Chapter 1: The Arrival

Charles Williams, master of his world, strolled down 9th avenue, in a city with no importance, an unknown state and a community far from the eyes of the authorities. Fate had granted him a rainy day, ideal weather for those with actions intended to be covert from the public. He was performing his daily routine, same actions, yet a different path. He carried a new toy with him today, a container of shiny blue crystals. He was terribly ambitious to indulge his efforts and soul into the impending night of hope and flesh. Charles has had no faith in society ever since he had been abandoned as a child, and has shrugged a fatal grudge ever since; you might even be able to call him an anarchist. Along this path, he sprinkled the crystals all over the lawns of the houses he passed without a second thought. The blue dust carried a delicious secret; it was a chemical defoliant. A powerful one indeed, developed by the Chinese government, it was intended to make sure that the slightest spring of life would never grow where it infected. And how conveniently the rain dissolved the crystals without a moment's passing, the trail steamed into the rattling night. He was still so terribly bored though. Jessica Brown, mother of two children and loyal wife of Mark Brown, took an ensnaring gaze outside the window. Her two children, Rick and Mary, were innocently at leisure in their rooms with an entrusting sense of security. It was a devastating night, one that has not been experienced in months, with rain so heavily clouding the night and thunder ripping the night into a blinding flash. As she awaited her husband to come home from his job from the outskirts of the city, she couldn't help but ponder as to what that strange person was conjuring in the rain. The man, had black waves down to his shoulders of tangled hair, wore a collared shirt, possibly white at one point, yet so tortured by the elements it resembled an array of textures, and some jeans, which seemed torn in every way possible. He was moving his hands in a motion of an unleasher of spells, and moving his body with ease in the movement, as if he were enjoying his current condition. Jessica, yet immobilized by the sight, made no movement.

It was 9:25 p.m. Mark Brown drove down 15th avenue to see his long awaited family. He was an accountant, where the work was far from home and often caused many issues. His beautiful wife and adorable children barely encounter him, and he often ponders on their dying affection towards him. Though his wife has a persistent sense of paranoia, he has learned to live with the woman of his life. Mark was a stern man, capable of physical feats although working as an accountant. Possessing short brown hair and the figure of a football player, he was proud of his appearance. His wife, tall, with blond hair, a smooth face, and dazzling blue eyes awaited him. His son was twelve years old, on the verge of puberty with a gruff face and a chubby posture. His father would consider him some sort of a nerd with an interest in Star Wars and Lord of The Rings. Though he would never admit it, he had a soft spot was for his daughter, who was only six years old, and to him, resembled an angel in a flurry of golden braids. She loved to perform aerobic feats but was fearfully restrained by her mother's will.

The night troubled him, as if some mystical presence enshrouded his arrival. Yet, he clouded these thoughts with the enchanting thoughts of his family as he made his way through the barricade of rain. Charles Williams, with such a variety of options to perform and an open agenda peered into the vast night of opportunity. As if a light of hope shined dimly yet brightly through the cover of the evening, he followed the light without doubt, that fate had given him another chance to demonstrate his long constricted wrath.

Jessica Brown, watching as the man came closer, double-locked all her doors and windows in a flash, and checked to her children's safety with an enhightened attribute of paranoia. Though her children were still bickering upstairs she had done all she could with them on such short notice. With phone and mace in hand, all she could do is tremble for her husband's return and unfortunately the arrival of the stranger. The house had not been suited for maximum protection against the intrusion of strangers, she had believed that she was safe enough in such an isolated development and preferred to have a more comforting appearance than a confined household, for she also inhabited a case of claustrophobia.

Charles approached the two-story house, with a sturdy appearance, and a color so bland, was indistinguishable in such gloomy weather. As Charles stepped upon the first step of the walkway to the door, the light coming from the window extinguished, as if the light's disappearance indicated his arrival. "Ah…" he had not felt so exhilarated in such a long time. Though Charles has a fragile appearance under the mess of rags he wore Charles actually inhabits a very luxurious household and had a strong capable figure. Charles is not a workingman, though 34 years of age; he relies on the money from his inheritance to keep his financial burdens away. As an only-child, Charles had lived with his adopted parents at a very young age (who were more suited for the role of grandparents) they were very old, perhaps 70-75 years old, and very wealthy. In the younger years of his adolescent his parents had been brutally murdered when mistaken for a pair of scandalous corporates meddling with illegal foreign affairs. Though the culprits were never discovered Charles did not hold any form of vengeance upon them, but more of an ill will towards society, considering everybody was like the culprits, cruel, slanderous, insensitive, power and money-driven. He had locked away those memories long ago. During his period of adoption Charles had memorized and perfected the calligraphy of his adopted parents and synchronized the everyday routine they followed. Through some deception and manipulation, which he was very proud of, he managed to devote every last asset of his grandparents towards himself and see them grasp for their pitiful lives in a simple and slow motion of arsenic poisoning. Through the eyes of the authorities, Charles was old enough to inhabit the property himself without parental authority. The authorities believed it the death was caused by an attempt at suicide. Shortly after Charles relieved himself of the constant and dulling attendance of his education. In the mind of this man, he often regrets having such an exuberant past, yet knowing the fact nobody must ever be informed of such an interesting rise in prosperity. The night shrouded Jessica as she lunged in the dark corner of her house, armed to her most convenient extent, unseen by the keenest of eyes and awaited the stranger's passing. Shortly before, she instructed her children, to ensnare themselves in the darkness, within the sanctity of their closets, embodied in clothes and miscellaneous toys until their father returned. The power fainted and the phone lines gasped into oblivion. Though the thunder was by far the most havocking noise within the night, one steady rhythm exceeded it. One so strong that it could not be ignored, one so demanding that it could not be stopped, and it just got faster and faster, it was the looming pulse of Jessica's heart.

Mark checked the time, 10:43 pm it was getting late, and he was only on 12th avenue. When suddenly he found a car parked in the middle of the road. The vehicle was conspicuously abandoned. It was a silver BMW, with a door open, and a model too hard to distinguish, and it was parked in the most inconvenient fashion. With no other soul in sight for miles, mark sealed himself within the crypt of the sealing night's whisper as he hurried to his buried family.