Mirror Image

The road twisted through the hills, barely more than a ribbon of asphalt clinging to the edge of the landscape. Rain had started, not heavy but enough to bead on the windshield, catching the faint glow of the headlights. The sky was thick with clouds, churning in slow, sullen spirals.

Jessica sat in the passenger seat, one hand resting against the window. Her reflection stared back at her, unreadable. She hadn’t spoken much since they left Rome. Neither had Leanna or Olivia.

The monastery loomed ahead, dark against the mountains, a ruin swallowed by time. No lights. No movement. Just stone and shadow.

“It’s too quiet,” Leanna muttered from behind the wheel.

Jessica exhaled. “It always is.”

* * *

The entrance wasn’t difficult to find. That was the first red flag.

The catacombs stretched beneath the chapel ruins, a skeletal maze of archways and dust. But deeper inside, beneath the layers of centuries, something newer had been built.

Jessica ran her fingers along the stone wall. Beneath the grit, beneath the decay, she could feel it, the reinforced plating. It was not just a monastery. It was a bunker.

They found the vault door at the end of a narrow passageway. Olivia knelt at the control panel, pulling cables from her bag.

“Give me a minute,” she said, already working.

Jessica stepped back, gaze sweeping the corridor. The air was stale, thick with the weight of something long buried. Her skin prickled. She had been here before. Hadn’t she? A shiver ran through her spine. She clenched her jaw. Not now. Focus.

A soft hiss. The lock disengaged. The door to the Vanguard vault slid open.

* * *

The air was colder here. It was definitely temperature controlled. Rows of sealed cases lined the walls more for physical storage than digital. Documents, hard drives, and anything Vanguard had wanted to keep off any network were neatly packaged here on the shelves like things meant to be forgotten. A steel gurney sat near the center of the room, its straps still in place, buckles dulled with time.

Jessica swallowed. This was where it happened. Where people had been erased. Where people had been rewritten.

Leanna and Olivia moved quickly, scanning the shelves, rifling through folders. Jessica barely heard them. Her attention had shifted to the far end of the room, to the locked door.

She didn’t know why she was walking toward it. She just was. Her fingers brushed against the panel. The metal was cold. Too familiar.

A flash,a whisper in her mind,

"You don’t get to wake up until they let you."

Jessica inhaled sharply. The room swayed for half a second before snapping back into focus.

“Jess?” Leanna’s voice was distant.

She turned. Olivia was holding an open file, brow furrowed.

“These aren’t just about Dominion,” Olivia said. “They’re about… something else.”

Jessica stepped closer, reading over her shoulder.

Hollow Subjects.

A term she didn’t recognize, but at the same time, she did.

Leanna read aloud, voice low.

"An erased identity is not enough. We need the ability to rewrite entirely, from the neural architecture outward. Total psychological remapping."

Jessica’s pulse pounded against her ribs. She turned back to the locked room. She already knew what was inside.

Olivia glanced toward Jessica, clearly unsettled. "Jess, you okay?" Her voice softened, concern breaking through her usual detachment.

Leanna paused beside Jessica, wary eyes scanning the vault. "Something’s wrong here. You feel it too?" she murmured, voice low, uneasy.

* * *

Jessica moved numbly toward the desk, rifling through cluttered drawers filled with stale paperwork and dust-coated equipment. At the very back, beneath a stack of aging documents, her fingers brushed plastic, an old Vanguard keycard. It felt oddly familiar, cold against her palm.

She swiped it. The door hissed open. The room was small. Empty. Except for the mirror. Except for the recording device. Except for the single chair.

Jessica’s throat went dry. She stepped inside.

The mirror reflected her perfectly. No distortion, no trick of the light. Just her. Jessica’s knees nearly gave out as the screen flickered. Her own voice echoed, mechanical and resigned. She stared, feeling dizzy and disconnected as though reality had begun to unravel around her. Her throat closed tightly, breathing shallow as panic rose, thick and choking. The figure on screen was her, but older somehow, tired, beaten down. The pain in those eyes was too familiar, like looking into a future she desperately wanted to avoid.

"If you're watching this, it means you've figured it out. It means you found me. Or... maybe, it means you're me."

Jessica stopped breathing. The past self on the screen stared straight ahead, expression unreadable.

"I don’t know how many of us there are. But I know they don’t let us live for long.”

Jessica’s knees almost buckled. She gripped the chair. Her fingerprints were already on it. She had been here before. Hadn’t she?

The screen crackled. The past self spoke again.

"I hope you’re smarter than I was."

The video cut out. Jessica stood frozen, the silence crushing. Her reflection stared back from the darkened monitor, distorted slightly by her own breath fogging the glass. She didn’t know who she was anymore, original, copy, pawn. Her pulse thundered painfully in her ears. Slowly, deliberately, she straightened, jaw tightening in defiance. Whoever she had been, whatever they had made her into, it stopped here.