Warehouse, downtown. No furniture, just a few crates full of machineguns and sniper rifles. Hot as fuck, the fan in the corner not doing anything. Sweat dripping off me fast as I could gulp down my soda.

It was a miracle. Three days after the attack, my whole body completely healed. That… thing ate my leg, my hands, most of my nose, my chin, one breast, one thigh. Starting to sound like a bucket of extra crispy.

Somehow, Attucks fixed me. He did something, brought me back to life. Don’t understand how. Still not sure why. All I knew was that he was planning on undoing all that work. He said that today, he was going to take me apart so he could figure out what made me tick. Like I was a pocket watch.

“Katana,” he said. He pointed at it. “You with me?”

“Yeah, no,” I said. “I have no idea how they make one.”

“They take that steel and they heat it,” he said. “And they cool it down, and they fold it over and over again. On itself. And they heat it and they cool it down. Makes it hard. Makes it deadly. So protect yourself.”

I was still trying to figure out what that last part meant when he jerked forward and smashed me in the face.

I took out guys twice his size. Never saw anybody move so fast. Another hit, and another. I couldn’t feel anything yet, but in the back of my mind, I knew it was going to be a bitch of a day.

“Orikaeshi,” he said. “The folding process.”

I tried to swing the katana. He batted it aside and slammed a fist like a hammer into my jaw. Cracking sound inside my head like pine logs splitting in a fire.

“I will teach you how to be the nemesis,” he said. I tumbled forward. A knee to my chest.

Cracked ribs. Blood on the concrete. I spat. Crunchy. Three of my front teeth. Falling forward, cracking my skull. Rolled over onto my back. Attucks wiped his hands on his pants. Crossed his arms.

“I will teach you to put the fear of Jesus Christ in these motherfuckers.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t stop staring at my arms.

Two tattoos. Left arm, red dragon. Born in the year of the dragon. Right arm, spitting cobra. Been told I share both its tendencies and its general level of warmth and cuddliness.

My arms were back. Somehow, my fingers were all there. Legs, too. It was a dream. The whole thing was a dream. Drugs, hypnosis. Fucker slipped me something, I hallucinated.

He shook his head and leaned forward. I could see into his eyes. Through his eyes, endless sky and long millennia of slow-moving clouds. I recoiled and fell out of bed like he just slapped me.

“Not hallucinating,” he said. “Listen to me. This is real. It’s bad, and it’s going to get worse. Eat something.”

6-4-10-21-15-11-20-4-18-8-7 12-25-22-12-7-8 14-23-12-22 16-8-26-22-8,

22-12-3 20-8-14-14-8-26-22 14-23-4-14 10-4-19-8 10-4-14-14-8-26-22 1-21-26-22-8;

14-23-8 1-21-26-7 14-23-4-14-’22 11-21-26-10-8-7, 4 13-23-4-26-4-21-23-’22 6-15-26-22-8.

14-21 15-25-7-8-26-22-14-4-25-7 14-23-8 23-12-7-7-8-25 22-12-18-25,

4 22-12-25-18-20-8 20-8-14-14-8-26 11-26-21-10 8-4-6-23 20-12-25-8;

4 5-15-17-17-12-25-18 8-12-18-23-14-23 2-21-15 1-12-20-20 7-12-16-12-25-8.

YYYY:

7-2-4-14-20-21-16 13-4-22-22 2-8-4-26

xxxxxxyyyy@yahoo.com

If you don’t get an immediate response, retrace your steps.

I looked around. In a bed. Small room, concrete walls. Medical equipment. IV drip into my arm. I saw the bandages. My arm was too short. No fingers.

I looked down and saw what remained of my body.

I started screaming.

He reached over and increased the drip.

I blacked out.

He opened fire.

Rounds tore into it. It opened its mouth. My forearm tumbled out. The thing roared and howled like a cage full of burning animals. It wriggled off of me. It went after my rescuer. He sneered and dropped the machine gun, pulled out a machete.

I blacked out.

No one saw me. It coiled something, a tentacle, around my ankle, dragged me. Took its time. No hurry.

Looked over my shoulder. Saw it. No idea how to describe it. Where it stood, the ground rippled like water. I could see through the thing’s skin. See its organs. I was still screaming, but my throat wasn’t making a sound. Wetness on my chest. I looked down and saw my vocal chords. It was lifting them towards its mouth. Slow.

I gagged on my own blood. Not for the last time. Figured I was dead. Looked down again. Saw that most of my left leg was in its mouth. Saw the teeth coming down. Heard a crunch. Didn’t feel anything.

Someone was yelling. I turned my head. Felt myself slipping away. Saw someone.

A black dude. Brother had a machine gun.

Walking, four in the morning, cold as fuck, out of cigarettes. Bad mood. Walking. Sweating under my jacket, but my lips and chin were numb. Foul mood. Assessing my entire life. Examining all the major decisions. Is this where I went wrong? Here? Could have studied a little harder in high school, I guess.

Didn’t see it coming.

Something tore out of the blackness. Glimpse, corner of my eye. Jagged yellow teeth, flat white eyes, eight or nine legs. Scuttling along the wall towards me. Drooling. Ropes of thick white fluid from its jaws.

Singing. Sounded like a little girl singing in Latin.