Sixth Sense

There's a faint, but ever present irony that infests the morgue, twisting between the molecules of air, content to just watch the man with the scalpel in his hand. Silent as the air is, Sid's ears can just barely pick up the tragedy in the air, the mournful wind that passes through the room with every slice he makes. Much like his colleagues, Sid doesn't hold the supernatural in any sort of regard, save for a meager one. He doesn't have the required amount of faith to cling to ghosts.

Sid Hammerback does not believe. He simply knows.