That did it. Marcus didn't need much reason to go off, and as if being mocked by this talentless rogue wasn't enough, then he had the gall to actually knock his board against his own. Using a board as a weapon? That was his job. He was surprised by such a direct assault, sure, but his hostile glare never left the kid's face as an incredulous sort of fury poured over him.

"I remember the part where the 'am cleaners had to scrape you and all of your sorry crew off the street with your boards." He snapped back, his body flooded with the same kind of manic energy that came around before a race. The Spartans had been a good crew until they screwed themselves over, and this kid had undoubtedly done some research, but that didn't give his argument any leg to stand on. If anything, Marcus was even less inclined to listen to him now, regardless of whether he was telling the truth. He didn't want to hear anything else.

Reason had wavered when the kid had first appeared, and now whatever remained fled eagerly in the sight of this latest physical attack. He grabbed for the band on his wrist and switched off the gravity pull of his board, then jumped down onto the sidewalk. Although he wasn't large or particularly imposing by any means, especially for such a physical position as blocking, on the ground he moved with a blind, fierce intent that he imagined made his message very clear.

"Nah, man, I think you must be a special kinda dumb." He growled as he lunged for the kid to try and knock him free of his board and hopefully put a swift end to his taunts. He was trained to fight only thanks to the rough caress of the streets, so while he wasn't a pretty sight and he knew nothing of rules or brawling etiquette, he knew enough to do some damage if the opportunity arose.

Marcus liked to think that he had a good sense of balance. He had to in order to be an effective blocker, but even so, he was mildly thrown off when the kid pushed back. Maybe it was the fact that he was standing on solid ground instead of his hoverboard, or maybe he just hadn't expected any sort of fight out of the kid whatsoever. Marcus wasn't a big guy by any means, and comparatively the wannabe Spartan was even smaller - an uncommon scenario but one he appreciated - so he'd kind of assumed he'd be a literal pushover.

It took half a second for him to restabalize his footing, then he came around and lunged forward, trying to back the kid against the crumbling brick wall of the 24-hour laundromat behind them. There was a huge window just a few paces away, but they were mostly shielded from the gaze of the most likely bored laundromat customers. They'd only be entertaining people on their side of the street today. Audience or not, Marcus couldn't resist the sweet allure of trash talking his opponent. "You realize your mistake yet? Yeah, I bet you wishing you gone the other way right about now. Too bad you didn't think of that before you saw the King."

His scowl deepened into an unpleasant, manic sort of sneer as he swung at the kid, trying to land a hit anywhere he could. Well, that was until the kid's board somehow wound up at his heels. Automatically, he punted the thing aside, and immediately, he regretted it. Hoverboards were heavy. Like, are you sure that's not a rock, heavy. And unfortunately the human foot is more yielding than both rock and hoverboard. He bared his teeth in a grimacing hiss, cringing and lifting his feet alternately in something that almost looked like a dance of pain, "As soon as I finish with you, I'm gonna take your shit board and drop it off the Tower."

He was so fixated on this impudent little punk who definitely needed to be taught a lesson, in addition to the throbbing in his foot, that he didn't notice that the pair had moved their scuffle a few paces over and were putting on a nice show for the laundromat customers. Well, watching a couple of boarders beat the snot out of each other sure topped watching the drying cycle.

Marcus Kingston | M | 19 | Lions' Blocker | Mentions: Grayson

Marcus huffed irritably as he leaned against the brick wall, trying his best to emulate a cool and unconcerned attitude. It was offset slightly by the flush in his cheeks and the tear at the elbow of his jacket where he'd been scraped against the ground. Nevertheless, he did his best to completely ignore the situation and act as if was totally his choice to be trapped here by cops, really. He refused to make eye contact with either officer, instead just glaring sulkily at the kid, a silent warning that he wasn't about to let this offense slide. He wasn't actively arguing at this moment, no, but he was absolutely seething. He really, really wanted to tackle that kid again and finish what he started, but there was a cop standing in his way.

"Got some ID you feel like sharing?" The cop was asking him as he pulled a scanner from his belt. The questioning was merely protocol, as well as a chance to establish cooperation - he could clearly see the bracelet around the teenager's wrist.

But Marcus opted to let that opportunity fly right by. They'd have to work for it. He crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the questioning as he continued his death glare towards the kid. The cop pointed the scanner in his direction and there was a faint beep.

"Marcus Kingston. Lions. Pretty early for you to be out and about, don't you think?" He commented as he read off the collected information.

At the mention of the other kid's board, the cop glanced over, curious, "Spartans, huh? I remember that. Messy business, what's that still doing on the street?" He pushed something on his scanner that made Marcus' brightly striped board shut down. There was a soft hum like a computer blacking out, and then the board settled on the pavement. "So, Marcus, what's with you and your Spartan buddy creating a public disturbance?"