Prolouge
"You know I really get a kick out of this," the mysterious figure said to the 4th grade teacher strapped to the chair in the middle of the caffetra.
To say Kyle Michelson was confused would be an understatement. He was also terrified. The last thing he remembered was putting his daughter in bed before everything went black and he woke up there. How did this happen? He wasn't sure? "Please. I don't know what you want, but can't we talk about this?"
The figure, who was looking through a bag laughed and said, "No. I don't think we can, Kyle." The figure turned and though, shadow hid his face, Kyle could hear the smirk in his voice. "Can I call you Kyle?" The figure walked towards him and Kyle saw that he had pulled a sharp a butcher's knife from his bag.
"Please," Kyle begged. "Don't kill me. I have a family."
"Kyle, buddy." The figure said, bringing the knife up to Kyle's face. "I don't care." With a laugh, he stabbed the knife into Kyle's throat. He felt Kyle's blood splatter onto his face and watched the life drain from his eyes. When the body goes limp, he carves a pentagram into Kyle's forehead and stands to admire his work. "One down. Five to go."