Al’Corvo was dangling by a single thread. Unlike the workers of old, the threads were made of steel, and much thicker than silk. His chitin-covered hands were mere centimetres from a sparking pylon that crackled with thousands of volts. Only centimetres from instant death. At least he was anchored safely in the massive rock wall behind the pylon.

He sighed, muttering under his breath about poor maintenance schedules.

“Oi Il’Shar, why haven’t you turned this pylon off!” Al’Corvo shouted to the slim figure beneath him, still fiddling with the controls.

“Because the Wards haven’t gotten here yet!” clicks of exasperation filled Il’Shar’s voice.

“Well this pylon isn’t going to fix itself, there’s way too many volts pumping through this thing. You know what, damn the Wards, turn it off anyway!” Al’Corvo had to shout in order for his voice to reach Il’Shar.

“I could get fired for doing that!” Il'Shar shouted back.

“Well do you want the thing to short-circuit the instant a ghost touches it?”

There was a long pause.

“Fine. On your own soul be it.” Al’Corvo could hear very faintly the loud clicks of antiquated keyboards and the beeping of the positively ancient operating system.

Suddenly the crackling stopped, only silence and the faint blowing of the wind remaining. For those who never went over the 40 metre grey wall, silence was the sound of danger. With every slightly out of place sound Al’Corvo twitched. His normally steady hands shaking profusely.

“It’s fine. Everything is under control. I recommended this. Fuck,” Al’Corvo whispered to himself as he unholstered several tools designed to crack open the voltage regulator box. The wall of electrical pylons had to be constantly active to protect against the things beyond the wall. As such, the voltage regulator was securely locked inside of the pylon to avoid either sabotage or damage. The downside being that if the regulator was damaged though, it became much harder to fix.

Without the pylons, any number of things could phase through the stone wall, ready to devour the sector Al’Corvo was located in. Which is why he had to move quickly.

“Why did they make this so fucking difficult to open!” Al’Corvo groaned through gritted mouth plates, now grasping at the broken regulator with shaking hands.

“Oooooh roots above, why didn’t I wait for the Wards. At least this will be fixed-” he almost dropped the replacement regulator, “...Soon.” Finally, the new regulator was in place. Immediately Al’Corvo began crawling out of the labyrinthine metal poles that acted as support for the pylon.

“Okay Il’Shar, you can turn the pylon on now!” he shouted with relief. But Il’Shar was simply staring at him with a blank look, green eyes suddenly much paler. While at first she looked somewhat normal, Al’Corvo noticed her forehands twitching and spasming, and her fangs were leaking a dark fluid.

“Shit,” He simply said before leaping off the pylon as fast as possible. Swinging back to the alcove which he was anchored to, he was glad he had reacted as soon as he did. A split second more, and Il’Shar, or rather what was left of her, would’ve vaporised him using the now fixed pylon. As quickly as it turned on, the wall of electricity turned off. Al’Corvo quickly began rappelling down a thin channel in the wall, safe from Il’Shar’s attempts to fry him using the electrical wall.

Once he reached the ground he unfolded his hind-arms, before going on all sixes and sprinting towards the control panel. Knowing how understaffed the Wards were, Al’Corvo could only rely on himself to turn the pylon on.

As Al’Corvo dashed towards Il’Shar, she slowly turned to face him, spasming and shuddering with every minor movement. The dark liquid from her fangs began flowing with more and more regularity, splashing against the concrete floor. While Al’Corvo wasn’t sure if it was dangerous, anything produced by ghosts was usually unhealthy. Or deadly.

Fortunately for Al’Corvo, Il’Shar wasn’t particularly fit. A fact that was even more exploitable as ghosts, or at least this one, weren’t particularly capable of fine motor skills. Like fighting, or walking in a straight line. As Al’Corvo dashed towards Il’Shar, he noticed her even trip a few times. But he knew, from horror stories told by off-duty Wards, that even the most clumsy of ghosts could exert great strength. Often at the expense of the host body.

Al’Corvo barreled into Il’Shar, claws ready to carve out her larger eyes. And carve they did, slashing out Il’Shar’s now milky-white eyes. Any blood that once flowed through her veins was now frozen and sluggish, all energy stolen by the ghost. Not content to simply let Al’Corvo kill its host, Il’Shar slashed at Al’Corvo, cracking several parts of the shell surrounding his torso. Before he could adjust to the sudden blow, Il’Shar’s other arm bashed directly into the left side of his ribcage, shattering the bones of not just Al’Corvo’s ribs, but also Il’Shar’s hand and front arm. Al’Corvo felt his heart-rate spike and dizziness overcame his mind as he went into shock from the devastating wound.

“Did he just fucking die?” You ask the 3-armed story snatcher.

“No. Our kind have decentralized hearts, the poor bastard was badly injured at worst,” The Story-Snatcher calmly explained. “Now hush, you are interrupting the story. Fool.”

Regardless of the heavy wound, Al’Corvo continued to strike against the possessed Il’Shar. At this point only the thought of putting his friend out of her misery was left on Al’Corvo’s shocked mind. Wrapping his right hind-arm around his right front-arm, he slammed both down on Il’Shar’s head with all of his might. Screaming both in both physical and mental pain, he brought his fists on her head again and again, only stopping as blood loss made him fade into unconsciousness.