<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<br/>  <strong>Affiliation:</strong>  Resistance<br/>  <strong>Location:</strong>   Los Angeles County Art Museum at the corner of Wilshire Blvd and Fairfax Ave<br/>  <strong>Tags:</strong>          Teletrix, Natasha Evans<br/></span></span><hr/><br/>It was surprisingly hard for a young man, still in high school when all this went down to process what happened to Katerina.  He understood what had happened to her, but it was something different to have someone tell you that a person tried to violate them and then to be accused of letting it happen, even worse that you were the person responsible for letting it happen.<br/><br/>“Not, my men.” He answered softly.  It took everything he had to control his emotions.  As a young man he was strong enough to hurt people if he wasn’t careful.  Now if he wasn’t careful he could hurt buildings.  More than ever he had to hold to the lessons his parents taught him.<br/><br/><em> ‘No one controls you, but you.’</em>His mother told him once.  Marcus would have been furious to hear those words only days ago when it seemed his only choices were bad and worse.  Now they were a simple truth. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His voice held a conviction as strong as adamantine.  There was outrage there too, boiling underneath, but he was careful not to let it show.<br/><br/>“Let Margie help you.” He suggests. “I’m going to look for the cafeteria and see if there is anything for us to eat or drink.”  Marcus looks at a couple of the other refugees that had been huddled in the corner.  “Steve.  I need you and Aaron to watch the entrance.”  This time he did not suggest.  The others were still panicky and frightened. It was kind of like being out on the field during a game.  Even if you weren’t confident, you didn’t show it or the team would lose confidence in you.  Before this war that could cost you the game, now it could cost these people their lives.<br/><br/>Once he saw the two men moving he turned away from the two women.  There was work to be done and Marcus needed to work. Work kept him from thinking too much, feeling too much.  It kept him from acknowledging that his family and friends were gone and his world was gone with them.<br/><br/>Margie watched the young man walk away from them and shook her head sadly.  There was a young man with a weight that even his giant shoulders may not be able to bear.  “We found you.”  Margie says once Marcus disappears into the museum.  “You were lying in the street.  We thought you were dead, but he made us check anyway.  I’m not sure how he knew.”  The middle-aged woman was disheveled and her business suit was badly torn.  She was a woman who wore her mid-forties well even now.  The patch job she had managed on peoples wounds was certainly more the work of an experienced mom than a doctor, but it had helped.<br/><br/>“He carried you here.”  She added waiting to see if the girl wanted any more of her help. “We couldn’t stop to make a litter, so he picked you up and carried you. I can’t imagine how frightened you must be, but I believe that boy when he says he won’t let anyone hurt you.”<br/><br/>Marcus knew the way to the cafeteria.  He had been to the museum before.  It had been on a school field trip.  It was odd being here with no one else around.  Sounds echoed in the building, the ominous groan of twisted metal magnified as it reverberated down open halls.  He found the cafeteria with relative ease.  There wasn’t much there that could safely eaten, but he did find a couple of vending machines that he peeled apart with screeching protests.  He gathered the chips and candy bars from one and the juice and water from the other.  He wasn’t a lot, but it would work for now.  Marcus rooted around in the kitchen and found an old cardboard box that he could use to carry his stash back in.<br/><br/>He made a quick stop at the gift store on the way back.  Walking around bare chested was a little strange to be honest and the mutant girl probably wouldn’t appreciate it either.  There was one problem.  Marcus had been a big boy before Judgement.  Now he was huge.  He stood at a good 7 feet tall and he had to turn just to get through doorways his shoulders were so broad.  He looked all over for something to wear and came up with a XXXL black, tank top that stretched so tightly over him it may have well been painted on.  In tiny letters it read “L.A. County Art Museum.”  Still it was better than nothing.<br/><br/>Marcus came back to the group and set the box on the ground near Margie and Katerina.  He looked as if he was about to say something, but shook his head and began to turn away.<br/><br/>“I think I hear someone out there.”  He heard Aaron call back from the opening to the street.  Marcus hadn’t felt anything before.  It must have been the shifting of the building and the movement of the refugees, or the fact that Marcus had no idea how his abilities worked.  Marcus closed his eyes so he could concentrate on the vibrations.  He found he could sense things farther away that way.  Yes there was someone out there.  Moving to the front he motioned for the two men to move back and prayed however was out there wasn’t another hunter.<br/>