• The door squeaked and shut with a metallic bang, as Ray entered a room the would make a government chemist jealous.
    They had returned to their "Base of Operations", a prison that Ray had inherited from his father after he had left. No one really knew the details of how the prison had come into his dad's possession but it had many uses for the pair of hunters . The prison had once been designed to keep its inhabitants in but had been remodeled to keep out the unwanted, and act as a home.
    Ray made his way around the chemical room. Test tubes, beakers, and vials lined the tables like a troop of soldiers. Shadows danced around his face in the light of the few fires burning beneath the selected vials, most of which contained a rainbow of colors.
    He stopped at a vial filled with a liquid that's color flashed from silver to gold and again to silver every twenty seconds (he had timed it out of curiosity). He carefully removed the vial from its resting place, bringing it up to eye level, he took a quick intake of air and drank a drop of it. He frantically set it in place and dove to a nearby trash can.
    With a wipe of his mouth he stood up and shuddered with disgust. A small notepad was placed in front of the vial and scribbled in it, shutting it and continued his tour of the isle until he reached the microwave sized metal box. It was crude with metal sheets screwed on it, a small knob was centered in the middle of the box.
    Ray cleared his throat, "Identification number pad ", he commanded his head looking towards the ceiling.
    The room began to be filled with metallic pings as three dozen, compact, number pads appeared. Ray grinned, is canine fangs flashing in the dim light. How could he have resisted?
    A small number pad appeared on the side of the box and he tapped in a code, "Failed", a voice replied from the pad, "Renter." . Ray tapped in a different code, "Failed, please renter."
    Ray put in another code and the voice came back on, "Failed, if failed once more, five second self-destruction with become active."
    Ray repeated the code, "Failed, 5...4...", Ray entered another code, Failed...Welcome Ray W. H."
    The nearly invisible lid on the box popped up, as nine gold plates slid into view around the knob.
    He opened his jacket, and took the vial out of its leather bound slot. He poured its contents into the box then shut it, running his finger around the box; at last Ray's finger rested in between "control" and "gem". Twisting the knob to "gem" he pushed the knob in.
    The metal sheets became green, as it came to life, charts and graphs appearing in the metal work. Green light flowed out of cracks, and everything abruptly ceased. With a ping that traced it back to its microwave ancestry, the lid opened.
    A wisp of smoke crept out and Ray took a perfect emerald out. "Task complete."Ray commented, examining the beautiful gem. A metallic buzz filled the air, and all the number pads disappeared, the box shut, and the lights went out.