There is a revenant hunting Darkwitt. 

Fueled by the souls of witches and innocent passerby, motivated by its carnal lust and devoid of empathy. It scours the streets and claws the dignity out of its victims so it can play cat's cradle with their spirit. Impassioned lovers turned adulterers. pious clergymen turned into embezzling caricatures of their faith. pacifists turned bloodthirsty soldiers.

Darkwitt knew the stories. Researched all he could about the late Harlow Rickets. But the creature was defined by his hunger for the souls of others. ripping them to tatters, devouring them to continue his unnatural life while his witches cackled sadistically as they battered what was left of the body with their possessions. Joyriding the shell till there was nothing left. 

As Darwkwitt researched the nature of magic and the supernatural, One of his laboratories had a breakthrough, a pair of gloves designed to examine the spiritual. Theoretically, they could even manipulate the veil at some weak points in the world if they were lucky.

Before it was finished, it was stolen, the staff murdered. The prototype gauntlets gone. 

He was only told one thing: If his claws touch you, it's over.

Darkwitt doesn't know why Hexan wants him. Perhaps it's because he's the order to the shark's chaos. Maybe he possesses trinkets and tools Hexan wants to make his power grow. It's possible that everything Darkwitt stands for is something Hexan finds to be laughable. That everything Darkwitt stands for is something Hexan wants to see destroyed.

Or maybe Hexan just wants to see an untouchable fuck bleed. 

Darkwitt began the scouting process. Leads, rumors, even urban legends that this creature somehow lived over a hundred years despite his more scientifically inclinations screaming the contrary. He had to be a myth. had to be some technology masquerading deep hypnosis or hallucinations.

The thought was cut in half by a pair of claws passing through the hologram's decoy. 

He was fast. Impossibly fast. Darkwitt's martial training was meant to counter momentum but his stance was like overturning a statue. The moment his movement followed through, all momentum stopped.  Hexan wasn't trying to hit Darkwitt. He only needed a touch. The holographic blur and after images were completely ignored. Each time Darkwitt thought he had tricked the shark, a leg or a tail would flash out of nowhere and force him onto the defensive.

He didn't have time to consider why. 

Darkwitt threaded his ankle around a chair and tossed it at the shark, who used his new claws to slice it like paper. The orange claw glowed like heated metal. the gauntlets grafted to his arms like a parasite oozing over an open wound. 

There was a pause in the fight. A chance to talk.

"Mr. Rickets, I presume. Forgive me, I'm not used to unscheduled appointments." Darkwitt attempted to maintain his composure. 

"Ohoho. Dere's dat mouth I 'eard so much about." His voice was like metal shavings grinding through a mortar and pestle.

"I don't suppose you're going to give me a reason why you're coming after me?" Darkwitt slid to the side to separate the two with his desk. 

"Ah ah. Nooo we ain't playin' dat. See, I like talkin'. got a pair o' chompers dat'll sink real good into a conversation." He grinned madly. 

"But you? You're like talkin ta quicksand. Once you get goin' yuh sink more and more and more till you're drowning in words. Me? I'm a manna action, flatfoot. I see a yappy puppy, I cut its throat out." Hexan reached both hands and sank the claws into the polished wood. it caught fire as he ripped the entire desk in half and walked closer. 

"If you want to do that, you'll have to get close to my- Hrk." Hexan caught the camouflaged dog crouched to the side while his hologram was still standing at ease. Smoldering mad eyes glared as the invisibility flickered out of existence, the gauntlet against his neck held fast. 

"I ain't here for dat electric dynamo boogaloo you got goin on with dat fancy lightbulb suit, bub. I see right through ya. I see right into your Soul."

He slammed Darkwitt against the fall proof window so hard, it cracked.  The shark rocked his head back and slammed forward, sandwiching Darkwitt's skull between him and the glass. Darkwitt could swear he heard shrill giggling coming from somewhere.

"Look at dis fuckin' guy. Yer on the backleg and you got the sand tuh play sleight o' hand hanky panky?!" 

Slam. Hihihihihihi.

"What you think yer bettah den me?!"

Slam. HIHIHIHIHIHIHI.

"You think I'm the kind o' two bit mook that'll fall for dat?! You think yer bettah than me?!" The Shark's black skin started to turn an intense glowing orange. His sharp teeth almost reflecting the light as he pressed them close to his nose. 

"N-nn..."  Darkwitt could barely get a word out. 

"Wuzzat? Got somethin smart to say? Go on. SPEAK!" He brandished his left gauntlet, the claws heating up as ghostly projections started to form like they were ready to claw at his very soul. 

"N-no... but even I'd fall for this." Darkwitt kicked out Hexan's leg and stumbled back, crashing through the weakened window as they fell through the skyscraper window. 

The brief moment of weightlessness came before the rush of wind sped by them both. Hexan kept his grip tight while they fell. Darkwitt's hologram was flickering; losing composure as its projections peeled off him like ripped layers of skin.  It was a massive gambit, but it had to have been enough for Darkwitt to get Hexan off balance. But something happened that made Darkwitt's blood run cold.

Hexan was grinning like a madman. 

Because only one of them was mortal. 

Harlow "Hexan" Rickets is something Darkwitt is not used to dealing with. 
Too clever to fall for Darkwitt's tricks. Too short sighted to be reasoned with, but worst of all, too monstrous to be appealed to. At some point I'll be writing about him in a much later chapter of the Facilitator story. But consider this as a glimpse of how they first meet face to face. 

Artwork by the incredible @BleydhDu on Twitter.