<em>Marcus, a man of Iroquois decent has had an interesting past 30 years.  You see, he can see ghosts.  Unlike some overpaid actors and actresses he does just see them everywhere and whisper to them.  He can feel them, touch them, talk to them, and live in their world and ours.  Sounds cool right?  Well then guess what, you win the prize for the most foolish twit on earth.  In the thirty years of his life Ghost have been there.  They have been there when he pees, poops, makes love with others and or self, and truth be told that can really do a number on someone.  You see, marcus is a spirit guide like his father before him and their fathers for thousands of generations.  The guides were the tribe shaman.  Many of the times they were there as a person was passing over and could help guide the spirit to the proper place and or tell them what they needed to do.  Even if they came upon a soul who has wandered the guide could help them.    The guides always trained there sons whom by bloodline alone would inherit the power to spirit walk and guide.  Marcus never knew his father or his tribes past.  Marcus was found in a dumpster outside or Old Comiskey<br/><br/>Normally these guides live in small rural areas and only deal with a few.   Yet Marcus lives in Chicago near the old docks in a revamped old warehouse.  The dead of course find him here because unlike the guides before him Marcus seems to be able to just become a doorway and that the dead can use.  A shortcut if you will.  A shortcut with a cost to him.  Every time one passes through Marcus must live their worst pains in life and the suffering of their deaths.  For no soul can pass on if the are burdened with what was.<br/><br/>So now you will know as you read on why Marcus has a chip on his shoulder, a stick up his butt, and just generally hates people.  You ask now why didn't he just end himself..  easy.. the dead are selfish and they wont let him.  </em><br/><br/>The sun does its impression of a creepy spiders as it slowly crosses Marcus's scowling yet sleeping features.  One dark green eye pops open, the color of which is odd for one of his race.  The single open eyes slowly scans the room looking.  Looking for the tell tale sign that one of them is there watching him as he sleeps.  He hates it when they do that.  Its gives Marcus a better understanding of what a caged animal in the zoo must feel.<br/><br/>Seeing none of there ectoplasmic trails about and mists he allows his other senses to trickle out.  He doesn't feel suppressing cold air so thats good too.   Yet after dealing with them so long he knows they can hide from the mortal eye so with nothing but a thought he allows his body and mind to enter the ghost world look about and return.  The trip between the realms is very quick when going fully body is indeed but it does always tend to leave its mark in the form of a small annoying itch in the back of his eyes.  One he knows is impossible to scratch.  So he ghosts just a sing finger and jabs the ethereal finger in his skull to scratch the itch<br/><br/>"much better...." he groans.<br/><br/>He stands and plops along to the shower allowing the sheet to fall exposing his tall lean muscled brown flesh to the elements.  A sight he quickly realizes is being admired as he rounds the corner.  For their stands Agatha.  Agatha is a prostitute from the early 1800's who just cant help but to be the first to appear in his day just so she could watch him naked.  You would think a spirit that old would be a little more mature.<br/><br/>"Oh marcus... where were the men like you when I had the flesh I could use for your enjoyment."<br/><br/>"Most likely dead or dying from some disease your nasty crusty self gave them.. now go away.."  Marcus grumbles as he veers around her and into the shower.