Episode 11-1: Transparent Troy

Hartford, Connecticut: Ispio Clinic

It had been the fourth double-meat cheeseburger I had devoured since this morning, but strangely I'm still not satisfied. The last piece of the meat drops into my mouth as I sit on Dr. Nivans' inspection table, his various wires, and pads connected to my shirtless torso. Clyde is here too along with Adams, both viewing from the looking glass on the other side of the room. Nivans is the only one brave enough to touch me without a hazmat suit, unlike his two assistants who are circling me non-stop, writing away some stats on their clipboards that I can't understand.

I lick my lips again, eyeing the side of fries I left on the table near the door. "Can I get those?" I ask, pointing at the fries.

"No," says Nivans, "you're not even supposed to bring food into the lab."

"But I'm starving!"

"Stay still."

"C'mon! It ain't hurt nobody!"

"That wasn't even proper English!"

The pain of starvation must be preoccupying my mind, I would never mumble gibberish. I do my best to stay put; it would really help if they take the fries away so I'd stop eye-balling them, but they don't. They sit there with their stupid intoxicating smell, their alluring texture, and shape, the anticipated taste I get in my mouth just thinking about eating them. The fries I mean, not the staff. I bet the staff would taste like rubber. Maybe rubber doesn't taste as bad as it smells. Nivans moves his hand near my mouth, and I suddenly find myself trying to take a quick bite of his fingers.

He slaps my muzzle like I'm a common house pet. "Hey, what are you doing!?"

"I- I was just... are you wearing hand sanitizer? It smells like watermelon," My mouth waters, and Nivans takes a step back. I stay in that clinic for what felt like another hour before they decided to unhook me from their machines. I sit on the bench with the fries next to me, now cold and not as appealing as they were before. I finish them off before retrieving my shirt and buttoning it back up.

Adams walks through the clinic's door. "Well? What the hell's wrong with him?" She doesn't sound as worried as I hoped, but hey, that's Adams for you.

The good doctor stares down at his clipboard. "It's... different." He flips through the pages slowly, "Out of my personal analysis, he's becoming transparent because of a lack of surface matter." Adams gives him a confused look, a look that he's very much used to at this point. "Okay, everyone knows that everything is made up of tiny particles called atoms. Well, Troy's atoms are just... leaving."

Carlotta places a hand on her forehead. "Leaving? Seriously Nivans? Elaborate!"

He sighs deeply, "Think of it this way: His structure and cells are dispersing at a massive rate compared to normal cell regeneration. The reason why he can eat so much without getting full is that his energy and electrolytes are disappearing in a way that the body sees as natural."

"Natural!?" I say from behind them, "There's nothing natural about any of this!"

He raises his hand to shush me. "Imagine a leech that's latched onto you, but instead of taking your blood, it takes your entire existence."

I shudder at the thought. "What!? Well, how do we pull the leech off!?"

He places a single fist on his hip and stares at the ground, "Hmm... knowing the source would be nice."

It's elementary after he said that. There's only one entity that's given more trouble than we bargained for. The case never closed, even after the angel was slain. I stare at the window to see Clyde staring back, a worried expression across his face.

"Uh-huh," I say, beckoning Clyde through the window, "Clyde, come here for a second please!"

The window is sound-proof, but he gets the message as he opens the door and strolls in. It's my first time seeing Clyde today, so it's shocking to see that my body has a reaction to his presence. As he gets closer to me, small dust particles of my fur and flesh slowly drift towards him, touching his skin and being absorbed in a flash.

It doesn't hurt, but it is scary to see my body just leaving like that. I frantically get off the bench and run to the other side of the room. "It's Fake Troy! He wants my life!"

Clyde catches on to what's happening and quickly pushes himself to the opposite wall. We seem to have gotten far enough to break the stream. "Great," he says, "I think I just found out the terminal effects of this disease."

Adams looks at Nivans, now more worried than ever. "Can you fix them, Nivans!?"

The doc always has a cure for everything; it's just a fact of life that no matter what trouble you get yourself into, he would be able to patch you up. Even though he is a little racist to the anthropomorphic beings, he's an all-around good guy who never rejects a patient. That's why it's so heart-shattering to hear him say, "I'm sorry, but I can't do anything for them."

Adams covers her mouth, Clyde turns his head to the floor, and I slide down the wall into a sitting position, hugging my knees as they press against my chest. I can't believe it, I'm going to die and there's no way out of it. I always thought that I'd die on the job, but it was supposed to be by something normal. A gunshot to the head, suffocating in a cramped area after being captured, getting lynched by a crazed cult, normal stuff like that. Instead, I'm getting taken out by a ghost version of me. He's not even killing me properly, he's stealing my life! If that little punk was touchable, I'd-

"But there's a chance that someone else can," says Nivans.

I spring up on my feet. "A chance? Who? Where!? Tell us!"

"Texas," he mumbles, "another lab exists inside the southern jurisdiction of Ispio, and it's in Texas. Their department focuses more on advanced technology, maybe they've got the equipment you're looking for."

I know that the headquarters in Connecticut isn't the one and only headquarters for Ispio, but I haven't brushed up on my research as to where the others are. There are four of these around America, each looking over their own quadrants. Hartford owns the north-eastern quadrant, and apparently, Texas owns the southern one. I wonder if there's any overseas.

"Texas!" Adams exclaims, "Of course! I had forgotten about their lab!"

"Great," I say, "send us over there so they can fix us."

She bites her lip and crosses her arms. "I can't just send you two over there. You're going to another Ispio H.Q. and asking for their services."

"Is there a problem with helping out another ally?" Clyde asks.

"It's not that," she says, "you two are both agents, highly decorated ones at that. When they see your names on their incoming roster, they're going to want to keep you two there."

"So?" I ask, "I'm dying here! I don't mind working for another boss for a little bit."

"Trust me, Troy, it's not for a little bit," she looks at her watch. "Barry's lunch break is over. You two are officially being transferred to McAllen, Texas under the supervision of Carl Marston."

"Transferred?" says Clyde, "We really are gonna be gone for a long time, huh?"

Adams whips around and starts for the exit, "I'll need to fill out the forms for the transfer, but all you need right now is your agency licenses. I'll send your profiles before you reach Texas." She opens the door and takes a step outside. "Tell Carl I said howdy."

She closes the door, leaving me alone with the good doctor and the conduit of my destruction. Clyde makes a move for the door and puts his hand on the knob.

I call out to him just as he moves his big frame through the exit. "Clyde!"

He doubles back. "Yes?"

"Pick me up some food for the trip!"

A sigh and a roll of his brown eyes is the reaction I get before he slams the door behind him. Now only Nivans remains in the clinic with me, and there is just one question that I really need to ask."Doc, I need to know something."

He lazily looks up from his clipboard. "No jokes, Troy. You're dying, for Pete's sake."

"This is serious! If Texas does save me, where will all that food go when my body becomes normal?"

He looks back down for a moment, then a smile creeps on his lips. "I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself. It all depends on how they go about it."

I don't like the sound of that.

*** *** ***

McAllen, Texas

Flying over here is pretty tricky. Usually, it's the two of us sitting in our seats with Barry in the cockpit, but with Clyde sucking up all my energy, we need more space. After a serious competition of rock-paper-scissors from far away, I end up taking a seat in the bathroom for the whole trip. I could've sworn that Clyde had picked paper, but he shouted out that it was rock, and it was too far to tell what shape his hand actually made. I think he lied to me.

We arrive in McAllen at 14:53 hours, it's spring season already, and we are as south as Texas could get. It's hot! The ten minutes it takes us to walk from the airport to H.Q. has me literally begging for air conditioning. Even Clyde has his tongue out, panting like a mad farm dog. What makes it worse is the bountiful clothing I have on to cover up my skin from leaving me again. Even a mask is necessary to stop the flow, making it hard to breathe under the fabric. I'm going to have to be stationed here? This is not a place for someone who grew up in Connecticut!

"There!" says Clyde, cleaning up his drool and pointing at a building standing about fifty yards away. He takes out his phone and pulls up the picture that Adams sent us. "That's definitely the building."

"Great! Let's get in there before I melt," I huff, fanning myself with my gloved hands.

Nearing the building, we can see that it's set up to look like an average loan agency. Ispio Loan Star is spelled at the top of the building, and as I pull the wooden door open, I'm greeted with a much-welcomed wave of cool air. It's decorated nicely on the inside, bearing some framed pictures and nice trimmings on the walls. The floor is pretty empty aside from a couple of chairs sitting on the side and a nice cowhide rug in the center. Pushed in the way back of the place is a giant desk with two "loan agents" sitting behind it, looking rather busy.

I ask Clyde to stay back a bit so I can take off my mask for a proper greeting. One human female, the other an anthro male horse. The girl looks up first as I take my faceless mask off. I think she was smiling before, but my strange outfit and transparent face might've caused her some discomfort.

"Um, hello sir," she says. Now the horse looks up from whatever business he's doing, but he lets her continue talking. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Hi, we were told that you would be expecting us."

The horse sits up straight. "Excuse me?" I put the mask back on and wave Clyde over to get closer. He joins me shortly, and we both reach into our pockets to pull out the laminated I.D. cards that Adams issued us. They both stare at our badges, switching their gazes from them to each other. Finally, the horse clears his throat. "Mr. Hearth and Mr. Barker, what in the wild world are you two doing down here?"

"Long story short: I'm dying, so they send me here," That probably isn't the most subtle way to explain things.

Clyde leans on the desk. "What he meant to say is that we've been transferred here in exchange for technological services."

"Right," says the girl, "Mr. Marston would definitely want to see you two right now." She scoots her chair back and ducks under the oak-wood desk. I'm guessing she's messing with a keypad as the sound of multiple dings rings. "Do you two need to use the bathroom?" she asks, pointing towards a door on the side that I didn't notice before.

I catch her drift. "I've been holding it in all day."

"Don't forget to wash your hands," she says with a wink.