Smoke stung his eyes before he even opened them.
When Evan finally forced his vision to focus, the world was burning—
red alarms flashing like dying heartbeats, glass tubes exploding one after another, chemicals spilling across the floor like melting organs.
Something heavy crashed in the distance.
A metallic door.
Forced open.
Evan pushed himself up, dizzy, coughing—
then froze.
Every shattered mirror, every cracked screen around the room reflected something impossible:
Two versions of him.
One stood to his left—expression blank, eyes dead, movements too precise.
The other to his right—bleeding, trembling, staring back with the same terror Evan felt in his own chest.
But neither reflection moved when he moved.
They weren't reflections.
They were watching him.
A siren screamed.
The floor vibrated violently as the entire laboratory began to collapse. Flames crawled across the ceiling, devouring the hanging wires. From behind him came a soft, deliberate footstep—too slow, too calm for the chaos around them.
Evan didn't have to turn around to know someone was there.
A voice whispered behind his ear, low and familiar in a way that rattled his bones:
"If you're awake… then it means I failed to replace you."
He spun around.
A silhouette stepped out of the smoke—
not a stranger, not a monster—
himself.
But wearing a smile Evan had never seen before.
A cold, calculated smile.
The other Evan raised a hand, pressing a blood-coated finger to his own lips.
"Shh. Don't scream."
The mirrors shattered all at once, exploding outward like gunshots.
The last thing Evan saw before darkness swallowed him was the other version of himself leaning closer, whispering:
"Remember this moment…
because soon, you won't know which one of us you are."
—
And then everything went black.