Spawn.

        The spawn knelt in the shadows of the corner. His iridescent eyes searching the dark for his prey. A prey he knew very well, almost too well.         From the end of the stone corridor the spawn's ear picked out a single disturbance. From behind the mask a man's mouth twisted in a smile and a thought of satisfaction crossed his mind.         Rising to his feet the spawn walked defiantly down the corridor. His armoured boots …

…it into the mouth of the porthole. With a whining scream the gateway to the other side slammed shut and the Spawn stood quietly over the empty husk of the old scientist.         His life goal and mission over, the spawn's soul began it's transmutation to the heavens. Within a matter of minutes all that remained in the room, was an old man lying beside a pile of rusty old armour and a blackened, silver sword.