The Transforming Tyrant

Prologue

In the big city of Circovia, Illinois, crime doesn’t take a break. The year is 1935 and the once-thriving city has fallen into disrepair and neglect. Shops that shone brightly with neon lights are now boarded up and dark. The places that remain in business aren’t welcoming to strangers, with reinforced doors and shady looking owners sitting behind the registers. Police cars survey the dark streets for ne’er do wells, but everyone knows that the officers aren’t the ones running the city’s remains. The mobs hold the power here and to cross the wrong person could be a sentence for any unfortunate soul.

As darkness takes hold over Circovia, the businesses start to close, and the streets grow quiet once more. Rain falls heavily on the ground and the light from the dim streetlights illuminate the silhouette of a woman fumbling with her keys while she tries to keep dry. Her umbrella bobs up and down as she finds the right key and locks up her business for the day. The woman sighs in exhaustion as she heads down the dimly lit street and back home.

Joyce was tired after a long day of waiting tables at the diner, but she knew better than to lower her guard when walking the streets of Circovia at night. She passes under a neon sign for another sleazy nightclub and several scantily-clad women staying dry under the building’s overhang scowl as she walks by. The rain is nearly deafening and is easily soaking through her worn-down shoes. Joyce crosses the street only once when she comes across a small group of suited, and obviously intoxicated, men huddled together under a balcony. The men wolf-whistle to get her attention, but she ignores them and keeps her head down.

A block away from her apartment building, Joyce hears a small cry of pain as she passes by a narrow alleyway. She pauses and looks down the passage, but is unable to make out a shape in the inky black shadows within. Joyce hesitates, not sure if she should call out or just keep moving.

“Help! Help me!”

She definitely heard it that time. A female voice was calling out for help from the darkness of the alley. The odd thing was… the voice almost sounded like it was coming from deep within a tunnel. Or a hole. It was so distant and echoey. This seems like a trap. Joyce resigned herself with continuing on before she was frightened by a much louder scream of terror.

“Hello?” Joyce called into the alley. “Are you okay? Should I call the poli-“

“HELP! HE’S GOING TO KILL ME!”

Joyce dropped her umbrella as the scream startled her. She looked around for a phone booth to call the police from. There! About 20 feet away. She booked it towards the red windowed booth and started dialing. 9. 1.

BAM!

Joyce screamed as a hand slammed against the window of the booth. The rain streaking down the window made it hard to make out the figure the hand belonged to. Joyce’s breathing sped up in fear as she dialed the last number and held up the phone in trembling hands. All she got back was a dial tone. The phone was disconnected!

“What do you want? Leave me alone!”

The figure outside the booth stepped around and slid something into the handle of the booth’s door. Joyce was confused at first but gasped as she realized they’d just barred her inside the booth! She grabbed the door and pushed with all her strength, but the door didn’t budge. The figure continued to circle around the booth as tears streamed down her face.

“Please, I didn’t see anything. Please, just let me out. I won’t horn the coppers, I’ll just leave you alone. I swear.”

If the figure could hear her, it didn’t let it show. It stepped back a second and pulled something out of a bag attached to its hip before coming forward once more and placing a hand against the window. As Joyce cried in fear and begged to be let go, the figure placed their object on the ground outside the door. Joyce pushed her face close to the window to try and get a glimpse at what it was. The object was small and cylindrical with a tab on its top that reminded her of the pin of a grenade. Oh gods, was he going to blow up the phone booth with her inside it?!

“PLEASE please please, don’t do this! I didn’t do nothing to ‘ya, please don’t pull the pin.”

The figure, silent as always, leaned down and unceremoniously pulled the pin. Joyce backed into the far corner of the booth and into a fetal position. The figure stepped backwards and back into the rainy darkness outside. Joyce screamed, a last ditch effort to get help of any kind before…

PFFTTTT

No explosion. No boom. Joyce looks up from her huddled position to find a cloud of gas leaking into the booth from the canister outside the door. The gas was orangish in hue and was spreading way too quickly. Suddenly, Joyce wished that it was an explosion rather than… whatever this was. This goon was going to suffocate her in the phone booth with this gas!

Joyce stood up and started slamming her hands against the glass as the gas continued to fill the enclosed space.

“SOMEONE HELP! HELP ME!”

As she screamed for help, she breathed in a full lung of the gas, causing her to cough and stumble. She braced her arm against the windowed door of the booth to catch her breath. The gas was clearly already starting to have an effect on her as her surroundings swam in and out. Joyce vaguely noticed that something seemed to be happening to her arm as her vision started to grow cloudy. Was she growing hair on her arm? With a grunt of pain, Joyce’s legs collapsed beneath her, seemingly bent at the wrong angle. She stumbled to the ground and looked up at the top of the booth through the haze of the orange gas. Her vision tunnels into black as she slowly loses consciousness…