There weren’t many things about dead bodies that could surprise Hannibal anymore.
He’d seen bodies in countless states of duress, witnessed the effects of torture and tearing that others would not have the stomach to endure, and read more about anatomy than most.
Which was why the corpse in the basement of the his latest victim’s home sit up and moan was not something he expected.
The corpse was a sewn together amalgam up of various other bodies, he could see the lines in the man’s body as it moved, and the sewing was crude at best.
Hannibal stepped forward and the corpse looked at him curiously.
“Hello,” he said.
His new friend reached up to touch his own face. Hannibal stepped closer again and saw the horror in the corpse’s eyes.
“You’re quite dead, I apologize for that, but not by my hand. Can you understand me? Do you have a name?”
The corpse looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Will.”
Hannibal smiled. “Hello, Will.”
