A Homicidal Bitch

Marshall stopped by today. I've never gotten used to the sight of him.

“I know where the next piece is,” he said, staring at me with that weird glowing eye oif his.

“Where?” I asked.

“I can tell you,” he said. “But first, you need to recruit some help.”

“Anyone specific?” I asked.

“16 year old serial killer who hates bullies,” he said.

“Oh god,” I said. “Her? Also, can't you alter your appearance some? That eye is freaking me out.”

“Which one, the one that's glowing or the one that's missing?” he asked.

“Both,” I replied.

He faded away, but I could still hear his voice.

“I'll come back and tell you where it is once you've spoken to her,” he said.

Great. Of all the partners he could ask me to recruit, it just had to be her.

What a drag.