"Your guess is as good as mine," he replies, flexing his fingers before setting his hands on his leg. "They are beings that feed off our emotions, harvesting them like food."

He hisses again as the next puncture closes up beneath his palm. He moves his hand, revealing fresh skin where there had been a wound as he moves onto the next one, a hole closer to his knee.

"They don't make it a habit to hide themselves, however. The speak to us on the communicators, making it no secret what they're doing and why they're doing it."