A repressive force pushed against Bob as he traversed the corridor between worlds. The unknown force seemed to recognise him as a foreign entity, but soon it relented and became calm.
A sense of peace washed over his entire body; every scale felt like nature's touch was pitying a wayward child. Before he could fully understand the numerous and often contrasting feelings, they vanished, and his world became somewhat dark.
The night sky greeted Bob, with the pale crescent moon bathing the world in its ethereal warmth. Dotted around the endless darkness, the twinkling stars seemed as if an unholy entity had perforated the night sky innumerable times over. The sight alone was awe-inspiring for Bob, yet he had no time to appreciate the beauty of it.
Moving with purpose, Bob ran stealthily and with haste in his step. The inherited memories he received from devouring the man's very essence showed him what the world looked like outside of the portal, and thankfully for that, he was not stupefied by his surroundings.
Now inside of a quarantined area, he immediately saw several humans behaving extremely bizarrely, apparently in a world of their own as they carried out incomprehensible actions.
Not paying them any mind, Bob committed to causing as little hassle as possible. In a matter of seconds, he had left the outer perimeter and saw the manhole cover to the sewers, which was his target.
The extra-large solid metal cover was built as such to allow machinery and heavy equipment to accompany workmen when needed, and now this also allowed Bob's inhuman size to utilise it.
Situated next to a parked food truck, the smell from the day's work of feeding customers reached his nostrils, daring to tempt him into its confines. At that moment, a sudden noise reached his ears, as well as blue flashing lights reflecting off the surrounding buildings.
The incoming emergency services succinctly reminded Bob of the danger he faced now in the human world.
Without hesitating any longer, he slid across the ground and arrived at the manhole cover. Inserting one of his claws into the small opening, he easily lifted the usually heavy grate up and provided himself with the path to sanctuary he needed.
Falling into the hole, he allowed the manhole cover to fall back in place and eliminate any trace of him on the surface world. His action could not have been any quicker, as the moment his feet landed in the shallow sewer water below, a spotlight from above shone its light on the cover above, as well as the security cameras coming back online and filming the empty street.
“Damn, that was close.”
Now inside the sewers, the overwhelming stench sought to invade his nostrils and force the contents of his stomach to the surface, yet that did not come to pass. What would be unbearable for a human was, in fact, quite trifling for a Lizardman, and the abhorrent stench did not faze him in the slightest.
“It smells quite fresh, not how I imagined it from my.....His memories.”
The dark tunnel was cylindrical in shape, a giant pipe where the city's waste would be flushed and forgotten. The stale remnants clung to the bottom of the pipe, as flowing waste water rose several inches down its centre.
This flowing rotten brown water forced Bob to straddle the sides strangely, a foot on either side of the putrid liquid, making him have the appearance of a pensioner whose bowels were on the cusp of exploding.
Although the smell of the place did not faze him, he was fully aware of the faeces that flowed between his legs, and he wanted nothing to do with the sensation of it clinging between his toes. The sewers were pitch black and perfect for him to hide in, with the only glimmer of light he often saw was the reflection in a rat's eyes before it quickly scurried away upon sighting him.
After several hours of wandering through the tunnel network, a rough map was engraved within Bob's mind, allowing him to move in a direction that led away from his old home, no matter the many twists and turns that he encountered.
Soon he realised that the pipe he walked along was set on a shallow incline, with the sewage between his legs coming to an abrupt stop as gravity played its part.
The enclosed tunnel abruptly ended with it leading into a large dry area. The square room had a slight conical basin in the middle that still bore the stains from previous wastewater. At the moment, it was completely dry.
Around the edge of the room, a raised platform went around the perimeter, providing an area for foot traffic when needed. Several other waste pipes connected to the room, near identical to the one he just stepped foot out of.
The high ceiling had a slow-moving ceiling fan, its large blades incessantly turning and providing some airflow to the stale environment. Escaping through the gaps in the fan blades, light from an artificial source made its way in, giving a cascading light effect of a dull yellow.
Just as Bob was taking in the sight and contemplating its usefulness as a residence, a noise from the far end of the room gained his attention. Different from the noise of water flowing or tiny claws scurrying along with their accompanying squeaks, this now was the noise of footsteps.
Focusing in on the source of them, he saw a haggard-looking old man shuffling along, his attention solely on the wall he was facing and the decrepit screwdriver in his hand. Wearing an assortment of filthy mismatched clothes, his pale face was layered with dirt and grime that appeared at home on his weathered flesh.
Mumbling something to himself, the old man scratched away with his screwdriver, writing on the concrete wall. Wanting to know what the man was about, Bob silently and slowly approached, sticking to the outside edge of the room and focusing on hiding his presence.
Bob understood fully that he was a vagrant, a homeless man down on his luck and having to live in squalor under the foot of the common man. The only thing that Bob could not ascertain was whether he would be welcomed by this elderly human, or attacked on site for being a monster. Bob himself held no animosity in his heart, not viewing humanity as his enemy, only those that wish harm upon himself.
Now close enough to see the writing on the wall, Bob could clearly see the man had scratched two dates into the concrete: 05.08.1949 – 03.02.2026. Before Bob could think anymore about what the date ascertained to, another man's voice came from nearby.
Looking to the side, for the first time Bob saw a makeshift structure. He had missed it earlier because his focus was too fixated on the strange man, but now he could clearly see it was a small homeless encampment, just the right size for two people.
Made from scrap pieces of wood, cardboard boxes, and old pieces of waterproof fabric. The dirt build-up on them showed just how long this temporary structure had been erected.
“Yo, you still taking my prediction to heart?”
The man in front of Bob looked towards the shelter and replied.
“Of course I am! You're never wrong, damn well signing my death warrant! It'll be those damn aliens I tell you! Space Lizards from Alpha Centauri 5! It's all because I saw them that day when I was staring at the sun, an anal probe; they used it on a cow!”
A raspy laugh came from inside the battered home, evidently not believing the man's words, or possibly taking delight in the man's terror. Bob was not quite sure which one it was. His laughing subsided when he fell into a fit of coughs and then finally replied.
“My prediction showed me three things: a heart, a sun and a date. Now Jimmy, there ain't no sun down here, now stop crying and go find us a rat to eat.”
The man did not seem to be accepting of his words, instead choosing to mutter under his breath.
“Tsch, sun could fall from the sky, aliens have tractor beams you know....Prick.”
Shaking his head, the man turned to see if he could see any rats scurrying about nearby. His eyes saw something larger than a rat, much larger; a pair of large clawed feet stood less than a metre from him. Slowly he lifted his head to see what he was looking at. His mouth was wide open, his rotten black teeth easily visible, even in the dim light.
Having to crane his neck up, the man locked eyes with Bob, and immediately a wet patch appeared on his pants, before the ammonia smell spread to the air. Joining the yellow droplets on the ground, the screwdriver left his hand and clattered to a stop.
In a state of pure terror, his petrified eyes stared at Bob's face, taking in his obviously monstrous appearance, before his eyes drifted to the emblem on his cloak. The small golden sun motif glinted proudly in the electric light, reflecting in his eyes and staining his consciousness.
Bob was equally as stunned as the man, not knowing what to do or say; only he was not gripped by fear, just uncertainty. Unsure of the best way to perform a greeting to a human for the first time, he just stared at him in apprehension. Inside his mind, he was aware of greetings, conversation topics, all of it being similar to how he acted inside the Dungeon, and because of this, a thought occurred to him.
Am I shy?
The next moment, the man turned to look back at the date he had carved in the wall, his eyes awash with terror and reverberating within their sockets.
Bob mustered up the courage to speak, raising his arm in greeting while he did so. Unfortunately for Bob, his small gesture was viewed in the wrong manner, and his speech came out as more of a growl from his nerves.
“H...Hi.”
Stumbling backwards, the man recoiled from Bob's hand and shouted, surprising both Bob and the mystery man within the shelter.
“Arghhh! It's the date, today's date!....You'll never get near my arse with your probes, you damn alien!”
His hands clasped to his rear in a futile attempt to protect his anal chastity. Bob, in turn, just stared at him with a disgusted look; the mere thought of violating an old man's saggy behind was more of a toxic thought than that of bathing daily within the sewage water.
From within the shelter, the man shouted in reply while he slowly started to get to his feet.
“What the hell you talking about, you and your damn space aliens. You took too much crack, you damn fossil!”
At this point, the man's terror at seeing Bob had hit a dangerous point, forcing his elderly heart to beat out of control. Clutching at his chest, he could feel his heart break from within, its rapid beating, to a sudden pop and then nothing. The light within his eyes went out, and he fell backwards, his body as stiff as a board.
With a loud thud, he hit the ground, his body lying directly in front of the shelter.
Bob was even more speechless; the first human he met that he tried to communicate with died from shock upon only seeing him. A sickly thought invaded his mind, that of what would the other man think when he saw the scene? Would he be a double-heart murderer?
The waterproof sheet that acted as a door for the shelter was moved aside, with an elderly man slowly making his way out. His black skin and callous, riddled hand held a stick, and when Bob saw it, he imagined the worst.
To Bob's surprise, the man did not notice his dead friend on the ground at first and proceeded to trip over him, with his stick clattering away and into the central basin.
Bob went to help, but stopped himself, not knowing if that action would be perceived as an attack or not. The man did not immediately get back to his feet; instead, he sat on his friend's dead body and looked towards Bob. That was when Bob understood the situation completely.
The elderly man wore a similar assortment of mismatched, filthy clothes, and even so his skin was black; the dirt was still clearly visible. Equally dirty, grey dreadlocks hung down his back, bound together by several worn-out bobbles.
The feature that was most eye-catching to Bob was the man's eyes; both of them were completely clouded over, rendering his world pitch black.
The man's hands searched around himself, his left one looking for his stick, whereas his right one had located his friend's face and was in the process of feeling the contours. A solemn look appeared on his face as his hand closed his friend's eyes for the final time.
He then spoke to where he thought Bob was.
“Hey young-un, don't worry about it, his heart was well past due.....Plus, these eyes don't lie.”
His other hand pointed towards the writing on the wall. Now that Bob could see the man was blind, all the pressure and nerves he felt earlier had vanished, allowing him to talk normally.
“I'm sorry for your loss...Was it you? Did you predict his death?”
Scratching at the side of his head, the man replied.
“Aiiii, that I did. Nothing you can do when your time comes, just gotta accept it. But for you to scare him to death, damn you gotta be the ugliest fucker that ever walked these sewers! Ha Ha Ha....Now then you can call me daddy, wait, that's not right, you can call me Marlo! Marlo the Magician!.....Now hand me ma stick will you!”
Bob grumbled inwardly, but dutifully carried out his request whilst talking. Now not having to hide his presence, the noise of his clawed feet could be heard tapping on the concrete with every step.
“Tsch, well I suppose everyone would find me ugly....My name's Bob, hmmm, Bob the Homeless. How does your power work then? Did it make you go blind as well?”
Marlo let out a laugh that devolved into a cough as he replied.
“Ha Ha Crghh....Bob the Homeless, I like that one....Yeaaaaah that's my power all right, divination through tarot. Oldest kind, but mine actually works....As for my eyes, did it hell as like, my damn crazy bitch of an ex tried killing me, poisoned me with antifreeze! All I did was nail her mother, sister and best friend. Tsch, nothing to even get angry about. You know what I'm sayin Bob!?”
Bob had retrieved the stick and handed it to Marlo while he replied in a slight mocking tone.
“Yep, I get you, Marlo, I get you.”
Now with his stick in hand, he held out his free hand expectantly. After he felt nothing, Marlo shook his lightly and spoke again.
“You gonna help this old man up then Bob? Or you just here to scare everyone to death?”
“Oh yeah, sure.”
Just as Bob was about to take Marlo's hand, he hesitated, realising his cover would be blown wide open. Deciding to roll the dice, Bob thought in his heart that if he explained it all, maybe this mentally ill, homeless, sex deviant would understand him.
Grasping hold of his hand, Bob helped him to his feet and could not help but notice the weird expression on Marlo's face. Expecting to have to account for himself, Bob prepared to be honest, but thankfully honesty was not on the cards today.
“Eurgh, what's wrong with your hand, Bob? That's some damn nasty skin condition you got there! No wonder your ugly ass was forced to live in the sewers and could scare a man to death.”
Immediately Bob wanted to deny the accusations, but quickly understood that this was actually a better way of going about things. Whatever lie was needed at that moment, it had to be better than admitting to being an escaped, man-eating monster.
“Don't worry, it's not contagious....Hmmm, I had an accident and fell in a vat of acid; this is the aftereffect. In the end I decided to live in the sewers, and maybe go topside at Halloween.”
Marlo contemplated his words while his free hand gently rubbed his stubble-laden chin in thought. At that moment he seemingly remembered where that hand had just been and nonchalantly wiped it on his filthy pants. With his stick, Marlo tapped in repeatedly on the dead man's boots to gain Bob's attention.
“Take his boots if they fit. I could hear your damn toenails clacking on the floor when you walked. Who in the right mind walks barefoot in the sewers, and doesn't even cut their toenails? Seriously, thank fuck I'm blind right now.”
Letting the never-ending insults wash off his back, Bob looked down at the dead man's boots, and then looked at his own feet that were easily three times the size of a human's.
“I'm fine, Marlo. I'm used to walking barefoot, plus my feet are a lot bigger.”
Marlo let out a grumble as he walked over to the edge of the platform and took a seat, with his legs dangling over the edge of the central basin.
“If you say so....Do me a favour, Bob, go and put his body down pipe-3, say about a few hundred metres down should be good enough. Either the monster'll eat him or the rats'll do the job.....While you're down there, see if you can grab some rats for dinner, I'm starving.”
At that moment Bob was bewildered, with each part of Marlo's words leaving him speechless. Even so, he was confused; he still did as instructed. He easily picked the man's dead body up and slung it over his shoulder.
“Should we not bury him or something?”
Marlo let out a hearty laugh before his lungs gave out and another coughing fit took over.
“Bury him, Bob? Where the hell you gonna bury him? You gonna dig up the concrete? Ha Ha. Stupid and ugly, what a mix.”
Puffing out his cheeks, Bob could not refute the stupidity of his question, so he chose to ignore the insult and start with the task. Above each of the pipes that led out of the large room they were in, a number had been spray-painted above, easily telling Bob which pipe to choose. Just as he reached the entry to pipe-3, he had a thought and turned to shout to Marlo.
“Hey Marlo, what's his name?”
“Eurgh, for fuck sake Bob, you want his dick size next?....I don't know what his damn name was; he never told me, said it's so the alien Lizard people couldn't find him.....I just used to call him Oi, You, Useless, Prick, you know, words like that.”
Bob did not reply, only shook his head in indignation and continued to trudge down the sewer pipe with the dead man slung over his shoulder. He soon noticed that the pipe he was in was different from the one he wandered up.
No sewage was running through the pipe, only an ancient stain down its centre, and masses of a luminous lichen clinging to the top and sides of the pipe. The luminescent substance provided a soft light for the otherwise pitch-black pipe, giving it a warm feeling that felt rather homely to Bob.
Bob found himself humming gently while he walked, an unknown song that he had dug out from the human memories he devoured. He was not sure of what the tune was from, or even where he had heard it, but it provided him a strange peace of mind.
While he walked, the dead man's arms were swinging gently in front of his chest with every step he took, and it was not long until his hand caught Bob's attention.
The noise of a growl filled the pipe, echoing off the walls of the enclosed space, making Bob look around for the source of it. A sudden twinge in his stomach made him realise his stupidity and what the source of the noise was.
Looking at the dead man's hand, Bob began to salivate; he then proceeded to talk to no one, seemingly trying to justify the actions he wanted to take.
“He won't miss a hand or two. I mean I am a monster, and you could say it's his fault for being made of food....Plus I'm just helping the rats, doing them a service, like opening a can of food for them. Yeah, I'm helping, that's all.”
A snapping sound, followed by a crunching noise, could be heard throughout the pipe; at the same time, a fresh trail of deep red blood appeared along the path Bob walked.
Bob laid the incomplete corpse down and turned to leave without any ceremony. Waving a hand behind himself, he spoke to the many rodents he had seen within the darkness.
“Enjoy your meal.”
Unbeknownst to Bob, a large pair of inhuman eyes had appeared behind him, completely different than that of the rats and watching him leave with indifference.