Mark, meet Marc (Accy)

Mark lay on the bottom of the creek, holding his breath. He loved to do this; to stay down there, as long as he could, and feel closer to his father than anywhere else. Eventually, though, bubbles began to trail from the corners of his lips, and he released breath all at once. He rose slowly to the surface, feeling his lungs burn for air, and finally took a huge breath as he broke through to air. A small smile spread across his face. He hadn't done that in a while.

He didn't even so much yell at the sudden throw. Marc's Chakram swung perfectly through the air, removed a small lock of Mark's hair, and returned to Marc's hand as if it were a boomerang. It didn't really surprise Marc at how accurate he was, especially since he hardly ever aimed his throws. But, this particular moment something had clouded his thoughts. Owl? Had shot through his mind the moment he released the weapon. And indeed, there had been an owl. He spun, almost comparing himself to a helicopter on the way down, and landed perfectly on his feet, without so much as a thud. He always had a particular grace to him, no matter how hard it was for his attention to hold one object. Just seconds ago he had been stuck on the thoughts of an owl, and now his mind wandered to why he missed the leaf he had aimed for. I definitely aimed for it. He thought in that split second right before he hit the ground. Didn't I? Now he was back to doubting himself. Which in his case, was never really all that good. In fact, it was never good. He was an all instincts kind of guy. Then his eyes found Mark. "'Sup?" He said, as he sheathed his weapons.

Mark froze as a lock of his hair was lopped off. He turned slowly to face Marc, and squinted at him. "Did that just... Oh never mind. Not much, how about you? I'm Mark, by the way."

Marc sized him up immediately. Obviously a man who cared little for looks, seemed to value life even less. He hated him instantly. Marc, who was never one for friends anyways, immediately decided that ending this man's life would have been perfectly fine with him. His eyes trailed slightly to the right of Mark, following a spot of boving colour. Butterfly? He immediately hated that thought. Marc, in fact, hated most things. Especially those of bright colour like Mr. Sunshine clones. In a half second the butterfly utterly exploded, as Marc's butterknife left it's place along his thigh. A master assassin used anything he had right. His gaze returned to Mark and in the exact same tone he said, "Name's Marc."

Mark flinched as a butterfly was quite literally destroyed just to his left. "Can you possibly stop throwing sharp things in my direction?" Huh. He thought, upon hearing the other boy's response. Same name as me. He's kinna scary, though...

He shrugged. "No." He happened to have three needleshaped spikes he already imagined embedded in the mans neck. It was just who he was to have killing on the mind. Especially when he met people.

Mark sighed. "Well just don't kill me. Cause that'd be a real dick move." He readied himself, just in case. At this range, his power would probably slow the spikes down enough to minimize the damage of impact, but they would still hit. He began to slowly put more distance between himself and Marc, the increased range allowing him more time to drain. "Probably piss of my dad, too. And his job sucks enough anyway.:

"Assassin instinct." He said, completely relaxed. He could still kill him whenever he wanted, and that brought him some comfort. But he realized him as no threat whatsoever. So it was fine. "Apology."

Mark glared at the other boy. His stance was relaxed, but he didn't trust it. The water around him grew cold as he started siphoning energy from it. It would be easier to switch between drains in at a second's notice than to start a new one all together. Tiny frost crystal formed around his hands, but he ignored them. The cold didn't bother him that much, as was appropriate for a son of death. "So... You havin' a fun day of wanton killing?"