'Fragmented'

Part Two

'Fragmented'

Part Two

September 27th, 2015. Detroit, MI.

 The light warmed my eyelids. I couldn't sleep last night. My dreams were bombarded by images of that horrific event twenty years ago. My skin was woven with shards of glass, iridescent and colorful. I opted to stay in my Alter Ego 'Decora'. It was easier than enduring the pain of transforming back into my normal self.
 An Alter Ego is a person with a special set of abilities. A large percent of A.E.s are often skilled in certain talents. I am a visual artist that utilizes color and glass. Voss is a horror writer and uses any element of violence or gore to transform. If you were 'baptized' in a syrup like liquid on the night of the first Fragment..you are given advanced healing abilities. An Alter Ego's power comes with a price. Agony.
 I hear the rumble of snoring coming from the opposite side of my bed. A large figure wrapped up in two flannel blankets and a fluffy comforter. His pale head poked out from the mass of fabric. "Time to get up, Voss. The Agency summoned us." My index finger poked his cheek. "Uuuuhhhh..you wanna go at it again?" I hear my boyfriend murmur. I pressed my lips together then let out a long, annoyed sigh. "No. Gloria told us to be in by eleven. It's one minute after ten. She's going to be pissed if we're late."
 The sleepy male turned over. Voss was quite a sight to behold. He's described as an "abomination".  With red and yellow eyes, a mouth full of needle like teeth, light gray colored skin, dark markings along his lips and around his eyes many people found him off putting. For some reason I find him sexy. I have weird taste in men..or so I'm told. "Gloria's a twat." The six foot one creature remarked in his deep raspy voice as he crawled from the blanket cocoon. Stark naked, muscled, and covered in scars. Voss does have a great physique..for a monstrosity.
 I look down. I lacked attire as well. Though I looked like an abstract painting, I was less horrifying to look at. Unless I open my mouth and expose my crystalline fangs. "No sweetie. We have a job to do." I chuckled as I braced for the cold bitch slap of my unheated apartment. I wanted to crawl back into bed. But our boss would throw a royal fit if we didn't come to work.
 "Are ya taking a shower?" Voss picked up his gaming magazine. "If you aren't.. I'm gonna use the toilet. I'll be in there for awhile. I gotta shit." I shot him a flat stare. "I gathered that, DEAR. I really didn't need that memo." I snagged a blue towel from the laundry. "I'll take a quick one. I don't want to go in after you used the bathroom." I learned that painful lesson two weeks ago after Voss broke my toilet. Three words: Indian Take Out. Hello Plumbers.
  Every time I use the shower, the eight hundred dollars in rent each month made it well worth it. I noticed my reflection on the glass door as I slathered my skin in moderately priced body wash. My neck had a mark on it. Teeth marks more or less. I told my significant other on multiple occasions not to bite me too hard during our naughty time. I relished my bathing ritual. It was my mini retreat after all. UntiI hear the door open and close. I poke my head out.
 "Sorry..I couldn't hold it." Voss flashed me an apologetic grin. I returned his apology with an open mouthed frown. With a snatch of my towel, I hurried the fuck out of there. I didn't want to witness a small scale nuclear apocalypse in my bathroom. I could already imagine my porcelain commode crying and running up an expensive therapy bill.
 ♦11:00 AM. The Balance Agency. Ms. Gloria Coldwell's Office.♦
 "I am surprised you two actually arrived on time." Gloria leaned back in her expensive chair. The fifty year old widow slid a manila folder across an oak desk. "I need you and Voss to investigate a possible collaboration." I cocked an eyebrow then grabbed the folder. "Collaboration? What the hell does that mean?" After the occurrence of reality warping events or "Fragments", there are three factions of Alter Egos.

 The universe's survival depends on the strict laws of balancing good and evil. Voss and I are apart of The Balance Agency's 'Neutralizers'. We are the agents tasked with keeping shit under control.
 The 'good' A.E.s are called 'Creators'. The 'evil' ones are dubbed the 'Destroyers'. If an A.E. is committing too many acts of good or evil, that's when we come in to either take away their power, or execute them. I've been doing this since I was fifteen years old. I even met my boyfriend during my training.
 "Our duty is to uphold the balance." Gloria clasped her hands together. "There are rumors that a sect of Destroyers are working with a former Creator." I open the folder. "First suspect is Travis Gary a.k.a 'Communion'. A former priest who has been gathering a cult following for the past five years. He's been on our watchlist for the past year."
 I look at the next sheet. "Nathaniel Sharpe a.k.a 'Plague'. Part of the Destroyers. He's a microbiologist. Works for Ryan Pharmaceuticals. He's been seen at the stockyards with Gary and a few others. We tracked their money transfers, systems, and been trying to get others to go in undercover. Unfortunately, one of our "plants" was killed after she was exposed. Sharpe's wife tortured her."
 I noticed a few crime scene photos. I knew his wife back in the day. Tanya 'Massacre' Rolland was batshit crazy. Spent a majority of her childhood and teens in mental facilities. She would kill her pets, then eventually moved on to humans. Massacre's rap sheet was a few miles long. Her and Plague are not to be taken lightly.
 "I need you guys to go to Romulus. I have a contact there. He'll be at the Sheraton Hotel. Room 112. Make sure you say: "Schadenfreude". That way he knows you two are my agents."
 Voss and I began to head out the door. Gloria cleared her throat. "One more thing...Communion has a very powerful instrument. You guys will need extra weapons for this. If he, Massacre, and Plague succeed..you can say goodbye to our world. And the universe as we know it." I look over my shoulder. "How very cryptic of you. We'll keep it in mind."

 Two hours later. Romulus, MI. Sheraton Hotel.

 "It'd be great if these fuckers didn't constantly stare at us." Voss growled as we walked through the lavish looking lobby. "Just stay on task." I hop into the elevator. There was a short old woman in there with us. She kept grinning. With her wrinkles, it was unsettling. Then the elevator stopped. The old woman morphed into a scrawny man with a receding hairline and a Star Wars shirt. "Schadenfreude?" Voss blurts out. The nerdy fellow shushed him and looked up at the camera. He smashes it. "You two from Gloria?" We both nod. "I'm Andrew. Or 'Bag Lady'.
 "Why are we stuck in here?" I asked. Andrew held up a flash drive. "I had to get out of that room. Bastards had it bugged. Plus, I noticed some of Plague's men roaming down the hallway." My crystal magenta hued eyes focused on the flash drive. "What's on it, Andrew?"
 "Blue prints, info on their plans, and the directions to my safe house." As Andrew spoke, Voss heard the loud banging of boots on steel. All three of us stayed quiet. The angry kicking and slamming persisted. Voss looked at the ceiling, then pointed upwards. I hopped onto his shoulders. Andrew went next. Voss cringed when his crotch briefly brushed against the back of his head. Finally, Voss went through the opening.
 I consider myself to be in good shape. I wasn't considered 'heavy' nor 'frail'. But after I climbed that elevator shaft..I may need to hit the gym again. The entrance to the elevator was shut. I needed to make a tool to pry it open. I felt my forearm crack and shift outwards. I bit my lower lip from the pain. Like I said, no matter what Alter Ego you are..you always pay in agony. My shimmering glass knife like appendage wedged into the crack. After a few twists, the door opens.
 "How is it up there?" Voss called up to me. The lobby was wrecked. A thick fog of smoke and the scent of cordite loomed in the air. Blood decorated the broken furniture.
 A hundred bodies laid in crumpled heaps. "We're in trouble." My voice was strained as I saw an overturned stroller. I hate the thought of deceased children. We climbed up into the makeshift graveyard. I heard the bark of a P90 going off. Then felt a hot sensation burrowing into my hip. Voss used his body to shield me from the fusillade of bullets.
Andrew's pockmarked face went pale as twenty armed commandos emerged from the smoke.
(To be continued)