The tall black figure's mask makes a rattling hiss, ejecting his humid breath through a small vent. The plume clearly visible through the dark and cold air- lit by flood lights to claw back visibility from the unyielding suffocating dark of the rural forestry around.

  The figure's black boots make sharp thuds as he steps onto and over the bloodied door, walking into the home. Of course he makes sure to pay attention to his gait. Gripping the stairs with extra precision and caution, as the blood stains all over the interior slickened his grip and footing.

  He can almost taste the iron from looking at the place, thankfully he could only imagine it as his mask's filter scrubbed the putrid stench before it reached into it's lung. In fact the poor bastard he's come face to face with would be grateful to smell such a stench seeing as he's missing his own set. In fact there isn't much he does have.

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  The tall figure isn't sure if it's even right to think of this pile of offal as a corpse. Afterall he had seen quite a few corpses and even they seemed human. They had faces to look at and names to remember. Brothers sisters and mothers who cried at their funerals. This one barely even had a skull, definitely no skin or eyes.

  Reaching into it's pocket the figure looks at his meticulous notes, writing and scribbling for a few minutes. Before kneeling to the ground and inserting a syringe. It slides into the discarded and cold remains with a disgustingly slick slurp sound. The syringe quickly withdraws the cold blood, filled no doubt with the cortisol and fear that flooded it's owner's own mind before their demise.

  "Best not to think like that, sad man in a sad profession ends up a happy corpse." The figure mutters to himself in a muffled quiet tone, almost afraid of being heard despite nobody being present.

  He begins to hum as he works, one sample two sample three samples. On and on it goes, but unbeknownst to him the mirror covered by a sheet of grey fabric stirs. At first it's a gentle unsettling movement, but quickly something starts to stir underneath the fabric- reaching out to the back of the figure.

  As the figure turns around the entity is forced back into the mirror with a scream of fright. The figure's eyes hidden underneath of the mask as they are GLOW with malevolent black energy.

  As the figure stands from crouch a hymn of curiosity escapes muffled underneath by his thick metallic gear "hmmmmm?" the dark figure reaches down, typing something into the strange device on his wrist.

  [Chapter rework cont.]