<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>   What is left of Marcus's home.<br/>  <strong>Tags:</strong>          Open<br/></span></span><hr/><br/><br/>Marcus found her under the rumble of his childhood home.  Her cornflower blonde hair was muddied by dirt and ash. There were dark streaks staining her face as if she had been crying, the same darks streaks shared by the son that knelt beside her.  There was no describing the grief.  Words could not express the depth of the wound he felt looking down at the face that had been there all his life: to comfort him, encourage him, make him feel safe. Death should have been peaceful and a long time in coming, but she had died alone and in pain, it wasn’t right.  It wasn’t fair.  She deserved better.  Her life wasn’t supposed to be over.  Not now.<br/><br/>There was no sign of his father.  He would have been at work when this happened.  Sarah Marie Magnusson had been home, likely waiting for the police to call with news of her missing son and daughters.  She would have been hoping and praying for their safe return.  He had failed them.  All of them.  It wasn’t like Marcus to fail.  Not at anything.  How had this all gone so backwards so fast?<br/><br/>His fist hit the ground causing the ground around him to jump and the pile of debris to shift and slide.  Some dirt and dust fell across his dead mother’s face.  The dusting of dirt seemed an affront to him.  Anger welled up inside, as he wiped it away from her face only to leave a new smudge from his filthy hands on her cheek, trading one stain for another.<br/><br/>He couldn’t leave her here to rot in the sun.  No.  Her death may have been his fault, but he could still let her leave this world in dignity.  Pushing out with his arms the dead wood and debris that covered the rest of her body blew outwards.  The shockwave scattered debris for blocks.  Marcus gently lifted his mother’s body from the ruins of their home and carried her to the pyre that was forming before him.  Wood from razed home and a stray mattress dropped into place as he carried her towards the clearing in the street.  Marcus lay her down on the pyre and kissed her forehead.  He had found a can of lighter fluid in what was left of the old shed in their backyard and the old metal siding would be good enough to strike a spark.<br/><br/>Marcus watched the wood catch and the fire burn.  Fueled by a sudden gust the flames funneled upwards to consume the funeral pyre and the remains.  Marcus watched, soot and tear stained face glowing in the light of the flames.  He had been told they would be safe.  If he did what he was told they would all be safe.  He had been lied too and someone was going to pay dearly for it.  Marcus turned away as the flames danced higher into the sky and with a bounding leap he arced over the ruined valley, landing on the cliff edge above.  He looked back over his shoulder at the brilliant flame in the darkness below.  No more tears fell from his eyes.  A cold anger was building within him.<br/><br/>He really wanted to hit something.<br/>