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A shinjuku story.; Closed.
Topic Started: May 27 2008, 12:02 AM (185 Views)
Mr. Trout
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Henshin boogy
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
It itched. Two days and it hadnt stopped itching.

Little did he know, he being Mr. Elliot Diggle, that he had been given a nasty case of venereal disease on his trip to Thailand. He received the disease while deep inside an 11 year old hooker he had paid to spend many days with. Mr. Diggle had a strange affection for girls of that age, of tight, tiny bodies, barely beginning to bud. He was what common society would call a pedophile. An unwanted dredge who lusted for the far more youthfilled of humanity. He knew it then, that he had contracted an unholy disease from her pre-teen twat, but in his naivety he believed it was something common, at worst mere crotch crickets.

Mr. Diggle walked home that day, grumbling, his hand raking over a rather peculiar patch of dry skin on his cheek. His finger nail brushed off a few flakes. No one should feel sorry for Mr. Diggle for what he had done, but what he would soon be going through, no one would wish on their worst enemies.

--

This was something else. The news had erupted in a media circus unseen in many years. A bright light had blinded a small town, communication all over the country was interrupted, and people were screaming out in pain. The media called it the white event. A singularity that caused everything to white out, to make vision pointless, all hearing became static, and every machine in the area simply…stopped. Some people experienced missing time, unable to figure out where they where or what they had been doing while the event went on.

There was a single loss of life. Not from a hospital, or from a crash, or from an old man unable to cope with the event, the simple loss of all stimulus. It was a girl, the daughter of the chief of police, found dead in a field down by the quarry. Her body was burned, charred, the fat and flesh having melted off to reveal only a blackened skeleton in a field of ash that had once been grass. She had been identified by her dental records. Curiously enough, the person that had last been seen with her had gone missing during the white event. Talk of a manhunt was on the people’s lips. The media and police only thought of the person as someone of interest to the case.

It was true, the person that the girl was with had killed her.

--
It had been a week now. Mr. Diggle’s skin problem was getting worse. He had grown great bumps, worse then simple pimples. The itching was worse. He had some left over penicillin left over from some youthful indiscretion, and had taken it. Antibiotics were a nice touch. Something he was staking his future in. The worst part was that one morning he had woken up, his bed was covered in hair. When he finally looked into the mirror he saw that his scalp had become bumpy, ridged, and was starting to force the hair out of his head. He had worn a hat all day at work. Hoping it would cover his growing abnormality.

At lunch, three bites into his bacon lettuce and tomato sandwich he felt a greater itch on his chin. He heard a scrapping noise as he took a bite of his meal, felt the burn of flesh rubbing against the cooked bread. A weak hand explored that area, to find a lump of skin, fresh and dehydrated. On touch it broke off, falling to the ground. It was with terror he held it up between his fingers, examining it. That was decided, that night he’d make an appointment with his doctor.

--

It had been a week since the events on the island of lost civilization, since Eeth had banished the ‘god’ that resided there out of this dimension, this plane of being. He had not lost contact with the woman who had saved him, who had caught him on the island. She was special, not as a lover, she had no interest in men. To her they were an alien species, incompatible and uninteresting in a romantic way. Though he had thought about trying it, her disinterest and simple strength had kept him at bay. Instead they gathered in a hotel room, one which Eeth had paid for and given no interest to using other then as a private place to speak.

She was standing naked before a mirror, a new outfit hanging over her front as she tried to imagine herself in it. Eeth was not offended, bothered yes, but he was starting to understand how her mind worked. Instead of course, he lit a cigarette and tried not to stare. To show a little class and be a little polite.

“But what if I want a real life after all this? I know I have a duty to my people but, there must be a way I can explore your world and not have to worry about my enemies tracking me down.” The woman spoke, her eyes glancing back at Mr. Hellsing, who sat there puffing on the one smoldering stick of cancer. It was the oldest question in the super hero handbook, the biggest problem when anyone said they wanted to save the world. To keep the people you pissed off from shooting you as you took a crap, or ate a nice family dinner, or made love. Eeth had one answer. The only answer really. He reached into the torn about suit jacket, reached deep within it and removed something special to him. At the onset it looked like some blob of blackness, something that absorbed the light of the small hotel room.

“You wear this.” He tossed it up to her, and she caught it, one hand holding the outfit close to her body, the other holding the bit of blackness up. “I used to wear this. I think it suits you more.” Eeth’s words were true, echoing and stuffy as he exhaled the thick smoke that he breathed every day.

“Do you mean…” She unraveled the matted mess, revealing it to be what it was. The dark cowl that held the sharp face reminiscent of a hawk.

“That’s right luv. You get yourself a proper costume.”

--
Mr. Diggle skipped the trip to the doctors. He knew he should have, but he had become too afraid. He knew it was an STD, but it was no normal one. His left arm had grown so large it split the jacket he was wearing open. A Cro-Magnon brow had grown over his left eye, and descended, blinding him on that side. Worse yet, he could no longer go out in public. His testicles had swelled up to the size of grapefruits, forcing him to appear like he was smuggling hams insides his pants. It made walking awkward. Quite frankly Mr. Diggle was afraid. He didn’t believe he would live through this.

It was still getting worse. Every hour he counted more boils, more growths sprawling across his body. It didn’t look like it was every going to stop.

--

Most people believe the earth is just a rock. Or some form of singular living entity. It is a bit more complicated then that. The earth is more like a single computer, made up of smaller computers, hardwired into a larger one then itself. Like a machine needs virus protection, a scanner to wipe out problems as they happen and generally keep the machine going, the earth had its own. Part of its universal programming was assigning to people the duty of protecting it. It endowed these beings with super natural powers so that they can do the best job possible in protecting it. There are a handful of these beings on earth, and every age that comes and goes new ones are sprouted as the old ones die.

This is the earth protection system. Because of it a single town had been cut off briefly from the rest of the world, and one young woman had died. It had bestowed onto one being a small portion of its own energy, its own life force to make it defend the world and those that lived in it. The awakening and empowering of that one individual had led to her death, the world knew this, but what was one death compared to the death that came every day without that being out there serving its purpose. A regretful event, but one that happened.

Her name was Mai Naoko, she was the killer the news was looking for. The woman who had killed the chief’s daughter. It had been an accident, the sudden flowing of power, Mai had no idea how to use it, how to control it. It had rolled out of her, erupted from her hands, and devoured the girl. She meant her no harm, the dead woman was her lover after all, the one person in this world she trusted. They had been in that area, on that grass, basking in the sun in the afterglow of lovemaking.

Tears were streaming down Mai’s face. She didn’t know where to go, after the power flowed out here and killed her lover she had taken to the air and not returned. She did not quite know how she had known to fly, or how she did it. She had simply taken off into the sky and had not stopped until she landed on some remote island. She was lost, confused, and crying over the death of her lover.

The trouble is of course, that she was not alone.

-

He couldn’t move anymore. The welts, the boils, the growths. They had grown so much, Mr. Diggle was just a ball of them, of boiling stretched skin that ached and burned with every passing second. He could only stare out of part of his right eye, unable to see the world. He hadnt eaten in three days now, since his arms had become unable to reach his mouth. The problem was he was not hungry, he was not tired, it had been days without food or sleep and he was not strained at all. There was only the pain, the never ending burning pain as his organs and skin stretched.

He wanted to scream, wanted to make the worst noises in the world to let people know where he was, to get any help. It was long past being embarrassed, being a spokesman for a disease to which he feared becoming. It was just about survival now. It was his throat that stopped him, he could not force any sound out of it. He just could do nothing but lay there, forgotten with his thoughts, never sleeping, just waiting as he endured the pain that he prayed would take his life.

--

There was a noise behind her. Footsteps clawing across the rocky surface of the island. Mai turned, her hand raised in preparation to destroy whatever could possibly be there. Glowing orange energy, solar energy wrapped around her hand, gathering in her palm. She held it there as she searched to see what had made the noise. It was an attack, a blast of energy to be sure. The bright blinding light launched forward out at a rather surprised looking man who had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. But the blast was stopped, the shine of metal, an unknown material burst out sending the beam of light skyward. The metal was a brace band on the wrist of a woman dressed all in black. Leather, a long coat, and a black mask that came to a point, no not a mask really, a cowl that gave the impression of fear.

It was a woman beneath that mask, Mai knew. It was slender, and the lumps beneath the center armor plate were definitely part of a female body. It was a sad fact that she was looking for someone so quickly after her girlfriend had passed on, at her own hand. At least Mai learned at that moment that firing again would be a fruitless endeavor, now to try the diplomatic approach.

“Well then luv. Now that we got the nasty trying to kill me bit out of the way. Which I really cant blame you for. Plenty of girls see me and the first thing that comes to their mind is shoot him, shoot him fast.” The man with the cigarette was talking. He had a thick English accent, and smiled. It was strange that he wasn’t wearing a mask, then again neither was Mai. “Now, miss Naoko lets talk business.”

“What kind of business.” Mai wasn’t a stupid girl. She knew what men wanted, she knew what people would do if they discovered she had powers. She’d be like those freaks on the news, the ones that blew up Russia, the ones that were attacked and caused the most homicides in the world. She would be another one of those killer meta humans. That wasn’t the life she wanted, even if she had killed by accident, she wouldn’t do it again.

“We’re in the business of saving the world.” The man gleamed, gave a smile like the cat who had swallowed the canary. “We’re super heroes luv. And we want you to join us.”

--

The stench was great. So great the neighbors had noticed, they had called the land lady, who after a day of hammering on the door, had called the police. The officers arrived promptly, taking a brief look at the criminal history of Mr. Diggle. He was accused once of sex with an underage girl, but she recounted, claimed to have made it all up. No charges stuck and he had walked out a free and unknown man. Now they were back for him. Not so secretly the police hoped that he was dead, or had a body in there that would prove he was the monster they knew he was. They knocked on the door once, twice, declaring who they were and their intent. When it went unanswered they had the land lady unlock the door and entered weapons drawn.

The smell was even worse inside the apartment. They two police officers were ten year veterans. People who knew things about this city, who had breathed in their secrets and had found inner strength to say. But there, in the apartment of lonely Mr. Diggle, one vomited and the other began to call to the god he so desperately believed in. The skin filled the entire kitchen and living room. The rotted, peeling skin was becoming mush, peeling off of the crusty inside that held it in place. Liquid putrification was sinking onto the floor, staining the carpet. The eyes were empty holes, though only one could still be seen, one that wasn’t covered in the festering pus that had once been a man.

“Alas, did he go or did he simply not come? Who out there can say, will you, wont you, stay here and play. Send in the child and have a cup of tea. It is my unbirthday you see.” A smile, a gleaming horrible smile appeared from the other side of the festering corpse. He was shorter then a normal man, stature slight, naked in the flickering bulbs, his well eaten belly hanging before him, not fat but he was certainly not starving. He had prominent front teeth, teeth that showed brightly beneath an overwhelming smile, lips that curved far past where gums should allow. Strangest yet was his hat, a beaten up old thing, resting on a tuft of messy brown blonde hair. He was the man once known as Elliot Diggle, now he was something else.

“The fuck…who the fuck are you?!” The cops sounded, the bent over one wiping the vomit from his mouth as he spoke. It was hard enough to focus with the stench, but this man was strange enough, eerie enough that he shouldn’t go unnoticed.

“Tsk tsk. I invited you for tea. But you are so rude to me. I have to show you what happens to bad little boys, who come to my unbirthday without any toys.” The former Mr. Diggle gleamed and spread his arms wide. The door to the apartment slammed shut, not through mortal hands. The entire complex heard the shouts, the screams. But what happened inside was the thing of nightmares that could not be described or even dreamed of by mortal men.

A few minutes later. Before the red lights and sirens of help came. Mr. Diggle left the apartment, clad in a dirty suit and a far oversized polka dotted bowtie. He simply adjusted his tie, and left, humming a most delightful tune, escaping into the night. When the police arrived, they opened the door and discovered the murder scene of the century. Bodies were thrown about inside, the intestines stretched, the mater recycled through the mouths of the officers who had carried the precious bits of meat. Blood and bile were everywhere. That is how the story ends for now. A rather downer point really.
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