Fragmentation 6-10

Posted: November 3, 2013 in Uncategorized

More of this project. Info about it can be found in the Fragmentation 1-5 post.

6) Pessimistic


None of them cared. Why would they? It was her fault the mission nearly failed royally. Yvette was the one that was supposed to cover up the evidence. She was supposed to cover it up, and instead, she’d managed to send up a flare. Law enforcement was on their way, and had it not been for Ivy performing a little psychic reprogramming, Yvette, Ivy, and Beast would all be on their way to prison.

Yvette sat outside of a lab supply shop, curled up into a little ball of sorts. Keeping her failure and self-doubt contained in that little ball, preventing them from escaping and infecting anyone else that might have been out that night.

Not that there really was much of anyone else out tonight. It was dark, rainy, and miserable. Yvette preferred it this way, anyway. Fewer people meant less scrutiny. Sure, most didn’t know of her job as an assassin. But it still felt as though people were judging her with every step she took. She could feel their eyes on her on particularly busy days.

In truth, people were struck by her somewhat unusual hair coloring. But she felt that they weren’t looking at that. Instead, they were looking through her, through to her very soul. Like they could tell exactly how many people she’d helped kill. While this was to protect others from the targets, it still stabbed right through her.

And her sister… Ivy could be the biggest pain she knew. That little smartass psychic with the drinking problem. Just who did she think she was, ripping on Yvette’s every shortcoming? It was always “Did you have to make THAT joke?” this and “Nice shot, but you would have gotten a more efficient kill had you pulled more to the left” that. Constructive criticism was good, of course. But it was that tone she’d used when she said it. It always seemed so mocking to her.

For now, she felt better off sitting here, letting the rain soak her clothing, hair, and skin. All alone with her negativity.

Hell, everyone was better off without her, weren’t they? Nobody ever said anything to that effect, of course. But that didn’t make it any less true to her. It wasn’t as though she’d ever commit suicide. That would be too drastic.

But if she were to run off and start a new life elsewhere, she could probably find true happiness. Who knew? Maybe someone would grow to appreciate her. There was always that to think about, right?

“There you are, ‘Vette. We’ve been looking all over for you,” said a voice from the nearest alley.

Yvette looked up from hugging her knees, a bit of mascara running down her face. To her surprise, Ivy and Beast had found her.

“Hey…” she muttered.

“Are you alright? You ran off pretty quickly after we got back,” Beast said.

“I-I’m fine.”

“…Your makeup says otherwise, ‘Vette,” Ivy told her. “C’mon. How about you get cleaned up and into some dry clothes, and we’ll grab dinner somewhere?”

“Aren’t you mad ab-“

The other two shook their heads.

“Nah. It was only our second job together. Mistakes are bound to happen,” said Beast, ebony ears and tail twitching lightly.

“There’s room under my umbrella for you, if you want,” Ivy offered.

Yvette cracked a small smile, standing up and going to join her sister and their friend. Well, it seemed as though she had gotten all worked up over nothing, now didn’t it?

7) Pirate


This was not what Travis needed right now. He didn’t need five guys chasing him around a warehouse. Nor did he need to be at that warehouse. No, he could have been home, possibly taking a nap or playing with his nephew or something. But instead, he was running for his life from the men that’d ambushed him outside of his mother’s lab, tackled him to the ground, and hauled him into their van.

Granted, he had managed to escape at one point. He’d faked a medical emergency and ran for it once the van had stopped. Sure, they ended up running him down with it, but he recovered.

He had woken up hours later, chained to a radiator and locked in a room. They were hoping he would just stay put. That it would hold him until their boss’s real target arrived.

Oh, how wrong they were.

As it turned out, the redhead was smarter than he seemed, albeit he’d decided to inform these men that he could break out of handcuffs before picking the lock to the room. He might not have been chased as much if he hadn’t elected to brag like that. He’d been doing a decent job of evading re-capture so far. Leapfrog over a guy here, breeze past a guy there.

And then he saw the sign marked “Exit”.

Nothing could stop him now!

Nothing, that is, except for a hulking metal leg stomping down, pinning his seven or eight foot trail of red hair to the floor. With a jerk and a few yelped out curses, his momentum was stopped.

As he turned to see just who in the hell had forced him to put on the brakes, a few things caught his attention. First was the patch over her left eye. And then on that same side of her body was the metal arm with a hook in place of a hand. She did have four metal limbs, of course.

But in the monkey boy’s somewhat immature mind, the patch and hook stood out. Adding to that the fact that she was in command of a group of men that had taken something that didn’t belong to them (in this case, him)…

“Holy shit…” he chuckled. “You’re a pirate, aren’t you…?”

The look on her face was not amused in the slightest. She merely crossed her arms, glaring at that insolent redheaded primate.

“…Are you seriously going to start into that?” she asked.

“Well, think about it! You’ve got the eye patch, the hook, the thieving crew…”

“There’s a saying out there… ‘Never write a check-“

“Or the pirates will steal it from you?” he asked with a grin.


“But that’s what pirates do, isn’t it?”

“I am not a pirate. Now do everyone here a favor, and shut your mouth. Or I WILL shut it for you.”

“Whatever, Chrome-Beard,” he said with a roll of the eyes.

“You have to the count of three. One…”

“I think I saw a parrot flying around outside. Is it yours?”


She reached for a gun. She knew he’d recover from even a nasty headshot.

“Where’s the ship?”


“Aargh, me hearties?”


8) Novel


Sometimes, Gemmy wished her room had better lighting. It made reading so much easier. She had to strain a bit to read the pages of her favorite book. She had already read it several times, but she could just keep perusing the pages and find something new each time.

Her father preferred that she didn’t read out in the living room. She wasn’t sure why, but dared not question him. Ever.

No, Walter Malone wasn’t the most agreeable man one could ever meet. At least, not if you asked his children. To those outside of the home, Gemmy heard that he was quite the sociable one. Not that she or her brother believed that.

Right now, she was trying her best to read The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. The Chronicles of Narnia was her favorite series of books. Often, she’d wished that she could open her closet door to find a magical land on the other side, filled with talking animals, and a helpful, fatherly lion.

But all she ever found when she opened that door was the blanket that failed to keep her warm on cold nights. The pile of clothes that served as the only pillow she’d had. Her brother had the exact same setup in the next room over.

Instead of a Mr. Tumnus to greet her as she walked in, there would sometimes be a giant moth flying into her face. A moth that, as a larva, probably ate her favorite mint green sweater. But did their father do anything about that? Not really. All he had done was taken a couple of moth balls, thrown one into each closet, and told her to quit whining, or he would get the belt.

Rather than an Aslan to guide her along the way, she just had that ass of a man. She couldn’t run to him when she had a nightmare. He would haul off and slap her hard enough to knock her off her feet. He would scream at her to grow up.

Most of the time, her nightmares involved him. And usually, he was the aggressor in the shadows, the scarred man in the fedora, red and green striped sweater, and knife glove that would chase her.

How she hated those movies with that awful Freddy Krueger. She was sometimes expected to watch them with her father. When she would cry, or let out a terrified whimper, she would get a slap, with a yell of “JUST BE GLAD I’M LETTING YOU WATCH ANYTHING AT ALL, YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

The only solace she found was in reading. Reading was her escape from this life. And the only thing that would make her enjoy it more would have been if she could get her brother involved. But Travis wasn’t much for books. Not unless they had a lot of pictures. He’d managed to sneak a few comics into the house, and read those every so often.

But Gemmy was more than happy with fantasy novels. Novels that could transport her elsewhere. Anywhere else.

And she felt that one day, she would be able to escape for real.

9) Doom


Darkness fell over the outskirts of Hell Bent, PA. A suspected child murderer had been trying to sleep, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly amiss.

He kept thinking that he heard things rattling around in the attic. But then he’d told himself that it was just the house settling. Just the house settling. Or some squirrels. Nothing to worry about.

But then came the scraping noises.

“Leaves,” he’d told himself. “Just leaves blowing around outside.”

More scraping noises. These ones sounded closer, though. Like they were coming from inside the house. That was enough to put him on edge.

He stood up from his bed, feeling around the wall for a light switch. But when he found one, flipping it to the “on” position… Nothing.

Just nothing.

A shiver ran down his spine, as he groped around for a flashlight, and his baseball bat. He was now certain that someone had gotten into his house. He wasn’t sure who it was or what they wanted. But there was one thing he was sure of: They knew.

Whoever it was knew that he was, in fact, guilty of killing those three little kids. He hadn’t been arrested for the crime. But he knew for a fact that he was pretty high on the suspect list. He’d been questioned several times, denying everything. And he was sure he’d eliminated DNA evidence from the children. But somehow, they were still highly suspicious of him.

As the man investigated his house for any sign of the intruder, he checked every corner. He checked the underside of each table, and began to check every corner and closet. But he found nothing.

Perhaps this was all a dream. Just a dream brought on by crushing remorse. But he couldn’t recall feeling too horribly guilty about it. He pinched himself to find out.

The pain from that pinch was very real.

He got back to his room, checking under the bed. Still nothing.

Until he heard a creak from behind him.

With a start, he turned toward his closet door.

The creak of the door turned into a slam, as the intruder finally made herself known. The door was pushed against the wall. And out from the closet stepped a voluptuous 5’2” figure. Her long black hair went right down to the knees of her bulky red mechanical legs. One of the matching arms rested on the door frame. The long metal claws on her other mechanical arm dragged along his wall. The look in her one good eye (the other having a patch over it) told him that this woman, whatever she was, had killed before.

“Hello, Ben,” she greeted, a dangerous grin playing at her lips.

Her feline ears twitched, as he shrank back toward his bed. Who was this, and how did she know his name?

“I’ve heard all about you, Ben. Heard about those children you killed.”

Ben practically fell onto the bed as he continued to back away.

“W-what do you want…?” he asked.

She said nothing, instead brandishing those razor sharp claws. Even though they were shiny as could be, Ben had a feeling that those were responsible for a number of deaths.

He tried to run, but this intruder was too quick for him. She caught up to Ben within moments, pinning him to the wall.

“Look, just leave me alone. I’ll confess! I promise, I’ll turn myself in. Just please don’t hurt me…”

For a moment, he thought he could see her expression soften. But then, she just let out a little chuckle.

“Oh, Ben… Ben, Ben, Benny-Ben, Ben… You just don’t get it, do you? Even if you turn yourself in, you’ll be going to prison. And you realize that people like you don’t last there very long, right?”

He shook. This woman was right. He’d be shanked as soon as they found out.

“B-but wouldn’t you be just as bad by killing me?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Way I see it, I’m just ridding the world of another scumbag. Now hold still. You don’t want to make this worse for yourself, do you?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. The last thing he felt were those claws impaling him. One went right through his heart, killing him instantly.

Beast dropped the body, walking away from him.

“Alright, Ivy. Yvette. I got him!” she called.

There was a slight shimmer in the corner, as the invisibility spell wore off. Ivy went to turn the electricity back on, as Yvette stood over Ben, using a spell to erase any evidence of Beast’s involvement.

Once the job was done, the trio headed off. The world had been rid of one more dreg.

10) Garden


Ivy had seen a lot of things in her long tenure as an assassin. But this was a new one on her. She continued to follow Gemmy down the path, a bemused expression on her face as they walked along.

“So, um… Gemmy, if you don’t mind me asking,” Ivy began. “What’s with all the pot?”

The monkey girl didn’t flinch at the seasoned killer’s question. Instead, she turned her upper body toward her, an almost sad expression crossing her face.

“I use it to relieve stress,” she sighed, resignation heavy in her voice.

“Don’t tell me… It’s because of your brother, isn’t it?”

“And my husband.”

Ivy just chuckled as she heard about that.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Those two can be trouble. So, you smoke it, or what?”

“No. Spencer would never let me hear the end of it if I smoked. I take it in brownie form, instead.”

The assassin nodded.

“Fair enough, fair enough. I take it today would be another such incident that would drive you to it?”

Gemmy sighed again. Today was already set to be unpleasant. Her adoptive mother’s funeral was today. That was supposed to be the only thing off about today. But then her brother and husband walked off to investigate something. They didn’t return.

And then the storm started.

Ivy and Gemmy had retreated into the yoga studio. Gemmy had led the way underground, where they would be safe. Also underground was her garden of cannabis, consisting of all sorts of plants contained in pots. She would come down every day after work to make sure they got enough water. There were a few sun lamps for the plants, as well, to ensure they hit their full height.

Pot was a habit Gemmy had picked up several years ago. It was at some point after her family became familiar with serial killer Jesse Lynn Belle. She wasn’t sure if it was Jesse’s visit to her home, where she’d smeared blood all over the walls, or when she had taken her husband’s lower left leg. It may have been the time her brother was taken out of the state and held in a cabin in upstate New York, resulting in people thinking he was dead.

Either way, she was certain that Jesse had something to do with it. That woman that had ended so many lives, and ruined multiple others.

Her habit had helped her cope with her brother’s disappearance, in particular. Of course, it still hurt her. But she was able to at least function throughout the day.

When her husband had been accused of murder, she’d turned to the habit once more. If spoken to about this by law enforcement around Hell Bent, she could pass it off as an experiment and they would leave the issue alone. Thankfully, that hadn’t happened.

And today, she needed to dip into her underground garden again, to cope with all that’s been going on. She just hoped that everything would be okay soon.

Will have more tomorrow. Been having a good amount of fun with these things.


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