Chapter 6 : Episode 5 – Takeover

Lucius was in bed, gazing at his ceiling. The room was softly illuminated by the weak light of a streetlamp outside his window. His thoughts raced with reflections on all that had occurred lately. Vince along with his crew, and above all—Mia.

He tightened his hands into fists, feeling frustrated.

"Why do I act this way?" he whispered to himself. "I wasn't able to protect Mia without... him."

The recollection of his alter assuming control to confront Vince and his crew surged in his thoughts. It frightened him how effortlessly his alter had managed everything, and how powerless he felt in contrast. He despised the disorder it caused, yet beneath it all, he couldn't dismiss its power.

However, it had a price. Mia had been pulled into his chaos, and now her security was perpetually at risk because of him.

"What if the next time..." Am I entirely losing control? "What if she suffers due to my actions?" Lucius murmured, his voice quaking.

His eyelids became weightier, the burden of his thoughts pulling him into a restless sleep. As he fell asleep, an unusual, icy feeling surged through his body.

The morning sun shone through the blinds, filling the room with brightness. Lucius's eyes blinked awake, yet there was something... unusual. He blinked several times, sat upright, and gazed at his image in the mirror across the room. A cunning smile appeared on his lips.

That morning, it was not Lucius who awakened.

His alternate personality had seized control.

The typical shy and uncertain demeanor was transformed into one of unwavering self-assurance. He extended his arms, his motions precise and intentional, as though examining the boy he now completely commanded.

"Well, well," the alter whispered, grinning at his image. "Seems it's my chance to enjoy myself."

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. "Morning, girl."

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. "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 moment the alter walked into class, a wave of whispers rippled through the room. Heads turned, and eyes widened.

"Is that really Lucy?" one classmate whispered.

"No way. He's like a completely different person," another said.

He ignored the stares and sit 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... full of spirit today," Dr. Sarah remarked, raising an eyebrow.

The alter shrugged, smirking. "Just feeling good, Doc. Is that a problem?"

Dr. Sarah took a moment to observe him before proceeding with her lecture. There was something about him that seemed... unusual, yet she couldn't quite identify it.

During the day, the alter's actions kept drawing attention. He raised his voice in class an action Lucius seldom took—but his remarks were filled with sarcasm and a keen humor that surprised everyone. He strolled through the corridors as if he belonged there, attracting attention wherever he went.

Mia, in the meantime, couldn't dismiss the discomfort building in her chest. She continuously looked at him, attempting to understand what occurred, but they were nowhere in sight.

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—Well weak. Maybe I'm done being scared all the time."

Mia crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "Lucius, if you think this is the answer, 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.

But decide to ignore

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.

After college, the Alter—still inhabiting Lucius's body—decided he needed to blow off some steam. 

"Scared of me? She doesn't get it," he muttered to himself. "I'm the one keeping Lucias 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 protests.

Curiosity—drew him closer.

As he got closer to the alley, he noticed five delinquents encircling a smaller, thin young man. The group's leader, a stout man with a shaved head and a cigarette hanging from his mouth, had the boy pinned against the wall by his collar.

"Where's the money, huh?" the leader growled, shaking the boy violently. "Do you believe you can simply stroll across our territory without giving a fee?"

"I-I don't have any cash," the boy faltered, his voice shaking.

"Wrong answer," the leader snarled, lifting his fist

The Alter stepped into the alley, his boots echoing against the concrete. His presence was commanding. The delinquents turned to look at him, their expressions wary confusion.

"Well, well," the Alter said, his voice dripping with mockery. "A pack of hyenas picking on a lamb. How classic."

The leader released the boy and took a step forward, glaring at the newcomer. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

"Not hyenas of course." 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. 

The leader lunged first, throwing a wild punch aimed at the Alter's face. But the Alter sidestepped effortlessly. He caught the leader's wrist mid-swing and deliver left hook to his face as he flew to nearby thrash bin. The man cried out in pain as the Alter drive his elbow into his jaw, sending him senseless to the ground.

"One down," the Alter said casually, turning to the others. 

The rest of the group hesitated for a moment before rushing him all at once. The Alter's grin widened.

The first thug swung a rusty pipe, aiming for the Alter's head. The Alter ducked low, . He launched himself upward, driving his kick into the thug's chin with enough force to lift him off the ground. The thug fell to the ground.

Another attacker approached him from the rear, trying to seize him in a chokehold. The Alter adjusted his stance, seizing the man's arm and tossing him over his shoulder in one smooth movement. The thug collapsed onto the ground forcefully, moaning in agony.

"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. He grabbed the thug's wrist, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground. With a full hip throw to the ground, he sent the man to realm of unconscious.

"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.

"You ought to have considered to joining this small gathering," the Alter remarked, his tone soft yet threatening.

In a swift, strategic action, he seized the thug by his shirt and thrust him into the wall. The thug's head drooped to the side as he fainted, collapsing to the ground in a pile.

"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 replied, his tone somewhat dismissive. Without pausing for an answer, he exited the alley, abandoning a chaotic sight.

As he moved away, adrenaline still flowing within him, the Alter couldn't shake off a wave of contentment. The battle had been thrilling—a flawless way to release the tension that had accumulated throughout the day.

However, beneath the surface, he understood that this would not be acceptable to Lucius once he awoke.

"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 room with 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 and his calculated strikes.

Nathan leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table as he stared intently at the footage. "Unbelievable. Look at his reflexes... his strength. Days by days he gonna be stronger."

The director, with commanding presence, sat back in his chair, his face unreadable. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest as he watched the screen.

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... takeover the body. He's dangerous."

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? We need to contained him fast as we can. Prevent danger from happening. We could train him—use him."

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 us—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 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. 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— moreover his Alter already takeover his body he could— Well 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. I deemed him useful."

Nathan frowned. "Neutralize? 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 always end good— 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.

Kara's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of unease crossing her face. That's a dangerous game, sir. If the Alter senses something, 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."

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 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. 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.

Taking a final swig of his drink, he crushed the plastic bottle in his hand and tossed it into a nearby trash can. 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 was unsure why he was attracted to this location, buthe relied on his intuition. Disorder seemed to locate him—or perhaps he located disorder. In any case, he would allow the night to lead him wherever it wanted. 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.