M A R C     R I N E H E A R T

T H E   B A S T A R D    &    T H E    G E N T L E M A N 




//    I N   T H E   B E G I N N I N G    //

 It all started in a little coastal town in south Texas named Port Aransas.  

It will be a new start. Their parents told the four of them. Good for the family.  They promised. 

Port A was filled with breezy, balmy nights and sandy beaches for miles. A bit of calm in a world of crazy. At least, that's what their parents wanted them to think. But things didn't change. Not with their fathers bad habits, and just like every other night when the beers had been consumed and they all went into their rooms the 4 brothers Knew there would be hell to follow. 

Maybe that's why Marc never cared what trouble he got into. Never cared when those hard metal cuffs were slapped on his wrists and he was dragged off to juvy over and over again. The only time Marc cared is when he heard that call coming from the window across from his. When that girl he'd seem to grow fond of was standing there with disheveled hair, bawling her eyes out. 

The first time he met her he had slipped out his window to make some deliveries and earn some cash. But he'd made a few mistakes, found himself matching her as she sat outside their homes. Shaken, Marc put on a show of bravery despite his fear over the threats he'd been given.  They consoled one another...and the rest of their relationship is history. 

Many arrests and several years later Marc found himself slipping into a high school routine that filled the stereotypical teenage life. Marc managed to skate by, barely noticed by students and teachers. His grades were decent enough to pass, but nothing out of the ordinary and he never pursued standing out despite wicked smarts. Thanks to his tattoos and his motorcycle he was just the enigma to the students that everyone knew of, but never cared enough about to figure out. A mystery to everyone except her. By that point he was sure she knew more about him than he knew about himself.  

Night after night they met in their own marked spot and when she was too weak mentally or beaten down to come sneak away with him he came to her. Strong arms gathered her to him, winding their way around her. It was an attempt to draw her out of the nightmare she lived in.

They would talk for hours. About anything and everything. Each time she bled he would clean up the mess, each time she cried he wiped her tears. His brothers always used this against him as blackmail since he was never supposed to leave the house in the first place, but he didn't care. 

One night Marc's world went insane around him. His father imbibed far too much. And when he came into Marc's room and proceeded to beat the shit out of him for the first time in his life, Marc knew then and there it was time to leave. All the money he stashed away from his dealings and stealing would be beneficial, but when he went to retrieve it so he could disappear into the night....he found the box empty. His father had taken his spoils. 

'Did you really think I'd give you your shot at freedom? You pathetic son of a whore. You'll never be free. You're a waste of air. A waste of space. Should have thrown you in the ocean the day you were born and saved us all some time.'

Despite getting that last laugh his father didn't live long past the lashing. His mother saw to that one. She also saw herself on the receiving end of a knife, but thankfully she had enough grace to take their beloved father with her; Much to everyone's relief. By then the brothers had run off, finding jobs on the rigs and left Marc behind to deal with the mess. They all wanted him to join them.  Marc voiced his opinion on this in disgust but knew ultimately he'd become a greenie just like them. He wasn't looking forward to it. So to pass the time, and gain a new skill or two Marc found himself working and nearly living out of a small auto mechanic's shop at the edge of town. He had goals, ambitions. He wanted more than anything to become a real fighter.

Just a few more months and he'd be finishing high school. 16 weeks until he'd give up what he wanted and do as his brothers demanded of him. They had the house, they'd set the rules. It made him livid, but he'd accepted it as his destiny.

The morning that set it all off kilter started with Marc spotting that neighbor of his being cornered.  She was being hit on forcibly by a guy she didn't want to have anything to do with and the plea of her release had caught Marc's attention. She looked petrified, the tears in her eyes causing Marc to see absolute red. Before he knew it, David - the football star was on the ground in a bloody pulp, and cops were fast on their trail.                               


"Come with me....."

She hesitated for only a second to that outstretched hand, but eventually she was taking it and they were off. At some point he'd have to face the music. But for one night he was absolutely free.  A knight in dingy jeans and a mount in the form of his trusty 'steed' - an old parted together Frankenstein motorcycle.  

His brothers heard what happened and found the pair at his mechanic shop. Convinced him to do the right thing. They told him it was best to face the music, but Marc knew exactly what was going to happen.  He didn't have a clean record, and he knew right where he was landing: a jail cell. He was 18. 

After a few days missing from campus his court date came. Much to everyone's surprise the judge he'd gotten was a lenient creature and gave him a different option. One that left him in shock, and numb. "Son, you almost killed this young man. If you want to fight you should do it with integrity and valor, not stupidity and your fists. You have two options: Go to war, or go to jail." 

He agreed to join the military and was given a report date. "If you don't show up, you're AWOL, and it's straight to jail for you..." A stern warning. 

She called him her knight, but he knew better than that. He had his own rules to play by. At the very best....he was a mercenary.  This judge though, had seen something else in him. Just like she had.....

Speaking of that girl....the one he'd spent nearly every night of his childhood with? She stole his heart. Plucked it right out of his chest with those beautiful digits of hers in his last few weeks of freedom. Everything changed in just a few days time. 

He didn't even get to say goodbye

But, Everyone knows fairy tales and happy endings are for suckers.....


//    T H E   W A R    //


Afghanistan. It was a God forsaken country, in a horrible area he learned to hate. Namely  The Korengal Valley. Over and over that shit hole ran in his head while he slept.  A country he wanted to run from in his waking hours as much as he did his resting ones.

Over time Marc got his assignments and Restrepo Outpost seemed to be the death sentence his unit dreaded. Every one of his battle buddies and himself knew that there was a very likely chance at least half of them wouldn't be going home by the end of it.

It happened so fast that No one knew what was going on. Separated from his unit through a particularly nasty fight Marc found himself in a sea of sand, bushes and trees. The heat in that country was excruciating and the 150lb pack that rested on a plastic frame moaned as he rushed to find cover. Hands found no purchase as he began to fall down the side of the mountain, and into heavens only knew where. He recovered quickly though, snagging a tree. His slinged weapon had luckily followed, and so he still had that. Suddenly he was noticing a possible respite.  A crevice he squeezed himself into while laying down suppression fire.

Hands slid along the crevice meeting a slick ooze. A black tar coated fingers as he pulled his hands back. It was its own entity, moving as if it had a mind. It's smoky tendrils reached out to him. They dragged him down. Tore him apart. It ripped into his humanity and ultimately it remade him. Now on his shoulders rested something he had never bargained for, nor wanted.

A curse.


 Marine-aims-Remington-870-shotgun.jpg (450×290)



//   T H E   C U R S E    //

The Curse of 39


 Funny enough the curse of 39 started with an old school pimp. A man who had gotten in way over his head for dealing with women. He had everything he wanted at the palm of his hand. To this day his name is rarely mentioned.

Our beloved pimp was brutally killed, and taken for all of his money and built riches. He had a game plan though and he came back to haunt. To torment, and to torture the man with those riches. Anytime that he partook in any enjoyments in life, well bad things started to happen to them.

Very few still know what the curse does in its entirety, and so few are willing to talk about it. The number 39 in Afghanistan wont even be mentioned. It is just "One less than 40."

People are still trying to figure out what the curse does exactly. If you ask someone who has it, well they would say it ruins everything and makes you crazy, but if you ask the people around them...it turns them into a demon.


//  O N E     S H O T    A T    A    T I T L E  //


Valhalla Gym

Returning home Marc found himself bored, and with a bleak outlook on life. She had been long gone, and no one was waiting for him when he made his way back. His brothers had written him off, and there was nowhere else to go except to Texas. His attitude left him with an 'I want to destroy the world' feeling. And Marc was falling into a self destructive pit that was beginning to swallow him whole. 

Only his best friend Jason remained. Much to Marc's surprise the man had turned into a beast. 'What the fuck happened to you, asshole?' Marc insisted. Curious as to how the pudgy Italian had turned into a muscle-bound monster. Jason insisted it was all because of a new fighting style he'd found. A new gym that was looking to turn raw talent into something that could withstand the heat of the ring.

'Come on, join me. You've got nothing to loose except maybe a few pounds of that pudge you got going on there...'

Not that the man had an ounce of fat to give. But Marc agreed to take a look and try it out for a few months. A few weeks turned into those months, and those months turned into a few years later.....

At first the place he was introduced to was some underground pit that had a few alright men, and some good trainers. The moment Marc and Jason showed up as a pair? Well, the interests in the duo became interest piqued. Did they have what it took to make it to the top? No one knew. But they sure as hell were going to find out.

Soon enough Marc and Jason began to make a name for themselves. They won round after round underground. Money poured in for the club, and the facility was upgraded to something a bit more modern than looking like it had come out of a 1930's film. 

They were going nowhere but up.

Eventually they started growing out of underground ranks and into the semi pro leagues. It was grueling, and time consuming, but worth every moment. Now more than ever Marc wanted nothing more than to make it to the big events. The media had gone in a frenzy over the rising stars.....




Fighting Class: Heavyweight/Super Heavyweight





//   S T A T S    //

Name: Marc Rinehart

Height: 6'7

Weight: 275lbs

Age: 29

Residence: Port Aransas, Texas

New York City

Southern Cali

Sexuality: Bi-Sexual

//  A B I L I T I E S   //






Photographic Memory

Mental Manipulation (Hallucination)

Marc is one of those guys who no longer has any fucks left to give. Every time he buried his life into another that wonderful little curse turned his world upside down. Want to be a part of it? Fine. but don't say he didn't warn you.

"Always a gentleman....never a saint."



//   R E L A T I O N S H I P S  //

Marc  has absolutely no plans to involve himself permanently with anyone. That's not to say he doesn't hook up with people occasionally and it's not uncommon for him to take on a regular lover. Male or female either gender gets a fair shake.  Despite the world telling him that he's wrong in thinking like that he really doesn't give a fuck what people say about it. He is what he is. 


 Best Friend: Jason McDaniel

The man had become buddies with Marc when they were in elementary school. Some playground squabble that followed them right into the halls of 6th grade. The chunk of a kid had taken it upon himself to add to the 7 against 1 fight, and ever since then the inseparable pair had taken on everything together. When Marc had been forced to leave, Jason took up his slot to help support the family, as long as they provided him with a place to stay. They were all too happy to oblige. 



Alan  Ryan , Clay 

Of the four brothers Marc is the youngest.  Each of them are fearless, and love one another unconditionally. They would go to the ends of the earth to protect each other.  Marc is the baby brother, and scary enough they call him the ugly duckling. [tbc.]


The One Who Got Away :  HER

Time and time again people asked him, wanting to know: "Who has your heart?" But all he could do in reply was shake his head with an empty stare. He really didn't want to talk about it.

He tries often to forget about that girl back home. But her grasp runs deep, and he just can't seem to let her go. He's not sure if he's scared or just stubborn. 

She was his first love, and the one who broke his heart. He always figured she'd be his last. She may be out of the picture....but she still haunts his dreams. Dreams plagued by war, and memories of salty air nights,  curling up to find comfort in each other during a time of such evil...whispered words of what their future might be like

- And that fateful day -

"Wait for me, I'll come back for you."

 He'll never give up wondering: Is she still waiting somewhere?


February 7

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