As they looked in the Sixth grade anyway.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------A teen was killed yesterday. Someone I used to know, actually.
Marion Brown was a sweet, innocent girl...in the eyes of her parents, anyways. Outside of her upper class, Conservative household, she was a wild thing, if you know what I mean. She flirted with everyone, partied almost every day, was a hardcore druggie, and had absolutely no tact. She was never really caught by her parents indulging in her sinful nature, due to a fantastic grade point average and skills in the art of sneaking around.
I ran into her numerous times during Middle and High School. We had many classes together, and in each one, she would flirt with me. Usually, she would try to use her flirts to get answers for tests and the such, but I remember sometimes she would just do it to screw with me.
I hated the look she always gave me...she seemed innocent, and yet, I knew she wasn't an angel. I would also love it in some sick fashion...I lusted after it, even.
Anyways,...she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, as the saying goes...in Port Norfolk, a tiny section in Portsmouth. She was just wandering around, minding her own business, when The Dying Man attacked. Grey...
he crossed the line with this one. Christ...
I don't want to talk too much about this one, or discuss the details. This was just...wrong.
First, he somehow incapacitated Marion, so that she couldn't fight against him. Then, he stripped her clothes and...well, raped her. And...that's it. He didn't kill her the normal way, see. What he did, was rot her pelvis away with every violent thrust.
Her bones and skin were draped all over the ground, with the blood turning to brown mush around the scene like a halo, according to The Old Man. Apparently, he gets special access to the crime scenes associated with Grey...
So, it is confirmed; The Dying Man rots his victims away...either while in their body, or not.
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Bleh,....depressing news, huh? The murder victims have transgressed into the teen age group now....just great...and even yet, a teenager I know is the first one to go...
...I have some good news now though. Really good news.
Steven and I found a member for The 757. The most unlikely person, actually. Markus Smith; an old friend of mine. I've known him since the third grade. The first time I met him is a whole story by itself, actually.
One day at recess, (of course, since everything important in elementary school takes place there), I decided to try talking to someone. Back then, I was "the quiet kid." I didn't really like to socialize, honestly. But, for some random reason, I tried it that cold, rainy day.
I walked up to this kid that looked friendly enough, at least five minutes ago. Now, he didn't look so friendly. The kid had light blonde hair, freckles, and was especially tall for a third grader. At this moment, he was looking out past the fence, into the soccer field, and these features somehow punctuated how scared the kid seemed.
Sweat licked his dotted brow, his hands and feet quaked with Fear, and a persistent feeling of incomplete thought emanated from him. His eyes rapidly shot looks to the far left side of the field, as if something was lurking there in the shadows (a fence stood there, with multiple bushes and tiny trees lurking behind it). Something was wrong, in his eyes.
I asked him what was wrong, but he gave me no notice. His legs stopped trembling, though, and began to move. Markus wandered along the length of the fence, tracking some invisible target with his eyes. Eventually, he reached the end of the fence, and there he stood, nothing between him and whatever was out there in the field.
His trance was broken then. I don't remember much after seeing the daze leave his eyes, but I do remember going up to him and seeing his face brightly light up as he said hello to me.
From then on, we were friends.
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I got Markus to agree on being in my group, by asking him about that day. Strangely, he remembers something entirely differently....he remembers someone in a black hoodie and porcelain mask enveloped by a shadowed aura watching the both of us.
He also remembers running away from the figure, with me following him...we ran into the playground...around there, according to him, the memory fades away.
After he recalled that day, he seemed to somehow almost know that the recent string of murders were connected to that event; even though the media isn't reporting on the deaths (due to the influence of the Lonely Hearts Club Band), everyone knows about them.
He immediately signed up to The 757 team.
I think this is all somehow predetermined...not destiny exactly. It's the only explanation for Markus signing up for this, without any rational explanation as to why.
Also explains my sudden return to Portsmouth....
The Chess Pieces are moving into place....
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Note: Blogger won't let me post anything....I click -Publish- but all it does is take me back to my dashboard...I'm going to save this, and backdate this post to the proper date when the problem is fixed. Also; anyone notice that alot of my posts were posted by the Grey blogger profile?
That's weird...
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