Bigger Than Your Skin

[Inerio]

This is a story that just seemed to pop up into the front of my mind last night. It will come in chapters and will be updated whenever I feel like it. Which means it could be in an hour, or in three weeks. I hope in an hour, because there's nothing more fun than the flow of creative juices. You know, because those don't leak onto the bed spread and cause nasty stains that glow under a black light.

I could say that this story isn't a somewhat gore filled sardonic manifestation of fight scenes and dream sequences mixed with random ideas of the sixth dimension that has pushed itself out of my brain. However, that would be a lie, it is just that.

If you come to find that you like it, or hate it, or have some sort of critique than feel free to post.
Actually, if you hate don't waste my time or your own. Just hit the backspace button, that would be easier for everyone wouldn't it?

[Inerio]

Introduction
Secondary Name, Father

Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall, letting out a nostalgic echo. The tile floors were cracked and dirty, so that as the man walked the clatter of a loose tile would occasionally add to the noise. Despite his heavy footsteps, he was a marginally average sized male standing at five foot nine and weighing no more than one hundred and forty nine pounds. Still, his presence was unsettling. Perhaps that was why people made it a point to scurry back into their apartments when they caught word of his arrival. Then again, being the son of a savage criminal could have added to the factor.

Reese, the man in question, was currently delivering and urgent message to his father. It regarded a little bit of this on drugs and a little bit of that on whores, the details had escaped him to be blatantly honest. Though, it didn't matter very much that he knew every word of the message, he was merely letting his father know that there was business to tend to. The man, who's dried out and bleached orange hair seemed to blend in with the faded paint on the walls, finally reached the apartment he was looking for. 2E.

According to his secretary, Clive Royce had gone off to this sleazy little apartment complex to have a chat with his client. Reese couldn't help but laugh a little at the woman's ignorance. His father was so obviously off with a prostitute. It was plain to see, for no business man no matter how dirty his business was would be caught dead having a meeting in such a dingy complex. Reese stopped in front of the door, and frowned. There was something amiss. Men who bring hookers into crappy little roach motels usually make some degree of noise. However, Reese couldn't hear a damned thing. Not that he would like to, in fact he avoided the thought of his father having sex for as far as he was concerned Reese must have hatched from an egg. Still, the silence was unsettling.

Reese made an attempt at opening the door but to no avail. It only made sense that the damn thing was locked. His mouth curled into a frown, the for piercings on his lips catching light for a moment at the sudden change in place. He lifted his fist, which if one bothered to look at was scarred in various places, and knocked on the door. He waited, nothing. The lack of response only proved to made the scowl on Reese's lips larger. Impatient and in a hurry to get to his father Reese used the one thing he knew would never fail him.

Violence.

The light orange haired man walked back a foot or two, so that there was a moderate amount of space between him and the rather flimsy looking door. He then proceeded to let out a powerful kick to the wooden rectangle. As Reese had anticipated, the door wasn't well built and thus swung open, hanging defeated on one hinge.

In his line of work, Reese had seen some pretty damn horrible things. However, nothing could have prepared him for what he walked into. Not for the sheer grotesque horror of the events that had previously transpired in the room, but because it was his father's corpse that sat on the hardwood floor.

If Reese hadn't known that it was his father's rented room he was walking into, Reese probably wouldn't have been able to recognize the mauled body that had been perched against the bed. His face was literally kicked in, as if someone had decided to use his father's body as their own personal punching(or rather, kicking bag). His bones were broken in so many places had Clive Royce been alive he would probably have had to live in a hospital going under intense rehabilitation for the rest of his life. Various femur bones and ribs fragments peeked out from under his skin and his unrecognizable hole of a face dripped blood into a growing pool under his naked body.

The hooker, who Reese noted had to have still been in high school, seemed to have been pitied by the killer. In her head was a gunshot wound. She was probably dead before the man started on his father, with which was fortunate for her. Reese's heart pounded as his breath got short. He had heard that when one dies they let go of all waste material in their bodies, and by the stench he could tell that this was indeed a fact. Shaking slightly, though having not completely lost his composure yet, Reese backed out out of the room and closed the broken door behind him.

[Dio the Awesome]

O.O

Proceed....

(I haven't read enough for any stunning reviews. this is just to let you know that I'm watching, and expect great things.)

[Inerio]

Melatonin Deprived

The police lights flashed and flickered in the parking lot of the motel. Reese sat on a concrete cinder block which was probably being used to keep the dying flower garden, that the owner's hadn't even bothered to keep alive, in place. He could certainly have done without seeing his father's naked mangled dead body lying in a puddle of his own blood and excrement. Alas it was too late, for he had no manner of unseeing the terrible scene. Meanwhile, cops talked casually about what a terrible man Clive Royce had been in life. They spoke of how the world was probably better off, with Reese sitting right there in front of them.

Fortunately, Reese was much too caught up in his own thoughts to hear the men. He stared at the pavement below him, his stare wide eyed and vacant. He was waiting for his cousin, Marco, to pick him up. In the mean time he was trying to put the pieces of the newly discovered mystery together in his head as he tried to figure out who would possibly kill his father. . . Okay, so there was a plethura of people who would love nothing more than to bash his father's face in. However, there weren't many people who had the gall to even think about it much less try. Before Reese could ponder on the idea any further, a very familiar pair of torn and beat up high tops looked up at him from the parking lots black top ground. Lifting his head from his hands, he was greeted by the familiar face of his cousin Marco.

To be honest, Reese was never sure if Marco was really his cousin or not. He'd never met his Uncle, nor did he ever met his mother. In fact, Reese's mother had been Asian. And, Clive was rather white not to mention Australian. So, how Marco was purely hispanic he had not a clue.

"You going to be okay man?" Marco asked, his accent prominent. The man had shaved only the sides of his head, the top hanging on one side being red while the stubble at the sides were a shade of brown. Reese gaped up at Marco, he wasn't quite sure what to say. Had he been okay before that? With his occupation and substance abuse, probably not. Still, he went with the better answer.

"Yeah." Reese nodded. "I'll be fine." Though, he had a hunch that Marco knew he was fibbing. Reese stood from his seat with a small groan. The proximity from the top of the cinder block to the ground probably wasn't even a whole foot, and thus made his knees ache from sitting there for almost a half an hour. He followed Marco passed flashing red and blue lights, uniformed men, and inquisitive reporters who hadn't yet realized Reese's crucial role as the first man to step onto the scene. After a distance, which Reese guessed was three blocks for he hadn't been all there during the walk, the pair had reached Marco's vintage convertible.

On this particular day(or rather night) the hood to the cherry red vehicle had been pulled. Reese could only guessed that Marco was storing something of the illegal nature in the backseat. The light orange haired man stood impatiently at the passenger's seat door, his hand on the door handle, and waited for Marco to unlock the car. He couldn't help but wonder why people always seemed to take their sweet ass time to unlock the passenger's seat door, it was vexing. When he finally heard the noise of the lock switch moving up and out of it's hole he tugged on the handle and climbed into the car.

"So..." Marco began, pulling the car into drive. "Who do you think is going to take over the family buis--"

"--Shut up and drive Marco." Reese spat gruffly. Reese didn't even have to raise his voice to get people who knew better to stay silent, he just had to speak. Perhaps it's because he had a commanding presence. Or, maybe he was just a down right scary individual. Marco, on the other hand, didn't quite care about such things. He was, in a way, Reese's foil. However, he seemed to understand Reese's situation and thus raised his eyebrows and nodded. The rest of the car ride proceeded without a word. Reese hadn't even bothered to grumble out a goodbye as he stepped out of the car to walk into his apartment. He almost regretted this, looking back from the building's glass door's as the mustang drove off. He'd have to buy Marco a beer later as a means of making amends.

Reese kicked off his shoes and threw his blazer onto the couch. He needed an aspirin to get rid of the headache that was now brewing about in his brain. Reese trudged out of the living room, and into the bathroom. The lights flickered a bit before turning on, giving his reflection an eerie look for a moment. He stared himself down, his Eurasian features looking dour and grim. Reese had the look of someone who could have been attractive. However, multiple facial scars, scabs, and a few bruises made him look a tad worse for ware. Not to mention the bags under his eyes looked so heavy that he'd probably have to run them through baggage check had he decieded to ride a plane.

He opened the medicine cabinet, his angry looking reflection disappearing and replaced by shelves of aspirins, bandages, and shaving cream. He reached for a bottle of Tylenol, grunting a bit. He lifted the bottle to eye level and tried to find the two triangles that he needed to put together in order to open the bottle. He then poured a rather generous amount of pills into his dirty palm and popped them into his mouth. He figured it would only be a matter of time before they kicked in. Reese didn't even bother to put the aspirin back on its shelf, but did close the cabinet.

What he saw next made an electric shiver snake its way down his spine.

She stood behind him, her eyes wide and grinning in a manic manner spread across her face. By her facial features, she certainly wasn't Caucasian. However, her skin was a deathly pale with a tinge of blue, as were her eyes. Her hair was an unnatural shade of white blond and hung in waves near her chin. It was as if someone had sucked all the melatonin right out of her. She certainly wasn't human. Or at least, she wasn't anymore.

Reese turned swiftly on his heel, and didn't hesitate to clock her right in the chin with a fierce right hook. A sickening crack filled the room, and she stumbled backwards. Her head was frozen in place for a minute, looking up at the fluorescent light fixtures in the ceiling. She then lowered her head, with a degree of difficulty as several pops and creaks sounded from her neck. Reese raised an eyebrow at the position of her lower jaw, which now hung loose and haphazardly for it had been knocked out of its socket. He couldn't tell by her mouth that she was smiling, but her eyes twinkled as a garbled laugh escaped her throat.

She lifted her hand to her jaw, and pushed it up. It seemed as if the bone wasn't connecting properly into her socket, and by the third try she'd gotten the jaw back into place. Reese was somewhat frozen in place, unsure whether he should reach for his gun or not. She didn't seem to want to kill him, but women were known to play with their food before they ate it.

"I'm not here to kill you." She finally said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know that's what you're thinking Reese." It bothered the man that not only did she know his name, but didn't appear to be phased by the fact that he had just popped her jaw out. It only proved to infuriate him more when she waltzed out of the bathroom and took a seat on the back of his couch.

"Hey!" He began, following after her and reaching for his gun which was located on the bookshelf near the apartment's door. "Don't sit there. That's my couch!" The girl turned her head, and shot him an indignant stare. Reese could tell that she didn't plan on moving anytime soon.

"Reese, don't take out your grief on me." She sighed, and inspected her nails in a bored fashion.

"My grief?" Reese asked, furrowing his brow as his finger tightened around the trigger.

"Because of your father." She said nonchalantly, picking at something under her index finger.

"How do you know about that!" Reese's voice raised. He was hankering to put a bullet in someone, and this girl was his prime target at the moment. She didn't answer at first, and simply looked up at the gun's barrel. The girl didn't seem to worried by it, her face showed vague hints of amusement.

"Because, Reese..." She began, turning her whole body to face him. "I'm you."

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