<div align="center">------The Unkillable Boy------</div><br/>Jason rubbed his forearm nervously, wiping away a fine layer of old ash and charcoal that may have once been skin.  The floor was covered in old stains, though some of them were eerily recent.  Burn marks, specifically.  Combined with the faint smell of charred meat that still lingered in the air in spite of the ventilation and air fresheners, it seemed quite apparent that Jack was not the first person to pay for a voucher this evening.<br/><br/>"So you say," he mumbled, pacing off to one side with eyes cast downwards.  "Do what you want.  I won't hope for success.  Never again.  That way, if you fail, it will just be business as usual."<br/><br/>He glanced over at Jason, looking him up and down for a moment before turning away again with a slight flush to his cheeks.  The boy chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, then shook his head as though to dispel some unwanted thoughts.<br/><br/>"Nineteen.  At least, that's when it began," he said at length.  His words seemed practiced.  No doubt Jack wasn't the first one to ask such questions, and unless he succeeded in his plans he most certainly would not be the last.  "It's been years since then.  Decades, maybe.  Master Scratch doesn't let me figure out the date.  The time.  Prefers to let it slide on and on like oil on skin.<em>Drip</em>.  A day.<em>Drip</em>.  A week.<em>Drip</em>.  A month.  And so it goes."<br/><br/>His eyelids fluttered and forced themselves open, staving off the impending weight of exhaustion.  "You want to know<em>how</em>, right?  Everyone does.  Some are curious.  Others want what I've got.  It's the same either way.  That damnable question."