| Marco "Picasso" Zamora |
 |
| Portrayed By: | Pancho Morris |
| Status: | Active |
| Age: | 28 |
| Occupation: | Personal Bodyguard |
| Family: | The Zamoras |
| Significant Other(s): | None |
| Freak Factor: | Totem Warrior |
Background
The Gomez family was a traveling band of Mexican circus folk brutally murdered in a tragic elephant accident. Their son, too young yet to have been involved in the act, was left an orphan to be raised by the bearded lady, strong man, and folk of the sort.
That was an adult daydream that never happened, of course. Picasso has till this day never bothered to look into his biological parents.
Once child services learned of his situation (as he was technically an American citizen) they were quick to take the boy away. They placed him in a few foster homes for the next few years until he was adopted by the Zamora family, a couple eager to have a child of their own but tragically unable to.
So they embraced Marco as their own. Charlie Zamora was his father and Mariana Zamora was his mother as far as the boy was concerned, given the fact that they took him in when he was three. A mechanic and a teacher in Las Vegas, they loved him in their own way.
Elementary school ushered the personality that hid behind an expressionless face. It turned out to be as fun loving as the next kid, reveling in the war that was recess but trying his best to coast through classes without lifting a finger. From that age, he showed a bit of a Napoleon Complex when it came to other kids talking about his family.
Naturally, one came along and yapped his mouth off and punches were thrown behind the science class. Just as naturally, Marco found a best friend in the enemy of the moment and the two became inseparable. With his wits and Zamora’s tendency to eel his way out of the arms of an assailant, they soon claimed kingship of the playground.
Puberty and junior high hit them, and with that his childhood relationships slowly dissolved to leave a usually quiet loner – though it wouldn’t take much instigation for him to break that quiet. Like someone was always out to insult him. His grades weren’t the best, and he didn’t seem to do as well as the other kids and anyone who pointed out his academic shortcomings got a moody glare.
In high school, well, high school was all about one thing. High school was about Mary. She was a little too pale and a little too skinny, but he really didn’t see that. To Marco, she was /everything/ despite the fact that he never uttered more than a few syllables to her.
The hunt was on; even if that hunt lasted all of high school and then a bit. It’s somewhere toward the end of high school that we must digress from the end all and be all of his teenaged hormones and introduce the supernatural to give him something else to think about.
He survived an attack.
Probably due to the boxing and wrestling lessons he’d been faithfully attending since elementary school. The young pugilist had even won a handful of junior tournaments. His muscle memory kicked in and he managed to fend off the demons that seemed to want his liver and more importantly – Mary Elkin’s.
His patience had won out, it seemed. God, because he must now exist, had given him an opportunity to prove his undying puppy love and dedication and…manliness to his classmate. She ended up freaking out enough to somehow block that night from her memory. She also started seeing a therapist and some how associated something horrible with poor Zamora.
God did not exist. The Serpent did, though, and apparently he wasn’t too bad a guy. Or chick, as it was. The dreams came, then the visions. Images of more demons and more damsels in distress to save hit him with a force he’d never encountered – if you count an old man taking a walk at night as his next damsel in distress.
It gave him something to do, while working off the feelings that burgeoned so strongly for the object of his unrequited affections. Something which he came to enjoy – drifting through life up till that point, he had found purpose in fighting the things that claimed the night.
Snake seemed to /know/ him in ways no one else did. Risking his life by night, he stopped putting even the minimal effort he had put to get through school. He dropped out, three months before his graduation.
His parents were heartbroken, sad, but unwilling to confront him – perhaps overly mindful of making him feel unaccepted despite all that they had done for him.
He pushed carts during the day and continued embracing the serpent within him by night – and did so successfully, till the Lachnie Hag came along. It him hard – and for weeks after his parents stood by his side at the hospital, thinking that he had been mugged on the way home from work.
The risk finally hit him – but it didn’t stop him. He continued fighting, day and night, till his parents came to him with an ultimatum. Either go back to school and get into college or join the military. Always looking for more family, the military was his obvious choice.
It was 2003.
Amid the war torn chaos that he experienced with his brothers in arms in the 30th with the 3rd Division, he still found demons. He may not have been the best shot, but both the human defense and the demons that came to take advantage of the disorder felt the wrath of his fists, despite the fact that they belonged to a man of such small a frame.
Then came Farah. She was responsible for a group of vampires that preyed on both sides during the night – and the dozens of civilians that were caught in the crossfire. As if the bloodshed caused by humans was not enough, they had to hold nightly massacres – feasts of blood.
One by one, he took down her number. Till he was left with her – except he just could /not/, this time. There was something about her. Perhaps it was the way she talked, the way she walked – or those hips. He’s never been quite sure. You know what they say about sex and death – whatever it was, he was attracted to those fangs.
Mary Elkins was forgotten completely. Somewhere in Iraq, Marco got the name ‘Picasso’ for the art in the way he took down his foe in unarmed combat. Sure, he continued fighting evil for Snake – but he just could /not/ end the whirlwind of a relationship he had with Farah. She captivated him like nothing else had – to the point that he let her feed on him regularly.
In something that approached divine intervention, Picasso was promoted – and that promotion involved going back to American soil. Recognized for his skill at unarmed combat, he was to be a Combative Arts Instructor at Fort Gordon. With Farah out of his life, he turned to other demons – ones that man has had for almost as long as the actual kind. Tobacco and alcohol.
The demon hunting continued, but a year later he chose not to renew his contract with the Army and found himself returning once more to his hometown. A routine patrol ended in him saving the life of a certain lawyer, and jobless, he accepted the job – only to find out that his employer was so much more than he seemed.
Despite the fact that he is permanently on the job, Picasso doesn’t seem to mind. Sure, the duo he seems to have found himself with operates with a little less…discretion but it’s given him a chance to embrace the night life he never did. Plus, they /do/ hunt demons and fight the good fight every now and then, so it all works out. Perhaps it’s what Snake had planned all along.
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