The clone's laughter still echoed in Lisa's skull as Rabbit's fingers flew across three keyboards at once. His makeshift server farm—a Frankenstein's monster of stolen tech—hummed like a beehive kicked into overdrive.
*"Okay, bad news,"* Rabbit announced, crunching a mouthful of stale Cheetos. *"Your evil twin's got *friends*."*
The main screen exploded with surveillance footage:
- A figure in their signature hoodie scaling the NSA data fortress in Maryland.
- Another planting explosives at a Syndicate holding facility in Berlin.
- A third walking calmly out of Zurich's most secure vault... with no alarms triggered.
All identical. All impossible.
Lisa's knife embedded in the wall between two monitors. *"How many?"*
Rabbit swallowed hard. *"At least twelve active clones. But here's the *real* fucked-up part—"* He pulled up a DNA sequencing report. *"They're not just copying you. They're *improving* you."*
The screen highlighted genetic markers: enhanced reflexes, accelerated healing, neural upgrades that made Lisa's own modifications look like beta software.
Lora's scalpel pinged against a metal tray. *"They're building an army."*
---
Lisa cornered Lora by the clinic's back exit, her forearm pressing into the medic's throat. *"You knew."*
The scalpel at Lisa's ribs didn't waver. *"I suspected."*
*"How?"*
Lora's eyes flicked to the tattoo on her own wrist—a barcode half-scratched out, nearly identical to Lisa's. *"Because I was 307."*
The confession hung in the air like gun smoke:
- **Project Phoenix** wasn't just cloning—it was *iterating*.
- Each generation got deadlier. More obedient.
- Lora escaped during her memory wipe. Lisa's batch (400s) were designed to *hunt down* escapees.
Lisa stepped back, the knife in her hand suddenly heavy. *"You're saying I was *programmed* to kill you?"*
Lora's smile was all teeth. *"Joke's on them. I
The clone came for them at 3:17 AM.
Lisa was dreaming of white rooms and scalpels when the first explosion rocked Rabbit's hideout. She rolled off the mattress just as gunfire shredded the wall where her head had been.
*"Rabbit! Status!"*
*"We're *compromised*!"* He yanked Lisa behind a server rack as bullets sparked off metal. *"They pinged your *barcode*—it's a fucking *homing beacon*!"*
Through the smoke, three figures advanced in perfect sync—same hoodie, same stance, same mechanical precision.
The lead clone's mask peeled back, revealing Lisa's face with eerie blankness. *"Directive: Terminate prototype."*
Lisa grabbed Rabbit's wrist. *"Time to ghost."*
She triggered the EMP grenade in her pocket.
The clones convulsed as their neural implants fried—but not before one got a knife into Rabbit's gut.
---
Lora worked under flickering fluorescents, her hands slick with Rabbit's blood. *"This is bad."*
*"No shit,"* Rabbit wheezed, gripping Lisa's hand hard enough to crack bones. *"But hey—*cough*—found something *fun* in the data."*
He spat blood onto the laptop trackpad. The screen resolved into a classified file:
**SUBJECT ZERO**
The photo showed a woman in her 50s with Rabbit's blue eyes and Lisa's sharp cheekbones.
*"Mom?"* Rabbit whispered.
Lisa's vision tunneled. The pieces clicked:
- Their shared genetic donor.
- Why Rabbit could hack Phoenix systems no one else could.
- Why the clones were suddenly *so* interested in him.
Lora tied off the last stitch. *"We need to move. Now."*
Outside, the sound of boots on gravel multiplied.
The clones had brought reinforcements.
---