The Presence of Blue Malice
The moon was at its largest that night in New York City, the clouds shifting in the dark sky with fog purveying the Brooklyn Bridge. In the glow of the lunar, while shining tall and mighty; the landmark stood quiet beside the sounds of police sirens wailing. Three caddy wagon cars parked along the crate dock under the harbor, boxes upon wooden boxes stacked of various shapes stretched past the bridge's upper entry way, storages of typical supplies and fish cargos waiting to be shipped the following day.
A few dozen police officers were called onto the scene; their indistinct voices joined the chorus of constant light flashes squealing in the bright night. A few rookies were shuffled in for back up, the team now hot on the trail of a murder wanted in all over the United States. He had been swift and agile to a leave capture for months, wanted for everything deviantly thought possible for a 1926 mentality of American Life.
With no known origin of name, he was fitfully called "Killer", a man over six feet tall, possibly six feet and a half, lean and lanky and of fiery red hair and dull chalky skin. His eyes were described to be of dark bags without sleep but still burning with an inner rage of survival and lust. His main attire consisted of a black coat with a cut off at the bottom forming two separate flaps, his black boots and red toed tips also carried flaps like a limping willow leaf. His whole persona flamed and screamed red again by a tight pair of red leather pants accompanied by a chain and a black vest stripped with red borders. His large and bony hands carried eight rings on his fingers. An outsider of society, one that lived for rather being on the outside. Everything was in his hands, his private oysters, desires unimaginable that paid a price for any possible means of a proper societal life.
It was lost long ago. When the killer was only a little boy, untouched by the grown-up world. Days of playing with a cute little puppy by the name of Fuzzy along a well kept small lawn amid barren dirt roads and even grittier ground houses. It wouldn't be long until he matured to young manhood, defying well-meaning parents, petty crimes in the local stores, smoking behind the jail houses until finally leaving, running into the world he thought he could handle, away from his parents, the hick town, the dull state of mind of simple life. His crimes eventually grew bigger. Prostitutes here, lifeless bodies shoved into dark woods there. Alot of times, it would be bodies of whores along the forests, besides innocent bystanders. It wouldn't be long until a young couple's lifeless bodies were stripped of smooth flesh along their necks being discovered and an assault on a pretty brunette at a local hot spot led him to be chased from here on out.
Recently, anonymous tippers located his sighting in the city passing Harlem. Officers there on the beat spotted him among the alley climbing along a gate; the lead shot him at the right side of his back, puncturing the criminal's dark coat and into his flesh. Grunting at first, the criminal managed to climb over, stumbling in his landing and clutching his side with one free hand, as his lithe legs carried him further along.
It was now night time when he was finally cornered. Down further into the storage crates, Killer looked over his shoulder at the law tagging behind too close. He was slumped along the bigger of the crates, a faint smell of herring and salmon and the rust of his open wound behind a red caked hand.
How the Hell did I get myself into this he silently thought. Damn cops are everywhere.It's always like this wherever I go. Who ever I kill or had my way with, I hop along every state border. Lucky no one caught me. But, damn my luck about to run out on me.
His perfect hiding place won't stand as is for long, the fight slowly seeping out of him along with trails of blood. It was faint at the moment, but he still had a chance of moving further, maybe someone in this town can patch him up without asking any questions or just slowly crawl to the harbor and take one dive over before heading to another place. The support of his hand and legs carried him while hanging against the crate, inching and backing up, steadying himself in the ever present moon glow amid his slow shuffled feet. He only made five steps before tumbling on the hard ground, left leg bent and his arms supporting him from cracking his head on the pavement. Even Death let him linger more in pain and watching him play the fool for its amusement.
The moon rays then cast an odd glowed along the boxes, forming a shadowy and curvy figure. Killer looked up to find a woman standing in front of her. A beaming, innocently woman/girl of a white, short-bobbed hair and dressed in an equally unusual outfit, consisting of blue fabrics and red felt belts, gold plated breasts; an outfit still leaving more skin to be shown at the time. Her face seemed blank, her eyes wanted to break into a pitiful reaction over his wounded man, not to mock but didn't feel he was so tragic. Killer looked at her oddly.
Who the hell is she? His frazzled mind reeled by her presence. Some freaky chick out of nowhere. And here I am, on the ground like a dog.
The sirens and commanding shouts were farther away in his ears, drowning now in pain and quick to wanting it to end. The unnamed woman stepped closer, her golden lined and blue boots clicking on pavement like marbles hitting one another. Killer became hesitant in her approach, but was too weak to move any further, only to stare at the brash woman. There never was anyone he was afraid of; people were like scared lambs and cops were dickhead dogs tied to the system and would go primal if the leash was ever undone and their precious laws were no more. Would he ever think of himself as an animal, a beast of nature a slave only to instincts? He'd like to think so, but only as a tie his own carnal gains.
Now reaching down on bended knee, her blue gloves reached closer to his cheeks. Her head moving in, lips within reach of his, ready to pucker up. It tasted of sweet flowers and cold honey, in one second Killer's normal orange brown eyes flashed a red as deep as his hair and then to a berry blue before reverting back. If back in his usual state, he would've figured it was one Hell of a kiss he ever got. The feeling came too fast to describe what the strange sensation felt of. Her deed now done, she stands up and walks away, revealing out of the crates' enclosure to appear before the police like a dazed soldier knowing there are enemies to slay.
"Wait!" He called out, reaching to stop her, but plopping back down in more defeat, another hoarse whisper grunt of, "Damn. Can't move."
What the hell did she just do? Sneaking up on me and kissing. Gotta admit, she's pretty bold…Feeling almost smitten by this stranger.
His thoughts were interrupted by sharp flashes and a wet bursting sound, almost like popping an ink and water balloon. Quickly lifting his head from the edges of the crates, slowly crawling out, his eyes looked on in shock, his red hand still clutching his side. He could see blue flashes going off, one officer was knocked down by the fierce light or wind, he couldn't make head or tails of what that essence was made of. There were more wet poppings; he gasped at what he was seeing, no stranger to seeing mutilations or lumps of cut flesh, but unbelievable to these hidden events at his eyes.
Still hooked over this gory display, it was from his bloody hand that he tired to steady himself on his knees again. What used to be blood covered were no longer stained red; now quickly looking down at the wound, fully healed and smooth. But now, it was a blue shade the same color of the streaking lights flowing into his palm, traveling along his fingertips and down his wrists.
What is this?!
Mortification spread further, his other arm now a victim of blue tinting as a human one screamed before a messy splash erupted.
What the hell's going on?!
His ghostly pale face seemed to gleam with life, a blue plague spreading from his hooked nose tip to his forehead and cheeks. His lips stained a light purple.
She did this to me?
Right now, he could deal with crotch itchings and crabs from a dollar whore, but not turning into some science fiction-y alien form.
"This isn't happening to me…" his voice pleaded in resistance and anguish; the pain was now miles away from thought. From below his belly now gurgled a soft bubbly growl. "Ugh…I think I'm gonna be…"
He was unable to finish his sentence, his words soon to be cut off. From the view of his belt, his stomach began to push out, splashing, tightening his waist and belt. He held his stomach in with both arms, squeezing it back in foolishly; the feeling almost sickening, with the panic background noises going. The rings on his fingers held close to his plumping skin, but slowly expand out of at risk over slipping or breaking off. He could feel the swelling rush to his legs, pushing pant legs to make room for his puffing form; all the while groaning and moaning, biting down on his lower lip. If his rings were such an indication, his clothes would remain fully intact but drape perfectly over what he could turn into or wait for the actual inevitable.
Wait… what is that?
Killer's face twitched in confusion.
It tastes…oh God…blueberries?
A puzzling discovery over how he could even taste such a thing, besides the occasional alcohol and grass stalks.
That broad…what the hell did she do to me…?
The swelling continued, his back began to round out, forcing him to sit on his billowed butt, his legs stretched out, hearing his skin slowly growing, fattening with what became the ultimate conclusion Killer feared: it was neither air nor fat, but some kind of liquid. The one he tasted on his lips.
His crotch began to slowly move down, combining with his legs. With his teeth cut to his mouth, his voice wailed muffled grunts; the pressure tightening into an overblown balloon shape, awaiting his fate like the coppers and ready to explode himself. The rest of his torso curved out at each side, slipping into his body, gurgling and sloshing louder; arms carried away and sinking as his coat magnificently expanded, giving the image of a human arm engulfed in a forming sea of grey water, until blues hand were left. His belt tore and popped at the clip, snaking away along the trail of his stomach line.
Getting…harder.. to even think… Damn…it feels so tight…What a way to go… The workings of his inner voice losing momentum, replaced with what it would feel to just "go everywhere". Was it painful? Do you feel your skin ripping or hear it rip? He wondered if that was how his victims felt, slowly losing their life the second their vessel of a body opens up in places it shouldn't spewing red life out of you.
He already lost sight of his legs,disappearing over the horizons of his once scrawny body to swollen belly, tightening his shirt fabrics with a bit of blue skin peeking.
The woman, now facing one final officer, begged her for his life before he succumbed to one word whimpers to stop her. A swung arm flanked, a blue shaft streaked, and now he was covered in a hard blue cocoon, his terror stricken look paralyzed forever.
The mess the woman left had plastered the cars and crates with blue and purple oozes, covering various human parts too numerous to mention or where they landed. Some were slightly lucky to only die by suffocation in their cocoons. She looked on the carnage still, and then her gazed moved over to where Killer should be, as she proceeded to walk along in her usual daze, standing inside of a rounded shadow cast. She moved her head up, eyes blank but wanting to see her "creation", almost as a child would peering up at a skyscraper; to get a full view of him, but only at the ludicrously rounded front, unable to see his head. The woman tilted her head, concern very faint, but somehow seeing that he didn't explode into a messy death.
Grr…at least I didn't burst like those coppers. But dammit, this lady turned me into a freak! Can't feel a damn thing anywhere, but that stupid sloshing.
Killer, with his red and blue head standing along at the top surrounded by endless skin, on the other hand, wasn't too happy about this, barely able to speak. The moonlight compared perfectly over the two figures, a giant round frame dwarfing a small, curious body. A saving grace stopped him from expanding some moments ago, but left this victim trapped, sloshing inside his enormous presence. It was hard to tell how long the pressure will build again after this long pause of verbal silence; two people looking at each other from odd fixtures and glances.
Well, not like my luck ran out anway…
Consciousness slowly streamed back in as he was fully alert and aware. His heart beating quicker over the last visions of his dream as his alarm clock kept beeping. The tightness, the soft burdening of skin and liquid felt so real. The images faint away, covered in dark blue; he noted his long fingers for a moment: pale as ever. The rest of his bare body just as sallow.
After slamming down the alarm, his left arm trailed for the blanket as he touched upon something squishy and warm. His palm lay upon a soft curve, a little hill in the middle that flattened downward of each end. Bringing up images of peachy flesh. Turning over, his slowly focusing eyes caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a shining tinted dark navy color. It shifted and slowly rolled over, baring round brown eyes fully in view, a cute girl's face in direct sight.
"Good morning, hun. How was it?"