A dark caption.

Abby had bought the old place expecting two things: to tear it down and find some interesting stuff to sell.

So far, the first part of that had gone smoothly. She had gotten a price, arranged for a date and time, and even had someone willing to develop the property once the building was gone. That part was the easy part.

No, strangely, the hard part was the second, seeing if anything in here was worth any money. Aside from the obvious stuff you could sell from any demolition, she had been hoping that this place had more interesting things like antiques or old equipment. It had been the home of a scientist, a neuroscientist of some note back in the seventies who had never gotten a major breakthrough. It was said he had a lot of custom equipment he had accumulated over the years and while it was likely of little medical use the vintage nature of it still made it marketable.

However, she learned, this house had so many locked rooms and difficult space it was hard to determine of anything was worthwhile. The first floor was relatively easy and did yield at least some things of value, but the second floor, attic, and basement were much harder

Right now, she was on the second floor, finally now in a space she had to hire a locksmith to get the lock opened for. It turned out to not be a room per se but rather a small hallway and with several other small rooms. Oddly, it seemed old, almost quaint, but oddly clean and tidy. Weird.

She went to the first thing she saw, a big cabinet she saw. Curious, she opened it.

If anyone was around, they would have heard a scream and would have seen her partially pulled into it. She grabbed into the sides, trying to get away, to break free of whatever it was that had a grip on her in that cabinet. Her cries were muffled and she struggled as the sound of a small sawblade, along with whirring and other mechanical sounds emanated from the cabinet.

In one second she was struggling wildly, the next her body went limp, her head and shoulders still in the cabinet, as if held in place by something. More mechanical sounds, and the sawblade now had an almost muted sound. Moments passed and just as it started the saw blade stopped, though the other sounds continued a bit longer until they too stopped completely.

Slowly, limp feminine hands rose up and gripped the sides of the cabinet and a hesitant foot stepped back. Shoulders pulled back from the cabinet and slowly the sound of heels echoed off the walls as each step got closer and closer to the door. A womanly hand turned the knob.

Edwin smiled as he felt the sunlight on his face and on his nylon-covered legs, enjoying the sight of the beginning of evening. He stood a moment, making no effort to conceal his face or head, not caring one bit about it.

She had been perfect for him, he thought as he took in the moment. Young enough for his purpose, pretty, and he could not help but love how his new legs felt. He unconsciously posed as he took a few more steps, enjoying how each step felt, even with the discomfort of heels.

He located her car and smiled. He had been in that cabinet for weeks now, just a head attached to a machine, knowing that when he was declared dead it would be a very short amount of time before the vultures came in and tried to get what they could. The fact that he had locked everything up before all of this he knew would make it all the more enticing, encouraging them to find this. He knew there was always the chance that he'd miscalculate, that they'd just raze the place, and if they had, oh well, he had failed and that was life.

However, he thought as he got in her car, he had gambled correctly. He hadn't counted on such an attractive woman but he could not be more pleased with her. As for her, well, she had arranged for the demolition and she couldn't do much about it as a head attached to a machine, so....