[ WP ] When someone is murdered , their name appears on the skin of the killer . You wake up with a name on your arm and no knowledge of how it got there .

The blank spot was gone. 
 I looked in disdain at the new name on my arm. The place where my beautiful skin, lotioned to creamy softness, had been especially prepared for my next victim. 
 
 I was running out of empty space. I did n't know what happened when you ran out, but it was my goal to find out. 
 
 The hardest part now was going into public without being arrested on sight. 
 
 The police caught me once. I had to take two new names on my body that day. One of them right up my asscrack. 
 
 Fitting, since I'd burned him to bacon while he screamed. His partner, who I'd shoved a teaser down his throat, had shown up on my throat. I hated that one for a long time. It made the full body jumpsuits I'd bought useless since I needed to wear a turtleneck or a scarf to cover it up. 
 
 As far as I could tell the names correlated with a part of the victim's body I'd done the most damage too before they died. After those areas were filled up, the names seemed to go to whatever area that was convenient to them. 
 
 They were filling me up, like a cup of water under a leaky faucet, I could feel them coursing throughout my skin with a delicious vigor. 
 
 I finished shaving my body and left the shower. When I looked in the mirror I could n't help but smile. The names on my face did n't fill me with revulsion anymore. They felt like my true face. The makeup was a pain to put on, especially my scalp. I knew it would probably rub off on the ride over, but it was a ritual by now and I was n't about to change my ways. 
 
 It would have been easier if the names did n't appear to come in at a color that did n't directly contrast with the natural skin color of the murderer. I could have kept my fake life longer. But after my wife saw on the news when the names started appearing ten years ago, the fun times were over. 
 
 Hers was n't the first name I'd taken. Not by far. But it was the first one I took and did n't get paid for. 
 
 Afterwards I sold the house and disappeared. I knew the government would n't keep me around if the names of people in foreign governments I'd been ordered to kill kept showing up in my body. 
 
 Luckily, I'd been prepared for this. I had myself a bunker, my hidey-hole. It was my pet project I'd worked on from my secret bank account under my bought identity. 
 
 I had plenty of money to keep me going, the only problem was when the names started becoming visible. I'd used a rifle or poison before. But having my head, stomach, and chest covered with tattoos first became very inconvenient. 
 
 I found a nice outfit of leather reinforced with special carbon nanotube material the government had provided me with back in my asset days. I slipped it on over a nice tight bodysuit that would keep me warm on my long drive. It covered my entire body except for my head and feet. Very convenient. I grabbed a black motorcycle helmet and slipped on my black combat boots over my favorite pair or itchy wool socks. Tonight was special. 
 
 `` Makeup can only go so far.'' I thought to myself as I walked into my living area from the bedroom. 
 
 `` Well bud, looks like I've got ta go out and kill this guy and let the name fall wherever it wants.'' I said as I rubbed my cat's head, sitting on the sofa like he always was. Watching television. Odd that he did this, but an odd pet was fitting for an odd man. 
 
 Such a good cat. He never pissed on the floor anymore and kept the rodents out of my food stores. 
 
 I went down one of the hallways inside my bunker, it was a decommissioned cold war creation I'd found for an absolute steal near my home in Oregon. 
 
 God bless the paranoid fuck who'd built this beautiful concrete and steel nest of high quality American construction. 
 
 Under the ladder to the hatch was a safe, not my only one, just the one I kept my fun bag in. The one with my torture tools. 
 
 I opened the hatch and let the moon light stream in, it was beautiful. 
 
 Tonight I'd be taking my motorcycle up to Seattle to see a friend of mine. A drug dealer who'd hired me to off a rival of his. I would do it, but before I did, I'd kill him. And I'd do it slow. I had n't planned on Killin him tonight but hell, my arm had just filled up without my knowledge how and I was feeling pretty pissed. 
 
 In the criminal underworld, at least, I was accepted. Revered. Feared to the point that if someone started acting dumb, all I had to do was undress. The moment any tough guy with a couple names on his body saw all of mine, he usually shut up real quick. It was a good negotiating tactic with new people who did n't know their place under my heel. 
 
 `` Wait a minute, I know what I forgot!'' I said out loud as I closed the hatch and walked back toward my bedroom. 
 
 I sat down at my desk and flipped open my laptop. I read the name of the person on my arm and typed it into Facebook. Then I typed his name into Google and read the article that popped up. 
 
 `` I'm always feeling lucky, Google. Always.'' I laughed to myself. 
 
 `` Hah! So that's it!'' I exclaimed after finishing the article. 
 
 Looks like the last woman I'd killed a few days ago had a husband who'd been gone on business. After he'd come home and seen the mess I'd made, he'd taken to drinking pretty hard. Looks like he ate a bullet for dessert. 
 
 `` Funny shit.'' I chuckled as I made my way back to the hatch. 
 
 After opening it once more, I let the moonlight shine down on the Square hole. 
 
 I guess I'd forgive him for taking my arm space. After all, I was one step closer to becoming a God.
