How Old Is Marcus Lopez In Deadly Class Novels & Stories

“You want someone to blame for your suffering? Then look in a mirror.” Marcus stared at her. Then he laughed—a broken, bitter sound that started softly and grew until it echoed across the entire courtyard. “Afraid?” he rasped, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth as he met her glowing eyes. “You think I’m afraid of death?” His laughter stopped abruptly. “I died forty years ago.” Silence fell like a shroud. The crowd exchanged confused, uneasy glances. Marcus’s gaze drifted upward toward the moon hanging above the courtyard. For the first time, the hatred drained from his face. Only profound, endless pain remained.

I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Everything was a mess. But one thing was clear—I had to talk to Marco. I had to know if any of this was true. I even started to question if his name was really Marcantonio Moretti. From what I remembered, my mother died when I was about nine or ten. Marco is maybe three or four years older than me, so he would’ve only been around twelve or thirteen at the time. How could a kid that young kill someone? “We’re here, ma’am,” one of them said as they took off my blindfold.

Kate kisses his cheek and hugs him but he shows no reaction as he grieves in his heart. Marcus stands at 5’11ft and has a pair of cold-looking dark eyes that makes it difficult for most people to maintain eye contact with him. The night’s breeze kisses the top of his head which is bald and blows through the grey hair behind his head as he rolls his black rosary around his wrist.

She dipped her hands in “5 minutes in heaven. Great. That’s Grade 9. Downstairs last class on your left.” “Thanks” she walked away, counting her steps, still as magnificent as ever. Marcos and Marcus couldn’t take their eyes off. Well, Marcus stared a little longer. “Okay. Your turn.” Marcus dipped his hands in and brought out his. “5 minutes in heaven. That’s—” “I know. Been standing here for a while. Grade 9” he smiled at Marcos. “Yeah. Well have fun bro. It was all your idea” he dapped him. “Thanks” he said, following Alicia’s every step.

Nodding agree as he cuddles me and walks out, I look at Jackson. "Not a clue, I just didn't think now was the time to talk about anything." Nodding I agree, Jackson makes me a cup of tea, and sitting at the table neither of us talks. Luna and Alex are been held hostage by Katy after Jackson's orders until Marcus gets back. Sitting I drink the tea, me and Jackson not talking when the door opens. Marcus walks in smiling, my eyes widening. "What’s with the faces, who died?" He laughs sitting down. "Mate, the who died right now is fucked up." Jackson looks at him, Marcus looking at me and realising.

‎ ‎ The stench of iron, roasted flesh, and cheap wine filled the air, making my lungs reject the breath I took. ‎ ‎ ‎The older man pointed his fork directly at my chest. "Who is the stray?" ‎ ‎ ‎Rosette laid her blade flat against the wood, her black-painted face completely expressionless. "He is Lucas Lorenzo." ‎ ‎ ‎My ears rang. The ambient wailing in the hall seemed to fade into a dead hum. She knows my name. ‎ ‎ ‎The casual chatter around the tables died instantly. ‎ ‎ The older man stopped chewing. The amusement vanished from his eyes, replaced by a cold, calculating stillness.

I'd never seen this kid before in my life, but something about his eyes looked familiar. "Read the note," Carlo said grimly. I unfolded the paper with shaking hands. 'His name was Marcus. He was eight years old when you killed him. He loved soccer and wanted to be a veterinarian when he grew up. You took that away from him when you bombed my house years ago. Now I'm going to take everything away from you. Your woman and your son are somewhere you'll never find them. But don't worry - they'll die knowing you failed them, just like I failed my boy. - Rex'

Her scar caught the dim warehouse light, making her look older than her twenty-eight years. Marcus stood up and walked over to us, moving carefully like an old man instead of someone who was only in his mid thirties. "At least I don't pass out from standing too long." "I'm fine," I lied. "Just got dizzy for a minute." "You're not fine, Isabella. None of us are fine." Marcus kicked an empty can across the floor. "We're dying slowly in this place, and for what? So Elena can live in some fancy penthouse while we rot like animals?"

Past everything Catherine claimed to want. The music led to ballroom. Massive. Empty except for single figure. Damien. Standing. Not dying. Not wounded. Perfectly healthy. "Hello, Flora." Wrong voice. Wrong cadence. Wrong—everything. He smiled. Pulled off face. Prosthetic mask. Beneath— Marcus. Alive. Impossibly alive. "Surprised?" He was older. Scarred. But unmistakably Marcus. "You should be. I have been dead eight years. Quite convincing death too. You watched me burn. Remember?"

The previous Marcus that she knew that were too introverted was nowhere to be seen. "I'm not sure… I guess when I was four or five months old?" "Really?" Marcus was startled. "I was also four months old when I woke up on this body. I was actually surprised that five years had passed since I died as Leno." Minerva leaned a bit closer. She lowered her head for a bit and touched the tiger plushie's ear before she asked. "What did you feel the first you met Uncle Lorenzo?" ×××× Marcus was taken aback by her question. He thought that she'd ask about his life as Leno but she unexpectedly asked her about his father. But regardless of his surprise, he still answered her.