“James Burnham was shot and killed yesterday evening at 3:48pm. Police currently have no leads to whom the murder might be.” The reporter on the rusty television says. James looks over from the counter smirking as he pours himself a coffee the dark liquid sloshing around in an overly sized mug. He sets down a blank book next to his coffee grabbing a stool to sit down on. In one quick motion James is sat down and the book is open, thick red ink runs onto the page eerily resembling blood as he writes down one name. Jessica Haules. A grin forms, he looks over to the tv Jessica’s still speaking on.