The Alter sat on the couch, staring at the ceiling, his mind a storm of emotions. The fight with Nathan replayed over and over in his head. Every punch, every glare, every word Nathan had said.
"You'll see soon enough. The truth always comes out."
"I'm the complete one."
The words gnawed at him like an open wound. He slammed his fist onto the armrest, the wooden frame cracking under the force.
"What the hell does it all mean?" he growled.
He got up and began pacing the room, his thoughts spiraling. Nathan had seemed so sure of himself, so smug. But more than that, Nathan had fought like him, moved like him—and the glowing orange eyes. They were just like his.
"Why is he like me? Or… am I like him?"
The Alter froze, the thought sending a shiver down his spine. Was Nathan right? Was he… incomplete?
"No," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm not like him. I'm not some puppet for anyone to control."
But the seed of doubt was already planted. He could feel it growing, twisting inside him.
He sat back down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His bruised hands shook slightly as he tried to steady his breathing.
"This isn't about him. This is about me," he whispered. "I'll figure this out. I'll prove I don't need to be 'complete' to be stronger."
But a small, nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered otherwise.
The Alter walked onto campus, his usual swagger intact. The confidence in his step and the sharpness of his gaze drew attention from everyone around him.
Whispers followed him.
"Is that Lucius? He's been acting so weird lately."
"Yeah, like a completely different person."
"Did you see those bruises? What's he been up to?"
He smirked slightly, enjoying the attention. To him, this was how things should have always been—people noticing him, respecting him, or at least fearing him. Not the timid, invisible Lucius they all used to ignore.
As he entered the classroom, his eyes immediately found Mia. She was sitting in her usual seat, but something was different. She looked tense, her eyes darting toward him before quickly looking away.
The Alter felt a pang in his chest, but he shoved it aside. If she wanted space, she could have it. He wasn't going to beg for her approval.
Nathan was already in his seat, flipping through a book as if he didn't have a care in the world. But the Alter could see the tension in his shoulders, the stiffness in the way he turned the pages.
"He's keeping up the act," the Alter thought, narrowing his eyes. "But I can see through him."
Throughout the lecture, Nathan didn't look at him once, but the air between them was thick with unspoken tension still.
Dr. Sarah sat at her desk in the college library, flipping through a series of academic papers on Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). Her glasses rested low on her nose as she scanned the screen of her laptop, analyzing the latest findings on the condition that had intrigued her for so long. She had seen Lucius in distress, and she needed to understand what was happening to him, especially with the emergence of the alter.
A few textbooks lay beside her, their covers marked with scribbles and notes—her method of processing what she had been reading. She was a psychologist by training, but this situation was different from any case she had encountered before. Lucius, a seemingly ordinary student, had suddenly become the focal point of her curiosity. He was not just showing signs of DID, but something far more complex.
As she clicked through an article titled "The Nature of Dissociative Identity Disorder: Understanding the Dynamics of Host and Alters," her fingers stopped on a highlighted sentence:
"In rare cases, the alter can dominate the host completely, causing the original personality to be completely suppressed. This is most common in cases where the host is unable to cope with severe trauma, and the alter becomes the defense mechanism of choice. If left unchecked, the alter can permanently take over."
Dr. Sarah frowned, muttering to herself. "Could Lucius be at risk of permanent takeover? What's really happening to him?"
She scrolled further, looking for any clue that might shed light on his case. She knew Lucius had been through trauma in his past—his behavior, his sudden shifts in personality, and the unpredictable outbursts were all consistent with DID. But the strength of his alter and its ability to control the situation was something far more concerning.
Her eyes widened when she found a paragraph detailing the distinction between "complete" and "incomplete" forms of DID:
"In DID, the host personality typically maintains control over the body, but there are instances where an alter may emerge for an extended period, becoming the dominant identity. The host and the alter must coexist, but in some cases, the host personality is not strong enough to combat the alter's power. The more dominant personality is said to be the 'complete' one, while the one struggling to retain control is the 'incomplete' form."
Dr. Sarah sat back in her chair, deep in thought. "So Lucius is struggling... but the alter has the potential to take over completely." She glanced at her phone, where a message from Mia awaited her. It was about Lucius again—how he was behaving more erratically, and how she was concerned about his wellbeing.
Dr. Sarah sighed, her mind swirling with worry. She needed more answers, but this was not something she could solve on her own. Not yet, at least. She needed to be cautious—she had seen the way the alter acted when it was in control.
Dr. Sarah's thoughts were still clouded as she walked across campus. The students around her bustled, unaware of the internal battle Lucius was facing. She had to make sure the situation didn't escalate further, but she also had to figure out how to reach him—how to separate the two identities within him and help them reconcile.
As she entered the campus café, she saw Mia sitting at a corner table, her eyes focused on a series of articles. Dr. Sarah approached, her expression thoughtful.
"Mia, I've been doing some research," Dr. Sarah began, her tone more serious than usual. "I need you to understand what's happening to Lucius. His case is much more complicated than we thought."
Mia looked up from her screen, concerned. "What do you mean, Dr. Sarah? Is he going to be okay?"
Dr. Sarah sat down across from her. "Lucius is struggling with something more than just a personality shift. He's battling between two identities—one of them is dominant, and the other is... weaker. His alter is growing stronger, and the host personality, Lucius, is being pushed aside. If it continues, the alter could take over completely. That means Lucius could lose himself entirely."
Mia's eyes widened with fear. "That sounds awful. Is there anything we can do?"
Dr. Sarah hesitated for a moment before answering. "There might be a way, but it's risky. Lucius and his alter need to learn how to coexist, to understand each other. The 'complete' form of DID is when the two personalities merge into one—when they find harmony. But in Lucius's case, I'm not sure if that's possible yet."
Mia bit her lip, processing the information. "So, the alter might not let Lucius come back?"
Dr. Sarah nodded. "Exactly. And the more we push him, the more resistant the alter will become. We need to be careful about how we approach this."
After college, the Alter decided to take a walk to clear his head. He wandered aimlessly through the streets, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his mind racing with thoughts of Nathan and his cryptic words.
As he turned down a quiet alley, he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter and jeering. A group of delinquents was gathered near a dumpster, their voices echoing off the brick walls.
The Alter paused, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Perfect," he muttered.
He approached them slowly, his footsteps deliberate. The delinquents noticed him and immediately straightened up, their expressions shifting from amusement to hostility.
"Hey, what's this guy's problem?" one of them sneered.
"Looks like he's lost," another said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's help him find his way."
The Alter stopped a few feet away, tilting his head slightly. "Lost? Nah. I'm right where I want to be."
The leader of the group stepped forward, a cocky grin on his face. "Oh, yeah? And what do you want, tough guy?"
The Alter's grin widened. "A little stress relief."
The leader barely had time to react before the Alter lunged, delivering a swift punch to his jaw that sent him sprawling to the ground.
Chaos erupted. The remaining delinquents charged at him, but the Alter was ready. He ducked under a wild swing, driving his elbow into another's gut before spinning around to kick another in the chest.
"You guys really need to work on your teamwork," the Alter taunted, dodging another attack.
The fight was brutal and chaotic, but the Alter moved with precision and power, his bruised body seemingly unfazed by the onslaught. He fought like a predator, each move calculated to take down his opponents as efficiently as possible.
By the time the fight was over, the delinquents were groaning on the ground, their pride and bodies equally battered.
The Alter stood over them, breathing heavily but with a satisfied grin on his face. "Thanks for the workout, boys," he said, turning and walking away without a backward glance.
Nathan sat in a dimly lit room, his laptop open in front of him. On the screen was footage from a nearby security camera, showing the Alter's fight with the delinquents.
Nathan leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed as he watched the fight play out.
"He's getting stronger," he muttered to himself.
His phone buzzed on the table, and he picked it up to see the Director's name on the screen. With a sigh, he answered.
"What is it?"
The Director's voice was cold and direct. "Report."
Nathan glanced at the screen again. "He's unstable but powerful. The fight today proves it."
"And his behavior?"
"Erratic. It's only a matter of time before he puts the pieces together."
The Director was silent for a moment before speaking. "Keep him in check. And if he becomes a threat…"
Nathan's jaw tightened. "I know what to do."
The call ended, and Nathan stared at the screen, his glowing orange eyes reflecting back at him.
"This isn't going to end well," he muttered, closing the laptop.
The Alter returned home, his body aching but his spirit still riding high from the fight. He tossed his bag onto the couch and headed for the bathroom to clean up.
As he looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but grin. "They think they can mess with me? Not a chance."
But as he stared at his reflection, Nathan's words crept back into his mind.
"You'll see soon enough. The truth always comes out."
The grin faded, replaced by a scowl. The Alter leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.
"What truth?" he muttered. "What aren't you telling me, Nathan?"
For the first time in a long while, the Alter felt a flicker of uncertainty. But he quickly shoved it aside. He couldn't afford doubt—not now.
Not when the fight was just beginning.
Mia sat on her bed, staring at her phone. The dim light from the screen cast a faint glow across her face, her expression a mix of worry and exhaustion. She had been scrolling through old photos of her and Lucius—the real Lucius. In every picture, his timid but genuine smile radiated a warmth that now felt like a distant memory.
She sighed, locking the phone and tossing it onto her bedside table. Leaning back against the headboard, she stared at the ceiling, her mind racing.
"What happened to him? Is he still in there somewhere? Or is this... Alter all that's left?"
Her hands trembled as she thought back to recent days. The Alter was confident, bold, and strong—everything Lucius wasn't. And yet, there was something unsettling about him. His smirks, his sharp words, and the way he seemed to enjoy confrontation.
But then, there were moments when she caught glimpses of vulnerability, of doubt—moments when she wondered if Lucius was still fighting to take control.
"Am I wrong for distancing myself? Maybe if I just try to reach out again... maybe I can bring him back."
She hugged her knees to her chest, trying to fight off the tears that threatened to fall. "Lucius," she whispered into the silence, "if you're still in there... please come back."
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale, ghostly light across the desolate alley. Trash scattered across the ground, a breeze picking up the faint scent of decay. The sound of distant traffic was muffled by the crumbling buildings that lined the narrow, forgotten street.
The man from the container tragedy—his face partially obscured by the hood of his dark jacket—stepped from the shadows. His eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips as he surveyed the aftermath of the violent scene.
The alley was littered with bodies, each one battered and broken, twisted in unnatural positions. Vince and his gang, the same men who had caused so much trouble for Lucius, lay sprawled across the cold concrete, unable to move. Some groaned in pain, while others simply remained still, their faces pale from blood loss. Their once intimidating postures had been completely erased. The gang was no longer a threat.
The man ran his gloved hand through his dark hair, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Pathetic," he muttered, kicking aside a discarded bottle with a harsh swing of his boot. "You thought you could make a real impact in this town. But all you managed to do was serve as an example."
His voice was low, laced with a bitter satisfaction. He paced back and forth, his steps confident and measured. His smirk never faltered, and his eyes remained cold,red, devoid of any remorse. He wasn't bothered by the grotesque scene he had created—it was nothing more than a job to him. A way to send a message. To remind the city that there were forces far more powerful than petty criminals.
"I've been waiting for this," the man murmured, his fingers brushing against the side of his face. "You should've stayed out of things. You all should've learned your place." His voice, once calm, now carried a venomous edge. "It's people like you who ruin everything. The weak, the greedy... you all think you're untouchable, until someone like me comes around."
He took one last glance at the wreckage he'd caused. Vince and his gang wouldn't be walking again anytime soon. A few might survive, but they'd never be the same. The man's work here was done.
As he turned to leave the alley, his grin widened. The quiet thrill of what he'd just done was unmistakable. He knew that his actions would ripple through the streets, stirring fear in those who thought themselves invincible. He was an unstoppable force, and there was no one left who could challenge him.
His boots clicked sharply against the concrete as he walked away from the chaos, his figure disappearing into the darkness of the city.
Behind him, the only sound that remained was the faint echo of groaning from Vince and his gang, a haunting reminder of just how brutal and efficient the man was.