Havana or Hell, Part 8 (Final part)
#8 of Havana or Hell
XV
Bruckner and Burris stared at me in silent horror, as my hands transformed into clawed monstrosities, my teeth extended into fangs and the entire length of my body sprouted a thick coat of brown fur. I gorged myself on the freely flowing energy from the dark side of the abyss and I grew to twice the size of my human form.
I expected the two MI-16 agents to bolt and run, but they had been trained too well and stood their ground. Bruckner let out a sudden, human scream and emptied his entire clip into me at point range. I was a large target and impossible to miss, and the bullets stung like angry bees as they burrowed into my fur. I grabbed the hand that wielded the rifle and clenched his fingers around it. Then I squeezed. His fingers exploded like sausages, while his mouth contracted into a surprised "O". He made a long wailing sound that annoyed my ears, so I picked him up and held him close to my face.
"Oh GOD!" he cried. "Oh dear, sweet GOD!"
"God is not here," I bellowed. "Only I am." I tossed his sprawling body across the room. He sailed through the air like a wingless bird and crashed into the wall, where his body split down front and emptied itself on the floor. The scent of human insides reached my nose and I breathed deeply, reveling in the fragrance. I then turned to Burris, who stood paralyzed. His lips quivered softly, and warm liquid ran down the inside of his trousers. Fear had made him incontinent and the acrid scent of his urine stung my nose.
Humans: they live in constant fear of death, yet death is the one thing they all have in common.
"You only die once," I said. "So feel it and embrace it."
The confused look in his eyes made it obvious that he no longer understood my language, and I thought of a thousand worthwhile ways of making him die. In that moment, the sound of screeching tires on asphalt and wailing police sirens, told me it was time to unbecome.
"I'm sorry", I said. "You deserved more than this." Gently, I pulled the head off his body, like a ripe cherry off its stalk. It made a soft snap as it came off and blood spouted from his neck like water from a burst pipe.
Thankfully, Kat was still asleep on the couch. She had not witnessed my shifting or the brutal fight. If I were quick to shift back, I might be lucky enough to carry her outside before she woke up to see the carnage around her.
With moments to spare, I sat down next to Kat and unbecame. My claws and horns dried into dust that flaked off my body like dandruff. My fur softened and blended in smoothly with my skin. My body-shape returned to human size and form, and the demon's rage and blood-thirst fragmented like the memories of a dream when you awake.
Moments later, two police officers burst through the door. I recognized them as chief inspector Quinn and Sgt O'Hare.
"Holy SHIT!," Shouted O'Hare. "What the hell happened in here?"
"I_became_," I explained. "-that's what happened. I embraced the darkness, and then I became."
Confused, Sgt O'Hare looked at the inspector.
"There's no way I can put that in a report!"
Quinn looked at me with a faint smile, I couldn't interpret.
"I believe Mr. Kent is saying, that he passed out when the shooting began. Isn't that right, Mr Kent?"
"Whatever works for your report, inspector."
Quinn pried the rifle from Bruckner's crushed hand.
"The clip's empty. He fired quite a number of rounds before he died."
I checked myself. My clothes had torn when I transformed, but now I was back in my human form, and once again I was buck naked. I was full of bruises, but otherwise unharmed. My fur had been too tough for the bullets to penetrate. Sgt O'Hare staggered. The stench rising from the still pulsating body of Bruckner was getting to him, and he made a series of retching noises, trying not to puke. Quinn nodded at him. "I'll take it from here," and O'Hare stormed outside. The sound of unsteady footsteps echoed down the hall, then disappeared.
"I'll put in my report that two rival criminal gangs had a shootout... and we interviewed a couple of witnesses on the scene. Brother and sister." The inspector reached into his pocket and threw something at me in a slow arc - it was a book of matches from a local coffee bar.
"For the Schematics," he said. "The world isn't ready for a global Havana syndrome."
"You knew about the schematics, all along?"
"Of course," smiled Quinn. "It takes more than one to save the world from itself." He closed his notebook with a soft snap, then began walking towards the door.
"What about ME!" I shouted at his back. "What am I in all of this? Witness, victim... criminal?"
He stopped by the door, turned and smiled at me with an almost overbearing patience.
"Other,_naturally... You're _other."
And for a brief moment, his eyes flashed yellow.
THE END