Read The F***ing Manual

He was covered in blisters now, and every step was a struggle to fight the urge to scratch. As he stormed through Marks' apartment though, the urge waned.

As tried each room – kitchen, bathroom, living room – in turn, he saw even the wounds themselves seem to fade.

Finally, taking a chance on the bedroom, Collins tried the door.

Locked.

"Marks? Marks? Are you okay, buddy? It's Daniel. We need to talk."

No reply. No time to wait either.

Collins kicked the door down and rushed in... only to find an empty room.

No, that wasn't quite true. On the bedside table, he saw a golden idol clutching what looked to be some kind of pearl.

On the bed itself, he saw a large pile of sand. Had Marks tipped the contents of the box onto his bed?

He approached the pile of golden grains and waved a hand through it, wondering if perhaps there was some other component to the weapon. If the idol was even the weapon itself.

Maybe it was something designed to distract the target?

It was dangerous to even be trying this, but considering he could well lose his mind at any second, Collins hardly saw the danger in losing it now.

A-ha. His hand made contact with something. It was hard, but fairly light. He wrapped his hand round it and pulled it out.

The very next thing that happened was a grown man giving a blood-curdling scream.

He'd pulled out a skull. A fucking skull. It even had a faint, but wet, red sheen on it.

Collins dropped it in horror, but noticed that he'd unearthed something else on the bed.

It was a metal wristwatch. The branding on the front read: 'Polex'.

Collins heard a faint tinkle from behind him.