The sound hit first.
A high-pitched ringing, like metal dragging across a chalkboard—distant, but getting louder.
Max stopped moving. His hand froze inches from the drone's surface.
"You hear that?" he asked.
Kaz turned, squinting down the dark tunnel they'd come from. "Yeah."
"It's coming back," Mira muttered, gripping Kaz's arm. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The wrong thing is coming back."
Samira spun her knife between her fingers, frowning. "Then let it. I'm getting bored."
Max didn't say anything.
The humming twisted into something deeper. A noise that didn't belong in the real world — bone and glass, cracking together.
A shadow passed through the hallway. And then it stepped into the light.
The Vice didn't walk. It glided.
It had no real form—just the suggestion of one. A tall figure made of shifting, reflective surfaces. Its body bent like heatwaves over asphalt, constantly shifting angles and limbs. Its face was an empty oval. No eyes. No mouth. Just a polished mirror.
Max saw his reflection in it. Then he saw more.
Not just his face—but all the worst parts of it.
The guilt.
The envy.
The fear.
"Back up," Max said.
Kaz flared. Fire sparked along his knuckles. "Or we burn it down?"
"No," Mira whispered. "It doesn't burn. That thing's not right."
The Vice tilted its head, almost curious. Then it split.
The body folded inward and stretched, forming two. Then three. Then ten. Ten versions of itself, all shimmering with slightly different reflections. One showed Max standing alone. Another showed Kaz lying dead. One showed Samira kissing Max.
His breath hitched. Just for a second.
Then it was gone.
Focus, he told himself.
"What the hell is it doing?" Samira asked, blades up.
"It's not attacking," Kaz said.
"It doesn't have to." Mira was trembling now. "It's showing us what we hate."
Then the Vice moved.
No warning. No sound. Just motion. The real one shot toward them like a spike, limb raised into a blade. Max ducked, rolling as the floor behind him exploded in a burst of glass and light.
Kaz punched the ground, sending a wave of fire outward. The clones scattered—some melting, others shattering. But the real one danced around it, unharmed.
Samira lunged in. Her knife sliced across the Vice's shoulder. The cut didn't bleed—it reflected.
Then the mirror-skin sealed shut.
"Yeah okay," she muttered, dodging back. "That's annoying."
Max leapt forward and slashed across its chest. This time, the blade stuck for a second—long enough for him to meet his own eyes in the reflection.
He saw himself crying.
Bleeding.
Alone.
Then the Vice shattered again—exploding into razor-thin fragments. They spun through the air, fast enough to slice skin. Max shielded his face. A shard tore across his arm, burning cold.
Kaz grunted, dragging Mira behind a crumbling pillar. "She's not doing great."
"I'm fine," Mira muttered. "Just dizzy."
"You're pale as hell."
Samira kicked one of the clones, knocking it into the wall. It burst into glass and disappeared. "We need to go."
Max nodded, grabbing the drone from the floor. His heart was hammering. The Vice didn't stop. Didn't breathe. Didn't think.
It reflected.
It was showing them what they didn't want to see.
That they were broken.
All of them.
Max stared it down, blade dripping. His arms ached. His chest burned.
The Vice tilted its head again. Like it was trying to understand him.
"I'm not scared of you," Max said.
The Vice stepped closer.
"That's right, you're scared of yourself," it replied—in Max's own voice.
Samira's voice cut through. "Hey!"
She pulled Max back by his collar as Kaz hurled a fireball toward the creature's core. The heat burst in a wave—glass melting, walls groaning under the heat.
When the light cleared, the Vice was gone. Just smoke. Just silence.
For a moment.
Then the air shimmered.
It wasn't dead.
Max wiped blood from his cheek and turned to the others. "We have what we came for. We're done here."
Kaz helped Mira up. Samira kept her blades out, circling. "We walking or sprinting?"
Max looked toward the tunnel where the Vice had stood. Smoke curled at the edges. The shadows felt like eyes.
"We run."
They didn't argue.
Max led the way, clutching the drone to his chest. Behind him, Kaz helped Mira limp forward, one arm wrapped around her waist. Samira brought up the rear, blades out, eyes scanning the tunnel like she expected it to fold in on itself.
The halls seemed darker now. Not in light—but in presence.
Everything felt wrong. Off-balance. Tilted.
Like the glass had gotten inside them.
Max didn't look back. Not even once. But he could feel it.
Something watching.
Something reflecting.
"Faster," he said. "We don't know if it's following."
"Are we sure that blast even hurt it?" Samira asked, breath sharp.
"No," Max said. "That's the problem."
Their footsteps echoed through the ruined corridor—metal crunching under their soles. Each turn, each door, felt like it might hold another version of the Vice. One that looked more like them.
"Was that really what it showed me?" Kaz muttered, voice low. "That reflection..."
"It lies," Mira whispered, half-conscious. "It doesn't just reflect. It distorts. Makes it worse. So you believe it."
Max didn't answer. He couldn't. Because deep down... he wasn't sure it had distorted anything.
That reflection—it had felt real.
He remembered the image: himself alone, hunched over, bleeding out. Crying. Forgotten.
He swallowed hard.
They reached the exit tunnel. The emergency gate was still blown open from earlier. Pale green lights flickered overhead, washing them in sickly color. Max stepped through first, then turned to help Kaz move Mira.
As he reached for her, he saw it again.
His reflection—in the curved metal of the gate.
But something was off.
His face was normal.
But the eyes weren't his.
They were the Vice's. Polished. Mirror-flat. Empty.
He blinked—and they were gone.
Kaz pushed him forward. "Don't freeze now, man."
Max nodded stiffly. They emerged back into the surface-level hallway, where the cold night air cut through the facility vents. Kaz sealed the deeper tunnel the came from using he's fire power to cave it in.
Samira kicked the wall once before sliding her blades back into their sheathes. "Well. That sucked."
Mira groaned softly. "Understatement."
Kaz slumped against the wall, still breathing hard. "What even was that thing?"
Max didn't answer.
He looked down at the drone in his hand. Cracked, but still intact.
Mission complete.
But something lingered.
Something wrong.
A sliver of glass was still stuck in his sleeve. He pulled it out gently and held it up to the light.
In its surface, he saw himself again.
But not just himself.
He saw Samira—turned away from him.
Kaz—dead on the floor.
Mira—screaming.
And his own smile.
Not a real one. Not his.
But one a Vice might wear.
Max crushed the shard in his fist.
And for a moment, the flame in his chest sparked.