[ WP ] A tattoo appears on your body , and at regular intervals you either find a new one or the old one expands .

John sat in the cafe sneering at a man in a cheap suit who was crossing the road. `` Look at that one all, all dressed up like he's something'' he said to the newspaper sitting across from him. `` And you know what makes it worse, i bet he's dressed like that because he's off to some job that a good honest white man should be working... makes me sick'' 
 
 The newspaper collapsed revealing the grizzled face of John's oldest friend. Pete had been in the same class in the academy and his partner for four years now. `` You know I might have got a tip that someone matching that description is involved in terrorist activity.'' 
 
 Since the CITIZEN bill was passed it was easier than ever for police to take someone in for questioning. No one would ask questions if they took him in now, no one would ask any if he never came back. No one important anyway. 
 
 `` That so?'' John hand shifted towards his gun but was stopped by a harsh buzzing. Sighing John dropped a few notes on the table. `` Come on lets go.'' The remains of his coffee flew through the air towards the man in the suit falling short by quite away. `` Go back to where you belong you monkey'' flew after the coffee, this time hitting their mark. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, he ignored it, it was nothing new. John's day drifted on as normal. 
 
 A perfectly black square marked John's shoulder. He rolled down the sleeve back down then peeled of the the t-shirt he used to hide the other black marks from the cops in the locker room. He could n't remember when they started appearing. It definitely happened a lot more since he had be transferred to this scum filled slum of a sector. What ever it was it was their fault, he often felt the familiar burn of another mark staining his skin after dealing with them. For a while he was sure they were contagious. 
 
 His hand grasped the neck of a whiskey bottle he walked passed, the motion so practiced and routine he barely noticed he'd done it. Slumping down in his chair he set about the task of numbing himself enough to sleep, his mind dreaming up way to plant evidence on the jumped up monkey who though he was good enough to moving into John's building, his back stinging as he did. There would be another mark tomorrow. 
 
 Flames twisted round him, white hot caresses consumed his skin til he was a blackened char of his former self. John awoke from the twisted, restless excuse for sleep that had occupied him through the night. A jolt of adrenaline surged threw him as he caught a glimpse of his own jet black hand. Turning it back and forth in front of his face he slowly lost hope that he was still dreaming. It was n't the ruined charred flesh of his dream but the smooth perfect darkness that had so far only covered patches of his body but now encased his whole hand. Panicked he stood up and looking into the mirror. Distraught he slumped back down into his chair. 
 
 Pete sat in the cafe waiting for John to show up. He had never been late in all the years he had know him. Staring down the road John walked down a thousand times before he saw the uniform far before he could see John's face but as it grew closer something seemed strange. At first he thought his face was covered by a balaclava he was less and less sure with every step the uniform took towards him now. He was walking faster now, hurried in the way Pete's years of police experience told him was panic. 
 
 Black hands matched the dark face, John late for the first time in memory, a monkey inexplicably wearing a police uniform and moving nervously through a busy street. Connections in Pete's brain buzzed moments before his pistol barked. Looks like today he got to stop an actual terrorist.
