[Center]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/25b9f4eb-a8b1-46ca-8ab3-88c168ed18b3.png[/img]

Joel Beck 
[b]Location[/b]: Ceramic factory 
[b]Tags[/b]: Ten thugs, a ghost, and several felonies[/center]

The lot the old factory sat on was dark and poorly maintained. Tall weeds grew up through the pavement and several windows had been broken out. There was nothing to indicate any recent activity. At least, not until Wraith circled the whole thing and noticed an unmarked moving truck parked in a loading dock. 

Wraith camped out on a nearby roof and watched that truck for a good twenty minutes before sheer boredom pushed him forward. Whatever was happening here, there was clearly no rush to get it done. He ventured down the fire escape and slunk through the shadows until he found a window that was broken enough to climb through. 

The inside of the facility was no less dismal. It was dark, with only the moonlight flooding in from outside as light. An abrasive smell lingered in the air. Wraith recognized it as the smell of burnt flesh and hair, but couldn't remember why it was a familiar scent. 

The moonlight gleamed off of the metal surface of ten industrial kilns. This particular area was the only one that was swept clean. The implication tugged at his chest. The atmosphere was stale and quiet. He thought he heard the scampering of a few rodents, but other than that…

The silvery glow of a young woman casted an eerie light across the floor ahead of him. Wraith met her empty gaze. She looked back evenly, but her expression was one of pain and sorrow. She didn't want to be here. She just wanted to rest. But this was the curse of a soul with unfinished business. 

"[i]Come with me[/i]," She said, her voice soft but yet it carried across the vast atrium hauntingly. Wraith gave her a wordless nod. His boots scuffed the concrete floor, while she glided silently across it. 

She led him down a hall, through what looked like a warehouse area, and finally to the loading dock door that he assumed the truck was on the other side of. Could it really be that easy? 

[i]"You won't die, will you?" [/i]She asked. It seemed that she may have met his skeletal friend. Obviously she had turned his voyage down in favor of settling her affairs. The whole process of dying was a strange one, even though every living thing would do it eventually. Some crossed over, some stayed here until they felt they could rest. He often wondered if [i]she[/i]- No, he couldn't space out now. He had shit to do. 

"Not with this," He motioned to the suit, "Should I be ready for something bad?" 

She nodded silently, and walked right through the door. Well, best to get it over with quick. Wraith had always been a "rip the bandaid off" kinda' guy. He gripped the chain to haul the door open, and it shot up with a loud clatter. Well, that probably alerted every crackhead, thug, and sewer rat on this block. He stepped out onto the dock and lifted the truck's gate with the same amount of caution. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, his stomach churned. 

It was the very thing he expected and dreaded: bodies. At least fifty. They were piled on top of each other haphazardly, seeping blood, pus, and god knows what else. Wraith grimaced as his eyes wandered down to the shiny metal bands on every other ankle. Then one of the toes twitched. 

Wraith thought that he had just imagined the movement, but upon closer inspection, the suspect body's chest was still expanding and contracting. He wouldn't call it a steady breath; it was shallow and off rhythm. But that person was definitely still alive, if barely. The new anger he felt was quickly redirected when a bullet flew past his head. 

A shout sounded behind him. The lackeys were crawling out of the woodworks to investigate the noise. Wraith turned and began closing the space between himself and the ten odd thugs that had been drawn out. The only thing slowing him down were the bullets piercing him, jerking his body back for only a second before he continued his advance. They were getting scared. A couple already turned to run. Wraith grabbed the nearest gun and yanked it away. He then used it as a club to make the man that was holding it wish he was never born.