Hey hey, y'all! The gang and I (@erekiosuncreativeideas, @partyintheunderworld, @erikathefangirlrl, and Hannah on twt) are back with another Cuphead Stream!!!
Join us at 11AM PST for fun and games and lots of weirdness!
Characters: William (The Colonel), Markiplier (WKM AU)
Words: 1120
Notes: Based off @markiplier‘s imagination for how Mark was killed in episode 1 as expressed in his livestream on the 28th. Might add more at a later date.
The Colonel was laughing at the absurdity of the scene around him: Damien was stood on his head and the detective fellow had just abandoned the keg stand to take a friendly swing at the District Attorney whose name he'd still not learned. It was a joyous occasion of drunken revelry and he himself was gleefully waving his revolver, cheering on the fight while the butler raced over to break it up and sent his oldest friend toppling over from his headstand.
“Will?”
The Colonel whipped around, gun at the ready before he realised it was just Mark, who threw his hands up in surrender.
“What do you want?” the Colonel slurred, scowling as he lowered his weapon.
“I was hoping you'd join me in the cellar for a drink,” was Mark's warm reply, his tone friendly. “Have a moment of peace to clear our heads...maybe clear the air a little.”
The Colonel squinted at the party's host, mulling the offer over. He'd already drunk quite a bit during the poker game, but then again he still felt quite lucid. One more glass wouldn't hurt, no matter what it was. Just one more. Besides, the scumbag’s proposal intrigued him.
“Bully!” The Colonel declared grandly. “Very well then! After you!”
Mark smiled widely, a brilliant excitement shining in his eyes. Taking the lead, they strode from the room, leaving Damien trying to shake awake the thoroughly clobbered District Attorney while the detective boasted his victory. For a moment, the Colonel could have sworn the color faded from the walls but he shook it off as a mild dizzy spell from not having drunk any water recently. After what felt like just a blink, the two men were stood in the wine cellar. Mark selected a bottle and then patted at his robe.
“I seem to have left behind the corkscrew,” he admitted sheepishly. “You wouldn't happen to have one on you, would you?”
“Have you forgotten that I am always prepared?” the Colonel asked wryly, withdrawing a swiss army knife from his coat pocket and handing it over.
“Ah, thank you,” Mark replied graciously, swiftly finding the right attachment and opening the wine. “You always did keep your little tools handy, even when we were boys.”
Setting the bottle on a table the Colonel hadn't noticed before, Mark collected two glasses from the rack and set them by the wine. He then gestured for his guest to sit as he poured the crimson alcohol.
“I must say, I was surprised you came, Will,” Mark said with an air of nonchalance. “What with our...falling out, I’d think you'd have tossed the invitation into the fire or torn it up.”
“Oh I considered that for a long time,” the Colonel drawled. “But you know, I haven't been home in years and I figured might as well see these old stomping grounds again.”
Mark's friendly smile did not change as he handed the other man his glass before taking his seat.
“Well, I'm glad you came, old friend.” The last two words were accompanied by a slight toast to which the Colonel did not respond, taking a gulp of the burgundy liquid and reveling in the flavor.
“Bully! That's good wine!” he exclaimed, setting his glass down a touch harder than necessary. Mark simply swirled the alcohol and lightly inhaled the fragrance before he placed it”
tenderly on the table.
“You know, I didn't just invite you for a good laugh and a drink,” he remarked. “I wanted to...let everything go. Let bygones be bygones and all that.
“And you don't think we're somehow too far past that by now?” the Colonel challenged, draining the remainder of his glass.
That seemed to make the other man pause a moment. Mark steepled his fingers as a thoughtful expression crossed his features.
“How about a little game?” he suggested. “Russian Roulette, to finish this once and for all.”
“Are you out of your mind?” the Colonel asked, words blurring together.
“Not at all. I want to put our old quarrels behind us; we’re both too old to be holding such a grudge after all this time. Life is for the living, after all, and neither of us are truly living with this bad blood between us.”
Mark got to his feet, reaching out and grabbing hold of the revolver the Colonel had forgotten was still in his hand. Immediately the military man jerked away, trying to keep hold of his weapon but his former friend’s grip was firm.
“Will, it’s alright,” he soothed. “Look, I’ll do it right here in the open.”
The robed man yanked the revolver from its owner’s grasp and opened the chamber, removing all of the bullets save one.
“See?” Mark held up the gun. “One bullet. We’re just gonna play one game and let fate decide.”
Snapping the chamber back into place and cocking the hammer, Mark lifted the weapon, pointed it at the Colonel’s chest and pulled the trigger. The hammer sung down...and nothing happened. The only sound was a faint click as the empty chamber rotated.
“Are you out of your bloody mind?!” the Colonel roared, slamming his palms on the table and standing. “What game are you playing at Markiplier?!”
“No no no no no, no game,” Mark protested, hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I took my shot, my turn is over.”
He then grabbed the Colonel’s hand and pressed the revolver back into it, helping the inebriated man pull back the hammer and then stepping away, arms still raised.
“Alright, now it’s your turn.” Mark pointed to the gun and lowered his hands slowly. “If this shot doesn’t kill me, then we’re good. No more bad blood, no more rivalry. We’ll be friends again, like old times.”
The Colonel looked down at his weapon and then at the man who had caused him so much grief for so many years. This was mad, absolutely insane. There was a one in five chance the shot would be lethal, odds that he would never have bet on with a clear head. Yet the buzz from the wine was settling in his blood as his outburst of rage settled. This was mad, true, but life needed a little madness; it was what kept everything fresh and interesting.
“You really want to put it all behind us?” he mumbled, still staring at the revolver in his grasp.
“Oh course; it’s the only thing I want--to finally end it all.”
The Colonel’s fingers closed around the handle. Straightening up, he leveled the shining silver gun at his old friend’s chest. Mark smiled, dark eyes holding a triumphant glint.
