The Vampire Project

The fortress was stable.

No alarms. No breaches.

But every scout was on alert, tracking a suspected infiltration attempt on the lower levels.

Comms buzzed once.

Li.

"Intruder's down. Neutralized."

Sofie paused mid-step. "Where?"

"Maintenance corridor. Sublevel Three."

Slacovich moved to speak, but Li's voice cut in again, calm, but sharper this time.

"You might want to come down anyway."

A brief pause. Then she added:

"...It's laughing."

They arrived to find Li standing alone, blade still warm.

The air in the hallway was tainted with the foul, burnt scent of a fallen Reaper.

The body was nothing but twisted remains. You couldn't make out what it was meant to be.

Except the voice.

"Hehe… I just believe in people…"

"Hehe… believe… people…"

"Hehe…"

That laugh, repeating.

Crisp, sweet, familiar.

Tyler froze.

Sofie's lips parted slightly.

Diego cursed under his breath.

Slacovich muttered, "That's from her last public speech… the one before----"

"Yeah," Li said, arms folded, eyes unmoving. "That laugh's been on every archive loop since the blood drive campaigns. Volton used it. Fed it into this one."

The voice kept going.

"Hehe… believe… hehe…"

Tyler took a single step forward,

but didn't strike, didn't speak.

Just stood there.

Listening.

Li's voice dropped a notch.

"It wasn't trying to fight me. Not really. It was probing for intel on the main servers."

Then Li added. "It wanted to be heard."

They left the body where it fell.

Let the cleanup team handle the rest.

But even after they walked away,

even after Li cut the comm-

The laugh still echoed in their heads.

Not because they missed her.

But because Volton knew exactly how that voice affected them.

And that meant one thing:

This was just his opening act.

Tyler didn't speak when he left.

No goodbye.

No report.

Not even a glance.

He waited until the others had settled into their posts,

until Sofie turned to her private quarters

and Slacovich dropped into another security call.

Then he walked---

down the east corridor.

Past the checkpoint.

Past the perimeter.

The guards didn't question him.

They saw the look in his eyes and turned the other way.

By midnight, he was inside enemy ground.

Volton's tower loomed like a scar against the night,

half of it hidden beneath the earth.

Not a citadel.

Not a fortress.

Just a building with no soul.

The kind of place where ghosts aren't trapped,

they're built.

Tyler bypassed the upper levels.

The clean white walls.

The marble lobbies.

All fake.

He took the freight shaft.

Down,

past reinforced steel floors,

down past polished elevators

that didn't ding anymore.

No guards met him.

No alarms.

Just that low, quiet hum,

the kind you hear in laboratories.

The kind that buzzes beneath your skin

like a secret trying to crawl out.

He didn't know what he expected.

Maybe a room.

A nameplate.

A laugh carved into a wall.

But it wasn't anything like that.

It was silence.

Clean, sterile, suffocating silence.

Until---

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

A rhythmic sound echoed from the corridor ahead.

He paused.

Listened.

Another sound joined it.

Drag.

Click.

Breath.

Tyler didn't make a sound.

He moved through the underbelly of Volton's tower like a ghost

trailing memories in place of footsteps.

Every corridor looked the same.

Sterile white walls. Recycled air. Lights that hummed like they were hiding secrets.

He didn't know where he was going.

He just followed the ache.

Then---

A voice.

"Do you think you're the first?"

It slithered out from the dark. Velvet, deliberate, almost kind.

Tyler stopped mid-step.

"The first to sneak in. The first to think your pain makes you unique. The first to chase a shadow hoping it'll lead to a heartbeat."

A figure emerged.

Lean. Pale. Dressed in Reaper black, but no bulk. No armor.

Zevien.

Volton's most dangerous creation wasn't forged for brute strength.

He was designed to speak.

To twist.

To fracture.

He smiled like he'd read Tyler's thoughts before they even formed.

"You miss her laugh, don't you?"

Tyler's eyes darkened. His fists clenched.

Still no blade.

Zevien tilted his head slowly.

"It was… charming. Sweet. Filled with so much hope. I'm told it took exactly seventy-four public appearances to perfect."

He took one step forward.

"You want to destroy the thing wearing her voice. But what if I told you…"

"…that it wasn't built for war?"

Another step.

"What if it was built for you?"

That was when Tyler moved.

Fast. Precise.

Blade out in a single breath.

But Zevien was already gone---

moved like mist, reappearing a few feet away, hands still in his coat.

"You're angry. I get it. I really do."

His voice lowered, like a confidant.

"But rage is such a clumsy weapon, Tyler."

The next moment, his hand moved, barely a flick,

and a razor-sharp whip of energy snapped from his wrist like a snake made of light.

Tyler deflected, barely. Sparks lit the corridor wall.

Zevien's smile didn't fade.

"Let's see how long you last… before her voice breaks you completely."

Tyler's blade hissed against Zevien's energy whip,

the clash throwing sparks across the sterile walls.

But Zevien wasn't trying to win.

He was testing.

Probing.

And when Tyler lunged forward, full fury, eyes wild---

Zevien stepped back, calm as dusk.

"You're fast. Focused. Beautiful in motion."

Another parry.

"But predictable."

He tapped two fingers to a control node embedded beneath his sleeve.

A hiss of pressure.

A soft vent of synthetic air.

Then a door opened behind him.

Tyler halted.

His breath stilled.

And from the misted shadows… she stepped out.

Ara.

Hair tied in that careless knot she wore during public charity events.

Black boots. Tactical jacket. Smile easy, wide, alive.

Alive?

No.

Not alive.

Tyler didn't blink.

He couldn't.

Her voice came, soft, sweet. That same old lilt.

"Tyler?"

"Tyler, is that really you?"

"What are you doing here?"

His grip faltered. Just for a second.

Zevien's voice purred beside her.

"Do you like her, Tyler? She's quite the accomplishment."

Ara, the Replica, tilted her head.

"You look tired," she said gently, stepping closer. "Let me help you."

She reached out her hand.

Same fingers that once traced his jaw.

Same warmth in the voice…

But the eyes.

The eyes were wrong.

Too clean. Too steady.

Dead.

Tyler's blade trembled.

Zevien smiled wider, stepping back into the shadows.

"You wanted closure. So tell me---"

"Will you destroy her?"

"Or will she destroy you?"

Tyler didn't speak.

Couldn't.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, eyes locked on the figure before him----

Ara, but not Ara.

A perfect skin. A hollow soul.

She stood still, her hand still extended,

that soft smile never wavering.

Behind her, Zevien moved like a conductor stepping off the stage.

He smoothed his coat.

And said it.

"Kill him."

The Replica blinked once.

Then moved.

Fast.

Faster than any human should.

Tyler barely deflected the first strike, her blade, a twin of his own, flashing toward his ribs.

Metal screamed as they clashed, sparks lighting up the lab corridor.

His eyes widened.

She wasn't just mimicry.

She knew how he fought.

She had his rhythm.

Another strike, this time from above. He ducked, rolled, came up on one knee.

She was already spinning, fluid, controlled, precise.

"Tyler," she said mid-swing, "why are you doing this?"

The voice didn't change.

It didn't falter.

"Why are you hurting me?"

His heart twisted.

She's not real.

He blocked again, blade against blade, inches from her eyes.

They looked just like hers.

And that voice…

"We promised, didn't we?" she whispered. "Always together."

Zevien watched from the shadows, one hand resting lightly against the wall.

"Every line, every tone," he mused aloud. "Built from your memories. Stitched from her interviews. Sculpted from your grief."

"How long can you hold out, I wonder?"