He couldn't move.
The pod in front of him hissed softly, mist curling over the glass like a whisper. Inside floated a man—his height, his face, his jawline.
His eyes.
"This can't be real…"
Riven stepped back, turned to the next pod.
Another one.
And another.
Row after row.
Versions of him. Subtle changes. Scars in different places. Slightly older, younger, leaner. One even had a cybernetic eye.
All of them labeled.
SUBJECT 9-A9-B9-C…9-K
And finally:STATUS: ACTIVE – 9-X
His designation.
Riven.
"I'm not the first."
"I'm just the one that woke up."
Suddenly it clicked.
The instincts. The reflexes. The hunger to build. The way tech spoke to him like memory instead of discovery.
They weren't skills.
They were leftovers.
Data baked into his brain from… what? Clones? Copies? Past lives?
Or failed tests?
He pulled up the stolen file from the android he spiked. Decrypted it with a fresh algorithm.
A hidden video file played.
A lab. Clean. Stark.Men in suits.A row of pods—these pods.
And one voice, calm and cold:
"Only one needs to survive. The rest are insurance."
Riven's pulse slowed.
Then he heard something move behind him.
A hiss. A scrape.
One of the pods was opening.
And something—someone—was waking up.