Snippet #2469318

Marcus scrubbed his hand underneath the faucet, washing away the fresh blood that caked his palm.

Marcus had eventually found the spot in the river he had been looking for: a narrow section with a nice, wide sandbar in the middle. Crossing had been as easy as waiting for the patrol boat to pass, a quick swim, waiting for the boat to pass again while laying flat on the sand, and another quick swim and he was on the north side of the city. He had to avoid a patrol car that was cruising the coast, but the fog made that fairly easy. The fog was a great boon to Marcus, and it'd be a shame when it was gone.

It took Marcus only a half hour to reach a residential section of the city. It was mostly apartments, since it was situated so closely to the Market district, and catered mostly to a younger demographic. Marcus decided that he would have to gain access to an apartment and find a change of clothes, since his were soaked from the river. After a little internal debate, Marcus settled on an apartment building called Cottonwood Towers. The main door was unlocked and the security guard at the front desk was an elderly gentleman, quietly snoozing away. Marcus casually approached the desk, leaned over, and grabbed the directory. He flipped it open, paging through the lists of tenants.

Eventually he picked out Derek Ford, a 32 year old who lived with his girlfriend on the fourth floor. Marcus didn't know if the police had alerted the general public to his whereabouts, but he imagined that Derek wouldn't open the door to a stranger all the same. If he wanted into the apartment, he'd need a key of his own. The door to the main office was directly behind the front desk, so Marcus put the directory back in it's original spot and moved behind the counter. The door needed a key to open, but luckily, there was one dangling from the guard's belt. The old man's eyes snapped open when he felt someone tugging at his belt, but he didn't even have time to make a sound before the curved blade of Marcus's knife slid through his throat. Marcus grabbed the man by his shirt collar and pulled his lifeless body to the floor. Marcus took the key, unlocked the door, and dragged the body inside. Blood gushed from the man's neck, leaving a thick trail on the floor behind him.

After a quick search of the office, Marcus had found the lockbox with all of the keys. He slammed the corner of the box on the floor, and it promptly popped open. Marcus sifted through the keys until he found the one he wanted. It was a plain key with a small pendant hanging from it engraved Apt. 4C. Marcus made his way back to over to the body, and knelt beside it. The man's face was stuck in a silent scream, his last moments spent in pain and fear. Marcus gently grabbed the man's throat with his left hand, coating his palm in the still warm blood. Marcus then stood and left the office, making sure to leave a nice, neat handprint on the inside of the office door on his way out.

One short elevator ride later, and Marcus was standing in front of apartment 4C. He unlocked the door as quietly as he could, and let himself in. It was a nice little place, with light blue walls and cream-colored carpet. Marcus hated it. He slowly made his way through the apartment, the ugly carpet absorbing the sound of his footsteps. The main room was open, with the living room, dining room, and the kitchen all sharing one space. There was no one else in the room, but the t.v. was on and he could hear the sound of a shower behind the closed door to his right. Marcus walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. After taking a moment to decide, he grabbed a beer and closed the door. Marcus turned around and spotted a block of knives resting on the counter. It was a very tasteful set of knives, with polished stainless steel handles and all held in an elegant maple wood block. Marcus took a moment, pulling out all of the knives and inspecting each one. He settled on a 7" chef knife, and carefully put the rest of the knives back into their rightful place. Feeling satisfied with his "shopping trip", Marcus went and sat down in an armchair that was facing the bedroom door. He used the knife and popped the cap off of the beer, and took a long, slow drink.

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Derek finished drying off and moved into the bed room. He could hear someone rummaging around in the kitchen. Must be Ashley back from work. He spent a few minutes deciding what he was going to wear. He settled on a pair of jeans an a plain white shirt, and got dressed. After spending a minute or two checking himself out in the mirror, he went to the bedroom door and opened it. Derek stood in the door frame slack-jawed. There was somebody sitting in his chair, staring right at him. The strangers clothes were wet, and... Derek's eyes widened as he realized who it was. "Oh my G-" He was cut off by an empty beer bottle smashing into his face. He stumbled back and fell down, disoriented and bleeding form several cuts on his face. He rolled over and began to crawl further into his room, while also trying the shake off the foggy feeling in his head. He made it over to the bed when he felt several hot, sharp pains in his back. He saw a hand clutching a kitchen knife move towards his throat, and then he suddenly felt very cold. He could feel a warm liquid pouring down his neck and chest, and he lowered his head to the floor, suddenly exhausted. I'm going to close my eyes, and wake up. This has to be a dream, this has to be a...

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Marcus scrubbed his hand underneath the faucet, washing away the fresh blood that caked his palm. When he deemed his hand clean again, he dried it off on a hand towel and left the bathroom. Derek's body lay at the foot of his bed in a large pool of blood, the Chef's knife dropped next to him. There was a bloody handprint on the wall near the bathroom door. Marcus went over to the closet and picked out a new outfit. He had made a good guess with Derek, they were both similar height and weight. A pair of dark brown cargo pants, a white tee-shirt with a black sweater pulled over it; with a pair of black tennis shoes, a black beanie, and a brown leather jacket to finish it off. Once again properly dressed, Marcus looked around the room one last time. He noticed that there was a fire escape outside of the bedroom window, and decided that would be better then going out the front door. He climbed out the window, making sure to close it behind himself, and set off down the stairs. He had made it a floor and a half when he heard the shriek of a terrified woman from the apartment he had just left. Marcus hurried down the last couple flights of stairs, and followed the ally onto the street. He began to walk north, determined to put as much distance between himself and Cottonwood Towers as he could.