The Tattoo

By Jeff Colburn




The bell over the door continued to ring as it performed a schizophrenic dance on the end of a bouncing spring. Kyle stood impatiently at the counter, his strong fingers drumming incessantly. Weeks of bribes and threats had finally lead him to this place, and he wanted to get on with the business of avenging his brothers death. Looking around, Kyle read some of the labels on the jars filling the numerous shelves in the shop. Creatures both familiar and strange had various parts of their bodies pickled, dried or powdered, to be used in cures for every ailment known to man. A river of smoke from Sandalwood incense slowly snaked its way through the forest of herbs hanging from the ceiling. Kyle tied his hair back with a thong, then crossed his arms, tightly. The leather of his biker jacket squeaked in protest.

Mr. Wu emerged from the back room. His appearance, ancient and shocking.

White hair showered down to the small of his back. Thin whiskers formed a Fu Manchu mustache and beard, whose knotted ends held a magnificently carved Hornbill Ojime bead shaped like a dragon.

Intricately embroidered spiders clung to Mr. Wu's black silk robe. Exquisite craftsmanship gave them the appearance of living spiders, hanging from silken webs in the void of space.

Mr. Wu started placing bottles on the counter in front of Kyle. "Green, black, red, yellow, blue and purple. These will meet your needs," Mr. Wu said. His gentle voice spoke in perfect English, with just a hint of an accent. Not Chinese or British, but something else.

Mr. Wu's gnarled fingers wrapped themselves around a carved Cherrywood box, and pulled it from under the counter. His long pointed nails flipped open the lid. Carefully, he placed each bottle of ink into its own silk lined compartment. Seven carved ivory handles sat inside the lid. Each held a tattoo needle of unique design.

Mr. Wu closed the lid and looked at Kyle. "$50,000 American please." Kyle dug into his coat pocket and handed over an envelope. Mr. Wu reached in and fanned the stack of worn bills. "Thank you young warrior." Mr. Wu pushed the Cherrywood box toward Kyle.

Kyle didn't move, but stared at the box. He knew a decision had to be made. Leave now and go back to his life, or stay and be forever changed.

The beautifully carved dragon on the box's lid suddenly lifted its head and stared at Kyle. Startled, Kyle took a quick step back and drew a sharp breath between clenched teeth. He flashed a panicky look to Mr. Wu, who looked back calmly. A little shaken, Kyle stepped up to the counter and cautiously reached for the box.

Mr. Wu's hand flashed out in a blur of motion. The grip on Kyle's wrist was just shy of painful. The old man's speed and strength amazed Kyle. "You have been warned of the consequences you will face if you continue with this endeavor." Kyle could feel Mr. Wu's eyes pry into every corner of his mind as they uncovered all his secrets. "Once started it cannot be stopped, and you will never be just a man again. Do you still wish to continue?" Droplets of sweat sprinted down Kyle's body. "Yes," he said. "My brother's murder can't go unpunished." The pain Kyle felt over his brother's death welled up and put a knot in his stomach that even a fisherman couldn't undo.

"Then please, follow me."

Kyle snatched up the box and followed.

Mr. Wu led him to a heavy oak door, secured by a large beam. When Mr. Wu opened the door, Kyle saw a small room where an old man sat on the floor. He couldn't quite see what the man looked like, because the room was thick with smoke from dozens of incense sticks. As Kyle stepped slowly into the room, his eyes began to water from the pungent cloud.

"I will return for you in five days," said Mr. Wu. He then closed the heavy door, and slid the beam into place. Mr. Wu's long pointed toenails clicked on the floor as he walked away.

At first Kyle couldn't see, then his eyes grew accustomed to the light emanating from several small candles.

The old man held out his hand, and Kyle gave him the box of inks and needles. He then motioned for Kyle to sit.

Being this close to the old man Kyle could see him much clearer, and he was amazing. At first, the man appeared to be fully clothed, but now Kyle could see that he was naked. Incredibly detailed and vibrant tattoos blanketed his body. Each one a magnificent picture, telling some ancient story unknown to Kyle. As he stared at one of the tattoos, he suddenly jumped. It was moving. A bird from one of the scenes flew across the old man's chest, and landed on a tree branch in another scene on the man's shoulder.

Kyle nervously clenched his teeth as he slowly removed his jacket and shirt, then laid down on his back. "A dragon across my chest," he said. Painful memories of his brother flooded his mind, and mixed with the knowledge of what he was doing with his life. Tears ran out the corners of his eyes, but this time they had nothing to do with the smoke.

The old man nodded and opened the carved box. He picked up one of the ivory handled needles and the bottle of black ink, then leaned over his living canvas. The first prick of the needle sent searing waves of pain through every cell of Kyle's body. Floundering in a pain filled sea, he passed out.

Kyle groggily opened his eyes, and found himself in a world where he was neither awake nor asleep. In the swirling clouds of incense, he saw strange creatures walk, fly and swim. Some animals he recognized, others must have been spawned in some hellish nightmare.

Kyle also felt a battle going on inside himself. His old self was struggling to survive, but the struggle was in vain. Kyle's love for his brother, and a burning desire for justice, wouldn't let him go back. Kyle accepted this decision, and like a mighty sword, this truth drove deep into his old self and killed it, forever.

Time lost all meaning. Kyle couldn't tell if he had been in the room for a few minutes or a few years. He noticed a new creature flying in the ether, a dragon. Its red skin shone like well-oiled leather. Jet black dagger shaped teeth glinted with orange highlights as streams of flame shot out of the dragon's mouth. Claws looking like carved flint lashed out at the air. Suddenly the dragon made eye contact, and Kyle felt a dark fear pierce the very foundation of his being. The dragon turned sharply and dove at Kyle. In panic, Kyle tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. The dragon slammed into his chest and disappeared into his body. Kyle froze, afraid to breathe or even blink. He was sure he had only moments to live. As he watched, his chest rippled like water in a pond when a stone is thrown in. Then slowly the dragon floated up to the surface of his chest. At first very faint, but within seconds it became a vibrant tattoo. It squirmed for a moment until it found a comfortable position. Kyle knew that from this point on he would never again be the man he used to be. His entire life was now devoted to one cause, to avenge his brother's death. Kyle exhaled the air that had been burning in his lungs for an eternity, and blacked out.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through a window and slowly crawled up Kyle's body, until it reached his closed eyes. He awakened with a head full of cobwebs. "Wha..., where am I?" he moaned. He sat up, and quickly grabbed the tattered mattress beneath him as the room spun for a moment. "How did I get here?" he said, looking around. Kyle worked his way off the bed and onto wobbly legs, which led him to a table against the wall. On the table was a note, held in place by a small corked bottle. The clear glass revealed a dark liquid that swirled around inside, even though it had not been disturbed.

"Drink this. May the gods protect you," Kyle read aloud. He uncorked the bottle. The liquid reeked of something dead. Long dead. He placed the bottle on the table and slowly removed his sweat soaked T-shirt. On his chest was the most magnificent tattoo he had ever seen. It was the dragon from his hallucination, accurate in every detail, except for the eyes. They were white and lifeless. Kyle frowned with disappointment.

Still a little groggy, Kyle looked in the mirror at the tattoo. "But how do I control you?" he muttered. Kyle picked up the bottle, braced himself for the foul taste, and quickly swallowed the stench-laden ooze. "Oh gawd," Kyle groaned. "And I thought you SMELLED bad."

His stomach started to rumble fiercely. "Now what?" he said. With lightening speed his head cleared. Tremendous strength shot out of his stomach and into his limbs. His muscles became harder than he thought possible. He could actually see them grow larger. The blood racing through his body sounded like a fierce rapids in his ears. Suddenly the strength flew into his chest, then into the tattoo. Kyle's eyes grew wide with fear. An invisible force deep inside him grabbed hold of his soul. He felt a horrendous pain as the dragon tore loose a mouthful of Kyle's soul, and fed on it. Kyle knew with complete certainty that now they were one, until death.

Kyle looked down and saw the dragon move slightly. Then its eyes turned a brilliant emerald green and glowed fiercely.

"Dragon, I am your master and you will do my bidding," Kyle said, hoping he was right. A low hiss filled the room, listening he could hear words in the hissing.

"I... will... lisssen..., for... your... command...," hissed the dragon. "But... beware... the ... priccce..."

"Price?" said Kyle, His jaw clenched tightly in anger. "I lost my soul in this bargain, what other price is there?" Silence. "I SAID WHAT PRICE," he yelled. The silence yelled back at him with its nonexistent voice. "Shit," Kyle mumbled.

Angrily he pulled on his T-shirt, threw his jacket over his shoulder, and stomped out of the hotel. Stepping onto the busy street Kyle said "Don't worry little brother, I will avenge your death. Maybe this will make mom and dad proud of me for once. Yeah, right." The thick soles of his boots slapped hard on the pavement as he headed for the docks.

* * *

Kyle sat down on a stool in the Wharf Rat Bar. As he scanned the crowd, he hardly noticed the assault on his senses. Too many years spent in these scum holes had made him immune. Thick smoke filled air slithered up his nostrils, leaving the nauseating scent of puke and piss, before it settled into his lungs. The top of the bar felt sticky to his arms as they rested on resin coated plywood. It was impossible to pick out any one conversation through the crowds talking and fighting, and the thunderous rock music that pounded against his ears. Then there was the whiskey. As it burned a path to Kyle's stomach, it left an aftertaste that was a cross between rubbing alcohol and 30-weight oil.

With smoke reddened eyes, Kyle finally saw what, or rather who, he was looking for. Two of Chen's dock workers. He had seen them many times before on his trips through the docks. What he needed now was to get them alone, but he was in no mood to wait until they were ready to go.

Kyle stared at a B-girl until he caught her eye, and motioned for her to come over.

As she sat down, her arms wrapped themselves around Kyle's arm like two snakes. "How about buying me a drink?" she cooed. When Kyle looked into her dark oriental eyes, he had to fight to keep from being drawn in.

"No," he said quietly but firmly. Then he shoved a hundred dollar bill into her petite hand. "See those two guys over there?" he said, nodding toward Chen's men.

"Yes," she said, glancing around the edge of her thick black curtain of hair.

"In five minutes I want them both in the alley behind the bar. Will that be a problem?" he asked, before taking another swig of the foul whiskey.

She gave Kyle a look that would seduce the Pope. Her mouth parted, allowing the passage of her soft tongue, which slowly caressed her full red lips, leaving them moist and shiny. She leaned toward Kyle, the low cut neckline of her bright red dress fell away from her body. Most, but not all, of her firm small breasts were displayed for his pleasure. A subtle shift of her knee, and her dress lost its gentle grip on her thigh. Like some great unveiling, the silk slowly parted, until all of her long slender legs were revealed. "What do you think?" she purred.

Kyle snapped back to reality, and a small grin turned up the corners of his unshaven face. "They don't stand a chance," he chuckled, as he felt his own self control beginning to ebb.

Kyle walked toward the head, but kept going down the hall and out the back door into the alley. Once there he disappeared into a shadow's embrace.

A few minutes later the door swung open as his accomplice glided onto the alley, with tow semi-drunken men in tow. The first man was already pulling the backless dress off the B-girl's shoulders when Kyle stepped out behind him.

Grabbing the man's neck, Kyle threw him hard against a dumpster, then quickly punched the other man in the kidney before throwing him to the ground. Kyle turned to tell the girl to leave, but was not surprised to see she had already gone.

Kyle faced the two men, who were now on their feet and sobering up fast.

The first man had already pulled a knife. The other, in a gravely voice, growled, "You're dead motherfucker," as he pulled a gun from his waistband.

Almost inaudibly, Kyle commanded, "Dragon, protect me." His chest exploded.

He could feel and hear the horrible tearing of his flesh as something flew through the front of his T-shirt. In shock he looked down through the shredded cloth and saw his own snow white ribs and sternum framed by tattered flesh. All the skin and muscles of his chest were gone, but he was not bleeding. Just as a tremendous wave of pain crashed over him, Kyle heard the man with the gun scream.

The dragon had burst from Kyle's chest, and taken Kyle's flesh to form a body.

Flying with lightning speed, its glowing eyes looked like tracers aimed straight for the man with the gun. The dragon used all four sets of its razor sharp claws to instantly disembowel him. Swooping in a tight circle, he landed in front of the man with the knife, and crouched like a cat waiting to pounce. The man froze in terror. He face drained of all color, and his eyes were huge. The dragon leaped and took the man's knife and hand into his mouth. Dagger like teeth slowly pierced the flesh above the man's left wrist, only stopping when they hit bone. With a slight flex of powerful jaw muscles, two sharp snaps echoed in the alley. The bones in the man's forearm shattered. The dragon vomited out the knife, which the hand was still clutching. The man dropped to his knees and screamed as he stared at his bleeding stump, but no one in this neighborhood paid attention to screams. The dragon turned and locked its glowing eyes on Kyle, who watched everything through waves of near blinding pain.

The dragon flew full speed at Kyle. Slamming into his chest it knocked him hard onto his back. As Kyle lay there, the pain quickly vanished and he heard a hissing sound grow steadily louder. Out of the hissing came words Kyle understood.

"The... Priccce."

Kyle struggled to his feet and stumbled over to the man who now sat awkwardly on the ground, still clutching his bleeding arm.

"My brother was killed on the docks a few weeks age," Kyle growled. "I want you to tell me everything you know about it, if not.." Kyle glanced over at the dead man who lay in an ever-expanding pool of his own blood.

The other man followed Kyle's gaze, then quickly looked back with eyes even bigger than before. "Nu.. no, I'll tell you everything," he said in a panic filled voice.

A smirk of self-confidence crinkled the edges of Kyle's mouth, just before the sap crashed down and his world went black.

* * *

Shooting stars screamed by everywhere. Then they were washed away by a flood of pain. Kyle slowly opened his eyes. The room spun for a moment. When he tried to stand, up he realized he was securely tied to a chair, with duct tape over his mouth.

"He's back," a voice off to one side said. From behind, footsteps grew closer. An oriental in a thousand dollar suit stepped in front of Kyle, then backhanded him, hard. The sound of flesh on flesh echoed in the warehouse.

"You are a very curious and dangerous man." The oriental calmly lit a cigarette. "Too curious." He blew smoke into Kyle's face. "Why did you want to know about the murder on the docks?" Kyle tried to question the man's parentage through the tape. "No answer?" The oriental blew the ashes off the end of his cigarette. "Are you sure?" He slowly ground the red-hot end into Kyle's cheek. Kyle clenched his jaw to keep from yelling. Mild nausea swept over him as the putrid smell of his burning flesh, mingling with the acrid cigarette smoke, clawed its way into his nose. The man relit the cigarette. "Oh, my mistake, I forgot about the tape. Maybe this will help." The man ripped the tape off Kyle's mouth. Half of Kyle's whiskers came off too. Kyle could see a small grin on the man's face.

"Again, why were you so curious?" The man inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

"Go to hell," Kyle growled.

"You first," the man said, then he nodded to someone behind Kyle. A plastic bag was thrown over Kyle's head and pulled tight against his face. He couldn't breath. He was doing his best not to panic as the stars began to return. The bag was jerked off of his head.

"Next time the bag will not be removed. Now, why were you asking about the man who was killed on the docks?" A moment passed, and his eyes shifted from Kyle to the man holding the bag.

"Okay," Kyle said. "He was my brother. I want to find the asshole who killed him, and return the favor."

"Why, it was a gang slaying. Didn't you read about it in the paper?" Smoke slowly curled out of the man's nostrils as he stared blankly at Kyle.

"Gang slaying my ass, he was executed and I think Mr. Chen pulled the trigger." Kyle fixed the man with a hate filled stare.

The oriental man sighed deeply. "Yes, you are right. Mr. Chen took great pleasure in killing him, and you are too smart for your own good." The oriental man slapped the tape over Kyle's mouth and stepped back. "Kill him, slowly."

The man with the bag stepped in front of Kyle. "This may take all night. I hope you didn't have any plans," he chuckled. Reaching under his coat, he pulled out a long double-edged knife.

Kyle tried to call out to the dragon, but the tape was tight across his mouth, and his mumbles brought no response.

The man slowly drew the knife down Kyle's cheek. A thin line of red began to ooze blood. Ripping open Kyle's shirt, the man stared at the dragon. "Very nice, but it won't be when I'm through with you." The tip of the knife went into Kyle's shoulder, and the man started pulling it across Kyle's chest toward the dragon. Just before the knife cut into the dragon, a clawed paw lashed out at the man and tore his arm off at the elbow. He dropped to his knees, where another swipe tore out his throat. The echoes of his screams died as quickly as he did.

The dragon jumped out of Kyle's chest and stood in front of the leader. "Releassse... my... massster," it hissed.

The man stood frozen in fear. The dragon spun around quickly, its tail slamming into the man's legs, knocking him on the ground. He was now eye to eye with the dragon, and only inches away from its fangs. Smoke curled from its nostrils. Sweat bathed every inch of the man's body. His self-confidence was now a distant memory, as was the proper functioning of his bowels.

"Releassse... my... massster."

The man quickly crawled over to Kyle and removed the ropes.

"Your... bidding... massster?"

"I couldn't call out to you, how did you protect me?" Kyle groaned through pain clenched teeth.

"Ssself... pressservation..., common... to... all... thingsss."

Kyle began to wonder just how much control he had over the dragon.

"Your... bidding... massster?"

"Leave him alone."

"Asss... you... wishhh." Looking a little disappointed, the dragon flew hard into Kyle's chest.

Kyle secured the man to the chair and collected everything that had been removed from his pockets.

"Where's Chen?" Kyle said. The man, still in shock, didn't answer. "Do you want me to bring him back?" Kyle said, tapping his chest.

"Twenty seven. P.. pier 27 in an hour," he stammered.

Kyle headed for the pier.

* * *

Mr. Chen talked with his bodyguard-chauffeur next to the limousine, as the launch headed back to his yacht.

Kyle stepped out from behind a stack of crates. Chen quickly looked at the movement. His bodyguard pulled out his gun as he spun around, but he didn't stand a chance.

Kyle put three slugs from his .45 into the man's chest, then pointed the gun at Chen. With a confident stride, he walked over to him.

"Mr. Chen," Kyle said, with a cocky look on his face. "So you're the head slime-bag around here. Drugs, gambling, prostitution... even murder."

"Humph. What do you want little man?" Chen said. A sneer wrinkled his mouth and nose.

"You killed my brother, and now I'm gunna kill you." Kyle growled.

"Was your brother that foolish piss ant cop I killed?" Chen asked, with a mocking smile on his face.

"You better watch your mouth. I can kill you fast, or reeeel slow. I loved my brother, he was the only good thing to come out of my family, and you killed him. Now your gunna pay, asshole." Kyle's pain grew. He could feel the heat from his reddening face. A raging river of blood roared through his ears, and his jaw was clenched so tightly his teeth hurt.

"Your brother was a fool," Chen said calmly. "He tried to infiltrate my organization, but he was a sloppy amateur and I killed him, just like I will kill you," Chen sneered, through an evil grin.

"That's all I needed to hear," Kyle said. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small tape recorder, rewound the tape for a second, and hit play. "was a fool and I killed him." Kyle stopped the tape. "You're gunna spend a long time rotting in jail for what you did to my brother."

A death moan escaped the lips of Chen's bodyguard. Kyle gave him a quick glance.

Chen acted instantly at this opportunity. His shoulder twitched, activating the mechanism on his quickly rising forearm. A derringer launched into his hand, which was now pointed at Kyle.

Both of the gun's bullets flew through the air towards Kyle's head. The first slammed into his face, the other crashed through his forehead and plowed into his brain. The force of the blow knocked Kyle off his feet. He was dead before he hit the ground.

A small grin spread across Chen's face as he looked down at Kyle's lifeless body. "Just like your brother," he chuckled. "Stupid."

Chen retrieved the tape and was about to walk away, when he saw two small bright green lights under Kyle's shirt. As he stared at the lights, a hissing sound filled the air. In a moment, Chen could hear words crawl out of the sound.

"Whosssoever... killsss... my... massster..., I... shhhall... kill." The dragon jumped through Kyle's T-shirt, but this time it was different. There was no torn shirt or missing flesh, only an ink tattoo standing next to Kyle.

Chen quickly ran to his bodyguard and grabbed his gun. "Die evil demon," he yelled in sheer panic. He emptied the gun at the dragon. The few bullets that found their mark passed harmlessly through the living ink. Chen stumbled backward, awkwardly trying to escape the dragon that now slowly walked toward him. Chen's face was so contorted with fear that it was almost unrecognizable, yet it showed only a fraction of the terror that he was feeling.

"Stay away demon," he yelled as he threw the empty gun. Chen's entire body shook as his heart tried to hammer its way out of his chest.

The dragon's glowing stare pierced Chen with such intense hatred that Chen thought his soul was burning in the fires of hell. Then the dragon jumped and landed on Chen's face. It immediately soaked onto his skin and crawled out of sight under his shirt.

"Stop, STOP.. AHHHHH!" Chen screamed. As the dragon moved, it felt like a thousand angry fire ants were crawling under Chen's skin. He ripped his shirt open just in time to see the dragon disappear down his pants. The pain blazed a trail to his left foot, then stopped. Chen was near panic not knowing what would happen next.

"AHHHHH.." Chen collapsed on the ground. Searing pain started to slowly work its way up his leg. Chen didn't know a man could feel such intense pain and live, let alone remain conscious.

The dragon's claws were shredding Chen's body into hamburger. Not one cell would escape the carnage, except for the skin. The sacred twin which gives a tattoo existence.

Powerful jaws slowly worked their way over all of Chen's bones, reducing them to splinters. The crunching sound traveled through his body with such clarity, that he could hear nothing else, except his own screams of agony.

Finally it was done. From the neck down Chen was nothing more than ground meat, held together by a skin casing. Through all this, somehow, Chen still lived.

Something passed in front of Chen's eyes. As his pain fogged vision cleared, he was the dragon, inside his eyeballs. A hissing sound filled the air, and then the words, "And... now... you... die."

Chen's world came to an end.

* * *

Mr. Wu emerged from the shadows, the carved wooden box held in his hands. His toenails clicked on the ground as he slowly walked over to the carnage. Kneeling down next to Chen, he set the ornately carved box on the ground, opened the lid and removed the stoppers from the empty inkbottles.

"Time to go home, my old friend," Mr. Wu said. "Another customer awaits you." The dragon jumped through Chen's skin and stood on his chest. An excited hiss filled the air.

The dragon beat his wings and flew in a tight circle over his prey. Flying faster and faster the dragon soon resembled a miniature tornado. One by one each of the colors separated, arched through the air, and poured itself into a bottle. In a few moments, the tornado was gone, and all the bottles were filled.

Mr. Wu replaced the stoppers and tucked the box under his arm as he headed back to his shop.

"For five millennia," Mr. Wu said. "I have watched the battle rage. Good and evil always at war. Each seeking superiority, but only achieving balance. Mere servants of a greater force, which maintains equilibrium in all things. It is simply the ebb and flow of power and life, as it always has been and will be.

The shadows swallowed Mr. Wu, glad to greet their old friend again.

The End

Copyright © 2000 by Jeff Colburn

Jeff Colburn, a native Californian, is well versed in both the arts and the sciences. In high school he majored in marine biology and oceanography. Later, he received a Bachelor of Science degree in Criminology from California State University Long Beach.

Jeff has had many careers, including: Deputy Sheriff; Crime Analyst; Freelance Photographer; Freelance Computer Consultant; Freelance Marketing Research; Creator of a nonprofit organization where he edited and published a national monthly newsletter for the hearing impaired community.

After all this experimentation, Jeff is now working in several fields which offer him a constant challenge. He is a freelance writer of science fiction, fantasy, horror, erotica and poetry. Jeff is also an inventor, with several inventions under consideration at various companies. Interested in art for many years, Jeff is working on his illustration skills using graphite and colored pencil and acrylics.

For relaxation, Jeff has tried mountain climbing, SCUBA diving, equitation, body surfing, ice skating, stamp and coin collecting. He currently is involved in photography, psychic research, book collecting, the martial arts and hiking.

E-mail: jeffcolburn@postmark.net

URL: http://www.angelfire.com/biz2/thecreativecauldron


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