“They train you for this,” the Man In Black thought. Something dripped onto his shoulder from one of the kug’s orifices and began fusing the cloth fibers of his coat.

Simon took a step forward. The flames from his eyes left scorch marks on the ceiling. He was sick of the screaming, and made a gesture at the couple on the bed—their eyes rolled back and they collapsed, unconscious.

“I don’t even care why, you gorram bastard,” he whispered. “I don’t even care who you are or why you did it. I can ask you later—I know the Curwen Process.”

“You- you, uh, think this thing behind me will leave enough behind for that?”

Simon smiled a toothy smile. “Maybe I should just put your soul in a Torment Cage now, then?”

The kug stroked the Man In Black’s cheek with a phallic-nubbed tentacle, leaving a glistening trail behind. Its teeth chittered in anticipation.

“You, you don’t have it in—I can tell. You’re not. You’re not a killer. Send th-this away and… I’ll tell HQ you got away. It can be—”