In a few weeks, the talk of the Richardson homicide died down, but citizens were extra careful about locking doors and windows, and they were mindful of their own safety.

The police couldn't catch the killer because of an alarming lack of evidence of any kind. No fingerprints, no hair, or any blood left behind. No DNA that could trace anyone back to the scene of the crime except for the victims themselves. The words on the wall, however, seemed to be a catchphrase of the same killer that committed other strings of murder around and in Illinois with witnesses telling about the killer uttering the words "Go To Sleep", or if there were no witnesses, "Go To Sleep" was usually written in blood somewhere where the police can find it.

In short, everyone suspected a psychotic teenager dubbed "Jeff the Killer" to be responsible.

"Jeff the Killer, eh?" Schwartz mumbled behind the large newspaper he held in front of his face. He scanned the paragraphs and studied the pictures of the alleged "Jeff the Killer" with slight indifference. Jeff the Killer were simply three words on a newspaper to him.

Aldine was talking on the phone across the lab, glancing at a clipboard every now and then and looking optimistic.

"25 bodies with no family or an arranged funeral? Yes, we'd be glad to take them off your hands. More than glad! Yes... mmhm. Alright, we'll send for the bodies tomorrow." She arranged the time and hung up, turning to coworker with a smile.

"Well, Paul! It looks like we've got more than enough test subjects for this. The morgue across town has 25 unclaimed corpses. Sure, it's a little shady that the owner is willing to 'lend' them to us," she shrugged, "but... what do you say?"

Schwartz put down his newspaper and folded his arms across his chest.

"So long as we don't have to go into the morgue ourselves, I'm perfectly happy that we can get 25 bodies. Even one would be sufficient." he replied.

"What, is the big, bad Paul Schwartz scared of the morgue?" Aldine joked with a smirk.

He shot her a look and smirked back at her. "Seriously, though." he answered. "Do we have a way to get them over here?"

Aldine shifted her weight onto a leg and ran her fingers through her hair. "Uhmm... well, not really. Not yet. We can order some vans and pay willing drivers, but 25 body bags in some vans driving across town toward our labs might look suspicious..."

Schwartz shook his head. "We're not going to let that little problem hold us back. The state's backed us up financially so far. We'll find a way to get us some corpses."

Sure enough, the next day two vans made a few trips and back to the morgue and the research centre, delivering the 25 bodies in body bags as promised. The research centre paid the drivers a lot of money "under the table", just in case. All went smoothly and secretly, with no one (except for the owner of the morgue and the research centre) the wiser.

Testing began almost immediately. Liquid Hate was produced by the dozen, and materials were fixed and prepared to accommodate the 25 lifeless test subjects.

"Remember, Paul." Aldine advised Schwartz, "We are still testing. Don't get your hopes up and go on thinking that we'll have 25 super humans obeying our every whim."

Schwartz just laughed and clapped his partner in the shoulder good-naturedly. He knew they weren't at the finish line yet. Although he hoped for the best, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind told him the worst might most likely happen.

He hoped that Murphy's Law wouldn't apply right now at this research centre. He really, really needed the money and often fantasized about the fame he'll gain once this gets out to the public.

"If this works, Carol... we'll go down in history."