Into The Crypt

2:30 PM,  12 minutes after entering the catacombs.

Man, only 12 minutes and it's already too creepy to move.  I came down here thinking that there would be people in this tourist trap and all I find are piles of bones and complete darkness.  I think I'm lost, too.

2:56 PM,  26 minutes after first journal entry.

Great, now I'm hearing things.  First its some kids laughing, then some low growling of some sort, and now people praying? What's next?!

3:10 PM, 14 minutes after second journal entry.

As if hearing things isn't ba-~  Sorry, a skull came loose.  As I was saying, I'm starting to see some weird things...  For example, I saw a dark figure of a woman walk across one of the many halls, and when I went to check if she was still there, I only found part of the wall.

3:37 PM, 27 minutes after third journal entry.

Well, I've got good news and bad news.  The bad news:  I'm hearing things, I'm hallucinating, and I threw up about 5 minutes ago.  The good news: I've figured out what's wrong.  You see, after I sat down to write this journal entry, I noticed something weird about the walls.  They were damp, gritty, and - fuzzy?  Yes, I said fuzzy.  Apparently this part of the catacombs were closed due to a serious mold problem.  So that means means I'm going to leave this dump to get some antibiotics, maybe have my stomach pumped, and go home.

The Who?

Well, my life has been a long journey full of both good and bad times, but let's just start from the beginning and make this easy on ourselves.  As you probably know by now, my name is Marcus.  I was born in 1986, which would make me about 26 years old.  I had a good childhood with a nice family, a great house in the suburbs, and good friends.  There was only one problem:  I had a bad temper - actually, I still do have a bad temper.  So, when I was old enough, I decided that the best outlet for my anger was the military.  After a few months in Iraq, I realized my choice wasn't the best, since I wasn't really the best shot, or strong enough to hold an LMG.  I mean, it didn't help that I was assigned to a stealth team as a Marksman (Stealth team:  In my eyes, the wimpiest kind of squad.  Marksman: Most boring type of soldier).  If I could've picked for myself, I would've picked a shock trooper squad so I could jump into battle headfirst.  After a while, the commander started to realize (after a major failure on one of our missions) that when I was assigned to a stealth team, he pretty much gave a bunch of ninjas a minigun. So then he transferred me to an assault squad, where I got a new M4A1, no modifications or anything.  I took advantage of the situation an modified it into the perfect all-purpose weapon (You would've passed out at the sight of it!).  After a lot of missions, and quite a few modifications to my M4, I was told that I was reassigned to a different program.  On September 26, I was officially notified that I was reassigned to Wolf Battalion, Easy Company.  My first thoughts:  YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!  I've never been a big fan of time travel due to the Paradox Theory (Hey, just because I didn't go to college doesn't mean I haven't been reading).  If there's one thing I've learned in the military, though, it's that sometimes you're not going to get your way, no matter how hard you try.  So I, a reckless but intelligent soldier from the War in Iraq, am now apart of a division of the United Nations known as the International Time Travel Association (ITTA).  Boy, will my head hurt when I try to figure out how time travel works!