Alex held his ground, blade gleaming in the dim light.
"You're not him," he said. "Whatever this is, whatever trick they're playing—it won't work."
Shadow stepped out of the pod, barefoot on the forest floor, movements stiff but controlled. He stretched his neck, then his fingers, like testing the limits of a borrowed body.
"No tricks," he said, voice steadier now, deeper. "You killed the original. That was necessary. But they pulled me out before it was too late."
"They?" Alex asked.
Shadow smiled—no warmth, all teeth.
"You already know who. The ones pulling your strings. The ones who let your parents die while you served them."
Alex didn't flinch, but his grip on the blade tightened.
Shadow circled slowly, eyes scanning him, studying.
"They think you're still useful. That you'll keep doing what you're told. But you're slipping, Captain. You lied to them. Hid me. You're one of us now—whether you like it or not."
"I'm nothing like you," Alex spat.
