#xlskling

                    “Yeah.”

        Chris’ choice of wording is always so short and sweet, leaving little room for misinterpretation, but he’s sure Eddie will find a way. This isn’t how he’d wanted this to go. It never is.

        Chris’ seemingly never ending search for victims-- no, he didn’t like putting it that way-- the lucky ones. The ones he granted a swift exit from this place; they had lead him all over this hell with the stench of blood in his wake. Mt. Massive lived up to its name in size and occupation. Soul after soul freed from the dangers of possession, but after he had freed one, there were ten more in its place.

        Contrary to what others might believe, however, it isn’t exactly easy to make out his own location or the location of his little pigs. The monstrous man sees everything through frosted glass, only able to see shapes and the difference between light and dark. What he really relies on is his sense of smell and acute hearing and the information he’s gathering with such senses is mixed. The air is thick with the smell of death and rot, so much so that it drowns anything else out completely. And as for sounds-- Well, there’s a radio playing.

                                               It’s as if he’d stepped into the twilight zone.

Useless Details

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