Xander(narration): They started on her right to left...in accordance with the writing system.

Xander(narration): Cutting vertical lines across her shoulders, transcribing a rite in blood.

Xander(narration): A prelude to a dark symphony of art wrought by a few men together...

Xander(narration): One smokes a languid cigarette

Xander(narration): Another commands a solitary scintillating acetylyne torch...

Xander(narration): A third acquainted with liquid nitrogen...

Xander(narration): ...as they and others plotted hatchworks...scratched delicately with a needle...

Xander(narration): Spirals twisted out of sheer agony...curving lines touched by the razor fingers of their craft.

Xander(narration): I cannot see what was the reason for it. I just can't. It's impossible...