This was originally planned as a full arc, but cut down in the downscope. It's something I really do want to deal with, though, so here's the short Aside version. I'm not too happy with a lot of the details but I think it gets the idea across.

I'd like to give Xavier Rall a nod for coining the term "Fragment", though I ultimately took a far different direction with them than what he envisioned.


Author: XCVG
Canon: No
Context: The Remnan Exchange, 2016

Emergence: Aside
Fragment

It was a relatively boring day at the Fragment office tucked into the corner of the J. Edgar Hoover building in Washington, DC. Their Canadian liaison had just flown back to Ottawa and the line from their boss had been silent all day.

A Fragment was a Remnan or part-Remnan living on Earth. There was an official definition- a long list of criteria, in fact- but the informal one was the one the office typically used when explaining their role to their superiors. In the wake of the disaster in Texas and the opening of the portals, the search for Fragments had been stepped up. Their job was to identify and observe but take action only when necessary to protect the national security of the United States. The existence of Fragments or their office was not strictly classified, but the identities of discovered and suspected Fragments was kept secret.

Some of their finds had been surprising. The vast majority of suspected Fragments were in fact normal humans with exaggerated rumours. Then there was the opposite case, where a Fragment had gone to the media, became discredited as a hoax, and then discovered by the office as the real deal. Many actual Fragments had no idea they were different, and many were quite happy where they were. One was a wannabe vigilante who had vastly overestimated his abilities and ended up in hospital. One actually walked into their office. So far they hadn't found any Fragments doing anything more illegal than growing pot, but sooner or later they'd come across someone violent. They had plans for that, but still dreaded the day.

"How about this one?" Special Agent Todd Castello asked, handing a thin folder to the man sitting in front of his desk. "Prison camp escape in North Vietnam, 1968. Not a lot of details, but multiple eyewitness accounts of one then-Lieutenant Roy Whitlock moving extremely fast, appearing to take bullets with no ill effects and- get this- starting fires without any visible means of doing so."

"Well, if it's real, that guy is definitely a contender," Mich Bradbury, an ATF agent currently on joint assignment, replied. "I think it's worth checking out."

"That's what I thought, too," Castello agreed. "Pack your gear, it looks like we're headed to Boston."


"Captain Whitlock's file is clean, but that was forty years ago," Bradbury commented idly, standing on the front porch. "Think he'll be warrior poet, normal guy, or crazy vet?"

"We're about to find out," Castello replied. He took a deep breath and rapped three times on the sturdy wooden front door.

A tall, lithe man with piercing green eyes and greying hair opened the door. He seemed remarkably spry for a man of his age and experience. He asked, "Can I help you?"

"Special Agent Todd Castello, Federal Bureau of Investigation," he introduced. "This is Agent Mich Bradbury, a liaison from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. May we come in?"

"My guns are legal, I don't do drugs, and federal agents don't show up for jaywalking," Captain (ret.) Roy Whitlock replied roughly, standing fast. His tone was firm, but not rude. "What's this about, gentlemen?"

"Basically, our office is tasked with discovering Americans who may have Remnan ancestry," Castello told him. "You're not in any trouble, but I was hoping you might answer a few questions for us."

Whitlock remained polite, but guarded. "What kind of questions?"

"We know about North Vietnam," Agent Bradbury stated bluntly. "We were hoping you could shine some light on what happened in 1968."

The man's expression changed instantly. "Get out."

Castello reminded him, "Captain, it's been over forty-"

"Forty years isn't goddamn long enough," Roy snapped. "You serve a warrant or you get off my porch."

Bradbury opened his mouth to protest, but was quickly cut off.

"I'm sorry for bothering you," Castello apologized, turning to leave.

The other agent followed, giving the veteran a quick nod as he slammed the door shut. He said quietly, "You know, I probably shouldn't have pushed. He spent five years in hell. I wouldn't want to relive that either."

"Maybe," his FBI counterpart said with a sigh. "But I'd really like to know if we're dealing with a Fragment or not."

"We ask his family?" the ATF agent asked as they climbed back into their government-issued car. "Wife is divorced-"

"Wife's deceased. Died quietly a few years ago," Castello stated.

"Shit," Bradbury breathed. "Two kids, a son and a daughter."

"Way ahead of you," Castello said. "His son's on the other side of the country, but his daughter still lives here."

"You have a name and address, too?"

"Jade Whitlock." He smirked. "You'll never guess what she does."

The ATF agent shrugged. "I have no idea."

Wordlessly, Castello handed his phone over.

Bradbury took one look. "No fucking way."


The agents waited for their quarry in the dressing room backstage, which in the odd little cafe was actually more or less a repurposed broom closet. Dusty boxes, an old guitar, and a rickety folding table made the space even more cramped.

"Good evening, Ms Whitlock," Castello greeted as she entered the room.

Jade Whitlock lacked her father's green eyes, but was similarly slimly built. Her deep green hair- probably natural considering her ancestry- cascaded freely down her back. Despite being well into her thirties, the woman looked and moved like she had just finished college. She asked nervously, "Can I help you?"

Castello introduced himself and his partner, making sure to show his badge. He began, "I was hoping you could answer a few questions for us."

"Take a seat," she offered, sitting down at the table herself. "I thought you didn't come for the show. You looked really out of place there at the back."

"That's true, Ms Whitlock, but it was a good show," Castello said. "Almost like it had real magic in it."

"What do you want?" Jade asked suspiciously.

"I think you already know," Bradbury answered.

She laughed quietly. "I guess there's no point lying about it. Yes, I'm part Remnan. Yes, I have Aura, and a Semblance, and yes, I use it in my shows. There's nothing illegal about that. Happy?"

Bradbury laughed. "Miss Whitlock, believe me, we're the last ones who'll go after you for any of that."

"Actually, we wanted to ask about your father, Captain Roy Whitlock," Castello told her. "Specifically, if he ever talked about how he escaped from North Vietnam."

"He didn't talk much about the war at all," Jade answered after a long pause. "I know the camp was a painful memory for him. I never asked how he got out and he never answered."

"Was he born here, or on Remnant?"

"Beats me." Jade shrugged. "I don't know my family's history very well, at least not on that side. My dad never really talks about his childhood. He loves us more than anything but he was always kind of distant."

"Did he ever tell you about your ancestry?"

"He told us we were special, that we had abilities we needed to be very careful with and that we might be the only ones in the world with them," she answered freely. "He didn't tell us about Remnant until after the portals and stuff, but by then I'd already figured it out."

Bradbury nodded. "Interesting."

"So, what happens with me now?"

"Miss Whitlock, we are looking for people like you. Not to arrest, but much the opposite. If you are interested, we do have a few positions available," Castello offered. Few had taken the offer, but it was an (admittedly questionable) standard procedure. "Of course, if you don't take it, this meeting never happened. You're free to live your life as any American citizen."

Her answer was quick. "No."

"You're not even going to consider it?" Special Agent Bradbury asked.

"I know what you mean by help. There's only one thing that only people like me can do," the green-haired woman answered. "I don't want to fight anyone. That's not me. I didn't choose to be born with these powers, and using them like this is just about all I want to do with them."

"You're happy using your Semblance as a party trick." It came out as a statement as much as a question.

"People love the show, and it doesn't hurt anyone," she answered, standing up. "If there's nothing else, it's been a long "

He followed the motion. "Very well, Miss Whitlock. Have a good day."


After meeting with Jade, there was nothing for the agents to do but drive back to Washington. Captain Roy Whitlock was a Fragment, and neither him nor his daughter wanted anything to do with them. They'd follow up on his son later, but doubted that would go anywhere. They had everything they needed. Still, it was hardly a fulfilling conclusion.

"Well, then," Mich Bradbury commented.

Todd Castello shrugged. "They've done nothing wrong. Hell, Roy's a hero."

"On the list?"

"Yup. On the list, move on to the next," he agreed, tapping his hands on the wheel. "Have anyone lined up, Mich?"

"I think it's a long shot, but there's a kook down in Arkansas..."