You were wondering through the abandoned house of the Greywhinder’s. All the lights off besides a few lamps and your flashlight. The house had horrible blood stains, holes punched in walls and the entire structure was filled with a sickening feeling of dread. The air was sticky and sour, almost as if you could feel the awful things that had happened here. You wondered through the house until you got to the basement, the room where Martin had first kept the bodies of his family members and made his toys. Despite expecting the house to be empty, a small light was on in the basement and Martin was casually leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, his dark, tired gaze shifting to you. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at you, not even looking. It was a silent threat not to run or he’d shoot. And there was no doubt he would.