Fragmentation 1-5

Posted: November 2, 2013 in Uncategorized

I said I’d start posting one of my NaNoWriMo projects up here. And here’s the beginning of it. It’s based around this list: What will follow in posts related to this: gore (on occasion), slight perviness (also on occasion), possible pretentiousness (maybe…not sure). But either way, this project is fun to work on. So, without further ado: 



That night was a cold one. And the forests right on the outskirts of Hell Bent, PA were especially frigid. Dr. Spencer Abbot wasn’t especially fond of cold temperatures, but he and Yvette, a family friend, traversed those woods, anyway.

Their purpose for being out here was twofold. For one, they were intent on escaping one Slade McManus, a mage that had set his sights on Yvette recently. And had managed to frame Spencer for the murder of his own parents. Secondly, his friend Travis had gone missing.

Of course, Travis’ disappearance wasn’t a new phenomenon. No, that boy was as trouble prone as they came. There was his sense of direction (downright terrible, to say the least), and his inability to keep his mouth shut. Add that to the fact that he enjoyed annoying various enemies, and that led to a perfect storm.

Last Spencer and Yvette had heard, Travis was with Slade. Slade had originally targeted Yvette’s sister Ivy, but Travis had sacrificed his own freedom to protect her, apparently.

Slade’s cabin was somewhere out in these woods, and Spencer could only hope that Travis wasn’t too badly hurt. It may have been a vain hope, but he’d take it for now.

He and Yvette had been running through the area, only stopping occasionally to look back. But of course, they’d had to come to a stop at some point to catch their breath. Their legs had been burning, their lungs doing the same.

Neither had really noticed the freshly packed dirt beside them.

Or the appendage ripping through the ground and gripping Spencer’s ankle. Not until it had a good grip.

Spencer cried out in surprise at the feeling of fingers wrapping around his leg. He looked down, hoping that he wasn’t going to see a rotted arm, overflowing with maggots.

What he saw instead was a large tuft of red hair. And then he realized that it wasn’t a hand that had a hold of him.

It was a foot.

Travis’ foot.

The foot led to a powerful denim-clad leg, with broken and frayed rope hanging from the ankle. As Spencer realized who it was, he nudged Yvette, the two frantically digging up the shallow grave.

When they unearthed Travis, they found his arms bound. And he was hacking and coughing up a large amount of dirt. Just how long had he been buried there?

When the coughing fit ended, Spencer worked at untying Travis’ hands.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I got into an argument with McManus. Dude buried me. I think I was alive when he did it.”

Spencer looked at Travis’ hair. It was a good foot or two longer.

As it turned out, Travis had died about five times whilst buried there. Anytime he’d revive, he would inhale more dirt, cough it up, asphyxiate, and then die. And the whole process would continue from there.

Anytime Travis died, his hair would grow four more inches. Hence the extra nearly two feet.

This seemed to be Travis’ life, nowadays… Do something most would perceive as stupid, die, come back, It had been like that for well over a year. Perhaps two. He wasn’t quite sure anymore. What he did know was that death didn’t feel any better the more it happened. The only differences it made when it came to pain were methods.

Bisection hurt more than being stabbed in the chest. But that still hurt like hell. And strangulation was worse than bisection. Asphyxiation, though, was probably the worst for him.

But the agony of dying either a slow and painful or a quick and violent death was nothing compared to the absolute high that came with returning to life. The air rushing back into his lungs… The light returning to his eyes… Sure, he could do without the inherent pain of all sensation returning to his nerve endings at once, but he didn’t mind it too much.

It was that pain that let him know that he was alive. So because of that, he would accept that pain and keep on going.

Because that’s what life was to him.

Sensation, as opposed to numbness.

Once Travis had dusted himself off, he got ready to leave the scene with Spencer and Yvette, wanting to deal with Slade McManus himself.

Hey, just because he could come back from the dead, it didn’t mean that he was okay with being killed.

2) Youth


As a child, Spencer had always been fond of reading. But while other kids would read stories about monsters and fairies and the like, he was more apt to read some of his father’s medical books.

He’d read all sorts of them by the tender age of 9. Any words that perplexed him, he would ask his parents to define. His ever-expanding knowledge of medicine didn’t exactly win him many friends, but it did prepare him for his intended future as a doctor.

That was all he really wanted, anyway: the chance to become a good doctor. To help those most in need. Sure, a few more friends would have been nice, but he didn’t mind his lack of popularity. It wasn’t like he got bullied, anyway. He was more invisible than anything else, when it came to the rest of the student body.

One day, while perusing his parents’ bookshelf, he’d come across the holy mother lode of medical knowledge: Gray’s Anatomy. While other children spent their time after school playing, Spencer would engross himself in this book. Sometimes he’d read outside, if it was a nice enough day. But usually, he would be found in his room, in his egg shaped chair, surrounded by his diagrams of different organs.

It was decided that he wouldn’t learn much about the reproductive system until at least puberty, when he’d be seen as mature enough to handle that particular knowledge.

But until then, he was more than content reading about the rest of the human body. He’d become quite skilled at the game Operation before too long, as well. He played it often with his mother and father. Not having any siblings, those two were all he really had, most of the time. And the skeleton he kept for bone identification purposes that he’d named Geoff. But aside from them, he had a rather lonely childhood.

He’d had a few friends, though. But he’d lost contact with them. Particularly his friend Travis. He assumed that the kid had moved away, though. Or been taken to military school. He couldn’t be sure.

But he always had his family’s medical books to keep him company. He could sit back, read those, and imagine his future as Dr. Spencer Abbot, MD. His parents would be so proud of him. Hell, his whole family would be proud of him for becoming a doctor! In the long run, that praise from his family would be better than relationships that’d just suddenly end without notice, with people that could go from liking him one day, to hating him the next.

But then, as he thought of it… He did want more of a life sometimes. He’d hear other children playing outside. On the one hand, he wasn’t too certain about the appeal of games like hide and seek. But on the other hand, he figured that it had to be fun with a number of people.

Right now, he was reading in his room. It was an interesting section, all about the bones of the face. He read about the zygomatic bone, telling himself to keep that one in mind. Mainly because it was just a fun word, to the boy.

“Having fun, Spencer?” a voice asked during this reading session.

He looked up from the book seeing both of his parents in his doorway.

“Yeah, dad,” Spencer replied, brown eyes bright with excitement. “I have a new favorite word, too!”


His father pushed up his glasses, smiling as he awaited his son’s response.


“Heh. Yeah, that is a fun one. Do you know what a zygomatic is?”

“Uh-huh. It’s the bone right…Here.”

He pointed to his cheekbone. His mother chuckled, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. Spencer backed away a bit, wiping off his cheek and giving exaggerated protests on how kissing was “gross”.

“Huh. You mean you didn’t want a kiss?” his mother asked, pretending to be a bit hurt at that.

“Oh, um, uh…” was Spencer’s oh-so-eloquent response.

“Learn about more of the bones in the face today, Spence?” she asked.

“Yeah. Like the palatene.”

His father smiled, ruffling Spencer’s hair.

“Most kids your age would have a hard time even saying those words. I got a kid smart enough to know what they actually are.”

Spencer beamed up at his dad, his mom leaving the room to look into dinner.

“So, what’re we having tonight?” Spencer asked.

“Well, your mother picked up some trout, so we’re going to have a nice fish fry for tonight.”

Spencer grinned at the thought. He wasn’t big on fish, normally. But his mom’s cooking could make just about anything appetizing. It may have been something she’d picked up in the lab she worked at, but whatever it was, it worked.

Spencer’s childhood may not have brought him much popularity, but he was a happy kid. And that was all that really mattered.

3) Content


For once, Ivy hadn’t had to go on a job. She could just kick back at Serena’s lab. There was a magnum of vodka with her name on it, a nice comfy recliner calling to her, and one of her favorite movies on TV.

On her days off, it didn’t take much to make the psychic assassin happy. All it usually took was a good amount of booze, a classic slasher flick, and somewhere to sit in comfort. And that somewhere, this time, was in one of the rooms in the lab, with a TV and a pale bluish purple recliner.

She took a hold of the bottle of alcohol, which she’d had stashed inside a cooler behind the chair. Ivy smiled, giving the bottle a small kiss.

“Chilled to perfection,” she said.

Sure, she knew most preferred their vodka at room temperature. But then, most didn’t require the alcohol to function properly. They might have claimed that they needed it. But Ivy legitimately did.

She settled herself into the chair, reaching down to unzip her turquoise boots. Ivy pulled those off and hurled them aside, listening as they landed with a satisfying thud. She felt around the side of the recliner for a bit, soon finding the lever to lift the footrest.

Ivy raised her bottle in a toast of some sort.

“Here’s to not having to clean off my blade, for a day,” she said, smiling a bit.

Ivy, when it came to the assassin biz, was a loyal sword user. She’d tried a gun, but she hated how those things sounded. And there was the option of poison, but she felt that to be the easy way out. She preferred to be a bit more hands-on with her kills, without resorting to strangulation. Though swinging her sword around did get tiring after a while.

As she lay back today, she didn’t hear the sound of approaching footsteps behind her. Nor did she notice the ever-growing shadow. All that mattered to her was chilling the hell out.

And so, it came as quite the shock to her when a pair of hands covered her eyes, and a voice cooed the words: “Guess who”. She may have had psychic abilities, but there was no way she felt like using them today. Had she been using them, she would have sprung out of the chair and hugged the figure behind her. But since she wasn’t, she gave a piercing battle cry, complete with a mighty swing of her alcohol bottle.

The bottle connected with the head of her “assailant”, followed by a few muttered curses. Ivy turned to see Travis standing there, pouting and rubbing the point of impact.

“Ah. Hey, Trav,” Ivy replied, relieved. “You okay?”

The pain subsided, and Travis nodded.

“Yeah. How’ve you been?”

“Not bad, not bad. Got a day off for today. Was about to watch a movie, if you want to join me.”

Travis sat on one of the arms of the chair, cross-legged.

A Nightmare on Elm Street.”


“You know it.”

Travis smiled a bit, cuddling up to her. She put her arm around him, soon pulling him onto her lap. He outweighed her by about fifty or so pounds, but she didn’t quite mind. It felt nice, having him around.

This was what she needed, right here.



And alcohol.

That’s what she needed to be content.

4) Change


Gemmy couldn’t believe how her life had turned out thus far. She could remember her childhood quite vividly. Her childhood, which had entailed long nights sleeping in a closet, with nothing but a pile of clothes for a pillow and a thin blanket. Those equally long days, where the best part was not being around her father, with his berating calls and verbal barbs. When she had barely any friends. Not for lack of trying, but because she wasn’t allowed to leave the house. The only thing keeping her from snapping entirely was the fact that her brother was there for her, protecting her.

She remembered it far too well for her liking.

But upon leaving that home, her life faced another overhaul. An overhaul that came in the form of a human feline hybrid in a labcoat. She had taken both Gemmy and her brother in. Given them an actual home. Showed them the first real love they’d ever known in their young lives.

Though it was a bit of a surprise, to say the least, when their new mother had expressed interest in splicing monkey DNA into each of them. She had promised not to hurt the two, so neither of them had too much of a problem. Especially not her brother. Gemmy herself was a bit more hesitant.

But post-splice, when Gemmy got a good look at her new features, the feet that could now be used to grab anything she needed to if her hands were full, the long prehensile tail… She felt that she could get used to this. Even with these differences from her classmates, she was much happier than when she was a child. She could come and go as she pleased, return to a loving home… She had even found herself a boyfriend.

And now, she was an adult. All her life, she had been a pacifist, turning away from conflict in favor of meditation. She had become a vegetarian, started teaching yoga, and become a mother to one little monkey boy named Daniel. Her boyfriend from high school was now her husband. She’d never held a knife before the age of twenty nine, outside of the kitchen. She’d just been given her first weapon: a scythe. Her aunt had warned her that it was a rather dangerous weapon, given the placement of the blade. But Gemmy had figured out how to use it relatively competently.

And soon enough, there were lives at stake. One very young life, in particular. A number of her family’s enemies had banded together, intent on taking everything they loved. They had already killed her adoptive mother, and left with her son. That was what had led to her being given the scythe in the first place.

Now, though, the battle had ended. Little Daniel was home and safe. Sure, the city had taken quite a bit of damage, but it could be rebuilt. And while she still didn’t believe in violence, Gemmy couldn’t help but feel like a stronger, more confident individual. She would refrain from using the scythe with any amount of frequency, unless it was for a weekly training session with her aunt. Just to make sure she didn’t get rusty.

Just in case.

5) Dreams


Serena hummed a little tune happily to herself, as she held the grass-hued crayon in her pale little hand. She had already drawn a little blue figure at the bottom of the wall. And now it was time for her giant super robot. And what a happy robot it was, too.

She’d been living at this lab since before she could really remember. All Serena knew was this lab, her sister, and their friends. She couldn’t even recall when they’d introduced feline genetic material into her code. But she didn’t quite mind it all. After all, the scientists were nice enough. They even gave Serena her own room in which to draw on the walls. And sometimes, she would borrow one of the grown-ups’ lab coats, just to feel more like she was one of them. She often became so embroiled in her drawing, that she didn’t notice when one of the scientists walked in to check up on her.

Like right now.

“And just what are you up to, Serena?” a female voice asked, causing the little kitten girl to jump.

She turned around to look at the owner of the voice. Her ears gave a little twitch, and her light blue eyes lit up from behind her glasses.

“Drawing,” said Serena, beaming as she gestured to the not-entirely-complete robot.

“And the lab coat?”

Serena looked at herself. Or specifically, at the much-too-large lab coat hanging off of her little six-year-old body. And then she beamed up at the scientist.

“I’m getting ready for when I grow up,” she said.

The scientist smiled, crouching down to Serena’s eye level.

“Is that so?”

“Yep! When I grow up, I wanna be a scientist. I already started drawing up designs. See, there’s the robot I wanna build someday. There’s the head, the arms, legs, feet, hands… Uh… Forgot that other hand.”

The good doctor looked, before giving Serena a pat on the head. .

“And a very nice job you’ve done on these. What about that one, there? In the red crayon?”

“I drew an atom. See, there’s the nu… Uh, middle part…”

“The nucleus?”

“Yeah, and a couple of ‘lecto-somethings.”


Serena nodded, not losing that smile for a second.

“Well, Serena, keep on working at it. I’m sure one day, you’ll be a great scientist.”

Thirty four years later, Serena had remembered that. She had remembered the joy of designing, the notion that one day, those little crayon sketches on her walls would become larger than life. She’d remembered the encouragement from those in the field of genetics, especially. How badly she’d wanted to be just like them, and work in a big lab. Work with all those other scientists. Have a few good experiments.

And then she looked at where she was now.

She had her own moderately sized lab, with her own state of the art equipment. She had conducted numerous successful experiments. Even formed a lovely family. Sure, her sister could be a bit of a pain, always getting herself messed up and requiring her help, but other than that…

Serena couldn’t be happier. Her dreams of becoming a scientist had come true. 


So, tomorrow night, it’ll be 6-10. 


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