Police sirens sounded. A red tape was pulled across the mouth of the alley. A large crowd was gathering to see what human tragedies had taken place yet again. People are just like that; attracted to misery and death. In all the commotion, no one saw the cloaked figure disappearing into the building across the street.

As the crowd swelled, the policemen scratched their heads, bewildered. They had not dared go too close to the rotting corpse in the corner as it was giving off a putrid odour, but from what they could see, the cause of death did not seem to be apparent.

Behind them, a van rolled to a stop in front of the alley. A woman decked completely in white stepped out. She appeared to be in her early thirties. Her face was stern and void of emotions as she walked briskly towards to foul smelling corpse. The corpse, an obese man in his late forties, was lying limp at the foot of the wall in a pool of his own blood and excretion.

“He was found thirty minutes ago by a man called William Scrubb. Cause of death is unknown, no visible wound, but the area around his neck is swollen. No identification or medical records available, though he obviously had weight problems.” A police officer said grimly as Dr. Gwen Crowell strode down the alley.

Nodding curtly, Dr. Crowell bent down and placed one gloved hand on the corpse. It was cold. She leaned forward and pushed the corpse down. Looking down the back of his neck, Dr. Crowell saw something very odd; a silver needle, thin as a strand of hair, sticking out the back of the corpse’s neck.

There it is, thought Dr. Crowell. The figure had been observing the entire process from the building. It is time. He moved back into the shadows and disappeared, like he was never there.