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Skulker scowled down at the boy in front of him. His head was down, sitting on the edge of his bed in the pitch dark room. He was completely motionless, not even seeming to realize who was standing in front of him, or that someone was there at all. It was a sickening sight to see.
And completely ruined his plans for the night.
He put his head in his hand, huffing with annoyance. He had hoped to ambush the whelp in the middle of the night to test out a few new weapons he’d come up with, who else would be better for target practice? He’d come barreling through the portal with vigor, eager for a fight, but instead found him in this sorry state.
Studying him for several minutes, he finally figured out the issue; a piece of metal that was clamped to his arm, around his wrist. Slowly, less he suddenly jumped up for a fight, Skulker reached for the device. He immediately regretted it, even merely touching it caused him to shutter. He knew exactly what this was, he’d heard word from the lucky few who had survived encounters with those disgusting government agents. An inhibitor, meant to suppress ghostly powers. The stories he’d heard made it out as much worse than that, tattered souls told tales of how those wretched things had come with feelings much worse than any pain inflicted on them. Feelings of emptiness, of nothingness. Hollow and gutted like no creature should be, yet unable to even find the strength to even try to end it.
A fate worse than death itself, they could say that with the kind certainty no one else could.
Skulker looked from the device back to its victim, eyes foggy and unfocused, his breath shallow. He still hadn’t registered the other ghost’s presence, or perhaps he didn’t have the energy to care. He even wondered if the whelp was hoping Skulker would end this torture himself.
He considered that for a second, before brushing the thought aside. No, this was not how he wished to end this. Skulker was a hunter, it was his calling, his passion, his purpose! He chased rare and interesting beings for the thrill of the fight, it was the whole reason he was after the boy in the first place! As aggravating as the whelp was, his ability to adapt to whatever Skulker threw at him on the fly made every hunt exhilarating, even if he came back empty handed.
But this? This was no better than shooting fish in a barrel.
Glaring at the metal beneath his fingertips, he quickly twisted it, snapping it off and crushing it to pieces with his metal fist. Sadly the boy didn’t spring to life as he’d hoped, but the shiver that ran through his body, as if he could finally feel the cold chill Skulker’s presence gave the room, was enough.
Satisfied, Skulker sank through the floor, headed for the basement portal. He didn’t need to give the boy another thought, as much as he would never admit it outloud, he was strong, he’d seen him endure hardships some ghosts couldn’t even imagine, he would survive this.
The whelp would recover. The hunt would continue. He could wait.