Chapter Ten: Dark Mirror

Chapter Ten: Dark Mirror

            The entire world seemed to be in splinters. Stefan was fighting for his life, and the worst part was he knew he couldn’t even lay a hand on his enemy. The opponent seemed to see every punch and kick he threw, and more than capable of brutalizing him in response. With each vicious punch and shot, Stefan could feel his hold on his own mind slipping. As his left, the other’s memories and personality entered. The last blow, a powerful two-fisted punch, has left Stefan’s face bloody and may have potentially dislocated his jaw.

            Your name is not Stefan Bakrylov, he heard him think. You have no name. You weren’t born to parents who dumped you. You don’t even have parents. Stefan responded wit ha battery of kicks, which his opponents blocked. The next follow-up was a lateral elbow, which the armored man caught. However, this was merely a cover for Stefan’s true attack: emptying an entire clip of automatic pistol rounds into the man’s stomach. While his armor was quite durable, the barrage knocked him momentarily backward. Still, he looked unharmed otherwise. That was just great; of course he had to be bulletproof on top of also being psychic.

            SHUT UP! Stefan thought back. You’re not me. You can’t be!

            Why? The man advanced, opening with a left jab that Stefan deflected. The follow-up blow was a pivot/descending elbow, which caught him in the side. Because there’s only one of you? Haven’t you ever heard of schizophrenia? The uppercut struck Stefan under the chin, lifting him off his feet and throwing him four meters backward into a pile of broken glass. HE felt knives of pain in his arms and back, but he got up and assumed a Muay Thai stance.

            Is that what’s happening? I’m losing my mind? The next blow was a high roundhouse kick that Stefan caught. Twisting hard, he heard something snap, and the man grunted in pain. Stefan didn’t even see the jumping heel kick coming, but he felt the blow wrench his right shoulder and send him down again, driving the pieces of glass further into his flesh. The rivulets of blood running down his arm were now miniature streams, and he could taste more of the stuff in his own mouth.

            Not exactly, the man thought at him. You might say you’re getting it back.

            There you go again, Stefan mused, opening fire with both pistols. You keep saying you’re me, but can you prove it?

            As though seeing your every move isn’t evidence enough, the other answered. But fine. There’s the face…Stefan stepped in close and caught the man by the jaw, slamming his head into a nearby wall.

            You’ll have to do better than that. The nest attack was a knee to the gut, which he followed with an elbow uppercut that knocked his opponent down. The man was almost immediately on his feet, the long black sword in his hand again.

            The fighting style, he pointed out. While I prefer hands to feet, we both analyze opponents to construct a winning strategy.=. The barrage of blows came suddenly, aimed at both his head and ribs. Stefan blocked them, but he wasn’t completely prepared for the slash across his face. The imperfect dodge he used meant most of the blade passed harmlessly past his head, but the tip scored a shallow gash in his forehead. The strike hurt, but Stefan wasn’t going to let that slow him down. He fired the pistol again, this shot aimed at the man’s face. The second him stepped aside, but the bullet still ripped through his cheek. He stared at his doppelganger, his eyes burning with hatred. And then there’s the inexplicable desire to pick fights with superior opponents. A barrage of sword strikes came now, but Stefan caught the sharp blade with his prosthetic arm before it could deal significant damage. Then, he yanked himself closer and slammed an elbow into the other’s chin.

            Still not convinced. Even if there were two of us, why would there be? The man drove a hard knee into Stefan’s stomach, which he followed by slamming his back into the wall. The burning sensation the glass cuts had caused returned in full force, causing Stefan to gasp in pain. The man wrapped his fingers around his throat, lifted him off the floor, and slammed him down with at least a ton of force.

            Do you think you can beat me? Maybe you’re right, the man mused. Maybe we aren’t so alike. That was when Stefan realized his mistake. He’d been trying to fight this guy like he’d have fought himself. And this man wasn’t him. He need to fight his enemy as his enemy would fight himself. And that meant being what he’d feared becoming. Stefan took a deep breath as he felt his own punches slamming into his torso. Egotistical, skilled, favoring punches and mercilessly inclined to hammer enemies into oblivion. Absolutely no mercy in any situation, prone to waiting for an exposed weakness revealed by an opponent’s overexposure. Then fight brutality with brutality of your own. The next punch would be a right hook, he knew, and he caught the attack before it slammed into his jaw. Then, he twisted his left wrist, feeling the sonic vibration blade concealed within the prosthetic extend before he rammed it into the other man’s side. The other gave a gasp of shock, and Stefan took the opportunity to drive a prone knee into his groin. The more Stefan found himself fighting like his twin, the more of his memories entered his mind. His focus was slipping, and he knew it. Even so, he stubbornly persisted, hammering a series of elbows and knee strikes into his other half’s armored body.

            Maybe we are more alike than you think, he said, the bitterness in his voice almost impossible to hide. And that’s bad news. The next blows were punches and elbows, with a right cross immediately setting up a descending lateral. The uppercut blow was next, and elbow hook that jerked his head backward, and he heard something snap. A palm strike again, this time to the chest. Stefan retaliated with a wide slash, this one clipped the other man’s shoulder. He flinched, but that seemed to be his only reaction. The blade hadn’t even penetrated the armor. That mean morgenthium, Stefan realized. This armor was only going to be compromised by extreme force, and that meant a concerted assault to set up a killing blow.

            That the best you have? The man taunted. Stefan was windmilling now, his bladed extremity slicing all across the metal surface while he hammered punches into his face. Still, the other man seemed to be holding up just fine, even in the face of this assault.

            I sincerely doubt you’re worth my best, he replied. You’re not me. You’re not even close. Now I get it. I’m not real, and you made me. I can see it in your eyes; you’re looking at me like you should own me. The kick was earth-shattering, sending Stefan clear through a cement wall, and he felt his right shoulder snap.

            I do own you, he heard his doppelganger say. And I am going to destroy you. The black sword was in his hand again, and he hauled Stefan to his feet before he slammed the weapon into his side.

            Aft quarters

            Alison Shepard was laying in her bunk, tears streaming down her face. Why was it that every time she tried to help someone, she always made things worse? Now, she’d engaged the Lazarus Protocol and tried to save her principal from getting killed. Instead, he’d been forced to sever his own leg and now he was in a coma. Even worse, the scans she’d managed to procure from her employer indicated that the nano-bots inside him, due to surveillance and computation protocols. She was currently talking to her boos, and she was angry. Why did people ask her to do things that they knew where impossible?

            Hope you’re happy, she typed, her fingers impacting the keyboard with vicious force. You might have just killed him.

            What? Why?

            Insufficient energy is being diverted to his emotional matrix development due to the fact that his systems are still running algorithms and recording everything he sees. I still think that using him as a remote odds-maker is nasty, in addition to being creepy and just weird. We need to remove the Omnis programming from his skull if he’s going to win this fight.

            The response was slow in coming, and it didn’t look promising. So you want me to override them? Are you aware that this could permanently destroy our hopes to use the ICRF for the Aguinaldo Initiative? That you’d be destroying everything we spent twenty-three years working toward?

            I don’t care, she typed back. Radcliffe’s last wish was that he be given the freedom to decide, which you fully intend to deny him. You can’t treat him like a pawn any longer; he’s now a bishop at least. I will not allow continued manipulation, and I will disengage those systems if you force my hand. And you’ll be destroying the thing he spent seventeen years working on.

            You wouldn’t dare, he responded. Alison cut off the transmission, her eyes misting again. She didn’t want to do this; she knew it was going to hurt, just like everything else. Didn’t these monsters have any compassion for them? Didn’t they understand what they did they did to humans? People with minds and hearts and lives and souls? She shook her head and opened the system window she’d been looking for.

            “Command: Disengage Omnis Protocols.” The computer beeped.

            “DNA authorization required. Please provide.” She put her finger on the holographic scanner, and the system beeped again. “Recognized: Shepard, Alison, Lieutenant First Class. Operator Valentine. Authorization Tier Ten, Radcliffe, Marsden. Professor. Repeat: Disengage Omnis Protocols. Command processed. Request secondary voice authorization.”

            “Disengage Omnis Protocols,” Alison repeated. “All of them.” The computer beeped and whirred, and then dinged rather annoyingly.

            “Protocols successfully disengaged. Subject 13-A free.” Alison closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.

            “Thank you.” She closed the program and leaned back against the wall. While it might not be much, the surveillance program’s disengagement would provide him with the capacity to deal with his current predicament. She hoped.

            Subconscious neural pathways

            Stefan could feel the blood gushing down his right side, and he knew that even he wasn’t going to recover from a hit like that. His doppelganger was still battering him, driving the weapon deeper in. In everything, he seemed merciless, as though he was trying to brutalize Stefan to death.

            Should have beaten me while you had the chance, he said, punctuating the statement with a punch that actually drove the hilt of the blade through the now-gaping wound. Now you get to feel what it’s like to die for real. Stefan slumped to the ground, and the other man kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling. As he lay on the ground, Stefan saw a medical amputation device next to a table behind him. One with a plasma cutter arm. He turned and hammered a two-foot prone heel kick into the advancing fighter’s gut, and the man doubled over. Stefan reversed the move and rolled to his feet, grabbing the device and ripping the cutter off the rotary cuff. Taking it, he jammed the device into the palm of his left hand, feeling dummy wires extend to interface with the tech. Since the cutter had a plutonium battery inside it, he didn’t have to worry about it draining power from his arm. He began swinging the weapon now, using the handgrip on the side to avail himself of wider mobility. His opponent dodged the first few blows before picking up his sword again. The black alloy seemed to absorb the plasmid energy, preventing the cutter from slicing it in half. Stefan was giving it everything he had now; he knew that he was only steps away from a lethal defeat, and he couldn’t lose. He pushed aside the flood of memories and emotions he was receiving from his other half. He coul’t let his other part control him or drive him to the grave. Not now, with everything on the line. His sword-arm moved in an iridescent blur of energy as he hammered against his opponent’s guard. However, even in his raging assault, he was careful not to overextend himself, keeping his weaknesses covered. Finally, he caught his twin by the neck and stepped in close, swinging the plasma blade down on his exposed wrist. The man screamed in pain as his hand dropped from his arm, smoke rising from the severed extremity. The next blow was a glancing cut to side, followed by a savage disarming strike that sent the black sword flying from his hands. The other man went down on one knee, his eyes staring up at his other self with a look of admiration.

            You did well, he said. As I wanted you to.

            Wanted? Stefan echoed. You wanted this?

            The man nodded. I wanted you to remember what it was to be me without becoming me. You had to be more than just my martial superior. You had to be better, holding back against an enemy you didn’t want to kill. Only after I attacked you with lethal intent could you lash out. And that is precisely what you did.

            So this was all a test? Stefan’s mind spun. That someone would intentionally try to kill someone else to simply make them stronger made no sense whatsoever. But don’t you want to survive?

            The other shook his head. I’m the Hyde to your Jekyll, brother. Your dark side given physical form. Though I saw to it that you were created, in perhaps fate’s most bizarre twist. I wanted you to be better ,and you are. So finish it. We’ve lived long enough in the shadows. You’ve got a spark of humanity I never had, and that makes you the better choice. You’re not perfect; we can never truly be. But you’ve got a chance to set the world to rights, and that’s why I have to die. Once you kill me, you’ll go back to the way things were. But now, since you’ve delved into my mind, you’ll have my memories and skills. And you’ll need them to survive. Stefan looked down at the plasma blade.

            Do I have to kill you? He asked. If you want me to be better, shouldn’t I try to find a solution that doesn’t involve death? There has to be a way to save me withoutdestroying you.

            Killing someone isn’t always a crime, the other admonished. Sometimes the worst thing you could ever do to someone is to let them remain alive. And there is no other way. You must be whole or die. There is no cruelty worse than depriving me of my final wish.

            What about to deal the fatal blow to someone in desperate need of redemption? Stefan thought. That seems worse cruelty to me than anything you just described.

            Just do it, his twin said. You’ve seen what I’ve done. I showed you my memories. Do you really think I don’t deserve to die? The Russian looked down at the plasma cutter. In truth, he knew what the right thing to do was, but that didn’t make doing it any easier.

            Well, when you put it that way He slashed forward with the cutter, watching as his other half’s body slumped to the side. It was a curious thing, to kill oneself. Still, he knew he had to do it, and the cathartic release he felt as his alter ego dropped sent him back to the land of the living with a jolt.…

            Freighter

            Medical Bay

            Stefan was suddenly awake; every inch of him let him know that he had returned to consciousness. From the knives of pain surging down his right leg to the dull, aching throb of his stomach, he knew he wasn’t stuck in his own mind anymore. He was back on the freighter, and it had never looked so good. An IV pillar beside him beeped as he returned to consciousness, and he heard someone in the corridor poking the keypad. The metal door to the bay hissed as it swept aside, and Dani Watkins stepped through.

            “Well,” she said, making eye contact, “look who finally got his head out of the clouds.” He looked around, his eyes taking everything in.

            “So it seems,” he remarked, his hand going to massage his right leg. As his fingers touched the stump, the memory of slicing the limb off came back to him. Even without the leg, he could still feel the nerve endings surging with agony. Such a sensation was by no means new for him, however. Prosthetic-wearers were often familiar with phantom pain. “How long was I out?”
            “A few days,” Dani answered. “We have out payment, and we’re on our way back. And once we get home, we’ll get you a new leg.”

            He looked down at the scarred stump, running his hands along the skin. “This is a good patch-up job. Did Psyn do it?” The girl nodded.

            “She’s really amazing at fixing stuff,” she replied. “But something’s bothering her. I think something screwed with her head. She’s been quiet for the last couple days. Speaking of, how are you?”

            He shook his head. “Hurting. Mixed up. But not terrible. I mean, I’ve lost limbs before.”

            “Guess you could just walk it off,” she suggested jokingly. Stefan’s face didn’t move at all, and it was then that Dani knew something was wrong. “Did you hear me?”

            “I did. It just wasn’t funny.”

            She raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure you’re okay? Ordinarily, you’d have laughed at that. You seem…off.”

            Stefan looked down at the stump and then up at his metal arm. It was strange, having his vision split into a bi-chromatic display. His left eye displayed a red-tinted world, and he knew why: his fight with Anya must have damaged the circuitry somehow. Still, even though he was hurt, he felt a strange coldness in every part of his body. Now, everything in the world was so crystal clear: the government, the rebels, himself, all of it. He raised his eyes to meet Dani’s, and the expression on his face was surprisingly set.

            “Believe me when I say, Miss Watkins, that I’ve never been more myself.”

            Cargo Hold

            Psyn was sitting in a corner, her face twisted in an expression of pain. Ever since her “death” inside Stefan’s mind, she had been experiencing agonizing headaches, and it felt like her brain was exploding. Even worse, her telepathy powers had taken a devastating hit; she wasn’t able to read people without a conscious effort now, and she was hesitant even to try.            

            “Hey, are you okay?” The alien girl looked up at the door, surprised that anyone was checking on her. It was Brooks, without his usual attire. He looked a little more relaxed in his grey t-shirt and military pants, even though she knew he was carrying at least some kind of weapon. Not that it surprised her, but a teammate checking on her seemed…odd. She detected a little bit of derogatory hostility from Kane, recognition of skill from Stefan, female camaraderie with Dani, aloof apathy from Shepard, but Brooks? She hadn’t seen anything from him that suggested more than a casual acknowledgement.

            “Yes,” she said. “I think I’m fine.”

            “Are you sure?” He asked. “You’ve been…here a lot. Are you sleeping all right?”

            “It’s not nightmares,” she said.

            “But there’s got to be some reason for you barely eating,” he told her.

            “Maybe there is,” she muttered. “But I don’t see why you care.”

            Brooks blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

            “Why does it matter?” She pressed, her voice rising now. “You don’t care about me, none of you.” Before he could say anything, her voice rose to a furious crescendo. “You humans are all the same. You say that you have no prejudice, no reason to mistreat us. But everything you do says exactly the opposite. All my life, your people have been calling me a freak. A witch. A creep. And I’m tired of it. And now, to make it worse, I’m stuck on a team with a bunch of you, one of whom verbalizes exactly those feelings.”

            He looked down. “Maybe they do. Maybe humanity is a load of garbage. But individual humans aren’t. Look at Dani; she’s a good girl, though a little crazy. Stefan doesn’t talk a lot about his past, but he’s not that bad. Once you discount the whole flippant homicide thing, of course. Kane’s a jerk, but he’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, Watkins will knock him on his can. She’s good at that. Shepard’s just not fond of being around people, and thus she comes off hostile.”

            “Are you trying to defend them?” Psyn asked, cracking a smile. “Because if you are, you’re pretty bad at it.”  He shook his head.

            “I’m not defending us, I’m telling you like it is. Yeah, we sometimes screw up, and yeah, it can make a huge mess. But we have to learn from our mistakes, and we can’t do that if everyone keeps holding the sins of the world over our heads. So if you don’t want to talk, I can leave. But don’t blame it on the fact that people are scum, because the world being the way it always has is not a valid excuse.”
            She looked down at her feet, wondering exactly how to respond. In truth, she wasn’t sure what to say, and any option seemed bad. To tell the whole truth would be to expose Stefan and all the horrors of his past, which she was certain he’d had no knowledge of. To lie would be to betray the trust of her teammates, and not to verbalize would prevent her from potential treatment. Then, Psyn made a decision.

            “I’ll tell you,” she said, “but I need you to promise not to tell anyone else.” Brooks looked uncomfortable.

            “Okay,” he said. “If you think it’s best.”
            “I do,” she replied. “And you may wish to sit. This one’s going to knock you off your feet.”

            Aft quarters

            Alison Shepard was looking at the screen, smiling through her tears. He’s alive, she thought. And Echo’s not back. He’s complete. Closing her eyes, she stretched out on the cot pulling the blanket up around her chin. Finally, she could sleep. She hadn’t killed him, like she’d feared her move might, and instead she had initiated total recall. Here was hoping he didn’t decide to murder the crew while she slept. His kind were often volatile.