"Hey... radio girl?"

"My name is Patrice."

"...Okay, Patrice... How do I do this one? I've heard that people who take the drug can be cured. So, I don't need to kill him, right?"

"He ate someone."

............

Thin raindrops were shattered into a fine mist by the wind, rolling off of me when they had made a big enough bunch.

Moss stained the parking lot in front of me with thick green patches. So much, that the area smelt of excavated earth. Knockers had been abandoned for five years now, only the outermost parts had begun reconstruction.

My goggles had fogged up with my breath. I had been standing here for a while now. Trying my hardest to get myself to move forward, and I had yet to succeed. 

"Bullet-proof, bullet-proof..."

My chanting earned me another step, and the thought that radio girl would soon call for an update, or to be sure that I hadn't been eaten, yet, made me continue. Towards where I would be.

The pavement and ramps were cracked. 

My home was vacant and only a few miles from here, I'd stop by after, hopefully.

I took a deep breath.

My bioenergy, moved away from my heart, along its blood vessels. Portioning evenly between muscle, organs, bones, cartilage. My body grew.

I had been six foot flat, two-twenty, all muscle, and other stuff. Right now, I was about six-five, three thirty. If the registration office testing was to be beleived. 

My sock-like costume had somehow held water, despite supposedly being waterproof. As it grew taut, the outer layer became dry.

I didn't need to check the rest of the five stories, I could hear his reptile-like heartbeat, through the water.

"David Finston." I called him by his name. Hoping, I'd get a sissy 'yes', in reply. He'd been a male receptionist. Maybe some of it still flowed in him.

He rose slowly, sticking the upper part of his body out. Finston's scales were small, dark, and tight; his looks had more in common with a lizard, then a gator. His size was comparable to the other though. As more of him left the water, I shifted into a peek-a-boo stance.

"Mr. Finston, don't make me hurt you, sir."

Finston shattered the water as he left it. He ran on all fours. Swinging at my head with a greenish tinted claw. He whiffed, as I ducked under, bringing an uppercut beneath his jaw, which was open, ready to take a bite of my head.

The blow landed solidly, more then I wanted it to. A few of his porcelain white teeth shattered as his momentum had been canceled and turned around. He slid, cleansing some of the filth around the cesspool as he did.

"You can't win this fight, sir. Stand down."

He held his broken jaw as he stood back up. As a teapot-like whistle came from his throat, I switched into an orthodox stance.

Carelessly, he rushed me. His claw came from below this time. They were spaced so far apart, due to how large his hand was, that it almost caught me, mid sidestep. The force of his whiff left him wide open, again. So widely that I could almost hear myself apologize for what I would do. I gripped his outstretched arm, thugging him toward me. My right-straight connected, sinking into his skull; severing its connection to the rest of him.

There was a dull snap, like wood that hadn't properly dried before being broken.

His head was behind, I imagine, like a hoodie.

My power had side effects. The most important being my lack of emotion. 

"Radio girl, call the cops, please."

"Okay."