Chapter 9 : Episode 8 – Higher Power

In the surveillance room. On one of the displays, a young kid, no more than 12, sat in a basic, sterilized room packed with children's toys. However, the youngster was not playing with the toys in the normal way. He was cautiously arranging them in a line, muttering to himself.

The Director leaned forward, his steely gaze fixed on the screen. Kara stood behind him, arms folded, looking at the monitors.

"Fascinating" the Director said, his voice low but sharp. "He's holding a conversation—with himself."

Kara tilted her head, observing the boy closely. "It could just be an overactive imagination. Kids his age—"

The Director cut her off. "Wait."

The room's speakers magnified the sound from the boy's room. His voice change between a gentle, high-pitched tone and a louder, almost snarling sound.

"I told you I don't want to do it," the boy whispered in his normal tone, holding a small action figure in his hand.

"But you have to," he growled. "We can't just sit here and wait."

The boy's face twisted, as if he were arguing with someone standing in front of him. But the room was empty, save for him.

Kara frowned, her arms uncrossing. "It's... like he's switching. But this is different. He's so young."

The Director leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Exactly. Each cases developed his alter due to trauma, as a coping mechanism. This boy... we've been observing him for years. He hasn't experienced anything like that."

Kara hesitated, her brow furrowed. "Are you saying it's not simply trauma? That something else might be causing this?

The Director nodded slowly. "Precisely. This boy's condition suggests something deeper. Something we don't yet understand. It have something to do with Biggs tragedy."

Kara took a step closer to the screen, studying the boy as he continued his unsettling conversation. " You think it's connected to rescue mission at German six years ago? But what?

The Director's lips pressed into a thin line. "Perhaps. But there's one thing I'm sure of—this isn't a coincidence. Whatever's happening, it's not isolated and we still doesn't know the cause of the explosion six years ago."

Kara sighed, running a hand through her hair. "So, what do we do?"

The Director didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned his attention to another monitor. The footage showed Alter's confrontation with Nathan in the abandoned park.

After a moment, the Director spoke. "We keep observing the boy but keep it a secret from Nathan. For now, our focus remains on Lucius."

Nathan entered the room. He looked compose as he approached the Director and Kara.

"You wanted to see me?" Nathan asked, his tone clipped.

The director motioned for him to seat. "We need to debrief on your... meeting with Lucius."

Nathan slumped into the chair. "What's there to discuss? He's volatile, dangerous. The alter has too much control. We need to take action now, contain him as fast as we can."

Kara raised an eyebrow. "You ignore our order and yet, you didn't manage to subdue him."

Nathan scowled. "I was about to. I was just testing him."

"And what did you find?" the Director asked, his tone neutral but probing.

Nathan hesitated, his mind replaying the battle. "He's strong. . But he's sloppy—unrefined. It's clear the host and the alter are still fighting for dominance. That conflict makes him unpredictable."

Kara propped herself up on the table. "And what about you? You say you're the 'complete one,' but you didn't really take him down."

Nathan shot her a look. "That's because I wasn't giving it my all. If I really wanted to—"

The Director cut him off with a raised hand. "Hold on. This isn't a contest of strength."

Nathan crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "The difference is simple. I've embraced my alter. We've merged into one. Lucius, on the other hand, is still divided. That division is his weakness."

Kara frowned. "But that's also his strength. The alter was created from trauma—it's there to keep the host safe. If they combine, there's no promise Lucias will make it through."

The Director acknowledged with a nod. "Precisely. Lucius's alter is not merely a manifestation of his psyche; it serves as a guardian, a defense mechanism. Forcing a merger could jeopardize the essence of what distinguishes him. It is essential that he undertakes this process on his own."

Nathan scoffed. "So what? We let him run around unchecked, risking everyone around him? He'll could destroy anyone who gets in his way."

The Director's gaze hardened. "This is precisely why we are monitoring him. We need to grasp his boundaries, his triggers, and his capabilities. Lucius could be the gateway to something much more significant than any of us comprehend."

The Director's voice was calm but firm." And Nathan—"

Nathan looked up.

"Next time, don't act out of order."

The morning sun filtered through the trees as Mia grabbed her small sling bag. She decided to head out early to grab some breakfast from her favorite food stall a few blocks away. 

As she approached the food stall, she strolled along the sidewalk, quietly humming a melody. The scent of hot fried noodles and crackling eggs filled the air, igniting her hunger. After making her breakfast request, she waited calmly, tapping her foot to the rhythm echoing in her thoughts.

While she was standing there, something at the edge of her vision caused her to glance upward. She glanced to the side and saw someone familiar rushing along the street across from her. Her heart dropped—it was Lucius. He walked with purpose, and it was clear he wasn't going home. Instead, he was heading straight for an old, deserted building at the end of the street.

Mia's first instinct was to ignore it. This isn't my business, she thought, turning back to collect her food. But as she took a step away. "What is he doing there? Against judgment, her curiosity got the best of her.

Mia tucked her breakfast into her bag and followed him from a distance, careful to stay out of sight. She watched as he entered the decrepit building, its windows shattered and walls covered in graffiti. Felt scared she said. " Maybe I should just leave. This could be dangerous."

But something inside her wouldn't let her walk away. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The inside of the structure was dim and smelled of moisture and deterioration. Mia's footsteps resonated gently as she sneaked through the hallways, her heart racing in her chest. Then, she listened closely—a muted groan, succeeded by the noise of a heavy object thudding to the ground.

She froze. "What was that?"

Moving cautiously, she peeked around a corner and immediately covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. The scene in front of her looked like it came straight from a horror movie. The floor was covered with the bodies of deliquent, many of them either passed out or in agony. Blood stained the walls, and the air was heavy.

In the middle of the madness was Lucius—well, his other self. His shirt was soaked in red, and his knuckles were all bruised and bloody. A crazy, manic smile spread across his face, and his eyes sparkled with a twisted kind of joy. He had a beaten-up troublemaker by the collar, the last one still awake in the bunch. The last guy whimpered, begging for mercy, but the alter wasn't about to let up.

" People like you really spoil the fun don't ya think?." the alter growled, his voice low and menacing. He raised his fist, ready to deliver the final blow.

"STOP!" Mia's voice rang out, trembling but loud enough to cut through the tension.

The alter froze mid-punch, his head snapping toward her. His grin faded slightly, replaced by a look of surprise. "What are you doing here?" he said, his tone laced with annoyance and curiosity. He let the delinquent drop to the floor, the beaten boy crawling away quickly as his body would allow.

Mia stepped forward, her body trembling. "What... what are you doing!, Lucius?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Noo…Where is Lucias! let him out!."

The alter tilted his head, a cold laugh escaping his lips. "Oh, Mia, you're mistaken. This is me. The real me."

"No," Mia said firmly, tears welling up in her eyes. "This isn't the Lucius I know. She stopped herself, shaking her head. "You're not Lucias. You far worse."

The alter smirked, taking a step closer to her. "Worse? You think I'm 'Bad'? Look around you, Mia. These scumbags—" He gestured to the senseless delinquents. "They deserved this. They thought they could do whatever they wanted, hurt whoever they wanted. I'm just revenge the people they hurt. This is justice."

"This is not justice!" Mia shouted. "This is... this is madness." Take a look at yourself, Lucius. You take pleasure in this. "You're just the same as they are ."

Her words struck a nerve. The alter's grin faded completely, replaced by defensive expression. "Don't act like you understand me, Mia. You've been avoiding me ever since I— who protect Lucias came out. You think I haven't noticed? You don't care about me. You only care about the weak, pathetic Lucius used to."

Mia's breath hitched. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" the alter sneered, stepping even closer. "You couldn't accept that I'm the one keeping him alive, keeping him safe, keeping you safe and cleaning the neighbourhood!. And now you're here, trying to lecture me like I'm the disaster now?"

Mia clenched her fists, standing her ground despite the fear. "I care about both of you. But you're out of control, and you're going to destroy everything Lucius cares about if you keep this up."

The alter stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a frustrated growl and turned away, punching the wall with enough force to crack the the wall. "Fine," he muttered. "Have it your way."

Mia observed him as he rushed by her, exiting the building in silence. Her legs felt shaky, and she supported herself by leaning against the wall. Tears flowed from her eyes as she surveyed the destruction surrounding her, pondering whether she could ever find the true Lucias again—or if he was lost for good.

Back to college day. The classroom buzzed with conversation as students filtered in, sharing notes and laughter prior to the beginning of the session. Nathan entered the room with his typical calm demeanor, his keen eyes surveying the area. Everything appeared to be fine—or so he believed. As he neared his desk, a persistent feeling of discomfort overcame him.

Something was off.

He dropped his bag onto the desk, his eyes narrowing as he unzipped it. His sharp instincts were rarely wrong, and this time was no different. He rifled through the contents: notebooks, pens, and other supplies were still there. But the moment his fingers reached his most personal belongings, he froze.

It was empty.

His chest tightened. He rummaged through the compartment again, refusing to believe it. No... no, no, no. His photograph— of Biggs, his old comrade—was gone.

Nathan clenched his fists, Cracking slightly as anger simmered. His mind raced. Who could've done this? And why? He glanced around the classroom, his piercing eyes scanning every student. None of them looked suspicious, but someone had to be responsible.

He quickly zipped his bag shut and left the classroom suddenly, disregarding the inquisitive looks from his peers. His thoughts were hazy, his body operating on autopilot as he made his way to the one location he believed would provide him with answers: the surveillance base.

Nathan stormed into the base. Kara was seated at her workstation, typing furiously, while the Director stood nearby, analyzing footage on one of the larger monitors.

"Nathan," Kara greeted, barely glancing up. "You're back early. Everything okay?"

He ignored her question, heading straight for his personal locker in the corner of the room. He yanked it open and began searching. His hands tore through the contents—files, gadgets, tools—but the photograph wasn't there.

"Damn it!" he muttered under his breath, slamming the locker shut. His sudden outburst caught Kara and the Director's attention.

"Nathan," the Director said, his voice calm but firm. "What's going on?"

"It's gone," Nathan replied pacing back and forth. "The photograph. Someone took it."

Kara frowned and swiveled her chair to face him. "The one with Biggs?"

"Yes!" Nathan snapped, his voice louder than he intended. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "It's not in my bag, not in my locker. Someone got to it."

The Director folded his arms, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Who would want to take something so personal? Are you sure you didn't misplace it?"

Nathan shot him a glare. "I don't misplace things."

Kara tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "If someone took it, they must've known its important.."

Nathan clenched his fists. "Whoever it was. I gonna teach them a lesson."

As they continued their search, Nathan's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. Reluctantly, he opened the message.

He seems confused about the message but his expression change to anger.

Nathan's grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white. His jaw clenched as a wave of fury surged through him. The Director and Kara noticed the change in his demeanor instantly.

"Nathan," Kara asked cautiously, "what's wrong?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he slammed his locker shut and stormed toward the exit.

"Nathan!" the Director called after him. "Where you going?"

"To get it back" Nathan growled.

"You can't just walk into a trap!" Kara protested, standing up from her chair. "We don't know who we're dealing with."

Nathan paused at the doorway, his back to them. "I know who it is. That photograph... it's all I have left. And if he think its a joke he damn wrong."

With that, he disappeared, leaving the Director and Kara exchanging concerned looks.

Nathan walked briskly through the city, his mind a storm of emotions. Anger, frustration, and a deep sense of vulnerability all swirled together. 

As he approached 8th Street, the old factory loomed in the distance, its broken windows and rusted walls a stark reminder of how far he was willing to go to protect what mattered to him. His hands curled into fists, his resolve hardening.

Nathan's boots crunched over the gravel as he approached the deserted factory on 8th Street. The structure stood ominously like a forsaken relic, its rusted supports, shattered windows, and creeping vines climbed the walls, wrapping intothe cracks, as if nature sought to reclaim it. Nathan maintained a steady pace, his resolve surpassing the unsettling atmosphere.

He stopped

Nathan stood frozen at the factory entrance, his breath catching as his gaze locked onto the figure in the shadows. It wasn't Lucius—it was the Alter, The grin that spread across the Alter's face was taunting.

"Well, well, well," the Alter began, stepping forward casually, his voice dripping with mockery. "Look who finally showed up. The Complete."

Nathan clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "You talk much as someone who barely walked away last time."

The Alter chuckled . "Oh, Nathan. You don't get it, do you? I called you here to finish things of since our last meeting. I've been thinking how to provoke you to actually make you agreed to settle the difference between us because since our last meeting you talk much about how i am not ready , i'm unrefined, I'm incomplete. " 

His face turn to anger " Bullshit!!. I show you myself that i only need myself to beat up your asses and all the people who dared turn against me!!" That last sentence make an echo throughout the area.

That was it—Nathan's patience snapped. His eyes flared a bright, glowing orange, the energy slowly radiating from him as orange aura spiked and rippled across his body. The ground beneath his feet cracked, sending tiny pebbles scattering.

"You already fell deep into the abyss. Sorry Lucias." Nathan growled, his voice reverberating with power. "Fine. But this time, i'm not containing you." Nathan fixed his gazed toward The Alter. " I end you. "

The Alter's grin widened, his expression shifting into one of pure excitement. His eyes glow icy blue, and and slowly blue aura exploded from his body, sending debris flying. 

"Finally," the Alter said, his voice laced with a maniacal edge. "Let's end things here."

The blue and orange auras collided with a deafening roar, shaking the entire factory. The sky above them seemed to reflect the clash, turning a swirl of blue and orange hues. Clouds churned unnaturally as if the heavens themselves were reacting to the immense energy below. Miles away, the man from the container tragedy stood in an alley, watching the sky with a smirk. The unnatural colors painted across the heavens were like a beacon to him.

"Looks like things are getting interesting," he muttered to himself, his crimson eyes flickering with anticipation. With deliberate steps, he began making his way toward the factory, a dark grin spreading across his face.

Little that they know, The storm that they cause are nothing against The Crimson Red Storm.