The restraints inside the chamber came loose one by one, each metallic clack echoing through the dim room like a countdown. The figure didn't move yet, but its head remained tilted just slightly toward Mira and Ash—as if it had always been waiting for them.
Ash backed away until he hit the cold metal wall. "This thing… whatever it is… it's not human."
Mira didn't answer. She couldn't. Her throat felt dry, her chest tight. A cold understanding was forming at the back of her thoughts—an understanding she desperately didn't want to accept.
The final restraint clicked free.
The chamber lights flickered violently, the overhead bulbs dimming into a dull red glow before stabilizing.
Then the figure stepped forward.
Its movements were slow, almost careful, as if it was testing muscles that hadn't been used in a long time. The surface of its skin—if it could be called skin—shifted like blurred pixels trying to form a solid shape.
Ash whispered, "It's glitching…"
The figure paused and slowly raised its head, its hollow eyes locking onto Mira. A low hum vibrated through the air, so faint she wondered if it was inside her own skull.
Mira finally spoke. "What are you?"
The figure's mouth twitched. Not a smile. Not a snarl. Something in between.
When it spoke, its voice didn't come from its throat—it came through the speakers on the control panel.
A distorted, broken echo:
"IDENTITY… MATCH… PARTIAL."
Ash froze. "Identity match? With who?"
The figure stepped closer to the glass.
"SUBJECT… MIRA… CLASSIFIED."
Mira's heart nearly stopped. "What do you mean classified?"
Another glitching hum buzzed around them. Text appeared on the screen next to the chamber, typing itself at frantic speed:
SUBJECT STATUS: FAILED AVATAR PROTOTYPE
VERSION: MIRRORTHREAD_01
ORIGIN: UNKNOWN
Ash whispered, "Prototype… of you?"
Mira stepped back. "That's impossible."
The figure lifted its hand and pressed it gently against the glass. Its fingers stretched unnaturally, bending in a way human bones never could. A ripple of static flickered across its palm.
The screen updated again:
AWAITING SYNCHRONIZATION.
Mira shook her head. "No. No, whatever this thing is, it's not syncing with me."
Ash grabbed her arm. "We need to leave. Now."
Before they could move, the lights snapped off.
A second of total darkness swallowed the room.
Then the emergency lights kicked in—dim, red, and flickering.
The chamber door was now wide open.
The figure stood outside it.
Not glitching.
Not slow.
Perfectly still.
Its eyes locked on Mira.
Ash whispered, breath shaking, "It got out…"
The figure tilted its head—slightly, sharply, like it was analyzing her. Then it took a single step forward.
Mira raised the broken handle she'd taken earlier like a makeshift blade. "Stay back."
The figure froze.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then it lifted its arm and touched its own face.
The skin shifted… peeled… rippled—
And underneath was Mira's face.
Her exact face.
But distorted. Stretched. Wrong.
Ash staggered back. "What the—Mira—what is that?!"
The creature spoke again, its voice layered with static, as if Mira's own tone was being mimicked imperfectly:
"SYNCHRONIZE… COMPLETE?"
Mira felt a shiver climb her spine. "You're copying me."
The creature tilted its head in a mirror of her movement.
It was copying her now.
Ash grabbed her wrist and hissed, "We're leaving. Now."
They ran to the far door of the control room. Mira pulled the handle—
Locked.
She rattled it harder. "No… no no no—don't do this now!"
Behind them, the creature began to walk.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Each step synchronized to Mira's panicked breath.
Ash grabbed a metal chair and slammed it into the door—once, twice—until it cracked open just enough for them to squeeze through.
"Go!"
Mira slid through the gap first, Ash right behind her.
The creature reached the doorway—
And stopped.
Its head twitched. It stared at the narrow opening, studying it.
Ash whispered, "Maybe it can't fit."
Then the creature pressed its hand against the gap.
The bones in its fingers folded backward. The wrist twisted. The arm stretched through the small space like liquid bones unfolding.
Ash shrieked, "Nope—NOPE—RUN!"
They sprinted down the hallway.
The walls around them flickered—lights flashing like a corrupted heartbeat. Behind them, the creature's distorted footsteps echoed, each step landing a second after Mira's own.
Ash panted, "Where are we even going?"
"I don't know," Mira gasped, "but anywhere is better than here!"
They turned a corner—
And skidded to a stop.
The hallway ahead was bending. Literally bending. The walls curved inward, twisting like soft clay being pulled and reshaped. The lights bent with them, stretching unnaturally.
Ash whispered, "The place is reacting to us…"
Mira shook her head. "Not to us. To me."
A sudden realization hit her like ice.
The creature wasn't hunting her.
It was following its target.
Synchronizing.
Becoming her.
The air behind them shifted.
The creature rounded the corner.
But something was different now.
Its body wasn't glitching anymore.
It was stabilizing.
Becoming more human.
Becoming more her.
Ash whispered, "It's finishing its copy…"
The creature's voice echoed softly, glitch-muted:
"IDENTITY… OVERWRITE… STARTING."
Mira's breath caught. "It's not copying me."
Ash turned to her slowly, fear blooming across his face.
"It's replacing you."
[To be continued...]