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“The Foot Clan” (?)
“The Foot Clan appear to be a cult-like group of ninjas here in New York City. Their origins are unknown, but records show that they were formed at least several hundred years ago, somewhere in Japan, by a man whose name has since been lost to history. They are associated with the symbol of an orange right foot, which also seems to be on the faces of several members.
They usually participate in thievery, though activity from them has severely died down as of recent.
They have odd recruitment methods, usually prowling ninja-based chatrooms for potential recruits, who are usually children or teenagers blinded by the promise of becoming one for real. While some of their members appear to be humans, they also use humanoid figures referred to by the public as “Paper Ninjas”
Paper Ninjas are, as the name says, figures who resemble humans in ninja uniforms made completely from paper. They are typically dark blue or red in color, and always have the foot clan symbol on their hoods, along with glowing cyan eyes. While they are powerful, they are fragile thanks to their nature.
It seems like only one member- labeled as “The Foot Lieutenant”, can make these via folding together origami figures and throwing them out.
Speaking of… The Foot Lieutenant and another larger figure, labeled as “The Foot Brute”, appear to be the leaders of the Foot Clan. They are easily recognizable with their purple skin, yellow eyes, and flames above their forehead, along with their clawed hands, pointed ears and sharpened teeth. It is currently unknown why they are like this.
They have been spotted running both “The Foot Shack” shoe store, and the “Fire & Icing” bakery in the past, both of which were fronts for their clan.”
“Foot Clan Connections with Supernatural Phenomena”
“The Foot Lieutenant and Brute, along with a smaller female member and a strange, satyrlike being, were spotted at [REDACTED] Stadium, on November 16, 2018. They had summoned a mysterious armored figure, which, according to some former members, is a god they worshiped known as “The Shredder”. This Shredder had teleported across New York, causing massive damage wherever it was at the time, until being subdued by four mysterious figures, who had reportedly fought the Foot Clan before in the past, if images and eyewitness reports are to be believed.
The three clan members, along with the satyrlike being, reportedly were able to escape via odd portals they conjured up, which appears to be something they (or at least Foot Lieutenant and Foot Brute) can do.
The Foot Clan are also connected to The Alien Invasion of August 5, 2020. From the records of a witness whose name has been redacted for privacy’s sake, they stole a mysterious artifact labeled as “The Key”, and opened an interdimensional portal on [REDACTED], freeing the three aliens known as “The Krang”, who wrecked havoc on the city.
The whereabouts of the Foot Clan are currently unknown, but some of the mutated monsters created by The Krang resemble- and have DNA from- former members of the clan. Not only that, but a pair of Krang Monsters resembling the two leaders have been spotted deep in the subway tunnels that still remain covered in the Krang Biomass. Few people have survived attacks from the duo, and they reportedly stick together.
The Foot Clan are…”
Naomi drummed her fingers on the table, grabbing an eraser and removing what she was writing down.
That made zero sense. All of this had to be perfect. She was a detective, and what good was a detective who made faulty reports?
She leaned back in her chair, looking at what she currently had written down regarding the Foot Clan. She had two sections of information so far… but that wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough. But… she had no idea what to write next. Information on their history? Current status? Maybe known robberies committed by them?
She rose up, turning to several photos folded neatly away in an album. The majority of them were blurry and out of focus, and a lot of the clearer ones had the Foot Clan just out of frame. She sighed, picking out the best quality ones out of all of them, rendering her with only five images to use.
At least it was something.
She looked at one of the images, showing the Foot Lieutenant and the Foot Brute on camera footage, stealing an old display gauntlet from a jewelry store in a mall.
“What are you…” she asked the photo, knowing it would give her no answers. “Just what are you? What were your plans?”
Naomithen realized just how exhausted she felt.
Oh well, time to get another coffee. It was only, like, 11, right? She needed the caffeine if she wanted to write a proper report by tomorrow afternoon.
She got up from her unorganized desk, grabbing her purse and keys, and locked the door to her apartment as she headed out of it, down an elevator, and out into the streets.
It was dark out, as expected, but she knew the way to her favorite coffee shop. Besides, it wasn’t too far away.
So she set out, unaware of a figure cloaked in black with a certain orange marking over their hood taking watch of her every move.
~~~
The hot cup of fresh coffee in hand was a great tool to help her keep focused on her way back home, its scent drifting into her nose as she waved goodbye to the store clerk who usually worked late hours there.
She was nice, kind of cute too. They knew each other for a good while now, and she was great company for conversation when the coffee was brewing and no one else was around.
But she had to get back to work. And so, she was now walking back onto the late night streets of New York, the lights shining above her like stars. She couldn’t help but let herself get distracted by them, gleaming with full for-
She saw someone looking down at her from the roof of a building, cloaked in darkness and simply… watching her. When it took notice of her, it quickly dashed away into the darkness.
Perhaps she would take a longer route home.
She dove into an alleyway, drifting away to a sidewalk and walking down a street, then heading into a different alley. Despite the darkness and the claustrophobic walls, she always did like alleys. She had to grow up with them, so she had no other choice than to get used to their presenc-
She heard someone walking behind her, their nearly bare feet tapping on the cement below them.
She turned around, whipping around to shout at whoever was stalking her…
But, she was alone, still surrounded by the darkness of the alley.
Her heart was pounding in her ears now. What… what the hell? Why was she being followed? She didn’t anger anyone… right? Then… then who was that? How did they manage to teleport aw-
She was so distracted by her pounding heart and her own thoughts that she didn’t notice that same person sneaking up behind her, wrapping their arm around her chest to keep her arms in place as she kicked about in a panic.
Her coffee spilt to the ground as she thrashed, feeling a hand lift a rag to her mouth
A sweet smelling rag, laced with a modified version of a certain colorless, strong-smelling, dense liquid.
The instant she realized what it was, she was drifting off to sleep, her body falling to the ground as she looked up at her captor.
And she didn’t even need the foot-shaped marking on their hood to know just how screwed she was
~~~
The memory of her attack echoed in her mind as she awoke in a room lit by many half-melted candles, the eyes of several people in ninja uniforms staring down at her body, unmoving minus their calm breathing.
It didn’t take long for her to realize just where she was.
She instantly rose up, only to flop back onto the ground, the chloroform still in her system rendering her dazed. She struggled to stand, to move her limbs, but she could feel her hands tied tightly behind her back, attached to her similarly bound ankles by a thick rope. She wriggled her limbs, only to feel the rope around her limbs dig around her skin, ropeburn scars beginning to form under it.
All she could do was fail to break out of her bindings, and stare at the Foot Clan members before her, who did next to nothing. All they did was breathe and stare at her, unmoving.
She had to get out of here, before anything bad could happen to her.
She noticed that the candles that lit up the room were placed on pedestals that looked nigh impossible to reach… most of them, anyway. There were a few lower ones, and several that were just on the ground.
That’s it. She just had to burn the rope, then run for her life. Easy as p-
“Members of the Foot Clan.”
A deep, booming masculine voice broke her out of her thoughts.
Oh no.
She felt large, strong hands drag her to an altar, placing her on top of it as she looked behind herself to see a human.
A very familiar, large, fat and beefy, pinkish-purple skinned human with a flaming footprint on his face.
He stared down at her, his pure yellow eyes with only pupils inside them glaring down at her.
“We are gathered here today to bear witness to the removal of a thorn in our side…” The Foot Brute said, presenting her to the Foot Clan like she was some kind of toy. “...and the reclamation of our lost glory.”
The Foot Clan simply nodded in response to his statement, only adding to the horrible uncanny feeling building up in Naomi’s chest.
This wasn’t real. It barely even felt real.
She was just having a nightmare. She’d wake up at her desk, having passed out there from how she overworked herself. Then she’d go right back to w-
She felt those same hands from earlier grip her head, forcing her to stare dead on at Foot Brute’s eyes.
“You should be grateful for this.” He snarled. “We were going to kill you, but we needed you for this little ritual. You won’t even feel a thing. So sit back, and accept your fate.”
With that, he shoved her head against the hard stone of the altar, and roughly shoved a syringe into her neck, filled with a strange purple substance that soon entered her body, dispersing along her veins… and causing her body to change.
The injection site sealed up as the needle was pulled away, a purple patch of discoloration forming around the closed wound, which soon began to grow, spreading over her skin. She felt it grow, leaving a tingling, numbing sensation as it moved across her skin, swiftly consuming the old color of her skin.
She felt it tickling her chin, the bones in her jaw squishing and compressing under its grip as it moved up her face, twisting and reshaping both the skin and bones on her head to it’s pleasure. Her skin sagged out, wrinkles forming along her features as she felt her gritted teeth sharpen to points in her jaw, yellowing in coloration as she felt a bizarre sensation build up in her throat.
She gagged, feeling her tongue grow out as she struggled to rise up and cough it out. It extended out her mouth, turning a dark purple in coloration as the tip of it pointed out, rings forming along the surface of her tongue. Then, as if it was a living organism, it slithered back into her throat, down a newly formed hole in her throat. She shut her mouth, noticing that her teeth now seemed to poke out of it.
Her ears then stretched themselves out, pointing at the ends as she noticed her hair falling out, first in small strands, then in chunks, quickly rendering her bald as she then felt and saw her eyebrows suffer the same fate, as her now bald head was quickly rendered a purple-colored mockery of itself. A yellow discoloration formed in her pupils, which quickly spread out to her irises and sclera, rendering her eyes pure yellow, with no other features minus the soft glow coming from them.
As if it was satisfied with the work done on her head, the discoloration then spread downwards, fully covering her neck and making its way to her main body. Her breasts retracted into her body, chest flattening out as muscle formed on her lithe body. Her shoulders popped outwards, growing a little as muscle formed along them.
The purple discoloration then moved down her arms, carving out more muscle mass, enough to make her much stronger, but still lithe in frame. They snaked down her arms, forcing them to grow longer as her palms roughed up and hands grew a little bigger, fingernails growing longer and sharpening out, hardening as they turned into claws.
On her chest, the purple discoloration continued its march down her form. The fat along her torso faded into her muscle, chipping some weight off her, but not enough to render her unhealthy as the already existing muscle bulked itself up. She wasn’t extremely ripped or anything, and was still thin, but she clearly was more muscular now.
Naomi then felt a pain in her groin, feeling her sexual organs twist about inside of her as she let out a pained yelp of fear. She could feel her privates invert, moving about painfully as she twisted in her bindings, the Foot Brute grabbing her to prevent her from falling off the altar as her memories twisted like her internal workings, altering her gender right to her core, making her a he.
His legs then felt the sensation of the purple discoloration moving down them, his old skin tone being utterly consumed by it as his thighs and calves bulked up a little bit. As the discoloration reached his feet, his toenails grew out and sharpened to points, just like his fingernails had prior.
He then felt heavy, strong hands grip her like a ragdoll, putting him in a kneeling position that he tried to resist at first, only for the hands of her captor to tighten, forcing her into compliance as she was positioned in front of a large pot filled with a bubbling, orange substance. The Foot Brute then turned and stood before the pot, his piercing yellow eyes staring into his soul.
“And to finish this ritual, and reclaim what has been taken from us by the great gods beyond…” He said, dropping a small silver object into the pot. “We call upon thee, ancient forces of the Foot Clan!”
With that, an orange figure quickly rose from the pot, splashing the hot liquid that filled it and dripped off it all over the place, and then kicked Naomi in the face with his right foot before he could properly react, flinging him across the room, branding his face with the mark. The eyes of the clan members followed his body, as they all turned around to face him, now limp on the ground as he moaned in pain.
His head was filled with the agony of what just happened, the burning sensation on his face digging into his mind… and his memories. He could barely even feel them slipping away from him as he struggled to rise to his feet, flailing on the ground uselessly. He gritted his sharpened teeth, trying to stand up yet again only to fall on his face.
As he stared at the ground, he finally felt the slow slipping of his memories, draining away and being replaced with new ones, ones that showed him as loyal to the Foot Clan through many, many years and hardships, over both losses of its great leader, over every single battle with those annoying turtles and their friends.
He tried to resist, holding onto the memories of his own life, his friends and family, but it was too hard to. He was fighting a losing battle, one whose outcome was set in stone the moment he stepped up to the challenge.
My name, shit, what’s my name? He asked himself, struggling to grasp onto the last remaining strands of his identity. It’s Na…. no, I don’t have a name.
I haven’t had one for years.
And, with that final thought, a flame ignited itself over his forehead as The Foot Lieutenant opened his eyes.
His body started levitating, a purple glow enveloping him as his bindings withered away, the shirt that was on him ripping away into strands. The sleeves of it unwound, turning black as they rewrapped themselves around his arms, making sure to leave his fingers exposed as the main body of the shirt split itself in half, both halves turning a brown-red in color as they shrunk, turning more leathery in texture as the halves rewrapped themselves around his torso.
His pants turned a dark gray, puffing out a little as his socks and shoes’ color shifted to black and they tore themselves apart, turning into more straps that rewrapped themselves around his feet, his pants moving up a little, just halfway down his lower legs, to make room for the straps.
Finally, a red sash tightened itself around his waist, the ends of it draping down his body, down to where his pants ended as two other pieces of fabric, duller and somewhat brown red in coloration, slithered out from under the sash, falling to the sides of his legs.
The glow died down as he floated back down, his clawed feet once again hitting the cool flooring of their base.
Instantly, the members of the Foot Clan kneeled as he walked down the aisle towards his companion and coworker.
“Finally.” He said, stretching out his arms as he looked up, grinning. “I’m finally back.”
He stood before the Foot Clan with his companion and coworker as they slowly rose up, turning to them.
“Members of the Foot Clan.” Foot Brute said as he looked at the Foot Lieutenant, calming standing as he stared back at him for a moment. “We have been lost in the dark for a while. Stripped of our own identities, we had to stumble in the darkness, unable to stand nor assist our clan.”
“But now, this darkness has faded.” Foot Lieutenant continued. “We have reclaimed ourselves from the dust we were cast to, and now, once again, we stand before you. Now, we may finally reclaim our lost glory! Once more, we shall begin our glorious conquest!”
The gleeful shouting of the crowd could not deafen the glee the two leaders of the Foot Clan were feeling at the moment.
Once more, they stood.
And now, it felt as if nothing could stop them.