“Shit, shit, SHIT!” screamed a young man in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants as he ran down the dark alley. A dark figure cloaked in shadows could be seen following behind him, its step as silent as the night despite the speed of the chase. The panic-stricken young man slipped on a beer bottle in his haste and fell with limbs flailing in a futile attempt to break his fall.

A groan of pain escaped his lips as he slowly got up. A quick glance back showed him an empty view of trash littered pavement, but he wasn’t fooled. He scrambled his way up while leaning against a wall, picking up the bottle as a makeshift weapon.

His eyes were bloodshot and wild as he glanced around, flinching as the shadows danced under the moonlight. Yet, no matter how hard he peered into the darkness, he couldn’t find whoever it was that was chasing him. Minutes ticked by and eventually, his nerves got to him. His voice cracked with a hint of madness as he shouted out into the night.

“Come out! Didn’t you want me? Well, here I am! Come get me you son of a bitch!” his hands trembled ever so slightly as he smashed the bottom of the bottle so that it ended in jagged edges, fragments of broken glass cut deeply into his palm and caused blood to drip down his fingertips, but he ignored the pain to focus on the imminent threat lurking nearby. He held it in front of him in a position ready to stab at the first thing that jumped at him. The blood rushing to his head sounded like a roaring river in his ears as his fingers in his left hand twitched from the force of his pulse.

He looked everywhere as fear and despair slowly consumed his mind. Everywhere but up that was. A chance glance at his weapon had shown him the reflection of a rapidly descending figure, but alas it was far too late. A brutal stomp to his spine from above knocked him down with all the force of a meteor, his legs snapped like twigs and his spine crushed.

A pain filled wail echoed throughout the area, and it took him a few moments to realize that the source of it was himself. His eyes blurred as snot and tears ran down his face and blood pooled around him. He was hardly given time to go into shock when a white-gloved hand gave him a resounding slap across the face.

The dark figure had stepped out of the shadows and into the moon’s light. It was wearing a motorcycle helmet and a black leather jacket and blue jeans. If he didn’t know better he would’ve thought they were any other biker around town. A deep, menacing, and clearly synthesized voice had knocked out of his idle observation.

“Where is it?”

The figure asked him while wrapping a hand around his throat and raising him into the air. His broken lower half bent in the wrong direction and dangled uselessly in the air. The pristine white glove was dyed red with his blood, but it didn’t seem to matter to the murderous biker.

“W-what are you talking about?” He could barely choke out the question with the vice grip on his throat and the blood pooling in his mouth.

“The. Talisman. Boy. Where did you hide it?” It seemed what little patience the figure had was quickly running out as they threw a punch with their free hand into the young man’s face with every word. He was sure that his nose was broken and he was going to develop a seriously wicked black eye in the morning if he lived to see the sunrise that is.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” And honestly the concussions he was likely receiving probably didn’t help matters.

“Wrong answer kid.” Fear seized his heart at the sheer malice he could hear in that voice. He struggled his best, blindly throwing punches at the figure, but all he earned was a laugh full of scorn and mockery. That, and bruised knuckles.

Bruises that were the least of his worries when the figure grabbed his arm and proceeded to twist his wrist until it dislocated with a sickening pop. He wasn’t sure if it was actually that loud, but to him, it sounded as if a gunshot had fired right next to his ears. His screams were cut short as a fist buried itself into his face and knocked him into the wall.

“Since you seem to want to waste my time and play games, then I’ll humor you, how about we play one of my favorites?”

A hand gripped his index finger and slowly bent it back until something torn in his hand.

“This little piggy went to the market~”

It said with twisted mirth in a sing-song voice unbefitting it’s deep tone.

It went towards his thumb and gave it a sharp twist until it bent all the way back and was pointed directly inwards.

“This little piggy stayed home~!”

This time the sadistic monster went towards his pinkie and snapped it to the side and outwards at the second knuckle. It laughed at his muffled screams, drinking in his agony in pure delight.

“This little piggy had roast beef~”

A pinch on his middle fingernail clued him in on what was coming. He felt the fear of it choke him as he watched. The bastard he even raised his hand close to his face so he could watch it in detail as it slowly ripped off its nail. Blood gushed out as it was completely removed. He squirmed in place as his lower half twitched in futile effort to get away from the horror. Truly, the figure was a monster, as he threw away his bloody nail with the casual ease of having pluck a hair.

“This little piggy had none~!”

The bloodstained hand brushed against his bloody fingertip tip as the masked figure laughed.

“Oh dear, did I accidentally hurt you? I’m so sorry about that. The only pain you should be suffering from are those I intentionally inflict”

His eyes were blurry and he was shaking like a leaf in the wind as he blubbered incoherently to the man, pleading with him to stop his madness. He knew not of what talisman they were looking for. It was all in vain.

“This little piggy had...None!”

He had flinched as the white hand hovered over his ring finger, the only one that was intact in his right hand, and he hated himself for it as it only evoked the mirth of his tormentor. He felt hate. Hate as he has never known before. It burned like a lump of fiery coal in the pit of his stomach. Hate at this fucking insane psychopath that attacked him out of nowhere. Toying with his life and enjoying his misery. Hate that nobody has stepped to his aid, surely his screams would’ve been enough to wake up the neighborhood by now. Hate, that he was so weak and helpless.

As soon as he had relaxed and let his guard down, like a viper the figure struck, grabbing his ring finger and twisted it 180 degrees until it popped.

“This little piggy went Wee. Wee. Wee, all the way home!

With every punctuation of “Wee” the madman gleefully twisted it the other direction and grinded his bones together as if trying to snuff a cigarette.

He glared at the man with all his rage, he knew he was going to die, there was no more question about it, this maniac wasn’t going to let him go. And once he accepted this, somehow the fear he felt slowly melted away. He couldn’t beat the man so he did the only thing he could. He to retaliate in his current situation. He spat a loogie, more blood than mucus, at the man and smiled. It was all teeth.

The figure gave a small chuckle before calmly raising the back of his hands and wiped his helmet. They then grinded that same hand into his right cheek, the bone gave way and powdered before such monstrous might. A patronizing pat on his face reminded him of the situation he was in. That token effort of rebellion, that show of stubbornness and pride, had just earned him the wrath of his demented tormentor.

“Hey now, kid, you don’t have to look so sad that the game has ended. After all, there’s still 15 left isn’t there?”

It was a hellish couple of hours that he had to endure, not much longer than his commute from home to school, although it might as well have been an eternity with how slowly time dragged by. His finger bones were broken beyond repair, the bones grinded to dust and a few completely torn off and most likely eaten by rats by now. The smell of iron and urine was heavy in the air.

“Well now, perhaps you’re feeling more...Shall we say, cooperative, Mr. Hunter? Now once more from the top, where is the Talisman? I do so hate to have to repeat myself.”

The figure stared down at an oddly shaped mass in the dark. As if even the moon itself dare no peek at what travesty had occurred within the alley no light had shone in it. From afar it seemed as if a professional contortionist had decided to practice on the dirty ground and perform the human pretzel, but a second glance would’ve utterly shatter such misconceptions.

For where would one find a man who would break his own body to conform to a figure that humans simply weren’t meant to be in? Bones were clearly sticking out of his arms and legs, and it looked as if someone intentionally pulled it out and folded the flesh and skin back on his left calf. The ankle and foot only attached by a thin strand of tendon.

A truly grotesque scene more befitting a brutal vehicle accident or monster mauling than at the hands of a fellow man.

The masked figure stared at his handiwork. It was clear to him that young Mr. Hunter truly did not know of the artifact that he was seeking, but he had been such an interesting toy. At first, he was like all the others. He cowered in fear, he whimpered in pain, he had been broken and fallen into despair. Yet, somehow he had climbed back from the pits, and he brought back hell with him in his eyes.

Fear and confusion gave way to anger and fury.

At the halfway mark, although he was wearing a mask, he swore the kid was staring him in the eyes. No matter what manner of injury he inflicted upon him, he never blinked. Oh, sure, he screamed and howled, but the glint of steel in his eyes never faded even when blood soaked his body and the swelling sealed half his vision. It was admirable, and if he didn’t have orders he might have let the kid lived. Men like these were a rare breed, and he might’ve grown to become a challenge one day.

Alas, orders were orders. No witnesses, no survivors.

From within the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a multitude of small rods that grew into 2 feet long metal rods with a pointed tip. With nary a grunt of effort, he lifted up the mutilated and deformed pile of flesh that used to be Hunter. Like a broken marionette his limbs dangled uselessly as his assailant forcefully positioned him and crucify his limp body to the alley wall. Although he was breathing his barely even had to energy to blink. It took all his willpower to keep his eyes open.

A jerry can was poured all over his head and the burn he felt from his open wounds and the liquid dripped onto them was only a preview of the agony he felt when a lit lighter fell onto him. The biker gave a wave from behind his head as a motorcycle drove itself into the alley and awaited its master.

“Seeya later kid, sorry about the mix-up, you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time I suppose? The name’s Ravager, take it as a courtesy. Once you reach the other side, tell em I sent ya, I’m sure it’ll get you some respect. Ciao!”

The man drove off into the empty streets as a wave of heat bellowed behind him.

The roar of fire consumed not only his body but his mind. His mind retreated within itself as dissociation kicked in to protect his fragile mind. His skin charred and his blood boiled in his veins. Humans truly were surprisingly flammable he idly noted. Contrary to popular belief, the smell of burning human flesh turned out to not be so different than BBQ after all. Damn, he never liked well done, always have been more of a medium rare type of guy.

It was with such thoughts that mercifully enough the tar of unconsciousness finally claimed him. Little did he know that as his body went up in flames another light had lit up within him. If the masked figure had turned to look he would’ve seen that the symbol of the talisman he was looking for was now upon the boy’s forehead.

Streaks of energy sparked around him as if an electrical current. His skin charred black while the innards of his body seemed to liquify into a white sludge. The flames were blown out by the release of energy. A nearby rodent which had been attracted by the scent of blood had approached. Its curiosity had bid it investigate the strange blob. A mistake that proved most fatal as it was quickly consumed, the sludge wrapping around it as if a cocoon with all the strength of a boa constrictor. Cats evidently weren’t the only thing that was killed by curiosity.

Within seconds the creature was absorbed and assimilated. The blob twitched before briefly turning into a white and featureless model of the rodent. However, it quickly returned to its original liquid state before it shrunk down and formed a ball. The orb was a pale white and from its original size of a man, it turned into the size of a tennis ball. It’s surface harden as it went into a dormant state.

Hidden in a corner behind piles of trash, all that remained of the area were puddles of blood and the series of metal rods embedded into the wall, and a charcoal human husk.