Al’Corvo, much like the general populace, didn’t know much about Eastern Sector 20. Of course he had worked there a few times, but other than that he never thought about the place. ‘Just storage’, as the popular belief went.

Indeed, as Al’Corvo and Il’Nok walked into the sector, all they saw was row after row of warehouses. Each one built exactly alike, with slanted roofs designed to prevent snow build-up during the heavy winter months. Several intersecting roads weaved through the warehouses like a labyrinth. Not to be confused with a Labyrinth, a hellish place no sane story snatcher would want to be in.

“Odd.” That’s all Al’Corvo could say when he saw the path before him covered in puddles of a strange, almost translucent green fluid. All of the warehouse doors were open, and a strange glow could be found in the closest one to his left. He was already feeling stress build inside of him. The place was too quiet, too empty.

“Huh, that’s the stuff that’s left over when they make ecto. What’s that doing there?” Il’Nok had an obviously perplexed look on her face.

“There’s stuff left over?” this time it was Al’Corvo’s time to look confused.

“Yeah, about 90% of the ecto they get from ghosts is useless. My first task as a rookie was making ecto. It’s hours of combing through the goop, and what’s worse is the disinfectant stuff I had to dunk my hands, all four mind you, in. My shell had never been smoother.” Saying that, Il’Nok began rubbing her gauntleted hands together.

“Hah, my first job was… You hear that?”

An almost slurping noise was coming from the glowing warehouse.

“Let’s take a look okay?” Al’Corvo was confident in taking the lead, despite having no experience in a Ward operation. An almost fatal mistake.

Hunching over, almost on all sixes, Al’Corvo crept along the warehouse wall. Il’Nok had to creep slightly louder as her armour clanked as each piece rubbed against the next. Al’Corvo peered into the ajar warehouse sliding door, finally understanding what the glow was. A large tank of the ectoplasm leftovers was punctured, and lapping at its contents were several possessed bodies.

“Shit,” Al’Corvo hissed, “let’s just hope that they’re too busy doing whatever the hell they’re doing to notice us.”

“Aboooout that. Ghosts are kinda blind. They see life force or whatever, or at least that’s what we think they do.”

“And you only tell me this fucking now!?” Al’Corvo, seething with unknown indignation, raised his voice but a touch higher than a hushed whisper. One ghost turned around, head cocked. Instead of black fluid leaking from its fangs, this one had tears leaking from empty eye sockets. Screaming, it lunged after Al’Corvo, tripping on the puddle of ectoplasm.

“Fuck it, run!” Al’Corvo yelled, abandoning all pretense of stealth.

As the ghostly cohort abandoned their disgusting feast and screamed after the Wards, Al’Corvo and Il’Nok bolted towards the wall. Passing by several open warehouses, Al’Corvo saw more ghosts consuming ectoplasm remains and other miscellaneous food sources.

Approaching a crossroads, Il’Nok spotted several ghosts circling above a warehouse straight in front of them. Looking back, she saw what must have been two dozen possessed running after the pair.

“Al’Corvo! Turn right!” she yelled.

“That’s the opposite direction to the wall though!” he shouted in kind.

“We need to lose some of these possessed, and I see more normal ghosts over there!”

“Roots above, fine. Any way we can follow that path and double back?”

“Yeah, after a few more rights and a left there should be another crossroads.”

Al’Corvo simply nodded as he skidded to the right. After more turns in the growing maze of storage towers and warehouses, only 2 possessed remained chasing the Ward duo. The wall however, was much closer than before.

Feeling that indignant rage rise inside of him again, Al’Corvo unsheathed his cattle prod. It was long, with a copper coil lacing most of its length. With an experimental pull of trigger, Al’Corvo saw the entire coil spark with electricity.

“Are you planning on fighting them?” Il’Nok was concerned. Al’Corvo seemed somewhat mild-mannered, if not irritable, but during this mission he had gone from pissy to outright reckless in anger.

“Yes. No reason not to get some more ectoplasm for the net.” Al’Corvo said with a deadpan voice.

Il’Nok could see a hint of gold flash inside of Al’Corvo’s eyes. Weird, she thought, as she saw Al’Corvo give the cattle prod a few experimental swings. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two possessed enter the crossroads.

Al’Corvo wasted no time rushing forward, eager to seize the initiative. Il’Nok took the more measured, drilled approach. By the time she had taken out her electrified man-catcher, Al’Corvo was already attacking the first possessed.

Al’Corvo was smaller than his victim, at least a solid 10cm shorter than the behemoth of a story snatcher. Coated in muscle, it seemed that this possessed was a storage worker. Cattle prod sparking, Al’Corvo shoved it into a small gap between the possessed’s chest. Gripping the trigger with white knuckles, Al’Corvo snarled as the possessed screamed with pain. An almost glowing white fluid leaked out of the wound and the possessed’s eyes.

Il’Nok on the other hand, fought the second possessed with trained grace. Keeping it at arms reach, she easily outmaneuvered the clumsy possessed. This possessed, in stark contrast to the storage worker, was lithe and short. Thick woolen clothing marked this possessed as one of the electricians sent in to set up the echo net.

With a single, perfectly timed thrust she caught the possessed’s neck, before activating the man-catchers electrifying properties. In a split second the corpse’s spine was roasted. With a dreadful sucking noise, the ghost puppeteering it was released.

Al’Corvo fought with reckless abandon. Sliding under cumbersome swipes, he continued applying pressure on the giant. Each shock he gave the ghost made it move faster and faster, as if desperate to kill him. Al’Corvo however, still managed to be faster yet, stabbing at every gap in the corpse’s shell. Never the attentive biology student, some part of Al’Corvo was surprised at how he knew where to place the prod.

Nimbly side-stepping a brutally swift blow from all four of the giant’s fists, Al’Corvo experienced heightened clarity, time almost completely slowing down. Within a few steps he leapt over the ghost, before wrapping his arms around the corpse’s neck in a chokehold. Il’Nok saw that behind his pale green eyes there was a brilliant golden glow.

Time still slowed, Al’Corvo let out an animalistic hiss as he jammed the cattle prod into the ghost’s neck, practically severing its head from its body. Sluggish blood sprayed the crossroads as the head was ripped off by one of Al’Corvo’s hind-arms. As the ghost emerged from the neck, Al’Corvo suddenly struck it with the cattle prod, managing to guide it into some unknown core of the spectre. Instantly it evaporated into ectoplasm.

Il’Nok was completely shocked, as in mere nanoseconds Al’Corvo struck a blow that would’ve taken an experienced Ward minutes to carefully line up. Speaking of which, she still had the ghost from the electrician to kill.

The ghost briefly spiralled after it exited the corpse, before rushing at Il’Nok. Almost like Al’Corvo, time slowed down for Il’Nok. Unlike Al’Corvo’s bestial instinct, this rush of adrenaline was trained for Il’Nok. Years of training had rendered her mind into a killing machine, no longer held back by morality. Unlike the armies of old, there was no hesitation of killing another man. These ghosts were already gone.

As the ghost lunged, Il’Nok ungracefully rolled to the side, feeling the plate armour dig into her shell lightly. The ghost was perfectly straight, the exact position required for a killing blow. Extending her man-catcher towards the torso, she lined the hook up so that as she pulled the trigger, the ghost would evaporate itself from one end to the other. In other words, an almost perfectly executed killing blow. Once lined up, ghosts weren’t too hard to kill.

Sweating inside her armour, Il’Nok turned to see Al’Corvo looking down at his ichor-stained hands. Confusion was written clearly across his face.

“Where to next exactly?” He whispered.

“We take the left I think. Nice job by the way.”

“Yeah. I guess it was.”