...and in the end.

Tyler sat down on the corner of the rough motel bed with a sigh, too long he'd been standing around in the drab, empty room, waiting, but for what he didn't know. A message burned into his head for as long as he could remember, 2/10/2010 Trident motel, Pontheaven South Wales. He didn't know where it had come from but it was there, every time he closed his eyes, painted on his sub-conscience. Patience exhausted, he stood to his fall six foot of height, again flexing his fists before slamming them against the closest wall, the dirty cream paint flaking off. It felt good but he'd know he'd regret it later and his hand ached and slowly changed from pale white to red. In the distance the clocked clicked away and Tyler looked to the time. 11:59, he rubbed his eyes trying desperately to wipe his tiredness away, any second now he'd know what the mark was all about, and before he knew it, the ground shook violently, the air grew so hot it hurt to breath and the night outside became so bright that the numbers behind his eyes were lost to it. And in an instant later, night returned to consume the light, the ground stopped moving and a chill swept over him, and certain something terribly bad had happened, and hesitating only a second, he ran to the door and threw it open, adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him awake and alert, fight or flight, his most basic of animal instincts kicking in.