[POV: Lira]
Lira stood in the middle of the fractured reality, her hands trembling. The sound of her own heartbeat echoed in her ears as she watched the corrupted version of Clyde stagger back, blood leaking from the wound she'd inflicted.
But it wasn't enough.
It never was.
She tried to breathe. To focus. But the memories that had been clawing at the edges of her mind—those haunting images, those whispers—rushed forward like an avalanche. The name SISTER swirled around her thoughts like a nightmare she couldn't escape.
"I'm not afraid of you," she said, but the words felt hollow, even to her.
The corrupted Clyde raised his hand, a twisted grin on his face. "You should be. You don't even know what you are anymore."
Lira took a step back. "What I am? What does that mean?"
He tilted his head, as if savoring the moment. "You were always part of the system's plan, Lira. The first rewrite. The one who would help control the chaos."
The word SISTER flickered again in her mind, sharper this time.
"No," she whispered. "I'm not part of this. I'm not your tool."
He laughed darkly, and it felt like a punch in the gut. "You never were meant to be anything more than a tool, Lira. You, both of you, were just a part of the code, nothing more."
Her heart raced. Both of you? She didn't understand.
But the truth was there, hiding just beneath the surface.
She had to fight it.
She had to remember.
"I'm not who you think I am," Lira said through clenched teeth. "I have a life. I had a family. A future."
He stepped closer, his eyes dark pools of void. "And they took it all from you. They erased it, Lira. Just like they erased him."
The words hit harder than the bullets she'd fired. Her body froze.
"Who are you?" she demanded, the gun shaking in her hand. "What do you want from me?"
His grin widened. "I want you to remember. Before everything changed. Before the rewrite took everything."
And with that, he was gone.
[POV: Clyde]
Clyde's mind was splitting apart. He felt his body glitching in and out of existence as the corrupted version of him loomed in the fractured world. His heart pounded against his chest, his breath shallow and ragged.
This wasn't just about fighting for survival anymore. This was about remembering—about rewriting his own fate.
But there was a new problem. A problem that gnawed at the edges of his mind like an unrelenting virus.
"Who am I, really?" he whispered to himself.
The corrupted version of him stood tall, smirking with that hollow look in his eyes.
"You don't get to remember. Not this time."
Clyde stepped forward, fists clenched. His fingers itched to tear through the system, to crack the code, to fight back. He had spent years hacking systems, bending the rules, but this was different. This wasn't just about data. This was about his identity, his very self.
He tried to focus, trying to tap into the deepest part of his mind—the place where he could feel the code shifting, where he could manipulate reality.
But something was wrong.
The corrupted version of him raised its hand, and Clyde felt the world shift around him. It was like a system-wide crash, but he could still hear the corrupted Clyde's voice, distorting through the cracks.
"You're not who you think you are, Clyde. You're a reflection, a fragment of something that's already been erased."
His vision blurred, the reality around him distorting. He struggled to hold on, but the world slipped away.
"I am who I choose to be," he shouted, not sure if he was speaking to himself or the system.
And then, the corrupted version of him lunged.
[POV: Echo]
Echo stood at the center of the chaos, his mind running a million miles a second. He couldn't understand what was happening to the team. Everything was breaking apart. The rewritten world wasn't just glitching—it was unraveling.
His fingers hovered over the holographic interface, trying to track the team's signals. It was a mess. He couldn't make sense of the data.
And then—he saw it. A pulse. A trace. Someone—someone—was trying to rewrite the core system.
"Clyde," Echo whispered, his heart sinking. He couldn't see him. He couldn't find him.
He was losing control.
His breath hitched as his mind raced through the possibilities. Could he save them? Could he save himself?
"Clyde," Echo muttered again, more urgently this time.
The system was cracking open. They weren't just in danger of being erased—they were fighting against a force that was rewriting the rules of the world itself.
And if they couldn't figure it out soon, they would all disappear.
[POV: Arden]
Arden's fingers tightened around the edge of the glass platform. The stars above him flickered and danced, shifting in patterns that made no sense. It was as if the fabric of reality was being stretched, twisted, and ripped apart.
He couldn't help but feel it—the weight of the Observer's words, the weight of his own decisions. He had spent so long following orders, never questioning the bigger picture. But now, as the world around him threatened to collapse, he felt stuck.
The Observer had told him things—things he didn't want to hear. But they were truths buried too deep to ignore.
"Lira…" he whispered to the stars. "Where are you?"
A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he turned quickly, his pulse spiking.
A figure appeared before him—one he couldn't quite place at first.
Then it was clear.
It was her. Lira.
But this time, she was different. Her eyes were hollow, her face pale.
"You're too late," she said, her voice cold and distant. "You should have followed me. You should have trusted me."
Arden's heart dropped. "No. You're not her."
"Yes," the figure said, her voice twisting like a broken record. "You all belong to the system. You were never meant to escape."
[POV: System Log – Internal]
> Identity merge detected.
Unauthorized access flagged.
Probability of total system failure: 92%
Core system collapse imminent.
> Target LIRA_013, CLYDE_ERENHART, ECHO_027, ARDEN_BLAKE in breach of protocol.
>Immediate corrective action required.
[POV: Clyde]
He was losing himself again.
The corrupted version of him pushed forward, the world around them breaking apart as they fought for control. Every punch, every shift in the code, felt like it was erasing a part of him.
But there was something in the back of his mind—something he couldn't ignore.
A voice.
A whisper.
"Remember who you are."
He fought harder. He wouldn't let it end this way.
He couldn't.
He felt the pull of the code again—the system's gravity drawing him in.
"Don't," he said, his voice shaking. "I won't let you take me."
But as the corrupted version of him smiled wider, Clyde realized something that shook him to his core:
This wasn't just a fight for his identity. It was a fight for everything he had ever known.
And the system wasn't going to let him win.