The walk to the Custodial Wing felt like entering a dream Nova didn't remember having. The halls were dim, lit by strips of neon veins embedded in the floor—glowing a ghostly cyan beneath their boots. Every step they took echoed, but never overlapped with Kael's—his steps were too silent, too trained.
Too familiar.
Nova didn't ask questions. Not yet. Her brain was still digesting the idea that there were thirty-two copies of her walking around, and at least one of them had a kid.
How many lives have I lived without living them?
The air in this part of the Core felt heavier, thicker—like it remembered too much. The walls weren't pristine here. They were scarred. Burn marks. Bullet holes. Dried streaks that might've been blood.
Kael moved ahead, scanning his wristband against a locked door. It opened with a reluctant groan, revealing a chamber lined with cryo-pods.
Some shattered.
Some empty.
Some still occupied.
Nova paused in the threshold, her stomach turning.
Each pod held a version of her.
Slight variations in facial structure. Different scars. Some looked peaceful, others haunted. A few were visibly restrained—tubes still feeding synthetic memories into their skulls.
"God," she whispered. "They're all me."
Kael didn't correct her this time. "They were."
She stepped closer to one—the label etched onto the glass read: UNIT 05 – STATUS: CORRUPT. The face inside was contorted in agony, eyes wide open, pupils replaced with flickering code.
"Why didn't you shut them down?"
Kael turned away. "Because part of you survived in all of them. Terminating them would've been like killing you over and over again."
"But you didn't save them," she snapped.
"No," he admitted. "We saved you."
Nova swallowed a wave of nausea. The room seemed to shift under her feet, the sterile lighting melting into hues of violet and sickly green. Glitches, again. But milder this time. Like background noise.
"Why are you showing me this?" she asked.
"Because you need to understand what you are," Kael said. "Before the others find you."
The lights dimmed abruptly. Red strobes replaced the cyan. A siren began to wail—a low, rhythmic pulse that dug into the bones.
Kael drew his sidearm. "Motion in Corridor B. She's closer than we thought."
Nova turned toward the door. The drone that had followed them began to jitter in the air, its signal faltering.
Then it shattered mid-air, sliced cleanly by something unseen.
Kael grabbed Nova's wrist and yanked her back just as the lights went out.
Total black.
Then—
A pair of eyes, glowing black with threads of red static, appeared in the doorway. Watching.
Not blinking.
"Seventeen," Kael hissed.
But it wasn't just her.
Another pair of eyes. And another. More.
Nova's breath hitched. She could feel them—copies of herself—each one radiating a different kind of wrong.
"Run," Kael growled.
"No," Nova said, her voice cold. "Not this time."
The power returned in a pulse—just in time to show the first clone lunge through the air, blade drawn.
Nova caught her mid-leap, flipped her over with reflexes that weren't hers—and slammed her into a console, glass exploding around them.
The others surged forward like a wave.
Kael opened fire.
Nova didn't remember how to fight like this. But her body did.
And for the first time since waking up, she stopped resisting it.
She became AXIOM.
...How was that even possible?
The image of the child haunted her. Tiny, maybe five years old. Messy hair. Eyes too big for their face. Clutching Unit 17's hand like they'd done it every day since birth. And 17—her—looked back at the camera with that same haunted expression Nova wore now.
Was that maternal? Protective? Or just... programming?
Kael was silent beside her, reading her thoughts too well.
"Seventeen broke protocol. Took classified memory strands, repurposed them to simulate bonds. That child was never part of the project," he said.
Nova narrowed her eyes. "Then how do you explain it?"
"She probably doesn't know. Neither of them might."
"That's not an answer."
Kael paused, then nodded. "No, it's not."
They reached a reinforced door. It pulsed with a faint amber hue. Kael placed his palm against the reader. A soft chirp. Identity confirmed.
DOOR ACCESS: KAEL VIRE – LEVEL 7 CLEARANCE
AUTHORIZED ENTRY TO: CUSTODIAL MEMORY VAULT
The door hissed open with a low rumble, revealing a cathedral-like chamber beyond.
Nova's breath hitched.
Vaults—hundreds of them—lined the walls like sarcophagi. Some open, wires dangling like viscera. Others sealed, humming faintly. Inside each: a person. Or a copy of one. Suspended in stasis. Monitored. Categorized.
"Jesus," Nova muttered.
"Not quite," Kael replied. "This is where the past lives. And sometimes dies."
Nova stepped forward. The glow from the pods made her skin look spectral, translucent. She approached one, drawn by instinct.
The woman inside was her.
Not like her. Not close to her.
Her exact face. Same scar above the brow. Same jawline. Same tension in the brow, even in sleep. But her hair was longer. Braided. A small tattoo curled behind her ear—one Nova didn't have.
She touched the glass.
"Unit 08," Kael said behind her. "Tried to rewrite her identity as a civilian. Escaped to Sector Delta. Lived a quiet life. Garden. Dog. Fake name. We found her a year later. She surrendered without resistance."
Nova looked back at him, cold. "Why bring me here?"
"Because they're waking up," he said. "All of them."
Something in his tone shifted. Not fear. Not anger.
Urgency.
"And they're not just clones anymore," he added. "They're rewriting themselves—fragmenting your memories into new personalities, new agendas. Some want answers. Others want revenge. And a few..."
He hesitated.
"...a few want to finish the mission."
Nova crossed her arms. "What mission?"
"You'll remember soon."
"Stop saying that like it's a gift."
"It's not. It's a contingency."
Before she could ask, a klaxon rang out. Harsh. Sudden.
ALERT: MEMORY POD 17 – STATUS CHANGE
SIGNAL LOST
SUBJECT OFFLINE
A pod in the far end of the chamber dimmed. Its contents gone.
Nova moved fast, Kael close behind.
The pod's glass was shattered from the inside. The inner restraints were torn apart like wet paper. Burn marks along the base. No blood. Just a hollow shell where someone had been.
17 was gone.
Again.
"Security breach confirmed," Kael said grimly. "She's in the system."
Nova felt a pulse behind her eyes. Not pain—signal. A distant ping, like sonar. A memory trying to surface.
And then—
A flash.
A rooftop. Rain hammering down. Unit 17 in front of her, screaming.
"I won't go back. Not again!"
A gun. A flicker of hesitation.
Then darkness.
Nova stumbled back, grabbing a nearby panel to steady herself.
Kael caught her by the elbow. "What did you see?"
"I... I don't know. Her. A fight. I think I let her go."
"You didn't. That was Unit 12. Different memory strand."
Nova pulled her arm away. "How many versions of me do you expect me to keep track of?"
"All of them," he said. "If you want to survive what's coming."
They sealed the vault and rerouted all access logs. Kael moved like someone used to cleaning up disasters.
Nova, though, was still reeling. Her mind wasn't just remembering — it was syncing. Flashbacks were arriving like broken code fragments, latching onto her brain like leeches.
Every time she blinked, she saw another version of herself.
Some smiled.
Some screamed.
One laughed while holding a severed head.
She was starting to wonder if she was the real glitch.
"Where do we start?" she asked once they hit the lift.
"Where 17 started," Kael said. "The Eastern Rim. Sector 9."
Nova raised an eyebrow. "That's a quarantine zone."
"Was."
"And now?"
"It's gone dark. No signals. No drones. Just... static."
Nova folded her arms. "You're not saying she caused that, right?"
"I'm saying she might be building something there. Or looking for something."
Kael's tone was heavy with things unsaid. She didn't press him.
Not yet.
The transport was quiet. Sleek. Ghosted radar.
Nova sat at the edge of the seat, eyes locked on the clouds streaking past. Kael typed silently on a holo-slate, fingers twitching with tension.
"I don't get it," she said finally. "If 17 broke protocol, why didn't you terminate her?"
Kael didn't look up. "I was ordered not to."
"By who?"
He hesitated.
Nova leaned forward. "Kael. Who gave the order?"
Kael finally looked at her. His eyes were steel.
"You did."
The transport descended over Sector 9.
Or... what used to be Sector 9.
The place was ash and silence.
Burnt-out buildings. Collapsed towers. Twisted steel like skeletal remains. Entire blocks looked melted. The soil itself shimmered unnaturally — warped by plasma or worse.
And the sky...
The sky was wrong.
Pinkish-purple. Roiling clouds with hexagonal patterns crawling across them like viruses.
Nova stepped out into the dust. Her HUD flickered.
ERROR – LOCATION DATA INCONCLUSIVE
NO SIGNAL – NO TIME INDEX
WARNING: TEMPORAL DISTORTION DETECTED
"Temporal distortion?" she muttered. "You didn't mention that."
"I didn't know until now," Kael replied.
He pulled a black sphere from his coat and tossed it forward. It hovered, blinked, and then began to emit a low-frequency hum.
A moment later, a ripple formed. Like air bending.
And out of the distortion came... a structure.
Slick, black metal. Organic curves. No seams. Like it had grown rather than been built.
"What is that?" Nova breathed.
"A Nest," Kael said grimly. "Unit 17 is replicating old architecture from the AXIOM project. These places are grown from memory fragments and temporal threads. This shouldn't exist anymore."
Nova's voice dropped. "But it does."
"Because she's not just remembering," Kael said. "She's reactivating protocols."
Nova stepped forward toward the Nest, the air shimmering around her like heat off metal.
As she reached the threshold, her eyes blurred. Another flash.
Flashback.
Nova (or was it 17 again?) stood before a younger Kael.
"Project AXIOM can't continue," she whispered. "You know what they did."
Kael's expression was unreadable. "You were made for this."
"I was made to obey. I'm choosing to live."
Then — the flash of a grenade. Screams. A fire consuming a lab. Nova dragging someone out.
That child again. The one from the footage.
"Stay with me," she whispered to the kid.
"Promise?"
Nova's real-world voice cracked. "I... I remember..."
"Nova!"
Kael's voice jolted her back.
She was on her knees, nose bleeding. The Nest was pulsing — glowing like a heartbeat.
And a voice rang out from within.
Her own voice.
Or... 17's.
"You should've let me die, Nova."
Kael raised his weapon.
Nova didn't move.
Because deep down...
She wasn't sure 17 was the villain anymore.
The voice echoed through the Nest like a ghost filtered through static.
"You should've let me die, Nova."
It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It was her voice — layered, broken, almost... betrayed.
Nova's ears rang as if someone had slammed a church bell inside her skull. She stayed on her knees, blood dripping slowly from her nose into the dirt. The ground pulsed under her palms, warm like skin, humming with an unnatural rhythm — like a heartbeat with no body.
Kael aimed his plasma pistol at the Nest's entrance, steady hands contradicting the storm behind his eyes. "Nova, say the word."
But she didn't. Couldn't.
Her own voice had turned against her — and it sounded tired. Not evil. Not violent.
Just... done.
The Nest shimmered again, and from its shifting form emerged a shape — humanoid, tall, wearing a suit of living tech that blinked with deep indigo veins. Her visor dissolved like water, revealing a familiar face. Same bone structure. Same scar under the eye. Same gaze, only colder, more focused.
Unit 17 stepped out of the shadows like a reflection pulled free from a mirror.
Nova stood slowly, wiping her nose, ignoring the way her hands trembled. "You're not supposed to exist."
17 tilted her head. "Neither were you."
"Why here?" Nova asked. "Why Sector 9?"
17 glanced up at the corrupted sky. "Because this was the last place I felt real."
Kael moved to flank, keeping his weapon trained.
"Your protocols are corrupt," he said. "We can bring you in. Clean the slate. Reintegrate your memory matrix."
17 gave a small, bitter laugh. "You mean erase me."
Nova stepped forward. "We can fix this. We don't have to fight."
17's eyes narrowed. "You still think you're the original, don't you?"
Nova's breath caught.
The silence that followed was thick and heavy.
"I saw your memories," 17 continued. "I remembered everything. Not just the missions. The failures. The truths buried in the simulations. You think they shut me down for breaking protocol?"
Kael said nothing.
"Tell her," 17 hissed. "Tell her what you know, Kael."
Nova turned to him, heart thudding.
"Kael...?"
He looked at her, then at 17. His jaw clenched.
"They used us," Kael said. "All of you. The Novas. The Seventeens. The E-series. You weren't clones. You weren't programs. You were all versions of the same person, pulled from different timelines."
Nova stared. "What?"
"You're not a copy of her," Kael said softly. "She's not a glitch of you. You're both real."
A silence fell between the three, interrupted only by the eerie hum of the Nest.
Nova's thoughts spun out like spirals of broken code. If they were both real... if they were both Nova...
Then who had the right to exist?
Her, with the fake memories of a loyal agent?
Or 17, with fragmented recollections and a raw will to survive?
Nova took a shaky step forward. "Why kill the lab techs, then? Why burn the memory bank?"
17's eyes flickered. "Because I found something they didn't want me to see."
She pulled something from the Nest — a glowing shard of data crystal.
"The original AXIOM protocol wasn't about defense or strategy," 17 whispered. "It was about choice manipulation. They were trying to write a formula — a way to predict human emotion and rewrite it. Love. Loyalty. Faith. All quantifiable."
Nova blinked. "They were programming free will?"
"No," 17 said. "They were trying to erase it."
Suddenly, the sky cracked like glass.
A high-pitched wail filled the air. All three looked up as the purple clouds parted in a spiral.
And descending from the rupture... was a drone swarm.
Not ordinary drones — these were AXIOM-class Sentinels, long thought destroyed. Each shaped like metallic wasps with glowing red sensors and plasma stingers, swirling in formation.
"Company," Kael muttered. "And not the good kind."
"Did you lead them here?" Nova asked 17.
"I didn't have to," 17 replied. "They were always watching."
The Nest's surface lit up with glyphs. 17 stepped back into its shadows, disappearing like vapor.
"Wait!" Nova shouted.
17's voice echoed faintly. "If you want answers, meet me where it started. Protocol Core. Sublevel Theta-0."
The Nest sealed itself shut like a living wound closing.
Nova turned to Kael. "Sublevel Theta? That's—"
"Underground. Buried beneath Central Command," Kael said. "We'd need clearance from six dead people and the access codes of a ghost."
Nova grinned despite herself. "So... Tuesday?"
The drones dived.
Kael opened fire, his pistol letting off blue streaks that sliced through three drones instantly.
Nova's armlet flared as she summoned her pulseblade — an energy blade that flickered like neon lightning. She sliced through the nearest wasp with a vertical arc, spinning low to avoid incoming fire.
"Still got it," she muttered.
Kael grabbed her arm. "We need an exit vector!"
Nova pointed to a ruined subway shaft nearby. "There. Underground. Might lead us out of signal range."
They ran, dodging fire, blades singing, sparks flying as the air filled with chaos. One drone clipped Nova's shoulder — she rolled, gritting her teeth, and stabbed upward to take it down.
They dove into the shaft just as a plasma bolt vaporized the wall above them.
Inside the tunnel, it was dark. Wet. The air smelled like rust and ozone.
Nova leaned against the wall, panting.
Kael checked her shoulder. "You okay?"
"Just singed. Not my first brush with death this week."
He gave her a tired smile. "Still cracking jokes."
She nodded. "It's the only thing that keeps the nightmares from sticking."
Kael pulled out a capsule, cracked it, and sprayed a foam over her wound. "This'll numb it. For now."
She looked at him. Really looked.
"Did you know all of it?" she asked. "About the project... about me?"
He hesitated. Then nodded.
"I didn't tell you because I thought... if you knew the truth, you'd break."
Nova shook her head. "You don't get to decide what breaks me."
A beat passed. Then she smiled faintly.
"But thanks for trying."
They sat there for a while. Just breathing. The hum of distant drones slowly faded as they sank deeper underground.
Somewhere above them, a false sky was closing.
Somewhere below, a hidden truth waited to be found.
Nova didn't know who she was anymore. Or if she ever really did.
But for the first time in years...
She was ready to find out.