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Mark finds great joy in tearing a hole into someone's head and making a home for themself. Nature abhors a vacuum, after all, and what bigger vacuum than someone who doesn't exist?
It's an art form, really.
See, it works like this: Mark finds someone they like—or hate, in the case of those four insufferable jackasses who killed Scam—and find a nice little hole in their memories thin enough to start breaking and pulling apart. Then they wiggle in and start stretching the space they've found wider and wider until it's big enough that a person can fit.
A person they can make up.
Say the person's name is Dennis Anderson. Say he's in his late thirties, a widower, and from the Earth town of San Dimas, California. Say he loves his son Ulysses, who has been taken by the purple robed shitholes that are Bill Close, Willy Stampler, and Barry Oak. Where did all of this information come from? Certainly not all Mark; making that much information up takes time and patience that he doesn't have.
No, the information, the fine detail, comes from the minds around them. There's someone named Dennis that owes Glenn money. There's a parent in the PTA, last name Anderson. Grant is named for the Ulysses S. Grant, so just take the first part. He's a widower because Glenn doesn't want to talk about it. His father isn't an O-dad because he never knew his father. His son is missing because of some unspecified curse.
He wants them to feel bad about Scam. He wants them dead. It's wholly personal.
But for some unknown reason—maybe Ron Stampler's brain is already broken to such a degree that it constantly questions even itself—one of them knows he doesn't belong. And more than that, his son believes him. And the rest follow.
But oh, nature abhors a vaccum and, while they can't make them admit it themselves, they will get the Doodlers to regret Scam's death. And the Library's too.
They'll just have to find some other head to inhabit. Some other fool to take from. Some other skin to wear.
Next time those four shitholes won't even know anything is wrong. Not even Ronald F Stampler.