Chapter 1
There was no need for an alarm clock as the early birds chirping had awoken him. The man nudged his wife. "Wake up, dear," she simply continued to snore. The man looked at the wall with his usual expressionless face. He stood up and walked to the kitchen, grabbing fish and chips from the fridge, the same breakfast 5 days running.
The man's name is Marshall Caine, an office worker. Today will be his 30th anniversary since he started working for the company. He drank an orange juice and went to the floor to do push-ups. Marshall was in his 50s but had strong arms and massive hands, which his coworkers joked were strong enough to strangle Moby Dick.
Despite this, Marshall never did sit-ups so he developed a beer belly, which his coworkers again joked about by calling it the British belly. Marshall indeed was British, quite odd to see an Englishman in New York. However, Marshall left the streets of York to avoid eating fish and chips. Little did he know of his fate.
Marshall looks at the calendar and adjusts his blonde mullet. It is the first workday of a new year, 1990, and the day he expects a promotion.
Marshall enters the office building in his usual blue tie and black suit. Still with his expressionless face, he walks straight, not bothering to look at anyone, but his icy blue eyes glance over at the women. He gives a faint smirk. He used to love the presence of women in his more... dangerous days.
Marshall reaches his office until he hears "promotion time!" several people yelled. Marshall's heartbeat quickened. He turned around, struggling not to smile, and saw that no one was looking in his direction.
The man who had received the promotion was Jon Lee, the CEO's son. Marshall stormed into the CEO's office. "What the fuck was that!? Giving the job to him!"
The CEO calmly said while smoking a thick cigar, "I know what you're thinking, but it is not nepotism. He earned it fair and square."
Marshall slammed his fist into the desk. "He's been here for only 6 months! He's only 23 years old! I'm 53. I've given everything to this company. Not once did I get a promotion. But he! He who looks like someone glued pubic hair to a baby's face!"
"Listen, Marshall. Just because you're a senior worker doesn't mean you can't get fired. So, I suggest you shut up."
Marshall spent the rest of his day the same as he did for the past 30 years, quietly doing his job while no one batted an eye. He went down to the subway station, staring at the wall expressionless.
"Hey pal, got some spare change?" A homeless man, dirty, rugged, with black teeth. Marshall began to seethe in rage. He once gave money to the homeless, and that person went and bought himself expensive wine.
"No... I don't... get lost!" The homeless man paused, began to circle Marshall and said, "Yeah, sure. That suit must've cost a lot, and you can't give me nothing, huh!?" He grabbed Marshall's tie, but Marshall punched him and shoved him onto the train tracks.
From his right side, Marshall saw the lights. The train was approaching. The homeless man layed unconscious. Quickly the train ran him over. Marshall Caine stared wide-eyed. Then he began to run.
During the night, a storm was approaching. Caine's wife saw his shirt in the bin. "Why did you throw away a perfectly fine shirt?"
"It's torn."
His wife Emily examined the shirt. "I see no rip."
"Are you blind!?" Marshall went over to her and tore the shirt in half. "There's your fucking rip!"
Emily rolled her eyes. "You still obsessed that you got screwed over the promotion?"
"Emily, do you see what I'm wearing? It's called a wife beater. Do not test me!" Emily said, "Get a grip," and walked away.
Marshall sat on the couch, turned on the TV. Lightning struck, the rain poured, and all the lights were out. Caine stared blankly at the wall. There was a... strange feeling hovering. The homeless man... seeing him... it was enjoyable. Caine uttered, "I'm going to kill them."
Chapter 2
Marshall was parked outside the club and watched as the father and son inside laughed, got drunk, and were surrounded by strippers. Marshall was so furious he nearly shattered the wheel several times.
He stood there waiting and waiting for them to come out. 7 hours later, at 2 am, they went out in the pouring rain. The two were laughing and barely walking straight.
Marshall jumped out of the car and went over to them. Out of his suit, he pulled out a bat and swung at the son, smashing his head. "W-wh-h," the CEO was disoriented.
Marshall began to hit both of them repeatedly until they reached a dark alley. He hit the son's leg, breaking it, and then turned to the father, breaking a rib. The CEO layed on the floor and looked up, "Y-you." Marshall swung the bat at his head, then turned to the son and viciously hit his head in until the brains were leaking.
Marshall ran his fingers through his hair and saw his boss going inside the container. Marshall pulled him and swung the bat at his head several times. Afterward, he ran, leaving the two dead in a pool of blood.
The following day, his wife, Emily, was vacuuming the house, while Marshall was enjoying a cup of tea. The doorbell rang. Caine went to the door and opened it, "Oh...what can I do for you officers?" They grabbed him and cuffed him.
"W-what is the meaning of this?" The chief entered the house and showed a picture, "Your boss wrote 'Marshall Caine' in his own blood on the container."