The man was covered in ink.
Yet, the ink controlled him.
Every tattoo had a purpose. The dagger at his hip turned into a true dagger. The gun on his leg, a pistol with never-ending bullets. The dragon on his back crawled out of his skin and grew until it was the size of a small house, breathing fire and brimstone and eating humans.
He did this with pain, but seeing people bow before him was worth it. However, he got arrested, put in a power-dampening prison – until this morning.
“You’re probably all wondering why we freed you,” came the voice of the crazy girl at the front of the sewer. “We’re here to make you a once-in-a-lifetime offer!”
He half-listened as the lion on his other shoulder itched to get free, a constant itch next to his shoulder blade. The tats always itched, ants under his skin. As the girl screeched in laughter, maniacal laughter, how quaint, there was a cry of a man in pain to his left.
He turned, and saw a kid in a hood come toward him. He put a hand to his hip and felt the tattoo grow out of his skin and the pain that went with it. He felt the weight of the dagger in his hand, the blood running down his leg, soaking his orange pants. He pulled out the dagger as the kid came within lunging reach. All the kid did was put out his hand in a “stop” motion.
The tattooed man lunged with the dagger and hit the boy’s hand, but nothing happened. Then, the boy closed his hand into a fist and a bright, yellow blade shined in his hand. The man couldn’t see the boy’s face as the boy lunged also, stabbing him through with the dagger of light.
The man stared at the boy, seeing him differently. The boy walked on to the next man, and the next, simply stabbing them through and stunning them all. Most of them, anyway. Some went after him again and he stabbed them a few more times, with intent, and they went down.
Then came the crazy girl. She had a gun, and started firing it at him. It was wrong, the inked man thought, and took his dagger, throwing it at the girl. It hit true, right through the sternum, and down the girl went.
People milled around, confused. What were they doing in prison jumpsuits. A man started to cry. The tattooed man went up to the girl and took back his dagger, placing it against his hip as it flowed back into his skin again. Meanwhile, the boy was walking past him. The inked man grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around, casting back his hood.
The boy looked tired.
“Go with the blessing of God,” said the boy, as if intoning something he said a long time and often.
“I’ll go with you,” said the man. “What’s your name?”
The boy shook his head.
“You need someone to guard you.”
“I have a guardian angel,” the boy said, and smiled even through the exhaustion. “Save some people. Pass it on.”
And so, Ink’d was born…