Lucius lay in bed, staring at the cracks on his ceiling. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of a streetlamp outside his window, casting soft shadows on the walls. His mind raced with thoughts about everything that had happened recently. Vince and his gang, the mysterious figures watching him, and most of all—Mia.
He clenched his fists, frustration boiling inside him.
"Why am I like this?" he muttered to himself. "I couldn't even keep Mia safe without... him."
The memory of his alter taking over to deal with Vince and his gang flashed through his mind. It terrified him how easily his alter had handled things, and how helpless he felt in comparison. He hated the chaos it brought, but deep down, he couldn't deny its strength.
But strength came with a cost. Mia had been dragged into his mess, and now her safety was constantly in jeopardy because of him.
"What if next time... I lose control completely? What if she gets hurt because of me?" Lucius whispered, his voice trembling.
His eyelids grew heavier, the weight of his thoughts dragging him into an uneasy slumber. As he drifted off, a strange, chilling sensation coursed through his body, as if something deep inside him was stirring.
The morning sun pierced through the blinds, flooding the room with light. Lucius's eyes fluttered open, but there was something... different. He blinked a few times, sat up, and looked at his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. His lips curved into a sly grin.
It wasn't Lucius who woke up that morning.
His alter had taken over.
The usual timid and hesitant aura was replaced by an air of unshakable confidence. He stretched his arms, his movements sharp and deliberate, as if testing out the body he now fully controlled.
"Well, well," the alter murmured, smirking at his reflection. "Looks like it's my turn to have some fun."
He rummaged through Lucius's wardrobe, choosing clothes that were a bit more daring than what Lucius would usually wear—a black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and boots. As he slicked back Lucius's hair, he admired the transformation in the mirror.
"Time to make an impression."
The alter walked to college with a swagger that turned heads. His posture was upright, his movements fluid and purposeful. People who normally ignored Lucius now found themselves glancing at him, some whispering to each other.
"Is that Lucius?" one student muttered.
"Can't be. Look at him. He's... different," another replied.
He paid no attention to the murmurs, relishing the attention instead. For once, the eyes weren't filled with pity or dismissal—they were filled with intrigue and curiosity.
As he reached the gates, Mia stood waiting for him as usual, her expression shifting from a warm smile to utter confusion.
"Lucius?" she called out cautiously.
The alter turned to her, flashing a charming grin. "Good morning, Mia."
Mia frowned. Something was off. "Uh... you seem... different today. Did something happen?"
"Different? I feel fantastic," the alter replied, his voice carrying an edge of arrogance. "Why? Do I look bad?"
"No, not bad... just... not you," Mia said, narrowing her eyes. "Lucius, are you okay?"
"I've never been better." He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. "Maybe I just decided to stop being boring. People like confidence, don't they?"
Mia stared at him, taken aback. This wasn't the Lucius she knew. The gentle, reserved boy she cared about seemed to have vanished overnight, replaced by someone who radiated boldness but lacked the warmth she was used to.
The moment the alter walked into class, a wave of whispers rippled through the room. Heads turned, and eyes widened.
"Is that really Lucius?" one classmate whispered.
"No way. He's acting like a completely different person," another said.
He ignored the stares and sauntered to his seat. Instead of the usual quiet demeanor, he leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, exuding an aura of nonchalance.
Even Dr. Sarah, their psychology lecturer, noticed the change. As she entered the room, her gaze landed on Lucius, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Lucius, you seem... lively today," Dr. Sarah remarked, raising an eyebrow.
The alter shrugged, smirking. "Just feeling good, Doc. Is that a problem?"
Dr. Sarah paused, studying him for a moment before continuing with her lecture. Something about him felt... unsettling, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
Throughout the day, the alter's behavior continued to raise eyebrows. He spoke up in class—something Lucius rarely did—but his comments were laced with sarcasm and a sharp wit that caught everyone off guard. He walked through the halls like he owned the place, drawing attention wherever he went.
Mia, meanwhile, couldn't shake the unease growing in her chest. She kept glancing at him, trying to find traces of the Lucius she knew, but they were nowhere to be found.
At lunch, she finally confronted him.
"Lucius," she said firmly, pulling him aside. "What's going on with you? You're not acting like yourself."
The alter smirked, leaning against the wall. "Maybe this is the real me, Mia. Ever think of that?"
"No," Mia snapped. "This isn't you. You're... I don't know who you are right now, but you're not Lucius."
His expression faltered for a split second, but he quickly recovered, brushing off her concern. "Maybe I got tired of being the weak guy. Maybe I'm done being scared all the time."
Mia crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Lucius, if you think this is how you protect me or yourself, you're wrong. This isn't strength—it's something else. Oh my god you the other."
Her words hit harder than the alter cared to admit. For a brief moment, he felt a flicker of doubt, a tiny crack in the confident facade. But he quickly buried it, flashing her a grin.
"Relax, Mia," he said, stepping closer. "I'm just trying to make things better."
Mia shook her head, stepping back. "You're wrong. This isn't better."
As the day wore on, the alter felt a strange tug in the back of his mind—a faint, persistent voice.
No….
He was waking up, and he wasn't happy.
The alter clenched his fists, his grin fading for the first time that day. "Not yet," he muttered under his breath. "I'm not done yet."
But deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before Lucius fought his way back to the surface. And when he did, the fallout would be inevitable.
After college, the Alter—still inhabiting Lucius's body—decided he needed to blow off some steam. Mia's words from earlier echoed in his mind, but he shook them off with a scoff.
"Scared of me? She doesn't get it," he muttered to himself. "I'm the one keeping us alive."
The late afternoon sun bathed the city streets in golden light as he wandered aimlessly, his hands stuffed into the pockets of Lucius's leather jacket. The bustling crowd around him annoyed him more than anything, their chatter and laughter grating on his nerves. He turned down a quieter street, seeking solitude.
That was when he heard it.
A sharp, mocking laugh rang out from an alleyway up ahead, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone being shoved against a wall. The Alter paused, tilting his head as he listened. More laughter, followed by muffled protests.
Curiosity—and a dark sense of anticipation—drew him closer.
As he approached the alley, he saw a group of five delinquents surrounding a smaller, scrawny young man. The leader of the group, a burly guy with a shaved head and a cigarette dangling from his lips, had the kid pinned against the wall by his collar.
"Where's the money, huh?" the leader snarled, shaking the kid roughly. "You think you can just walk through our turf without paying a toll?"
"I-I don't have any money," the boy stammered, his voice trembling.
"Wrong answer," the leader growled, raising his fist.
The Alter stepped into the alley, his boots echoing against the concrete. His presence was commanding, his shadow stretching long in the dim light. The delinquents turned to look at him, their expressions shifting from annoyance to wary confusion.
"Well, well," the Alter said, his voice dripping with mockery. "A pack of hyenas picking on a lamb. How original."
The leader released the boy and took a step forward, glaring at the newcomer. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"Someone who doesn't like cowards," the Alter replied with a smirk, cracking his knuckles. "So why don't you all make this easy and come to me before I get bored?"
The group laughed, though there was an edge of unease in their voices. The leader sneered, puffing out his chest. "Tough guy, huh? You've got no idea who you're messing with."
"Neither do you," the Alter shot back, his grin widening. "But don't worry—you're about to find out."
The leader lunged first, throwing a wild punch aimed at the Alter's face. But the Alter sidestepped effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise. He caught the leader's wrist mid-swing, twisting it sharply. The man cried out in pain as the Alter slammed his elbow into his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"One down," the Alter said casually, turning to the others. "Who's next?"
The rest of the group hesitated for a moment before rushing him all at once. The Alter's grin widened—this was exactly what he needed.
The first thug swung a rusty pipe, aiming for the Alter's head. The Alter ducked low, his body moving like a coiled spring. He launched himself upward, driving his fist into the thug's stomach with enough force to lift him off the ground. The thug collapsed, gasping for air.
Another attacker came at him from behind, attempting to grab him in a chokehold. The Alter shifted his weight, grabbing the man's arm and flipping him over his shoulder in a single, fluid motion. The thug hit the ground hard, groaning in pain.
"Two and three," the Alter counted, his voice almost playful. "This is getting fun."
The remaining two delinquents looked at each other, their confidence faltering. One of them pulled out a switchblade, his hand shaking slightly as he pointed it at the Alter.
"Stay back, man!" the thug shouted. "I'll cut you!"
The Alter tilted his head, his expression amused. "A knife? Really? Cute."
The thug lunged, slashing wildly. The Alter dodged each strike with ease, his movements a blur. He grabbed the thug's wrist, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground. With a swift kick to the chest, he sent the man crashing into a stack of garbage cans.
"Four," the Alter said, turning to the last delinquent.
The final thug backed away, his hands raised in surrender. "H-hey, man, I don't want any trouble. I'm out, okay?"
The Alter stepped closer, his grin fading. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, the thug saw something in them that made his blood run cold. Something unrelenting. Something inhuman.
"You should've thought about that before joining this little party," the Alter said, his voice low and menacing.
With a quick, calculated move, he grabbed the thug by his shirt and slammed him against the wall. The thug's head lolled to the side as he lost consciousness, sliding to the ground in a heap.
"Five," the Alter finished, dusting off his hands. He turned to the scrawny boy, who was still pressed against the wall, wide-eyed and trembling.
"You're welcome," the Alter said, his tone almost dismissive. Without waiting for a response, he walked out of the alley, leaving behind a scene of chaos.
As he walked away, adrenaline still coursing through him, the Alter couldn't help but feel a rush of satisfaction. The fight had been exhilarating—a perfect outlet for the frustration that had been building all day.
But deep down, he knew this wouldn't sit well with Lucius when he woke up.
"Let him whine about it later, If he can wake up" the Alter muttered to himself, smirking. "For now, I'll keep cleaning up the trash."
Little did he know, someone had been watching the entire scene unfold from the shadows, a figure hidden just out of sight.
The dimly lit room was alive with the soft hum of machinery, monitors casting eerie glows across the walls. On the screens, footage from the alley played on a loop—Lucius, or rather, his Alter, dismantling the delinquents with unnerving precision. The cameras captured every movement: his smirks, his calculated strikes, and the strange, almost primal look in his eyes.
Nathan leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table as he stared intently at the footage. "Unbelievable. He took out five armed men like they were nothing. Look at his reflexes... his strength. That's not normal. Days by days he gonna be stronger."
The director, an older man with silver hair and a commanding presence, sat back in his chair, his face unreadable. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest as he watched the screen. "It's not just his physical abilities," he said finally. "It's his demeanor. The way he carries himself—calm, confident, almost... predatory. This is no ordinary anomaly. Or should I say, no ordinary persona."
The woman, seated across from Nathan, crossed her arms and tilted her head thoughtfully. Her sharp eyes scanned the footage, catching every detail. "This Alter of his... it's like an entirely different being. He's dangerous. But is it the Alter that's dangerous, or Lucius himself?"
Nathan turned to her, frowning. "Does it matter? They're sharing the same body. If one is a threat, the other is too. You saw what he did to those men—what's stopping him from turning that violence on anyone else? On us?"
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Fear-mongering won't get us anywhere, Nathan. What we need are facts. For now, all we've seen is him taking out some lowlife thugs. Hardly a reason to sound the alarms."
Nathan scoffed. "You're too naive, Kara. People like him—people with abilities like his—are unpredictable. Today, it's thugs in an alley. Tomorrow, it could be an entire city block."
" You mean people like you?" Kara in serious tone.
Kara leaned forward, her gaze icy. "And if we go in guns blazing without understanding what we're dealing with, we could escalate this into something far worse. Do you want another incident like Briggs?"
Nathan fell silent, his jaw tightening. The mention of Briggs clearly struck a nerve, and the room grew heavy with unspoken tension.
The director cleared his throat, cutting through the silence. "Enough. Both of you." His voice was calm but carried an undeniable authority. "We're not here to argue hypotheticals. Our priority is to observe and understand. We need more information—about Lucius, his Alter, and the extent of their abilities."
He gestured to the screen, where the footage looped once again. "This... this display is only the tip of the iceberg. We don't know how far this goes, or what triggered it in the first place. Until we do, we proceed with caution."
Kara nodded. "I agree. And speaking of gathering information, our operative has been in place for over a day now. You must made contact with Lucius and have begun to integrating into his circle."
Nathan raised an eyebrow. How long before he realizes he's being watched?"
The director smiled faintly. "That depends on how careful our operative is. Lucius is sharp, but his Alter? I suspect he's even sharper. That's why we've instructed our operative to focus on building trust first and surveillance second. The moment Lucius senses he's being monitored, he'll shut down—or worse, retaliate."
Kara leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers against her arm. "And if he does retaliate? What then?"
The director's expression darkened. "Then we'll have no choice but to neutralize the threat. But let's hope it doesn't come to that."
Nathan frowned. "Neutralize? Do you really think we're equipped to handle someone like him? You saw what he did—he's not just some street-level thug. If he fights back, Then I'm not gonna hold back too."
Are you sure you want use abilities against abilities? Well, Didn't end in good things everytime am I right? Nathan? The Director in cold expression.
" Damn it! " Nathan in angry expression.
The director's eyes narrowed. "Which is why I want every contingency in place. Double the surveillance. Gather every piece of intel we can on him, his habits, his connections—especially that girl, Mia. She seems to be the closest thing he has to a weakness."
Kara's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of unease crossing her face. "Using the girl? That's a dangerous game, sir. If the Alter senses manipulation, it could drive him over the edge."
"Noted," the director said, his tone cold. "But if it comes down to it, we'll do what's necessary. For now, we wait. We watch. And we prepare."
Lucius—or rather, his Alter—returned home after the altercation in the alley, his adrenaline finally subsiding. He glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror, his reflection grinning back at him with a mix of satisfaction and something darker.
"Not bad for a day's work," he muttered to himself.
But as he looked closer, he saw Lucius's consciousness flickering in the reflection—subtle, but there. A faint echo of guilt and worry crept into his mind, and the Alter clenched his fists.
"Not now," he growled. "I'm not done yet."
Little did he know, cameras were watching even here, capturing every moment, every movement. And in a room miles away, a group of people plotted their next move, their eyes fixed on him like predators studying their prey.
The quiet hum of the convenience store's air conditioner filled the otherwise silent atmosphere. The man from the container yard stepped through the automatic doors, his boots clicking lightly on the tiled floor. He glanced around the store briefly, his eyes scanning the aisles with disinterest.
His demeanor was calm but unnervingly intense. His lean frame moved with a predator's grace as he walked down the drink aisle. Grabbing a bottle of cola from the fridge, he unscrewed the cap right there and took a long sip, not caring that the cashier glanced at him uneasily. The man's leather jacket, scuffed and worn, made him stand out, as did the quiet confidence in his movements.
The cashier, a wiry man with thick glasses, tried not to stare as the stranger approached the counter. The man dropped a bill on the counter and said, "Keep the change," his voice low and almost dismissive. Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out of the store.
The man stepped into the cool night air, the faint buzz of the convenience store's neon sign glowing behind him. He stood there for a moment, taking another sip of his drink, his eyes idly wandering across the quiet street. The neighborhood was peaceful—rows of modest houses with warm lights spilling through their windows.
Unbeknownst to anyone else, this was no coincidence. The man wasn't here for trouble—not yet. He had been moving from place to place, but tonight his path had led him here, right into Lucius's neighborhood. He wasn't actively seeking Lucius, but his instincts told him he was close to something—or someone—important.
Taking a final swig of his drink, he crushed the plastic bottle in his hand and tossed it into a nearby trash can. His sharp eyes lingered for a moment on the street, his gaze almost aimless, but there was a flicker of something calculating behind it.
As he began walking, his boots crunching softly against the gravel on the sidewalk, he passed by rows of houses. He didn't stop or linger but moved with the air of someone who belonged—or at least acted like they did.
The man didn't know exactly why he felt drawn to this place, but he trusted his instincts. Chaos had a way of finding him—or maybe he had a way of finding it. Either way, he would let the night take him where it may. He wasn't in a rush.
Somewhere in the quiet distance, a faint laugh echoed—children playing, perhaps, or neighbors chatting in their front yards. The normalcy of it all didn't faze him. In fact, it amused him. This quiet, peaceful life—so fragile, so easy to shatter.
He passed by Lucius's home without even knowing it. For now, he was just a shadow, a passerby in the night. But the unknowing proximity of the two souls—one chaotic and dangerous, the other barely holding himself together—was an omen of what was to come.
The man stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and continued walking, the faint hum of the convenience store's neon light fading behind him. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready. And whether Lucius was ready or not, their paths would cross eventually. The man didn't care when—it was only a matter of time.