Today had been the most uneventful day in the history of uneventful days. No one interesting was roaming the streets of Los Angles, a shocker to Tate and all of his other…personalities. So instead of wasting his time out in the heat of California, he was pacing around the shit hole they all called the murder house.
No one really bothered to talk to him these days, well no one in the house anyways. They had good reason not to. He was even worse than when he died here. Not only a psychopath, but also now a freak with a million different voices. Oh joy.
So it was strange when he saw a bright light and then felt the house shaking. He grabbed hold of a wall as things flipped over and just as quickly as it came, it was gone. He rushed outside to see what the hell had happened, only to see some guy, knocked out in front of the house. Great.
He walked over to the guy, kicking him lightly with his boot before deciding he would take him inside. This guy must have been related to whatever the fuck just happened and since today was so god damned boring, he supposed this would spice up his day, if only a little bit.