Jax the Zipper Tee

The neon signs of Avenue Seven bled into the October chill, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to stretch and twist across the empty pavement. Beneath a buzzing, sickly neon streetlight stood Jawbreaker, his exterior jacket swallowed by the gloom. To any wandering observer, he was merely another street-smart kid with a cynical glare and a pocket full of sour candy. But beneath his leathery skin lay a dormant, one that only clawed its way to the surface when the veil between worlds dissolved on Halloween night.

As the clock struck midnight, the air grew static. A low, rhythmic vibration rattled deep within his chest, accompanied by the choking, metallic scent of ozone. Jawbreaker gripped his throat as his body began to convulse, possessed not by pain, but by a sudden, violent kinetic energy.

Zzzzziiiiiip.

The sound sliced through the alleyway like a blade through silk. A massive, tarnished metallic zipper track materialized directly down the center of his head, gleaming under the pale moon. With a sudden, unseen jerk, the slider pulled itself downward. The reptilian exterior of Jawbreaker split wide open, peeling back like a discarded, wet coat to reveal the skeletal, stitched nightmare gestating beneath.

Jax the Zipper.

Jax shook out his radioactive metallic limbs, his hollow, breathless eye sockets instantly locking onto a group of teenage trick-or-treaters lingering at the end of the block. Reaching into the hollow, discarded husk of his former self, he pulled forth his favorite payload and muttered the words... Treat-or-Treat.