fandomtownies | Imperial Junke Yard, Saturday

Marcus hadn't slept much last night, but he didn't feel tired, didn't seem to need as much sleep as he used to. The things Kyle had told him were insane, impossible. But put them together with everything else, especially the fact that he was walking and breathing and free, and he believed him.

What was and was not possible seemed to be up for grabs in Fandom.

He'd never been one to worry about things he couldn't change. There was no point. Best thing to do was simply deal with it, and even if it was going to happen, he had another eight years.

Since he couldn't leave the island, he'd have to work out how to live here, and it was too small to resort to his previous methods. Too big a chance people would track it back to him, and he'd had enough of jail. No one seemed to pay much attention to the junk yard, or care that he'd been in and out of it half a dozen times already, so he'd set up there. The board and spray paint had been turned into a sign which read: We fix things: Automotive and appliance repair.

It was hanging from one gatepost. Marcus was leaning on the other.

[The junk yard is open for business, just don't look too closely at the paperwork or ask to see Marcus' receipt.]