Chapter 2 : Welcome to Caineville
After driving for what seemed like forever due to the canyons being an endless stretch of nothingness, Sid and Marshall came to a sign that identified this new section of shit-hole as the town of Caineville. "Look at that population," Marshall pointed. "I've had more crabs."
"Nothing like a small town to set up shop. Motels up here to the right." Sid pointed.
As they drove they passed what looked like and probably was the town's only bar. The Luna Mesa was within walking distance from the motel. "That's a plus!" Marshall smirked, "can we go play with the locals, brother?"
"Fuck no! We will stay low for now. She gets here tomorrow. Then we look for civilian jobs and a place to set up operations."
"That doesn't sound like fun." Marshall complained as he pulled the sedan into the motel parking lot and parked close to the main office.
"I'll kick your ass!" Sid warned stepping out of the car.
The two approached the main office to find the door closed with a sign on it that said, 'for assistance come over to Luna Mesa - Devon.'
Sid read the note and grunted, "looks like this Devon wants some complementary internal surgery done."
Marshall beamed and said enthusiastically, "Really?"
Sid gave him another look. This idiot was really collecting them lately.
They walked over to the dusty bar. Sid would rather avoid social situations but there was no way he was going to let the family fool rent a room for them. He opened the door to the quaint Mexican style bar and restaurant. As what Sid believed to be the proprietor, an old bandito, glared at them from behind the bar probably because they aren't local Marshall asks Sid loudly, "Holy shit, do you think they got tacos here?"
There was a random guy wearing dirty coveralls sitting at the bar. When Sid and Marshall came in the local guy downed his drink and got up to leave sneering at them on his way out.
Marshall's eyes immediately found the local's damaged teeth and he whispered, "I know what else they got here."
Sid warned him and whispered, "brother if you find yourself some of that sugar i promise you I will personally make it my mission to force you to consume an overdose. Don't want to do that again, do we?"
"I didn't want it for me." Grinning Marshall said looking down. Meth was is a hell of a torture drug.
Sid walked away from his brother. He approach the man behind the counter and greeted him as friendly as he was capable of. He learned the man's name is Walter. He does own the bar, the motel and half the other buildings in this town. Sid smiled thinking about how much he is going to make his renter's insurance increase. Murders always do that. anyway, Walter explained to the guys that he thought they were looking for trouble. Sid convinced the old man that they weren't and Walter turned into a gracious host.
When asked about motel rooms Walter offered cottages that are about a four a mile behind the Luna Mesa. They are bigger and would be more private and comfortable. Sid agreed, took the keys and walked over to their assigned cottage. Marshall ran to bring the car from the motel to the cottages.
As the door shut behind them Walter stood back and started to menacingly stroke his beard. He looked toward Devon, who had been quietly sitting on a bar stool, "those boys, seem badass. Keep an eye on them. We are looking for new recruits."
Devon nodded and Walter continued, "in a couple days I'll have Mac look through their shit so we can learn more about them. Let them get moved in. Then we will find out just who they are and learn their weaknesses."
-—
Back at the cottage Sid immediately claimed the smallest of the 3 bedrooms. It was more of a cell than comfortable sleeping quarters. The first change he made was to place black curtains over his windows to keep the light out. He then disassembled his bed so there was just a mattress with a sheet in the corner. After that he removed all furniture except for a metal lawn chair and a wall mirror. Sid then closed all the windows and his door and laid their in the stagnate silence.
Hours passed he moved to the mirror and studied his long, wavy, brown hair. Picked through his trimmed goatee. He removed his faded jean jacket and studied his Budweiser shirt for bloodstains. Finding a few he took his shirt off and revealed a tone body and a once white wife-beater tank. Satisfied with his appearance, he called out to his brother down in the basement, "going to get rid of the car. Don't do anything stupid!"
"Yes sir." Marshall spent the better part of the afternoon unpacking and organizing his collection into the many shelves that the basement offered. He has always been nostalgic, some things he just can't stand to get rid of. The bloody box was full of those things. He opened it to a even more powerful smell. He muttered to himself "I'll have to get more embalming fluid."
He arranged his jars of horror in a aesthetically pleasing way then put up a curtain so only he could enjoy his creations. He then brought down the desk and chair from Sid's room and made it into a make shift work table. He grabbed the box spring from
Sid's bed and brought that down along with the rest of the furniture for the 2nd bedroom upstairs that was meant to be his. He ended up with a pretty classy spread. His comfortable bed towered and synced up divinely with the television he put on his other desk because when was he going to do real desk stuff? His plans were to play video games between killing sprees. He had a mini-fridge filled with kickstart. The best part of his room was by far the pink fuzzy bathroom rug that he swiped from on of his victims home. He liked to rub his face on its softness. He also had a white fluffy bathrobe and a random medicine cabinet hanging up. The medicine cabinet had its mirror smashed out. There are no mirrors in Marshall's room. Ever.
The inability and lack of desire to see his own reflection explain why his dark hair is buzz cut. Unlike Sid, who's eyes are malignantly dark, Marshall's eyes are baby blue. Typically he wears ripped jeans or sweatpants with a T-shirt or sweatshirt. With Marshall it's the baggier the better especially his sweatshirts because it leaves lots of room for his collection.
Marshall finished his room and packed away the unused furniture in the spare room. He was antsy and couldn't get the temptation of today out of his restless mind. He knows that Sid will skin him and play around in his blood if he disobeys him but what if he just wants to do a little research? Yes! Marshall would hang out at the bar and find out where to get it and find out whose the easiest. So when the time comes when he gets let off his chain, there will be less of a run around and more... art.