"Uncle Curtis? Uh, Boss? I need you to look at my finger." Darius extended Fred's right index finger. He couldn't help but crack a smile- a genuine smile.
His manager's eyebrow cocks in confusion. "...Is this some sort of prank? Did your mom put you up to it?"
"No, no, I think my finger went bad. It looks rotten. Take a look." Darius took a step closer, feet sliding on the dusty floor. "Just for a second."
"Ugh... okay, okay. This better be funny." Curtis finished moisturizing his hands and turned back towards his nephew. "C'mon, what is it?"
"Hmm, I think it's called 'karma'."
Curtis was a languorous old man who had never been in a fight in his life. Heck, he probably hadn't ever seen a fight in person in his life. When his own nephew jabbed their finger into the soft spot of his throat, he didn't have the presence of mind to dodge or even push him away in self-defense. Right at the moment of impact, time itself seemed to stop. The young boy's finger fell away like lacquer off of an old statue, revealing something old, rotten and more ancient than anyone there could ever comprehend. The nail on that finger began to glow white with uncanny heat, until the entire dressing room was filled with a dazzling flare of light. When the light faded, the only thing that had changed was a single clean, bloodless hole in Curtis' throat.
Already the manager's body was beginning to crumple into a mere object, legs first. As his glasses slipped off of his deflating face and spun like a dreidel on the tiles, Curtis could only mouth the word "What?" through muted lips. In a matter of seconds, another costume occupied the dressing room in Napoli Studios.
"Well... it was nice to be traumatized right alongside you, Fred, but it's time we parted ways." Darius reached under the nape of his neck and felt for the seam only he could sense. His adult head burst out of that hole near instantly! He expected some sort of resistance between his neck and shoulders, but removing his arms from the skin suit was no more complex than a mundane body stocking. He had the presence of mind to sit down this time, so he wasn't wobbling about as a top-heavy hulk when he was halfway out.
Having discarded the Fred disguise, Darius turned to Curtis. Sliding into an adult body was much easier than his previous experience, but it felt so much worse. The old man was weedy and soft, a man who took terrible care of himself. When his chest transformed he even felt a strange irritation and a craving for... does this guy smoke? He checked Curtis' pockets and yes, there it was, a white and gold pack of Shreveport Lites. The gym rat living in Curtis' skin felt disgust at the idea, even when his new body demanded he try one. At least Darius could put the rest of the guy's clothes on while he was digging though his belongings. The tweed jacket and khakis were probably meant to make him look sophisticated or something.
Darius' train of thought was interrupted by a popping sound behind him, followed by a gasp and a cough. It was high-pitched, almost like...
"Uncle- Boss? Why am I naked? Why is your head..." Fred- the actual Fred- covered his mouth when he saw his manager with his head peeled off like a banana, with the crazy man who attacked him this morning underneath.
"Look. Look. I know this is crazy, but I saw what your uncle did to you, and it's fucked up. Not even I can put up with trash like him." Darius pulled the mask over his face and became disoriented for a second, then spoke in a voice an octave lower. "Why don't we blow this popsicle stand?"
The crook began to see Curtis' memories, and he understood. Envy. Deprivation. POWER. Mr. Hollyhock really was a self-made man, born into mediocrity yet willing to take what he deserved by force. Sometimes this meant gambling away his last dollar on Wall Street in the 00's. Sometimes this meant inheriting a house from his deceased grandparents and turning it into a summer rental, to give himself a trickle of money every year. And sometimes, this meant taking charge of a child prodigy before he inevitably burnt himself out and collecting royalties until the end of time. Curtis envied that boy, envied his ability to gain money and fame just by talking and acting and posing. He even envied the boy's body...
Darius had to slap himself in the face. Now's not the time for this, he thought to himself.
"Um... so you're like... some sort of evil leprechaun or alien or something?"
Oh right, Fred is still there. "No! I mean, maybe? Leprechaun?!?"
"Yeah, how'd you do that?"
"That's... not important. Put your clothes back on. We're going to fix your life, and the first step is..."