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From the moment they met Carl knew there was something wrong about Damon. It wasn't hard to work out, nobody who locks their wife in their basement is normal, but Damon wasn't any regular psycho. He was something else, a type of mad that the world had never seen before. He didn't even try to hide it. It was out in the open, on display. It was there in his eyes.

Of course, Carl wasn't in any position to comment on someone's eyes. It wasn't like he hadn't look in a mirror lately, he was fully aware of the glowing black and purple orbs that occupied his sockets. He knew that he wasn't exactly the picture of normality. Nothing so extreme for Damon. His eyes were perfectly human. If Carl simply walked past him on the street odds are he wouldn't have given him a second glance. Except he was way more than a simple passer by. Behind the veil of composure, whenever Carl looked past that business man facade, he saw the truth.

Damon was dead.

He didn't mean figuratively, he meant literally. Whoever Damon had been dead long before the two of them even met. Maybe it had been natural, maybe he had been killed. Carl didn't know and didn't particularly want to find out. All he knew that the person he was dealing with, the man who had employed him and in doing so taken him hostage, wasn't who he claimed to be. Whether he be ghost or monster, demon or something else entirely, he wasn't alive.

His eyes were like glass. You wouldn't see it unless you were paying absolute attention. Carl made a point of paying attention to everything, he wasn't about wasting his sight. They were dull and expressionless. While Damon talked and shouted and scowled his eyes stayed fixed in a long, hard stare that could into a person's soul. He was a puppet pretending to be human. Something still lurked behind the glazed windows but it was surely no man.

His boss was dead, Carl wasn't sure if he had ever been alive. All he could be sure of was that if he didn't stay quiet or come up with an escape plan fast he was going to end up the same way.