Watson stood over a body laid out on an old wooden table. His trembling hands moved meticulously over the apparatus he had spent months assembling. Friday's lifeless, bare form was bathed in the glow of a candle, his once warm and soft features now pale and still. Watson brushed a lock of Friday's hair from his forehead, his touch lingering for a moment.

"This better work," he whispered, jamming the sharp necromancy device into the back of Friday's neck. Wires and metal rods connected the boy's body to a strange machine. Watson's eyes darted to his worn journal, filled with notes and sketches, the culmination of years of secret research.