The air in the Upper East Side penthouse was unnervingly still. It didn't smell like the salt and rust of Sloane’s warehouse; it smelled of expensive cologne and a cold, metallic ozone that made the hair on Sloane’s neck stand up.
"Sloane, be careful," Rebecca’s voice whispered in her ear. Rebecca was stationed in a van a block away, surrounded by monitors. "The security feed just went dark, but the bio-scans are off the charts. It’s not just one person in there anymore."
Sloane stepped through the shattered glass of the balcony doors, her obsidian suit blending into the shadows. She adjusted her glasses, her eyes scanning the grand marble foyer.
Then, she saw them.
Standing in a semi-circle were six men. They were identical: tall, sharp-featured, wearing matching tailored suits. They didn't move. They didn't breathe. They just stood there like mannequins.
The Human Clone: Silas Vane.
"Silas?" Sloane called out, her arm lengthening slightly as she prepared for a fight. "We know what happened at the impact site. We can help you."
All six versions of Silas turned their heads at the exact same second. It was a mechanical, synchronized snap. But it wasn't the clones that made Sloane’s blood run cold.
It was their eyes.
Their pupils had disappeared. Their eyes were rolled back into their sockets, leaving only a haunting, milky white.
"They aren't home, little girl," a smooth, oily voice echoed from the top of the grand staircase.
Sloane looked up. A man was leaning against the mahogany railing. He wore a dirty prison jumpsuit that sat in jarring contrast to the luxury of the penthouse. He wasn't big, and he didn't look strong, but the air around him seemed to warp and ripple.
Human Mind: Desmond Thorne.
"You," Sloane hissed, her suit rippling with her rising anger. "You’re the one doing this to them."
"Doing what? Giving them purpose?" Desmond smiled, and it was the most repulsive thing Sloane had ever seen. "Silas was a lonely man. A man of many faces and no friends. Now, he’s a symphony. And all he had to do was stop... thinking."
Desmond snapped his fingers.
The six clones moved at once. They didn't run; they blurred. One lunged for Sloane’s legs, another for her throat.
Sloane reacted with the speed of a coiled spring. She flattened her body, sliding under the first clone's grasp like a sheet of silk. She whipped her arm out, her fist expanding into a massive, heavy mallet that slammed into the chest of the second Silas.
Oof. The clone flew back, hitting the wall. But he didn't groan. He didn't feel pain. He bounced off the marble and charged again, his white eyes fixed on her.
"They don't have a will of their own, Sloane!" Rebecca shouted through the comms. "They're just extensions of Desmond's mind! You're fighting a hive!"
It was a nightmare. Every time Sloane punched one, two more were behind her. She was stretching, twisting, and flattening, her body becoming a chaotic web of black limbs as she tried to fend off the synchronized assault. She turned her legs into springs, leaping to the ceiling and sticking there, but the clones simply piled onto each other, forming a human ladder to reach her.
"Stop fighting it," Desmond called down, his voice humming with a hypnotic frequency. "It’s so much easier to just... let go. Imagine a world where you don't have to worry about your bike, or your grades, or being a 'freak.' Just give me your mind, Sloane. I'll make it beautiful."
Sloane felt a sudden, sharp pressure behind her eyes. The penthouse started to blur. The obsidian suit flickered, momentarily turning back into her regular hoodie.
"No..." Sloane gasped, her knees buckling.
"Sloane! Don't listen to him!" Rebecca’s voice was a scream in her ear. "Think of something loud! Think of the warehouse! Think of me!"
Sloane bit her lip until she tasted copper. The pain grounded her. She looked up at the six clones closing in, their white eyes reflecting her own terrified face in her glasses.
Focus. Resilience.
Sloane didn't aim for the clones this time. She stretched her arms out, grabbing the massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a heavy marble statue near the door. She didn't pull herself toward them—she pulled them toward the center of the room.
"If you want a symphony, Desmond," Sloane grunted, her muscles screaming with tension, "try some heavy metal!"
She slammed the two massive objects together in the middle of the clones.
CRASH.
The explosion of crystal and stone sent the clones flying. The distraction was enough to break Desmond's psychic tether for a split second. The clones collapsed like puppets with their strings cut.
Sloane didn't wait. she knew she couldn't win this head-on. She launched herself at the balcony, her body stretching into a long, thin line as she caught the wind.
"This isn't over, Sloane!" Desmond’s voice echoed in her mind, even as she flew blocks away. "I have the others. I have the Ice. I have the Fire. And soon... I'll have the Girl who Bends."
The Van: 11:30 PM
Sloane tumbled into the back of the van, her suit receding as she collapsed onto the floor, shaking. Rebecca immediately threw a blanket over her.
"He... he was in my head, Becca," Sloane whispered, her eyes wide. "He didn't just want to fight me. He wanted to own me."
Rebecca gripped her hand. "We saw the footage. The clones... their eyes. It’s total brainwash. If he gets close enough to touch you, or if you listen to him for too long, you're gone."
Sloane sat up, her glasses slightly cracked but still holding together. She looked at the monitors.
"He said he has the others," Sloane said, her voice turning cold. "The Ice and the Fire. He’s collecting them like trophies."
"Then we have to get to the next one first," Rebecca said, her face set in a determined scowl. "We need to find the sixth survivor before Desmond does. The police are reporting strange sounds coming from the old radio towers in New Jersey. Screams that can shatter glass."
Sloane stood up, her body feeling the "Snap-Back" lag, but she pushed through it.
"Human Sound," Sloane said. "Let's go."
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