Geek Syndicate
himself back and forwards. Marv knew the movement and understood the inner torment
that it signified. He couldn’t imagine what it was to have so many voices in your head,
especially when they were screaming.
Marv sighed and rubbed at his face. “You can’t afford to forget who you really are, son.”
“Who I really am is why all of my friends and all of my family are dead, Marv. Who I really
am is why we live in a tomb underneath what used to be our home, why we have to scavenge in the wreckage of our lives, of their lives, for the things we need. Being Able Quirk
is why all of this happened.”
Magpye stood up and stalked across to the trick cabinet. Yanking the doors open, he revealed the contents - a small arsenal of throwing knives, a long handled axe, a belt hung
with loops of trapeze wire, and his great coat. Stitched with a series secret pouches and
pockets, even Marv didn’t know the full extent of the coat’s contents. Hanging from the
top of the cabinet, was the mask. In a cabinet full of weaponry, it was the mask that
frightened Marv most of all.
“You’re going out?” he asked, warily.
Magpye pulled on the great coat. Inside, Marv could see holsters swinging.
“And you’ve got yourself some guns, I see.”
“Malcolm put me on to them. He kept them in a secret compartment in the floor of his
caravan.”
“Malcolm...” said Marv wistfully. Malcolm had been the circus’ sharpshooter. British by
birth, he dressed as a cowboy and affected a Texan drawl as part of his act. He’d been
great, in his day, but he’d never told anyone the secret of where he’d learnt to shoot. Marv
had always suspected that he was more than just a sharpshooter or a trick shot. For one
thing, he’d never come across a trick shot who knew how to shoot a man in the gut so that
it took him a whole day to bleed out.
Magpye unhooked the long handled axe and slung it over his back on a leather strap.
“I’m not going to try and stop you,” said Marv.
“I know.”
“But you can’t do this forever. Eventually, you’re going to have to stop hiding and remember who you are, underneath all of this.”
“Doing this,” said Magpye, unhooking the mask, “Is the only thing that makes any of this
make sense.”
Marv stood, placing his arms on Magpye’s shoulders. He could feel hard plates stitched
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