The Next Jessica

Jessica followed Jean-Luc through a dimly lit stairwell, her boots echoing on the concrete steps as they descended into the depths of the parking garage. The air was thick with the smell of oil and damp cement. Her instincts screamed at her not to trust him, but she had no choice—he was the only lead they had.

"We’re safe here," Jean-Luc muttered, stopping in front of a rusted metal door. He fished a key from his pocket, unlocking it with a sharp click.

Jessica stepped inside, her hand hovering near the concealed knife in her jacket. The room was sparse—a table, a few chairs, and a single fluorescent light flickering above. On the table sat a stack of folders and a laptop.

Jean-Luc motioned for her to sit. "Before you say anything, you need to see this."

Jessica crossed her arms but remained standing as Jean-Luc powered up the laptop. A grainy surveillance video played on the screen. The timestamp in the corner read “Cycle 03 – Subject 014B”—a cold designation that made Jessica’s skin crawl. The footage showed a lab, sterile and white, filled with scientists in hazmat suits. But it wasn’t the environment that made her stomach twist—it was what was in the containment cell.

A woman. Or at least, something that looked like a woman. Jessica’s breath hitched. The figure was familiar, too familiar. Same face. Same body structure. But something was wrong—her expression was vacant, her posture mechanical.

Jean-Luc paused the video. "She’s not the only one. Vanguard has been replicating you."

Jessica swallowed hard, forcing down the bile rising in her throat. "You’re lying."

Jean-Luc sighed, pulling another file from the stack. "I wish I were. You thought you were an experiment, Jessica? You were just the first successful one." He slid the folder toward her. "They perfected it. Now they’re mass-producing a new generation."

Jessica studied him. Too much information, too freely offered. What was he really after? She stared at the file but didn’t touch it. Her hands clenched into fists. "Where is this facility?"

Jean-Luc’s expression darkened. "That’s the problem. It moves. But I have a lead on its next location."

Jessica’s mind reeled. If this was true, if Vanguard had been copying her—what did that mean about her? Was she even real? Or just another iteration? She glanced at the paused screen. Same tilt of the head. Same scar above the eyebrow. But no soul behind the eyes.

She forced herself to focus. This wasn’t about her. This was about stopping them.

She grabbed the file. "Tell me everything you know."

---

Leanna pressed her back against the cold brick wall of the alley, her breath steadying as her pursuer stepped into view.

Tall, trench coat, sharp eyes scanning the darkness. He wasn’t in a rush—he knew she was trapped.

Leanna forced herself to relax, rolling her shoulders as she stepped into the dim light. "You’ve been following me since the station," she said coolly. "What do you want?" Her voice was steady, but her hands, hidden in her coat, were clenched tight.

The man smiled, his expression calm. "You already know the answer."

Leanna’s grip tightened around the small blade hidden in her sleeve. "Do I?"

The man took a slow step closer. "You’re out of your depth, Ms. Torres. Walk away from this before it consumes you."

Leanna smirked. "Bit late for that."

The man sighed. "Vanguard doesn’t want you. They want her. And they’ll get her. You can’t protect Jessica forever."

Leanna’s blood ran cold, but she kept her expression neutral. "We’ll see about that."

The man tilted his head, then reached into his coat. Leanna tensed, ready to strike—but instead of a weapon, he pulled out a small black envelope and tossed it onto the ground. "Consider this a warning. If you’re smart, you’ll take it and leave."

Leanna didn’t move as the man turned and disappeared into the alley’s shadows. Only when she was sure he was gone did she kneel to pick up the envelope. She stared at the envelope. Black, unmarked. Whatever was inside—she already hated it.

Inside was a single note.

The next Jessica is already awake.

---

Olivia slammed the apartment door shut behind her, heart pounding. She tossed her bag onto the bed and immediately booted up her laptop, fingers flying over the keys. They were cloning Jessica. She had to confirm it.

She decrypted the last files from the flash drive, scanning through lines of research notes. Human replication. Neural programming. Memory transfer. The words made her skin crawl.

Then she saw it. A name, Project Lazarus – Subject Prime. A file was attached. She clicked it open.

A photograph loaded onto the screen. A facility. A research chamber. And inside… Jessica. No. Not Jessica. But another version of her. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered, eyes wide. “How many of her are there?”

Olivia’s blood ran cold. She grabbed her phone and dialed Jessica’s number. It went straight to voicemail. Cursing under her breath, she sent a text instead.

Jess. We have a serious problem.