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An introduction via scene
"Figures right," he scoffed. "What figures?" Dr. Lupo inquired, no chance he was going to let that lay. "Doesn't matter the reality, I'm still in therapy..." Marc sighed, adjusting his mask. "Ah yes, this again. You're 'not from this universe'." The shrink using Marc's exact words, almost against him. "Yes." He growled only slightly through a clenched jaw. Tired of the dismissive disbelief, but also understanding why it was there to begin with. "(You're wasting your time, his d*ck head can barely tie his tie, let alone wrap his head around this sh*t show.)" Lockley manifested just behind the doctor, giving his moose antlers with his hands. "(Dudes a dud, let's bounce.)"
"Tell me again Marc, I want to make sure I have it straight." Lupo readied his pen, a brow raised in anticipation. Even with his mask, Marc was sure his eye roll was evident. He was checking for inconsistancies, there were never any. "Where I'm from, Roxxon took over, a hostile one as you can imagine." Marc started. "The gas company..." "Yes..." he took a moment to breathe. "They pretty much turned America into their playground." He was already back there, the burning skyscrapers, the constant fighting. Avengers either locked up or dead. The worst of them remained, so small they weren't deemed worthy of killing or wrongful incarceration. So he decided to be the best of them, to make himself big. As big as the crazy homeless man with a vendetta could be. His entire operation maintained in the very gutter of the city he was trying to save. His cape torn from the white flag that flew over Avengers Tower. Efforts though valiant, fell vain. In the fever pitch of insanity, Roxxon went for the ultimate power grab. The Moon. "They thought, if they controlled The Moon, the earth it orbited would surely follow." "Uh huh..." "I died trying to stop them and when I woke up I was...here..." he lingered on his failure, as he always did.
Lupo rubbed his forehead, a tick that told Marc he was upset. The hand gestures of the pen told the man in white he was writing 'consistant dillusional narrative'. "You know what, I'm out." Marc got up and grabbed his jacket, tossing it on in one fluid motion. "(You never drop the heavy stuff on them first Marc, you'd know that if you were a businessman.)" Grant appeared by the doorway shaking his head. "But I'm not I'm just some psycho with two jackasses in my head." He replied outloud before slamming the door.
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