Mark Fischbach was an ordinary, goofy, and lovable YouTuber until a package appeared at his doorstep. Little did he know that it would set his entire life on a different course: a path of espionage - a journey that would pit him against his old chil...
"And I will see you in the next video... buh-bye!" He said while waving goodbye into his camera, flashing his signature smirk before ending the recording session.
It was the end of yet another long but very productive day, he had been standing there for hours playing Subnautica and Universe Sandbox. He sat down on a nearby office chair and sighed, running his hand through his thick black hair.
He glanced at his monitor that still had the game on the pause menu then looked around his room, seeing black foam padding on the walls everywhere obviously to soundproof the room from the noise of the outside world.
The YouTuber stretched his arms up in the air, letting out somewhat a mix of a yawn and a failed battle cry, his mouth agape as he breathed out the air.
The man switched off his computer and stepped out of his recording room, lazily rubbing his belly as he made his way downstairs.
When he reached the first floor, a large golden retriever leapt on his leg with her tail wagging playfully. The dog was very much glad to see him after all those hours of staying in his recording room.
"Hey, Chica! How are ya?" The man said in a voice at a higher pitch than his normal tone while patting his pet's head. "C'mon, we'll get you something to eat."
The dog barked in anticipation.
Then, his belly growled as well.
"Hmm... I'll get something for myself too," He rubbed his belly.
The man arrived in the kitchen, with Chica following him. In there was a woman with blonde hair wearing her pink silky night gown, standing by the stove stirring what looked like soup in the cauldron.
He snuck up on her and quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, making her jump and drop the spoon back onto the cauldron.
"This is a stickup, Amy! Give me all the food!" He threatened.
"Jesus Christ, Mark! Don't scare me like that!" Amy slapped his arm.
"Sorry!" Mark loosened his grip, "But seriously, what's cookin'? That smells nice."
"Your laundry," She lifted up the wooden spoon and showed Mark a steaming pair of black boxers, "You got paint all over them again."
"Ohh," The man shrunk with embarrassment, "Sorry. We did that for a video."
"How was your recording session?"
"Pretty cool. I had to draw out this fake gun to over exaggerate the possible outcry of the community about me reverting back to my normal hair," Mark took out a toy revolver and placed it on the counter, "What about you? How's your day?"
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"Oh, just ran to the mall to buy gifts for my family," She shrugged.
"You sure you don't want me to come with you to New York? I could just delay the videos for a few more days." He shrugged, brushing his hair that still smelled like hair dye.
