I had officially created a goal in my after life, but why? Killing isn’t justified, and it never can be. Then why am I setting onto a path that will lead me to killing? Maybe I don’t have too. Maybe I can talk to him, get to understand him. Learn about him. Maybe I can talk him out of this crazy notion that he can overrule The Guardian God of Limbo. But how? How am I supposed to find him if even his right hand man has no idea how to find him? We searched for a month and only found a info dealer that was linked to the Twilight Mafia. If Marcus was able to build a base on the moon, who knows where in god’s name Marcus himself will be?
“Sir?”
And when I do find him, and if I figure out what to do with him, how am I going to do it? He probably has years of combat experience that I simply do not have nor probably never will.
“Uh, sir!”
I continuously find myself in these complex and  complicated situations that I have no clue how to get myself out of, and in the end of every situation I end up using others to get there.
“Sir!” Yells an impatient young man stand from behind the cash register, “That’ll be 12 jarls, sir. Please sir, your holding everyone up.”
I shake my head, behind me is a long line of agitated people waiting for me pay for my cheap T.V dinner. Nervously, I reach into my front jacket pocket and grab 13 round jarl coins and place them in the young man’s hand. “Sorry, mate,” I apologize and quickly leave the cornerstore. Home was only a block away from here, so I walked over to buy something to eat as I had nothing left at home. I haven’t heard from Gaiden or Flare for a few days now, and I was kind of hoping for a little help as to how to find Marcus.
After our little talk the other day, Jarrek was pretty quick to get me out of his office. I was finishing up my awkward speech about getting revenge on my father and then suddenly his assistant came rushing spouting nonsense about demons and pigs; but I have no clue as to what the hell she was getting at and frankly, it wasn’t any of my business. Charles then escorted me home and I have been doing nothing ever since. I tried to get in to meet Jeffery and see if he had any leads, but the guards at the doors wouldn’t let me in. I tried to explain that I was a friend of his, but I guess that’s like saying I’m friends with the Queen or the President of the United States of America.
My apartment isn’t in the greatest looking environment around, but it’s home. There is a lot of sketchy characters that live in the building, but no one really bothers me. That’s because of the intervention of the kind little old lady that lives across the hall from me. I came home from work one day to find her standing in my apartment aiming a military grade combat rifle at some poor sod that tried to steal the television Gaiden gave as an “on your own” gift.
As I approached my building, the old lady that lives across the hall from me stopped me at the steps, “Young Travis,” she calls from atop the staircase and slowly made her way down. She was missing a leg and had a glass eye that didn’t quite follow her real one, but she was adorable with how she presented herself as a regular ‘grandma’ character.
“Mrs. Steelie?” I held out my hand to aid her down the stairs.
Her one good eye looked up at me from under her loose skin that hung down from her brow, “There are some tall shady looking character-men snooping around your apartment. Were you expecting company?”
Shady looking men? “Yes, Mrs. Steelie, those are a few of my coworkers from the store. I told them that they could watch the rugby game Limbo America is hosting tonight.” I lied to the sweet old lady, but it was for good purpose. I don’t know who these people are, but just in case I should leave her out of it.
Mrs. Steelie soaked it in, “The rugby game?” She smiled and tapped me on the shoulder, “Oh yes, I almost forgot you were a Brit. My husband tried getting me into that sport, but I just never could. Any ways,” she continued down the stairs, “Go Jaguars,” she chants quietly to herself. As she steps out of the open doorway her night gown opens up from the wind and under are two shotguns strapped to her waist under her wrinkled and naked torso. I really didn’t need to see that.
I shake it off and make my way cautiously up the stairs, and as I reach the second floor I can hear at least three men talking and arguing while moving around my stuff. They were looking for something, and I think it’s pretty safe to say it’s me.
“There’s nothing here except old pizza and Chinese food,” said a low and weak voice.
“Oh yeah? How old is it?” said a familiar gargle.
A darker and older voice rose up, “Damn it Pankake, this isn’t the time to be looking for food, we have to find Rex immediately. You can eat once we catch him.”
Pankake?
“Awe, don’t be so uptight Toothie! It’s just food, it isn’t going to loosen his sent if I eat a few boxes of pizza, is it?”
I stand quietly near the top of the stairs and try to peek into my room. The door is ajar and I can see the shoulder of the demon who nearly ate me, and the lame ‘mom’ tattoo peeking out from under his arm hair. Every few seconds a hunched man with crazy grey hair and a long scarf slowly creeps past the door way as he argues with Pankake about the food left over in my apartment. ‘Pankake? Why is he here?’ I ask myself, pressed up against the wall of the staircase. Somehow they didn’t hear my conversation with Mrs. Steelie.
“Stop making so much noise, you fat pig,” barks the hunched man at Pankake. The two go quiet until the sounds of old pizza and cardboard can be heard slurping into Pankake’s revolting mouth. Suddenly the slurping stops, “Wait,” the creepy hunched man says, “I smell something.”
The calm voice speaks up, “What is it?”
The hunched one inhales deeply,” Processed potatoes and beef.”
“I checked the fridge,” says Pankake as I look down at my boxed dinner, “there ain’t no food like that at all here in this place, or else I would have already found it.”
“Awe, crap,” I fearfully whisper to myself and try to quietly sneak back down the stairs.
The boards creek under my feet.
“The hall,” shouted the hunched one.
My heart breaks and I jolt down the stairs. Behind me I can hear one of the men chasing down with me. I race out of the building, turn into the back alley and sprint as hard as I can forwards, but before I can even cut a sweat I run into a large soft wall that knocks me to the ground. As I look up in front of me, there stands the pungent Pankake and his monstrous belly. The fat demented demon clown looks down at me past his bulbous red nose and opens his serious face to a large sinister smile, “Well, so we meet again, Fresh Meat.” In the pockets of his gums are pieces of cardboard and old browned pizza wedged in between his large yellow teeth.
Terrified, I scurry  to my feet and attempt to run back out from the alley, but there stands a tall red haired man with black eyes, covered in scars, blocking my path. “No where to go, Fresh Meat!” taunts Pankake, munching on the pizza left over in his mouth, “You got him Scar?”
The scarred man with red hair silently nods and spreads his legs, getting ready to move if I do.
“Junior is looking for you, Rex. You best not try and run away,” says the dark and older voice. Above me, perched on the fire escape is a man covered in smaller scars, wrapped in a long red scarf and wearing nothing but a blindfold and ripped jeans. As he opens his mouth to speak, I can see long shark like teeth, “Could you be so kind as to come… quietly with us?” he asked while scratching at the escape with his long dramatic claws.
I nod in utter fear.
Jeffery’s going to kill me, isn’t he?