The Parasite

Prolog: Out Of The Rain

The sky had been blocked out with dark clouds as the people in the streets below scurried for cover, and once the rain began to fall a shop's doorbell rang, alerting the woman toiling away in the kitchen. A man dressed in a green overcoat came in and took a moment to shake the water off before throwing it up on the hanger by the entrance. The man took a moment to check his surroundings as he stepped in, finding the small shop to be devoid of customers.

The woman came out from the kitchen, trying to wipe off a dark brown stain from her apron. "Rough weather, huh?" she asked, placing her hand on the oak bar sitting in the middle of the room. The man took a glance outside to see the, now pouring rain. "No kidding, I almost didn't make it in here quick enough." the man said before sitting down on one of the bar stools. The waitress picked up a glass from under the bar and gestured to the brewing station behind her. "Well, what can I get for you?"

"A cup of coffee would be nice." the man replied. As the waitress began preparing the machine the doorbell rang once again and a man wearing a blue duster adorned with a gold insignia on the back marched into the coffee shop, neglecting to remove it, or attempt to dry himself off. As he approached, the man on the stool grew visibly uncomfortable, and as the man in blue passed behind him he reached into his pocket and murmured something unintelligible before drawing a pistol and jumping up from the stool.

The cacophonous sound of the pistol firing was deafening to all inside as the shot tore a massive hole into the man in blue and blew out the shop's window. The hole in the man stretched from his left shoulder all the way down to the center of his chest, causing his arm to be severed and flung across the room with the man himself landing on the table behind him.

After this, the man with the gun turned to face the waitress, but before he could fire again pain shot up from his leg like lightning, causing him to drop the gun and crumple to the floor. Looking to his injured leg all he found was a partially liquified stump just above where the knee should have been, were it still attached, but unfortunately for him, the lower half of his leg was nowhere to be seen. Fearing another attack, the man reached out for the gun only to be dragged away by someone grabbing onto his still attached leg.

Turning to face his attacker he witnessed another man dressed in blue climbing up out of the floor, holding his severed leg. After fully emerging from the floor the man adjusted the scarf covering his face and tossed the severed leg aside before speaking. "By order of the Mages Guild of America you are under arrest, any and all rights you were subject to are now void, please remain silent."

The man on the floor shifted around before shouting "YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!" and trying to grab the gun. The attempt, however bold, was ended prematurely when the officer stomped on the man's shoulder, halting his movement and forcing him onto the ground. The officer knelt down, applying pressure to the man's chest and spoke once again "That means shut-up." as he wiped his hand across the man's mouth, forming it into a solid sheet of skin.

As the, now mouthless, man began to panic, the officer kicked him in the side forcing him to roll over onto his stomach, and casually restrained the man before looking over to his colleagues corpse. "Myers, get up."

Right on que the corpse let out an exaggerated groan before sitting up on the table. "Hey Marshal, why do I always have to be the bait?" Myers spoke in a raspy voice that grew increasingly clear as his destroyed lung reformed in his chest. "It's like nobody thinks I can do anything other than get shot." Marshal watched as Myers' body repaired itself at incredible speed and said. "Because, unlike you, I can't survive getting shot." Myers looked at his wound and grimaced. "Well, could you at least lend me a hand." he said, gesturing to his severed arm on the floor.

Now that both of them were suitably displeased, Marshal turned around and knocked on the hardwood bar whilst looking down on the waitress cowering behind it. "Oi! Stand up, we need testimony from you!" The waitress slowly stood up with her eyes darting around the room and her hands firmly gripping the bar. "I-is it safe?"

"Well yes, considering that I'm currently standing over the assailant." Marshal snapped back, kicking the man on the floor to punctuate his point. "Now, could you please give us your testimony, we have places to be."

The waitress recomposed herself and gave her testimony, only pausing to scream when she saw Myers trying to reattach his arm by repeatedly pushing it into his reforming shoulder. Before long the two officers were dragging their prisoner to an armored carriage waiting for them outside the storefront. After throwing the criminal in the back the officers took their seats in the center compartment of the carriage. Myers, now fully healed, reached into a side compartment on the outside of the carriage to pull out a new duster to replace his old one. Marshal looked on, perplexed before asking "Isn't that where we're supposed to keep the tool box?" Myers, after throwing in the old duster and slamming the hatch shut, simply asked. "Toolbox?"

On the ride out of town Myers busied himself inspecting the gun and ammo the criminal had used while Marshal stared out the window, watching buildings and trees pass by as they left the city.