Chapter 1
And so, it rained. Heavily.
Thus thought a tall, skinny, man standing impatiently in the cold. At first glance, he wasn't anything important, just your average guy, blue jeans and the like. His hair was silver, like a dull color of a quarter, his eyes were a scarlet, the color of blood, you might say. His age was unknown, apparently. At a second glance, you might notice he was holding a peculiar item, somewhat shaped like a hockey stick, slung over his shoulder, dripping water. The point of the stick seemed to be curved and pointed, it was unclear what it was. It was clearly awkward to be carrying it. It seemed like like he was waiting, and of the obvious, he was. He shook his head angrily, watching the drops fall, wanting to be out of the rain. People ran around, suitcases and newspapers weakly covering their heads, while a few joined him around the bus stop, quietly talking or using headsets to contact their workers. The man sighed, eager to be away from the chatter.
Where was the damn bus? Was I la-
A low humming of a Greyhound Express interrupted his thoughts, pulling out of the corner of the street, seeming to act like it was struggling to move on, rumbled forward, closing the distance between the man and the bus. Slowing with a loud hiss of brakes, the doors slid open, revealing a cheerful driver. Relieved, the man climbed onward, and pulled out some wet coins. "A tad bit late, Peter?", ask the man. The driver nodded apologetically . "Sorry, Samuel Grim, the old lass is nearly to her end, but don't worry, lad, I'll make sure she's tuned up wonderfully tomorrow." Samuel nodded, and turned to head to the back seat of the bus. Shoving the item on the rack above, he plopped in his seat, watching the others pay to ride. Feeling the lurch of the bus move forward, he eased into his seat. Being out of the rain felt great, but he couldn't enjoy it. He had more important things on mind.
Someone was going to die.