Chapter 3 : Marshall's Little Slip Up

Having the voices in his head decide for him, he shut off all the lights in the cottage and closed the basement door like he was in bed. He didn't bother to lock the cottage door because what sorry son of a bitch would break in to a place where one of the Holmes brothers were slumbering?

During the short walk over to the Luna Mesa, Marshall paused when he noticed a dead fox in the middle of the road in front of the bar. Marshall's eyes lit up like it was Christmas as he walked over to the pathetic creature. He pick up the road kill, which was in pieces and stuffed the head into sweatshirt pocket. As he bent down to get the rest, he was so enamored by the gratuitous violence of it all that he almost didn't notice the high beams that were driving fast behind him. If it wasn't for the driving blasting his horn and swearing at him he would have continued to space out and become a grill decoration on the huge red truck that end up pulling into the Luna Mesa.
The driver was livid. Marshall could hear him calling him all the familiar pet names Sid calls him through his truck. The driver slammed his truck door shut with a force hard enough to make the rusted cab shake and walked toward a group of locals standing in the shadows behind the bar.

Marshall ignored the rest of the fox and went into the bar. He was relieved to still have the top half. Once inside the bar, to calm himself from all the human interaction, he would reach into his pocket every once in a while and squeeze the fox till he could feel the juices from the decay process leak out. Then he would take his hand out and lick his fingers or chew his nails in a desire to procure the taste and smell of his macabre vice. Death has always been a sexual thrill for him. The only way to top this experience would be if the head, in his pocket, were human.

He took a seat at the end of the bar. The perfect place to people watch. He needed to find some potential keepsakes. When Walter came by he ordered a bud light. As a welcome to the neighborhood, Walter gave him the beer on the house. Walter introduced his son, Devon, to him. Devon looked to be a couple years older than Sid and Marshall's little sister, the sole reason he was stuck in this shit town. Marshall immediately set toward befriending Devon because the younger they are the more easily manipulated they are. The Holmes are going to need info.

He hung out with Devon for a while. Marshall had him right where he wanted him. He thought it strange that he was able to befriend Devon so quickly. Devon must have some issues himself. Marshall was able to gathered a few things from his new buddy. Devon is apparently hot shit. He is his daddy's pride and joy and his brother, some loser named Mac, isn't worth the spunk on a strip club's toilet seat. According to this 'chosen one,' Devon is being groomed to run this vast empire that Walter has created. Marshall drank his, slowly, beer and ordered another. At this point Marshall has to use his thumb to crack the fox's skull open to access the brain matter to gain a mello disposition.

Devon continued to speak to him as 3 scantily clad females paraded through the door. They noticed Marshall and his curse of good looks. It's not a curse on him but let's just say it's lead a few to their death. He spied the town whores and gave them his 'Ted Bundy' smirk, as Sid calls it, because they're such nice guys when they want to be. Both guys could charm their own stabbing victim while they bleed out all over the floor. Marshall was thinking he could be looking at some possible keepsakes or maybe toys to be tossed away later?

Marshall winked at the ladies then looked at Devon and questioned, "so there anything here for anyone that likes to party?"

Devon put his eyebrow up, "what kind of party?"

"I like to squander my fucking mind. I like to get twisted up and do really fucked up stuff."

"Yeah I got a guy for that. I'll give you his number. He can get anything. He delivers." Devon wrote the digits down on a napkin and passed it to Marshall.

"Nice nice that's what daddy likes to hear."

While the two were talking they didn't notice when one of the ladies, who introduced her self as Missy, came over and started flirting with Marshall. Missy was tall, middle build with dirty blond hair and a fake tan. If she paid by the amount of fabric her nails cost more than her outfit. She was already sloppily drunk, completely disheveled. Missy staggered as close to Marshall was possible. It was obvious that she was flirting with him, offering to buy him drinks, flipping her hair, batting her eyes and all the other stuff that woman do when they meet Marshall despite the danger they're in. Missy even went as far as to place her palm over him. Which was technically nestled behind a fox's skull. Before she got wind of how wrong things were down there Marshall grabbed her hand and pulled her so she was sitting on his lap. There was no way she could notice his dead animal surprise now because it was on his other leg. He held her hands above the table and caressed them to keep them from wondering.

Marshall thought he would get this new keepsake comfortable with him so having some real fun with her later will be easier. He lovingly stroked her hair and whispered sweet things into her ears. The door to the bar burst open and the local with the rotted teeth from earlier barged into the bar. Marshall also recognized him from the red truck that almost took him out before this particular visit to the Luna Mesa. He strutted over to where Marshall was sitting. He gave Marshall a murderous look that he's only seen from people he's related to so Marshall lacks reaction that the local was looking for. His body hadn't produced that flinch of self preservation that anyone normal person would have since Sid first left him to be with one of his keepsakes and to see how its made. Marshall smirked as the local's eyes danced from Marshall to Missy. The local grew red and in a rage he grabbed Missy ruthlessly by the throat and dragged her off toward the back of the bar. Once the local and Missy were out of sight Marshall turned his attention back to his beer and towards Devon. He continued to sip his beer like nothing happened until Devon asked him, "aren't you going to do something? That would be my piece of shit brother."

Marshall thought, for a second, that his sister was right about that whole 'what would a person with a soul do' mantra. He got out of his seat and tiredly said, "fuck. I guess so."

He walked in the direction that the local, who he just learned is the degenerate Mac, had dragged Missy. He found Mac crowded over her trembling frame. Mac stood over Missy sneering at her barking, "you fuckin bitch! The hell you think you're doin?!"

It was obvious that he slapped her at least a few times. Her face was red and swollen. Missy's left eye had received the blunt of the damage. He had somehow scratch her pale blue eye giving it an appearance that intoxicated Marshal and made his blood run hot.

Mac looked over his shoulder and noticed Marshall gazing at missy. He snarled at him, "the fuck you looking at boy? Haven't come for you yet, but I will!"

Marshall looked around fast and grabbed the fox in his pocket. He took it out. Mac started at him in disbelief, "what the fuck is that? You some type of freak?"

Marshall smashed the fox over Mac's head, knocking him unconscious and turning his attention to Missy. Her eye was red tearing and swollen. It looked like a vulture's eye and had this film over it. The eye had Marshall hypnotized, paralyzed and memorized. He didn't say anything just looked at it and he felt heat pooling in his lower back.

He licked his lips at he imagined sticking big long blade in the orbits and removing it then fucking the empty cavity. Missy stared at him in shear terror. Her body froze and she forced a strong gaze with him because she afraid at what he'd do if she broke it their staring contest.

Suddenly Marshall's cell phone interrupted him. It was Sid. He answered obediently, "yeah. I'm out. I just went for a walk. I'm on my way back. Ok."

Marshall's plans are cut short. He looks down at Mac who is still knocked out on the floor. He searched the pockets of his dirty coveralls and finds hunting knife. He opens the knife and looks at Missy and says, "this will do just fine."

The long sleeve of Marshall's sweatshirt Is forced down her wide pipe to keep her complacent as Marshall cuts his prize out. He walks out of the Luna Mesa careful to say goodbye to Walter and Devon. As he walks up toward the cottage he laughs at the mess he's made and opens his palm to reveal his new treasure.

Later Sid hears the front door open and the kitchen sink start to run. He leaves his cave and runs down stairs to chastise his brother for cleaning body parts in the sink, "moron! Ginger ain't gonna like that! She told you not to clean them in the sink!"

"Well she ain't here yet is she?"