this would be a stretch. It is highly suspected that Mark has some innate ability to make his face change, over time, enough to where one would never know it was him. This is a fallacy. In truth, it is the person's mind, itself, which plays tricks. The contours of his face trigger no residual memories to be stored in one's brain, meaning that no memories will be triggered by simply seeing his face. The only way that one is able to remember Mark is if he reminds them of the name he gave them.

An example is the only way to aptly explain.

Suppose Mark comes across and attractive woman. They strike up a conversation, in which Mark introduces himself as "Steven". One he and the woman part ways, all memories of Mark's face will leave her mind, and she will, ultimately, forget him. Now, let's say they meet, again, the next day. The woman's brain will struggle to place Mark's face with past events, but, because Mark's face doesn't trigger residual memories, she will fail to remember him or anything they shared the previous day. However, if Mark reminds her of the name that he gave the previous day, "Steven", her mind will be able to compensate from having no memory of his face and will, instead, work off of the name. Only through this method are people able to remember Mark.

There is, however, one exception.

If Mark were to, for whatever reason, give one his true name, this ability becomes moot. Knowing Mark's true name makes one able to remember Mark's face, because he is being genuine, for a change. Once he had given his true name, he will be fully open and honest with that person, to whatever end. Even after Mark leaves, his face will remain in that person's memories. There is no going back from this, once it has been set into motion. As of yet, only four people have ever known Mark's true name. His parents, sister, and his employer. His parents are dead, and his sister's whereabouts remain unknown. His employer, name unknown, works descretely as he commands thousands of assassins all across the multiverse.

Equipment

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Carries a Sig Sauer 226 at all times, but will not use it unless absolutely neccesary. Ussually tucked into the back of his pants, though he will, occasionally, wear a holster on his leg. This will, usually, only be when on the job.

NOTE: As a result of several run-in's with men and women of the vampiric persuasion, he has seen fit to carry custom-made silver bullets on his person, at all times. The base and tips of these rounds are standard lead composition, but the outermost layer is silver, which is enough to cause great harm to most any vampire.

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A hidden blade is worn beneath the sleeve of his left arm.

NOTE: as a result of several run-in's with men and women of the vampiric persuasion, he has added silver engravings to the flat sides of the blade. Though the edges are still hardened steel, once the blade enters a vampires body, so too, will the silver, which will serve to cause great damage to most any vampire.

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Small, balenced throwing knives, usually worn strapped around his chest. Accessible by unbuttoning one of the middle buttons of his shirt. Not visible from without.

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Flies a ship know as The Resonance. It is a long-range fighter modified to withstand Slipspace travel. It's cargo bay was filled with the core needed to power the Slipspace Drivers, making it rather heavy and cumbersome. It is primarily used as a means of travel, and not as an actuall fighter, as it was originally intended. Seats two people, the pilot and the gunner/bomber, though there is never a payload onboard, any longer.

History

Not much is known of Mark Sellers. Everything one might glean from a conversation with him has been forgotten mere moments later. it is common knowledge, however, that he works for a man who command several thousand assassins all across the Multiverse. It is said that he has sent one of his best to Wing City to complete an unknown task. Mark Sellers is that man, and will stop at nothing untill his task is complete.

So begins...

Mark, the Unremarkable's Story

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Mark, the Unremarkable follows behind her, leaving the three armed men to watch Straken. They were carefull to stay out of reach of Straken, having seen what he had done to the medics. "We need to act quickly, before the Honor Guard think to return. I've debriefed the men. They know everything. Straken is to be removed from command and tried as a traitor. Most likely, he'll recieve a dishonorable discharge. It's the only thing I can do, short of killing him. Unfortunately.. if that were to happen, the courts may decide to prosecute you.."

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*tried for warcrimes and deemed unfit for command. Dishonerable discharge.

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(I have to go for a few minutes. I will be back, soon. Can you guys hold off untill I get back?)

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Mark, the Unremarkable follows behind Merceigh as she reenters the chamber. As she berates Straken, the soldiers give her a wide berth. They had never seen her like this. The tension in the air was palpable as she takes her Captain's bars from her shoulder, letting them clatter to the ground before Straken. As one, the soldiers glance over at Mark, who stands in silence, his mouth slightly ajar in genuine surprise and uncertainty. Effectively, she had just surrendered command of her regiment to Mark. Mark lays his hand on her shoulder, gently. "You don't have to do this.. your command is legitimate. Even if Straken is no longer General, his orders came from High Command. His recommendation was only a fraction of what your promotion was worth. You're a great leader, and I couldn't hope to replace you as head of this regiment." He steps forward and takes up Merceigh's bars in his hand. He rises, holding them out towards Merceigh. "By all rights.. these belong to you."

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Mark, the Unremarkable leaves out the fact that he isn't a real Captain, of course.

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Mark, the Unremarkable was cleanly missed by Straken's kick, which came a moment too late. He turns to look at Straken as he seems to be losing his mind. "No.. he has no power, now. Only his delusions and demensions. He is no threat to anyone, now, and the courts will be sure of that.." It was not a total victory. Mark had failed to end Strakens life, and had, instead, ended his career. While it was not as neat, it would be enough. Straken was only worth killing when he had abused his power. Without that power, he was as good as dead. There was no doubt in his mind that his employer would accept this as acceptable. Mark had done it, before.

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*Straken's

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Mark, the Unremarkable watches as the soldier wipes his eye and draws back his rifle to strike Straken in the temple. The soldier next to him manages to stop him, "Hey! HEY! Back up! We're following orders, god dammit!" Mark sighs as he signals the regroup. "Let's move. We're keeping him here, for now. If he doesn't accept the medics' care, he won't last long." He turns to Merceigh, waiting for her reply.

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Mark, the Unremarkable strides forward in one swift motion, his rifle raising to meet Straken's jaw before he can begin throwing his punch at Merceigh. The impact would come close to shattering his jaw, as well as setting him off ballence, which would send him toppling over. "This is your first and ONLY warning: I will not hesitate to kill you, next time." He meant it.

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Mark, the Unremarkable stapes back quickly as Straken rises, taking the rifle out of his reach before bringing his left hand towards the man's neck. Just before he is able to grab, he twists his wrist in a jerking motion. The springs of his Hidden Blade slide into it's action, sending the four inch blade speeding from it's slot. In a swift motion, the blade would penetrate Straken's throat, near his jugular, before he has time to react.

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*steps

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Mark, the Unremarkable sighs as he takes Merceigh under his arm. "Come on, Captain Gabriel. We need to seal this room off, and wait for High Command to arrive. It's almost over.." He turns to the soldiers as he leads Merceigh towards the door. "You men, come with us. He can't cause any harm in here, alone. I'm placing you on guard duty. You'll be relieved in a few hours." As one, the men turn and snap off crisp salutes. "Sir!" In all honesty, none of them wanted to leave Straken alone, but knew, deep down, that it was what had to be done. They double-time it behind Mark and Merceigh as they exit the chamber, sealing the door behind them. Meanwhile, in the hallways, several men had already gotten to work on clearing the dead bodies of the Marries and of Merceigh's regiment. Losses had been heavy, alltogether. They had paid a steep price to bring Straken to justice. Silently, Mark vowwed to see this through to the end. He had a contact in High Command. Hopefully, he would be able to call in that favor the man owed to his employer.

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*the Marines

The setting changes from Terra to Gambit's Bar

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Mark, the Unremarkable enters through the front entrance. Today, he wasn't wearing the uniform of a soldier, so would not be recognised as either Private Steven Hendricks, nor would anyone know him as Captain Nethanial Grisham. No one, in fact, would be able to recognise him, at all. Only Merceigh, who sat off, alone, would know him for who he was. As such, she would be the only one he would move to sit near. He sighs softly as he orders a whiskey from the touch-screen menu. He would half-glance at Merceigh, but wouldn't say anything, for now. He would simply sit in silence and enjoy her company; a luxury neither of them had been afforded over the past few days.

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Mark, the Unremarkable says nothing as his whiskey is brought to him. The strong drink sat before him for a long moment before he would reach for it, bringing toe glass up to his lips as he tips his head back to drink a fair amount. He sets the glass beck down, sighing once more, his whistle thoroughly whetted. He turns to look at her. "If you believe that it is for the best.." He pauses before continuing. "The men love you, Captain Gabriel. They are are able, and willing to give their lives for you at the drop of a hat. I said it before, and I'll say it again; you are a natural-born leader. Do not take such a decision lightly, lest you grow to regret it." He eyes her drink before reaching into the pocket of his pants. He withdraws a small pill. "Here.. take this."

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*the glass

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Mark, the Unremarkable stifles a grin. "You should know better." He continues, "It's a pill supposedly created by some long-dead clan of samurai. Good for restoring your body, when injured. Recoups blood loss, and all that." Mark, personally, wonderes how a 'long dead' clan could be making medicine, but he wouldn't bother mentioning that to Merceigh.

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Mark, the Unremarkable shakes his head. "There's nothing to apologise for. If it wasn't for Straken, we wouldn't be here, right now. But, it's more then just me being here, in this bar, next to you." He lowers his voice so that the others nearby wouldn't hear. "I was sent to assassinate a man drunk with power and ambition. The situation was, already, entirely too volatile. Our meeting had to have happened the way that it did, or it wouldn't have happened at all." He leans back and eyes his drink before taking another swig. "And that, of course, would be a terrible shame."

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Mark, the Unremarkable raises his eyebrows, turning to Merceigh. "Offering help to an interuniversal(is that what it's called? Hell if I know) assassin, are we?" He chuckles, softly.

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Mark, the Unremarkable shakes his head. "You don't owe anything, to me. I did what had to be done, and I will be compensated for my work, I assure you." He looks her in the eye. "If anything, I owe you, Withoyt your regiment's support, none of this would have been possible. If it took a little.. -push- to get you started, then so be it. You realize, though.. that my name cannot be anywhere on any of the reports.." He pauses, to allow this to sink in. Mark lowers his voice, "That's right.. it was not Captain Nethanial Grisham who led your men to victory.. not Captain Nethanial Grisham who brough General Marbo Straken to justice, and it was not Captain Nethanial Grisham who informed High Command of his attrocities." He shakes his head. "No, it was Captain Merceigh Gabriel, who's leadership shows above all others in all the Multiverse. None here in Wing City could ever hope to match up to her tallent and dedication." He lays a hand softly on her shoulder. It's all in the report, Merceigh.. you're a hero. A National and interuniversal(seriously, is that what it's supposed to be called?) icon.. you deserve nothing less." He takes another drink of Whiskey.