Crimson Generations

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Kat walked with his hands behind him. Prison either sculpted you to be a man worse than the crime you made to get in, or shaped you to be someone leaving behind crime and anything of the sort. But for Kat things were much different. He walked down a narrow exit to the courtyard. Some of the prisoners threw their food at him, others throwing used up e-cigarettes, and shoes. Some of things even tried swinging for a punch. He slipped passed the guards outside.

He went from a taxi. He laid in his house wondering whether he'd be back. He spent most years in and out of detention facilities since the age of fifteen. Maybe it was time to make a change, or follow up with the ones he had laid out for himself in prison if he survived. Ryker's wasn't a place to stay and not be molded into something else.

 He sat on his couch examining the weed and cigarettes laying on the coffee table. He occupied himself with these for some time. His butler arrived.

"You have guests awaiting. Mr. Williams." The Butler named Sheven announced.

Kat sat there sighing. His friend Danny swung by along with his other companion Emmie. They all spoke of greetings and this only brought a faint grin and sniff of a laugh. You couldn't go one day without thinking of others. Humans by nature had other people, he only kept two.

"Pleasure to see you. Both look good." Kat standing and turning the television on.

"Holy shit. You really are a privileged guy." Danny taking a eye full of all the consoles Kat had.

"Not really he gets bullied by the guys at the bar." Emmie teased.

"Sure." Kat said.

The thunder outside was a bit unwelcoming to a grinning face. But all of them had one. Except for Kat of course.

Time passed fairly well. They all spent time playing. Kat took hits of his joint while playing. Somehow it helped him focus.

"Emmie are you're really not gonna take a hit of the joint? You're really gonna sit there? And not hit one pull?" Danny asked.

Kat made a little 'who cares' with his hands extended out.

"I'm sober I don't do that no more." Emmie said while twirling her pink hair.

"Bullshit you smoked yesterday. Don't ask me tomorrow when the joints are all gone." Emmie replied.

Kat shook his head in disbelief and took another hit. They all got up and they rushed out. That's when things got unnerving. His mother came home and told him of the news at home. His father had passed.

 Kat and his mother rushed to the funeral home the next day. From crying in a hug to her and him at the funeral. Kat sat in his chair in his dress shirt. Then time passed to him in the rain at his father's grave.

"I swear on my father's grave I'll kill every man responsible." Kat leaving once the words had been said.

He came home to his cell having been blown to sky high proportions. He set it aside, as he didn't want to be pestered by anyone today. He went to his father's room. His father had told him if he had ever died he'd be granted access to riches beyond belief. His father was shot down in some parking lot.

His eyes slightly widened then normalized at the sight of two revolvers in a brief case. He picked both of them off from a brief case and set them aside on a cabinet. What next? Looks like pops didn't stick to a clean and tidy life as expected. He opened another brief case was a pea coat. Setting aside no time he put it on. 

Now standing after kneeling the pea coat shot out whips from his wrist's veins. It slithered across the room smashing a flower pot. And then retracted back to him. He felt a surge of adrenaline. He tried removing it but the coat shot out the tendrils again. He ceased his thrashing and they zipped back into his veins. Suddenly he felt cuts on his veins. This was going to hell and fast.

His blood split into a katana of blood. It had cut the whole cabinet in half. Then darted back into his veins. What the hell was happening? Things seemed to cool down and made it apparent he was lucky no one was home besides the Butler in the basement.

He read a note that had fallen. An unfinished one. Maybe to added to the briefcases perhaps? His eye glided on the paper and he lowered it having a toothy grin. He followed the instructions.

This place was a mess. It was where everyone came to give up on life or start a new one in crime. The junkies and alcoholics stationed there left it to some roid raged bald guy out front. He had to be at least 7 foot tall. Kat landed on the top of the building almost slipping from the rain. He let out a 'phew'. And thrusting his palms open. The coat was half him half sentient. Both tendrils wrapped around the man's neck and rose him up. The man kicked and thrashed but the thunder and rain killed all hope of his voice reaching his men.  He drew his hand back and he flew.

Out from the rain came a silent killer.

"Hold up who the fuck let this clown in?" The man was slashed in half by a strand of blood.

"You fucked up kid you..." The man was slapped across the face from blood led by Kat's neck. He hit the bottles harder than he usually did. And then hit the floor.

Kat drew pistol and shot bullet after bullet into the body.

Someone raced to the door but blood from Kat's oxfords leaked out and caught the man's leg. They cut the man's legs making him a cripple.

"No! Please! Please don't fucking kill me! I -" He went to reach for a gun but Kat shot a stream of blood from his finger into the man's neck slicing it open.

"Tell me. Williams." Kat with his gun against the man who was hyperventilating.

"I have no idea. We leave that guy alone cause he's got good word with the cops." The man said.

Another smoke and light and it had done away with the man. Using the suit was happy go lucky with murder. But sustaining it was a pain. It left you wounded and weak after some time. He went home and read the rest of the letter only after binning the tapes on the camera to the dumpsters.

Something was off but in an exotic mind numbing way. Eradicating the scumbags left him light headed and a coke high once he fully healed. The letter had to have more, he remembered and thanked God. He got to the church and rested on top. He read the letter in its entirety.

"Do not kill loosely. You will be able to do more. Give it time no test runs but murder. The more you kill the more you can the next day. The things you'll be able to do will be God like. I love you and if you're reading this I'm dead. The mafia and I share close relations. I'm a peace keeper who offered in good faith money and my time to get them to form rules. Rules that'd help keep peace and have notions of violence only needed in extreme circumstances. This suit was made in..." The note ended before it could finish.

"Damn." Kat said smashing his hand on the wooden table shattering it.

He looked at his bloodied hands and the fluids refilled into the hands. He stared off into his hands. Laughing in a pant for a brief second. He heard a ding and knew his friends had arrived. It was up to him to show it off or not. But what would his father think?