%\chapimg{art/Discount_Bees-The_Horrid.jpg}
%\chapimg{Discount\_Bees}{\includegraphics[width=\textwidth]{art/Discount_Bees-The_Horrid.jpg}}
\chapimg{Discount\_Bees}{art/Discount_Bees-The_Horrid.jpg}
\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
\chapter{The Horrid Reflection}


I stepped from the shadow. The sound had come again. I was in the alley
off 42nd Street in New York. My hand shook slightly with the loaded
Beretta in my hand. The sleek pistol was loaded and cocked, ready to
fire. I am a private detective. My name is Luke Bavarious. I like this
work.

People had been complaining about weird noises coming from the alley for
about a year now and we finally decided to see what was going on. I was
assigned to stop these noises.

I edged into the dim light. I saw a dark figure sitting on a dumpster,
facing away from me. He was sobbing and crying. I raised my Beretta and
lined his quivering back up with my bead.

``You there! What are you doing?'' I shouted through the darkness.

``Turn around!'' I shouted again.

``Beggin' your pardon, but\ldots you don't want me to turn around,'' it
said.

``Sure I do. I got a pistol pointed at your back so ya better,'' I
replied.

``Okay, you asked for it,'' the thing mumbled as it began to turn around.

A breeze trickled through the alley as it turned and began to come
toward me. I couldn't see him yet, he was shaded in the darkness.

``Step out of the dark.''

It inched forward. First its combat boots. Then its legs. Then its
chest. Then its head. If you call it a head. His face was horrid. There
was an abundance of purple scars. There was blood leaking from an empty
eye socket and he only had one shriveled ear. There was no nose. There
were no lips. Only holes.

I took a step back in astonishment. I gritted my teeth to keep the vomit
down.

He took three more steps forward and I saw his tears glisten in the
moonlight.

``I told ya,'' it said.

He screamed and began to run toward me. His stub of a hand was held high
in the air and was ready to commence his brutality. I pulled the trigger
on my Beretta. The recoil soothed my fear as I heard a shell hit the
pavement and saw the lead make another eye socket in the thing's
forehead. It kept coming with the assistance of his adrenaline. It had
only been a split second before I squeezed off another round into its
neck. The thing was inches away as I fired point blank into the thing's
throat. Two shells hit the concrete.

His hand smashed my head terribly powerful. Muscles were strained and
torn as my head jerked to the side, smashing a window. I fell and landed
in jagged glass. Dazed I fired again and again into the thing's chest. I
felt the recoil pushing back rhythmically. Shells hitting the
pavement. Bullets hitting the monster. Blood showering me. I felt my own
blood from the side of my head fall and drip. I kept firing. The
magazine was empty. He staggered. I tasted my tears and blood mixed into
a horrid cocktail. It fell down next to me. A badge sparkled on the side
of his jacket. Bavarious.

I picked up a large piece of broken glass and saw a horrid
reflection. Suddenly, I was sobbing.

\begin{figure}[b]
  \includegraphics[width=\textwidth]{art/necroid-his_hand_smashed.jpg}
  \caption{{\em His hand smashed my head terribly powerful} by necroid}
\end{figure}