Marcus Blackwell Fort Scott, Kansas It was a day, just like any other day in the life of Marcus Blackwell. He was on a case as per usual, only that his job wasn't something people would consider…normal. On top of that, it didn't even pay well – hell, it didn't even pay at all. All the money he needed to sustain himself, he won playing poker on his free nights – if there even were any. Lately, there was more activity than there was people who would take care of it, which meant he barely had time to think about anything else than his hunting business. Demon hunting business. Yes, that's what he was – a demon hunter – and all of the monsters that were said to live in the children's closets were pretty damn real. Only that they were far more worse than all the common characters from a random horror story. His 'job' was a secret profession to many, except for those who – like him – were born into families that originated from the lines of the first demon hunters in the history of humankind. The Blackwells were one of those lines, that on top of everything had a reputation of being cursed, condemned to operate as lone wolves, because it was believed that anyone who'd care to partner up with them would soonn die in the hands of the very thing they were hunting. Although, no one could confirm whether the curse was real or not, the events from the past obviously showed that there was some truth to it, which was enought to make other hunters believe that it was best if they stayed clear off the members of that line. Even though Marcus wasn't too keen on believing anything that he couldn't really prove, he considered this curse to be the truth. Especially after what happened to his wife, 5 years ago, when she died in the hands of a demon they were hunting at that time… It was a painful memory, one that Marcus still hadn't gotten over, and he doubted that he ever will. Burdened by this curse and the death of his lovely wife Kathleen, he was now determined not to let anyone near him ever again. He really felt he was doing people a favor by turning them away with some insensitive remarks or his bitter attitude, since he didn't want anyone else to get hurt, because of what he was. Indeed, he led a lonely life, that sometimes really took a tool on him. He'd lost count on how many times he'd considered pulling the trigger on himself, thus ending his misery, only to change his mind out of the fear of landing in Hell because of it, and because of everything else that he'd done wrong in his life. Yes, he believed in Hell, for he was dealing with its inhabitants every single day, and he'd heard countless stories about how horrible the place was. And where was God and Heavens in all that? He didn't know, and he stopped caring about it a long time ago, for all he was familiar with was evil. He had gotten to know those sons of bitches pretty well during his life as a hunter, and he also noticed that they were getting more and more sophisticated when possessing humans. They weren't as wild and ferocious as they used to be, instead they blended in with possessed humans' families so well it took others quite some time before they figured out there was something really odd about their spouses, or sisters or neighbours. Their crimes however were getting more horrid, which was another reason to be concerned. Being as subtle as they could possibly be, they were also hard to track down, especially if one was searching for them alone. And yet Marcus had his techniques, and what he called 'a natural talent' to sniff them out before they could make too much damage. This time his instincts led him to a bar in the middle of the town, where all kinds of rabble was gathering for some drinks. He parked his car in front of the building, and went to get some stuff from its trunk, where he kept all kinds of different weapons he was using against demons and other monsters. A gun, some salt and holy water, a chalk, and a good old family grimoire that contained all kinds of information on demons, exorcising rituals, and everything else a demon hunter needed to know in order to be successful at his job. Of course, Marcus knew most of that stuff by heart, but he had a habit of keeping that book by his side at all times. Wearing some blue jeans, gray T-shirt and a black leather jacket, he didn't really stand out from all the other people that were there. He looked like a man who stopped by to get himself a drink or two before continuing his journey, and that's exactly what Marcus wanted everyone to believe. Since he had no intention of making new friends, he didn't care to put a smile on his face upon entering the bar. He preferred to look as dark and serious as possible, because that way almost no one dared to bother him with stupid questions like ''What's your name? Where are you from? What do you do for a living?''. Not even the ladies, who were usually instantly attracted to his whole 'mysterious bad guy image'. ''One beer, please,'' he ordered when he reached the counter, and looked around himself to see whether his target was already there.