The presumed hideout of the Skinner was another warehouse, outside of the city. Deemed unfit for further use, it had been abandoned long ago and was now left to root, alone on the coastline.

Keen on surviving the possible encounter, Wither had returned to the police station, where he had found Frye and McGill. The two of them eventually agreed to accompany Wither and now the four of them, for Crissly didn't even ask for permission, stood in front this unholy place. Killer's hideout or not, the place made them uneasy, like it could fall together any moment.

The front door was no problem. The chain and lock had had to endure the punishment of the elements for such a long time, that a single strike with McGill's shotgun was enough to relieve it from it's duty.

The inside was drowned in complete darkness. All the windows were barricaded and any source of electricity long gone. The officers, each one brandishing a gun and a dynamo powered lantern, carefully entered the building, one after the other. At first glance it seemed to be completely empty, except for a few boxes.

They spread out, examined the corners and jumped at every shadow. Wither's heart almost stopped, when McGill fired his shotgun at a moving shadow. A second later a rat scurried through the boxes.

When they were sure, that no one would attack them from the shadow, they started to examine the boxes. Some were empty, some were filled with rags. It was Frye who noticed the blood on them and moments later they discovered a small blood trail ending under one of the boxes. They pushed it aside, it revealed a hatch hidden under it.

"We should get reinforcements", Wither said.

"There's is no reinforcement. We're all yuv got, lad", McGill replied.

"Damn it!"

A ladder led them down into a cellar of some sorts. It was a small floor without any source of light. Three of them climbed down, Frye stayed behind to watch their backs. The floor was narrow and claustrophobic, but the walls were stable and in much better shape than the warehouse above. In some distance, Wither could see the floor ending in a larger room. He took one step closer, then his heart stopped when he heard Frye's Scream.

"Watch out!", McGill shouted.

In the next moment Frye was falling down the ladder and landing on McGill. The next moment the hatch was closed above them.

"Common, yer bloody bastard!"

"It's no use. It won't budge. Let's see if this floor leads anywhere."

Again Wither climbed down the ladder, together with McGill. Their pistols ready, the four left the floor and entered the nearby room. It was a small square room, divided by a single pillar. In front of that pillar was a table with three items on it. A burning candle, an hourglass and a letter:

Tik Tok

You have one hour to escape!

"When I'm done with that prick, 'is face will look like a mashed potato!"

"There is something wrong with that paper." Wither ran his fingers over the letter.

"Wither. That's...that's not paper." Frye made a grimace.

Shocked and disgusted Wither dropped the piece of hide.

On the other side of the room, there was another dark corridor. They followed it, their lanterns still the only source of light. Crissly, the only one of the group that didn't seemed to be terrified, also took the hourglass with her. They had maybe forty-five left.

Finally they reached another room, bigger then before, with four other corridors in front of them. In the middle was a big double-door, reinforced with four solid metal locks.

"There's no way we can open that door by force." Frye stared at the door with a silent hatred that would pierce most human hearts.

"So what? We play the wanker's game and look for some stupid keys?" McGill had trouble controlling the volume of his voice.

"What choice do we have?" Wither asked. "Either way, standing here won't solve anything."

They agreed to enter the first corridor to their left. McGill was the head of the group, followed by Wither and Crawley.

"Did you hear that?" asked Crissly behind them.

"Hear what?"

"Nothing." She shrugged. "Must have been the wind."