In the aftermath of his transformation Gang found it difficult to make his way home. The distance wasn't great, a few hours by foot normally, but it ended up taking him the rest of the day, the following night, and a good portion of the next day. He kept getting lost. The exultation of his new self had given way to a sort of pleasant frustration. He was in the learning curve. His new senses, fascinating as they were, made navigating the once familiar streets nearly impossible. It was like suddenly being dropped in the middle of a foreign country; all the signs were gibberish, the streets were laid out according to some alien mentality, nothing was familiar or helpful. Not that it mattered, he wasn't in any hurry. He wandered the streets, still naked, still covered in own blood, content in the knowledge the he would eventually get where he was going. No one bothered him. He wasn't invisible, people saw him, if only long enough to give him furtive, awkward glances before turning away. They just didn't want to notice him. He radiated something the crawled into their little minds and awoke a primal terror they were helpless against. Gang could feel the wake of fear and revulsion spreading out behind him in the minds of everyone he passed and he couldn't help but smile. Eventually, as he became more accustomed to the world as he now experienced it, he started to make connections between things he'd known and their new appearance. It was a slow process but it finally led him to his destination.
The sun had climbed to its zenith and the light felt warm and pleasant on Gang's back as he came in sight of the old, crumbling apartment building. It was quiet, as it always was, and nothing moved in the streets. But something was moving in the building, he felt it, up on the third floor. Then he noticed the black sedan parked on the street. It could have been nothing but the timing seemed far too coincidental. Gang retreated into a stand of bushes along the sidewalk opposite the building and watched. There was a tremendous bang from inside the building and few seconds later a shaggy haired man in a brown trench coat burst out of the building followed closely by another man in a black leather jacket. Gang recognized the trench coat wearer immediately let out an involuntary snarl of disgust. The other man felt somewhat familiar as well but it was hard to tell; his appearance was mired in a dark aura that swirled around him like living shadows, making it impossible to see him clearly.
They had been much more efficient than he would have believed possible. For them to be there already, so soon after his transformation, was unexpected and unfortunate. He knew they would have come for him sooner or later, events were going to become much too big to keep hidden for long, but it had been Gang's intention to clean up the room in an effort to at least delay his enemies. He couldn't remember much of anything following the ritual but he was fairly certain that everything was still as it had been that night. And there was no reason to think that Basil would have had any trouble finding the hidden room either. It wouldn't be long before the rest of Mr. Sound's lackeys descended on his home and put the pieces together.
The two men stopped on the sidewalk and conversed for a moment. Gang could hear them perfectly, in spite of the distance, but found he was still having some trouble with sounds, so their words came to him as so much garbled noise. There was, however, one word he did recognize: his name. Gang tensed, fighting the instinct to charge forward and attack. Basil was strong, too strong for him to deal with, in his current state he wouldn't stand a chance. Of course Gang's involvement would be obvious to Basil, given their history. Everything was happening faster than he'd anticipated, it too soon, he needed more time.
“iT DoeS nOT MaTteR.”
Gang had first noticed the presence in his head somewhere along his journey home but he'd been too distracted by trying to find his way to really give it much consideration. It had been there though, sitting back in the shadows. Now it spoke to him, a voice that was both his own and not. It was comforting, like having a dear, old friend take up residence in his mind. He felt instantly calm, his muscles relaxed and he sat back slowly on the bare earth beneath him.
“theRE Is nOthINg tHEy CAN do. THeY cAn nO MoRe stOp WHat iS to cOmE ThAN a Flea MIGht stOP THe TurnInG Of tHe StaRS.”
I've underestimated them before... and paid the price for it. Gang replied. It was strange having a conversation with himself in his own head, especially when the “him” also felt like someone else, but it was also oddly reassuring.
“Let ThEm trY. tHEy wIlL FAll wITH thE ResT oF THe UnWorTHY.”
In the street Gang watched the two men climb into their vehicle and drive away. The street was quiet again. He was right. There was nothing to fear and he was foolish to think otherwise, even for a moment. Gang stood up from his hiding place and slowly crossed the street.
As Gang climbed the dark steps he could feel them somewhere off in the distance, approaching quickly, but there was time. He would be gone before they arrived. He went into the bathroom, turned on the shower as hot as it would go, and stood in it for several minutes, relishing the feel of the scalding water cascading over him. When the last, stubborn flecks of dried blood were boiled away Gang turned off the water and got out. As he reached for a towel he caught his reflection in the mirror and froze. His hair had washed away in the shower, leaving his scalp bare and perfectly smooth. He also realized that his face had changed, his new face bearing little resemblance to the one he'd previously worn. The proportions had changed dramatically. His nose, his mouth, his cheek bones, the entire underlying structure had shifted. Small, pointed knobs protruded from the bottom of his chin. They were small now but he could feel them pushing against his skin, slowly growing. His eyes were gone as well, replaced by two huge, lidless, pupil-less, blood red globes. Gang ran his hands over his wonderful new face and laughed. This was truly the face of the new world.
Gang toweled himself off carelessly and tossed the towel on the floor. Would they realize what that meant? Would they understand how close they'd come to finding him? Almost definitely.
In his bedroom he found clothes to wear; a pair of jeans, a dark green t-shirt, and black sneakers. He picked them at random from what was there, hardly paying attention to what they might have looked like. In the top drawer of the dresser he rummaged around until he found a pair of sunglasses that he'd purchased on whim at some trendy shop in the city but never worn. He did not particularly need them but, given what he planned to do next, he thought that covering his eyes might make things go a bit smoother. They were larger than normal sunglasses, closer to goggles really, with wide, curved lenses that were very dark. On Gang's smallish face they looked enormous and insect-like.
Gang walked back out into the living room. There was a small table by the windows with a narrow drawer inside it. Gang opened the drawer and looked inside. The only item in the drawer was a pendant, a single red stone set into a circle of gold, on a leather strap. It had no value. The stone was merely colored glass and the gold was fake. It had been his mother's. He'd taken it the day she had died without really knowing why. He held it up and it shone in his new eyes like a tiny sun. Gang put the pendant around his neck and tucked it beneath his shirt, not really knowing why he felt the need to take it now anymore than he had the first time.
Gang walked over to the couch and picked up the book Basil had tossed there. It hummed in his hands like a live transformer. This is all far from over half-man, he thought, the next time I will see you twist and burn. There is no room for you in my beautiful new world. Gang placed the book back in the space on the shelf it had come from and walked out of his apartment for the last time without bothering to shut the door.
Gang emerged from the building and back into the sunlight. He felt good, purposeful. Let them come. They couldn't stop him. Nothing could stop him. The way was set. Still, he thought it would not do to be so grossly out numbered. He didn't need help but he liked the idea of gathering others to him. After all, what was a savior without disciples? He could already feel them out in the city, minds that were ready for him, begging to be given direction and purpose. He would gather a few, the truly special, and leave the rest to come to him on their own. And they would, of this he had no doubt.
Up the street Gang saw a glint of metal as the first of the approaching cars turned the corner. He smiled a serpent's smile, cold and mirthless, thinking of them examining and cataloging, employing their precious knowledge, deducing his actions and intent. He almost felt sorry for them.
Almost.
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