Cassius stroked his beard and looked puzzlingly through his spectacles at the spindly creature from a security up-link in his office. He was a little surprised the Ragman had infiltrated the headquarters of Architype Industries so easily. He was already on the 453rd floor of the 460 storey structure. Having only been alerted 2 minutes ago, when one of the guards was found unconscious, Cassius cursed under his breath the incompetence of his staff. The Ragman had simply walked passed heat sensors, his animated but lifeless body undetectable. As for the surveillance team, they had been amusing themselves watching adult channels, munching on kebabs. They were poor filthy excuses for humans.

Jack sensed something was close. The rags that clothed his form shuddered as if Death had warmed up. Yet Death could not touch him. However, immortality shouldn’t warrant recklessness, and the Ragman had learned this lesson many decades back. He crept stealthily along the red corridor, his clawed feet tiptoeing the soft carpet. Jack thought it was a nice carpet. Strife, the possessed weapon which Jack held firmly in his hand, empathically sensed his masters thoughts, and too felt the exciting anticipation of a hostile encounter. Even with the humidifiers working full blast within the building, the air was stale and a mist of dirt hovered in the atmosphere. Jack was indeed close.

Suddenly, the wall exploded beside him. Jack jumped back, as debris flew in all directions, the carpet was seared black. As the dust began to settle, an aged white hand emerged from the large hole in the wall, and a deep guttural voice spoke. ‘Jack, I found you.’ The voice began to chuckle, then rose to a loud hysterical laugh, which verged on madness. Jack winced, as the figure stepped into the hall, through the hole it had made.

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