<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/33/Wreck_Portrait.jpg)</div><hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>  Name:</strong>      Marcus Magnusson<br/>  <strong>Title:</strong>          Wreck (Only know to Villains)<br/>  <strong>Affiliation:</strong>  Resistance<br/>  <strong>Location:</strong>   Streets of LA<br/>  <strong>Tags:</strong>          Open<br/></span></span><hr/><br/><br/>In great loping bounds Marcus easily cleared a blocks distance with each jump.  It was easier to travel this way than pick his way through the detritus that blocked more streets.  You couldn’t really call them streets anymore.  Some were little more than piles of rubble.  Others were jutting up at sharp angles or had been rent my huge chasms by the earthquakes that continued to shake what once was Los Angeles.  Marcus hadn’t been sure where to go and decided that the museum was as good as any place to hole up for the night.<br/><br/>The anger and thirst for vengeance he felt ached for quick and violent release, but his parents had taught him control and patience.  Rushing in and hurting everything in sight would be very satisfying, but Pestilence had used his sisters as hostages once before to control him.  She would do so again.  He needed a place to think, a place to plan both their rescue and his vengeance.  The others would likely be long gone from the museum so Marcus loped towards his destination, his thoughts fueling the fire burning inside him.<br/>…<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Time seemed to stop completely in that one terrifying moment…until the pain started.</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>Marcus regained consciousness in a roar of pain.  His body arced against bonds that held his body against a cold metal table.  His muscles bulged and writhed beneath his skin, which felt pulled tight to the point of bursting.  Pain ripped through him as he felt his bones breaking only to reform and break again.  Each bone tougher and stronger with each break, which made each break more excruciating.  The bonds felt tighter and tighter and began to cut the circulation off in his hands and feet.  The pain was so intense that Marcus could do nothing but writhe and scream.  He bucked against the table.  The back of his head leaving dents in the thick metal.<br/><br/>“Interesting.”<br/><br/>Through the haze of pain he heard the voice, but it meant nothing to him.  Another surge of growth elicited more screams.  Anger and rage mixed with pain and fear.  His fingers and toes curled in spasm and he heard a loud pop, that he thought was another breaking limb.<br/><br/>“Pop!”  His hands were free.<br/><br/>“Hold him.” The voice directed.  It was calm and cold.<br/><br/>Marcus felt something grab ahold of his arms trying to force them down again against the table.  The pain was so much he could barely open his eyes and the haze of tears made the scene even more surreal.  Bright lights flooded his vision and there were dark figures hovering over him.  He tried to control his contorting limbs and shoved one of the dark figures, who disappeared from his view with a loud crash.<br/><br/>“He’s too strong!” He heard the other shadow shout.<br/><br/>Marcus reached up and grabbed at the blurry vision of the shadows head.  He felt his hand wrap around the shadows face and with his other free hand grabbed whatever clothing it wore.  With a twist of his torso still locked in place on the table he threw the shadowy figure across the room to where the other figure had disappeared.  Cries of pain and another loud crash followed shortly.   With a surge of fear and anger Marcus ripped his body from the table.  The metal bands that had held him tore like tissue paper as he rolled from the table, landing on his hands and knees.  He could tell he was naked against the cold floor.<br/><br/>“Very Interesting.” He heard that voice again.  It was a female voice.  The pain was beginning to subside as he took in ragged breaths and looked up, sweat matted curls of hair clinging to his forehead.  A woman stood before him, not much older than he, but with eyes ancient and cruel.  Her blue hair flowed over her shoulders and she wore armor more revealing than protective.  She was pale and beautiful and deadly.<br/><br/>“See that he is trained properly.” The woman spoke to someone, but to whom Marcus did not know.  He could barely lift his head to look at her as another wave of pain wracked his body and his skin stretched again as his body grew from the inside out.<br/><br/>“As you wish.”  Marcus heard before a crushing weight impacted the back of his skull and he blacked out once again.<br/><br/><br/><br/>