"They're watching us."
That was the first thought that struck Margaret when she stepped out of Verena's car and into the dim glow of Clara's safehouse.
A single bulb flickered above the entrance, casting shadows across the peeling walls. The air smelled of dust, old memories, and danger.
Clara closed the metal door behind them and locked it with three deadbolts. "No phones. No windows. We're ghosts now."
Margaret turned to her, voice tight. "How did they know we were there?"
Clara didn't answer. She tossed her weapon onto the counter and paced, jaw locked. "It's not Ridgewood anymore. Someone much bigger is backing them now. We stirred a nest we weren't ready for."
Margaret pulled out the final flash drive—the one file they hadn't opened yet.
"The answers are in this," she said, holding it like a ticking bomb.
Kenneth, lying on the couch with a cold pack to his temple, looked up. "Are you sure you're ready for that?"
"No," she whispered. "But I can't stop now."
---
An Empty Room. A Hidden Camera.
The laptop hummed to life.
Margaret plugged in the USB, fingers trembling. A single folder appeared on the screen: PROJECT: MIRROR.
She double-clicked it.
There were video files, audio logs, medical scans.
The most recent file was dated two weeks ago.
She clicked it.
A grainy video filled the screen.
A woman sat in a chair—head bowed, hair matted with sweat and blood. A medical light swung above her, casting harsh lines across her bruised face.
A voice spoke from off camera: "State your name."
The woman looked up. Margaret gasped.
It was her.
But not her now. A younger version. Pale. Terrified. Her arms were strapped to the chair.
"I—I don't remember," the girl whispered.
The voice continued: "You are Margaret Harrow. Subject 7A of the Mirror Initiative."
The younger version blinked rapidly. "What is that?"
"You've been here for three years. We've documented 17 identity shifts, 12 memory suppression events, and four complete personality resets."
Margaret stared at the screen in horror. "That's not possible. I was never—"
Clara stepped closer. "You don't remember because they erased it. You were one of them, Margaret. One of the earliest test subjects before Frank. Before Ridgewood became a façade."
The video continued.
The younger Margaret began to scream, thrashing in the chair. Then, she went still.
Her eyes turned cold.
Unblinking.
Another voice emerged—from the same mouth. "Terminate this session. She's waking up again."
The video ended.
---
Who Am I?
Margaret sat frozen.
Her entire body went numb.
The room was silent, except for the slow ticking of a wall clock.
Kenneth leaned forward. "You were... one of them?"
"I didn't know," Margaret whispered. "My whole life, I thought I was just... normal. They said my mother died of cancer. That I was homeschooled for years. But I always had gaps. Nightmares I couldn't explain."
Clara looked her dead in the eye. "You weren't just any subject. You were the prototype. The reason this project exists. That's why your father sold you to them. And that's why Frank was assigned to you."
Margaret's head snapped up. "Assigned?"
Clara nodded slowly. "Frank was your handler, Margaret. Not just your fiancé. They placed him in your life to monitor your episodes… and control them."
Margaret's world spun.
---
The Watcher's Message
Suddenly, the laptop screen blinked.
Incoming Transmission: UNKNOWN ENCRYPTION
"What the hell—" Kenneth stood.
Before anyone could stop it, the screen lit up with static.
Then—an image.
A man in a dark suit. Shadow cloaking his face.
His voice, distorted: "Margaret, if you're seeing this... they've already begun the final phase. You were never meant to escape. You carry something inside you they need."
Margaret swallowed. "Who are you?"
The voice continued. "Your identity is fractured. That was by design. You are the vessel. The Mirror Project wasn't about Frank. It was about control—splitting a person into parts... and mastering them."
He leaned closer to the camera. "If you want to survive, go back to the beginning. Your childhood home. The truth is buried there. But be warned—Harrow has activated the Watchers. They don't sleep. They don't feel. And they never stop."
The screen went black.
Silence followed.
Kenneth exhaled slowly. "This just keeps getting worse."
---
Return to Ashmont
Later that night, Margaret sat alone by the sink, washing blood from her hands. It wasn't hers. Just old memories that clung to her like rot.
She looked into the cracked mirror above the sink.
For a split second, her reflection smiled back—but her lips hadn't moved.
She backed away.
"Kenneth!" she called.
He came running, gun in hand. "What?"
She pointed to the mirror. "It was… me. But not me. I don't—"
Clara stepped in. "It's beginning again. The identities. The flash drive might have triggered it."
"Then we don't have much time," Margaret said. "We're going to Ashmont."
Clara shook her head. "It's suicide. That town is crawling with Watchers now."
"I don't care. That's where it all began. That's where I'll find the truth."
Kenneth loaded a fresh magazine into his weapon. "Then we go together."
---
A Map and a Message
Before leaving, Clara handed Margaret an old map—weathered, torn.
"Your father had this marked with red ink," Clara said. "It shows Ridgewood's secret tunnels. There's one entrance beneath the Ashmont cemetery. Leads straight to the foundation of the project. If Harrow's hiding anything... it'll be there."
Margaret held the map, heart pounding.
Then she noticed something scribbled on the back.
It wasn't handwriting.
It was her voice—recorded as a child:
> "Don't look in the basement.
Don't touch the mirror.
Don't trust the man with two names."
Margaret looked up, chilled to her bones. "I recorded this... when I was seven."
Clara met her gaze. "That's when they first activated you."
---
A Town That Forgot Her
By dawn, the trio reached the outskirts of Ashmont—a town that once cradled Margaret's childhood and now reeked of shadows.
But something was wrong.
No birds.
No noise.
As they drove down the main road, they passed rows of boarded-up shops, flickering streetlights, and rusted playgrounds.
It felt... staged.
Like a set waiting for a scene to unfold.
"This town is dead," Kenneth muttered.
"No," Margaret said. "It's watching."
A
figure appeared at the edge of the road—a woman in white.
She held a sign:
> "YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED FORGOTTEN."
Margaret locked eyes with her.
And the woman smiled—Margaret's smile.
Then vanished.
Ashmont Cemetery – 4:02 a.m.
The cemetery was older than memory. Cracked headstones stood like crooked teeth in the fog, and the air smelled of iron and rot. Margaret stepped carefully between the moss-covered graves, guided only by the dim red beam of Clara's flashlight and the growing tremor in her chest.
They had parked two streets away to avoid triggering the surveillance drones. Verena stayed behind to monitor from a laptop, providing cover through comms.
> "You're about twenty meters from the underground hatch," Verena's voice whispered in their ears. "Look for the angel statue with broken wings. That's your entry point."
The cold seeped into Margaret's skin, but it wasn't just the weather. Something about this place… felt alive.
Clara found it first.
The statue stood alone, half-sunk in a crooked plot, its head severed, wings snapped at odd angles. Beneath it—just barely visible—was a rusted metal hatch.
Kenneth knelt and began to work on the old lock. "This wasn't designed for casual visits," he muttered.
The ground beneath them groaned. Somewhere nearby, an owl screeched—and then… silence.
Clara gripped her pistol tighter. "We're being watched."
> "No heat signatures within 20 meters," Verena said. "But you've got a limited window. Get in and get out."
Kenneth clicked the final latch. The hatch creaked open with the sound of bone cracking.
A dark hole yawned below.
Margaret took a breath and climbed down first.
---
Underground Facility Access Tunnel
The air was thick and damp. Their boots echoed on concrete as they moved in silence. The narrow tunnel descended into darkness, curving like a ribcage. Along the walls were faded signs:
> SUBJECT CONTAINMENT
MIRROR CHAMBER – AUTHORIZED ONLY
EXPERIMENTAL WING A – INACTIVE
Margaret touched one of the walls, fingers trailing dust.
She remembered.
Running here. Crying here. Bleeding here.
"Margaret?" Kenneth's voice snapped her out of it. "Are you okay?"
"No," she whispered. "But I need to see."
Clara checked her map. "Next left leads to the archive room. If Harrow left anything behind, it's there."
They turned the corner—and stopped.
The hallway was coated in scratches.
Long, deep gouges carved into concrete. Some were shaped like words. One was unmistakable:
> STAY BURIED.
Kenneth muttered, "Something went wrong down here."
Clara raised her gun. "Or it never stopped going wrong."
---
The Archive Room
Inside the room was row after row of dusty cabinets, toppled shelves, and shattered glass.
Papers littered the floor like bones.
Margaret sifted through them, searching for something—anything that explained why her father had done this to her… and to Frank.
Clara opened a locked drawer and pulled out a tape recorder.
She pressed play.
> [Julian Harrow's voice crackled through.]
"Mirror Subject 7A displays unprecedented stability... except during regression. During those moments, a third personality emerges—one we did not program. One that seems to watch the others."
"We've begun referring to it as The Watcher. It does not speak. It records. It… waits."
Margaret froze.
A third personality?
She'd always thought it was just her and the version she didn't understand—the one Frank feared.
But there was another?
> "It doesn't obey conditioning," Harrow's voice continued. "We don't control it. It may not even be part of her. We believe it may be a remnant from the original Mirror Protocol… or something older."
The tape ended with a click.
Clara looked at Margaret. "You okay?"
Margaret's lips trembled. "I think I've always known. I just… didn't want to believe it."
Suddenly, the lights flickered.
A deep, mechanical hum started vibrating through the floor.
> "You triggered something," Verena hissed through the comm. "There's movement on all sensors. You've got hostiles incoming—maybe Watchers. Get out now!"
Kenneth grabbed a stack of folders and stuffed them into his bag. "Let's go!"
---
Chase Through the Tunnel
The hum grew louder.
Lights in the tunnel blinked one by one—in reverse.
Clara spun toward the sound. "MOVE!"
They ran.
Behind them, metal groaned and shrieked. Something massive was moving.
Margaret glanced back—and saw a figure in black crawling along the ceiling like an insect. No face. Just a blur of shadows and glinting teeth.
"Don't stop!" Kenneth shouted.
They burst through a side door into a rusted stairwell, slamming it shut behind them. The sound of scraping metal stopped—like it was waiting.
Kenneth braced the door. "That wasn't human."
"It was a Watcher," Clara said grimly. "The next generation."
Margaret's hands shook as she gripped the railing. "It knew my name."
---
The Hidden Lab
They reached a lower level not on the blueprints.
The air was colder here.
More sterile.
The lights flickered on automatically—revealing a glass chamber at the center of the room.
Inside… was a bed.
Straps hung from the sides. Electrodes dangled from the ceiling.
And on a screen above it: MARGARET HARROW – STAGE III STABILIZATION
"No," she whispered. "This can't be real."
Clara approached the console. "They kept this open. Ready. As if… they knew you'd come back."
Margaret stepped into the chamber.
Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind her.
Gas hissed from vents above.
Clara screamed. Kenneth pounded on the glass.
Margaret dropped to her knees, coughing.
And then she heard it.
Her own voice. Whispering inside her head.
> "Let me out."
> "I've been waiting."
> "You brought us home."
---
Outside the Glass
Clara screamed into her comms. "VERENA, override the system!"
> "I'm trying—it's a closed loop. This room was programmed for Margaret alone. If she can't override it from inside, we lose her."
Kenneth smashed the glass with his elbow. "Come on, damn it!"
Inside, Margaret stumbled toward the console.
Her reflection in the chamber wall didn't match her movements.
It smiled.
And said: "You're ready."
Margaret placed her hand on the scanner. It lit up.
System override accepted.
The door unlocked.
Clara and Kenneth dragged her out, coughing but alive.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Clara said.
Margaret didn't speak.
Because something had changed in her eyes.
---
Final Scene – As They Escape
Verena's voice echoed through their earpieces.
> "They're closing in on the cemetery exit. You've got maybe two minutes."
The trio raced through the tunnels.
Margaret kept hearing whispers that no one else reacted to.
> "We remember you."
"Yo
u were born here."
"You belong to the mirror."
As they climbed out through the hatch, the statue above them cracked.
Margaret looked back one last time—and saw herself standing at the bottom of the tunnel.
Smiling.
Then the hatch slammed shut.
LOCATION: VERENA'S SAFEHOUSE – LATE NIGHT
They made it back by dawn.
The safehouse smelled of sweat, gunpowder, and static. Margaret sat hunched on the edge of the couch, a blanket draped over her shoulders—but she barely felt the warmth. Her hands trembled, still covered in faded dust from the chamber.
Kenneth stood near the window, arms crossed, scanning the woods outside with bloodshot eyes. Clara had locked every door. Every window. Traps were set. Sensors armed.
But Margaret didn't feel safe.
Because now… she didn't even trust herself.
---
"What happened down there?"
Kenneth finally asked, breaking the silence. "You weren't the same when we pulled you out."
Margaret lifted her gaze.
"I… saw her."
Clara furrowed her brows. "Saw who?"
"Myself," Margaret whispered. "But not just a reflection. It was... another me. She spoke. She knew things I've never said out loud."
Kenneth looked to Clara, but neither had answers.
Margaret pressed a hand to her chest. "She said I brought her home. That I was ready."
Verena, tuning into the conversation through a laptop feed, spoke up. "Whatever triggered in that chamber—it activated something deep in your neural pathways. Some latent piece of programming, maybe. Harrow called it 'Stage III Stabilization.'"
Clara paced. "If this is part of their final plan, then Harrow knew Margaret would return. Maybe he wanted this all along."
Margaret clutched her head.
> "Let me out."
"You're not done."
"You promised."
The voices were louder now.
Inside.
Not memories.
Real-time.
---
FLASHBACK: Ridgewood – Years Ago
Frank sat in the observation room, his body trembling under a floodlight. Cables ran from his temples, feeding into a monitor pulsing with waves.
Julian Harrow stood on the other side of the glass, arms folded. Margaret—young, silent—watched from behind him.
> "Frank's fracture is widening," Harrow said. "Soon Ethan will be dominant."
> "And if he resists?" young Margaret asked.
Julian didn't even blink. "We have you for that."
---
BACK TO PRESENT
Margaret jolted upright. "They trained me to control Frank. That was my original purpose."
Clara narrowed her eyes. "You were the leash?"
"Yes," Margaret said quietly. "And now I think I've been activated."
Kenneth leaned forward. "Meaning?"
Margaret clenched her fists. "Meaning I might not be the only one in here anymore."
---
The Journal
Clara brought Margaret a worn leather-bound notebook she'd swiped from the facility.
It belonged to Dr. Julian Harrow.
They flipped through pages filled with erratic handwriting, medical diagrams, and codewords.
One entry stood out.
> "Project MIRROR began as an experiment in identity manipulation. But it evolved.
Margaret wasn't just a subject. She was the trigger. The key to unlocking latent aggression in others."
"We placed her with Frank to test compatibility. The results were… extraordinary. Whenever Margaret's emotions peaked, Frank's alternate personas emerged faster, stronger, and more obedient. Like she was his remote."
Margaret read the next line aloud.
> "Margaret is not a passenger. She is the driver."
Her mouth went dry.
All this time she thought she was a victim.
But she was part of the weapon.
---
WARNING: INCOMING TRANSMISSION
Verena's laptop beeped.
Encrypted file. Unknown source.
Kenneth glanced at Margaret. "Open it?"
She nodded.
A video began.
Julian Harrow, now visibly older, sat in a sterile lab with red emergency lights flashing behind him.
> "If you're seeing this, Margaret, then you've reawakened the dormant programming. Which means The Watcher has returned."
He leaned closer to the camera.
> "You were created for a purpose. Not to destroy… but to decide. The Watcher within you is not an error. It is judgment. Pure observation. It watches... and it chooses who survives."
Margaret's stomach dropped.
> "Every subject who fractured did so because of you. Your presence... your love... your pain. You were the final test."
Julian smiled faintly.
> "Frank survived longer than the others because you cared for him. But even he... eventually broke."
The screen flickered.
> "You're not just part of the program, Margaret. You are the program."
---
SILENCE.
No one spoke for a full minute.
Finally, Kenneth said what they were all thinking. "He didn't just experiment on you… he built you."
Margaret looked down at her trembling hands. "Then who the hell am I?"
Clara stepped closer. "You're still you. Even if you were made for something else… you chose to fight back."
Verena's voice cut in, sharp: "Margaret, you need to hear this. My scans picked up a secondary layer inside that old flash drive. A trigger sequence… and it's counting down."
Kenneth froze. "A countdown?"
"Yes," Verena replied. "There's a location embedded. It's broadcasting a signal to all Watchers across the city. You triggered it the moment you left that chamber."
Clara's voice dropped. "How long do we have?"
Verena's fingers typed furiously. "Six hours. After that, the full protocol deploys."
Kenneth turned to Margaret. "What happens then?"
Margaret answered softly.
> "Everyone I love will die."
---
Final Scene: The Trigger Protocol
On the other side of
the city, deep beneath a forgotten lab…
Rows of cryo-pods began to hiss.
Inside each one, something moved—no longer human.
Their eyes snapped open.
One word flashed on every monitor:
> AWAKEN.
LOCATION: VERENA'S SAFEHOUSE – 6 HOURS LEFT
The countdown had started.
Margaret stared at the numbers ticking down on Verena's terminal. Six hours until "Trigger Protocol" unleashed something across the city. Something worse than Watchers. Something programmed with her DNA.
Kenneth wiped sweat from his brow, pacing.
Clara slammed a fresh magazine into her pistol. "We're running out of time. If these Watchers go active, we're looking at an urban purge."
Verena pulled up maps, data grids, satellite feeds. "I traced the signal's epicenter—it's not Ridgewood. It's Blackthorn Research Complex, abandoned after the government shut them down twelve years ago."
Margaret's blood turned to ice. "That's where I was born."
---
FLASHBACK – BLACKTHORN, YEARS AGO
Glass tanks filled with fluid. Floating bodies in fetal positions.
A young girl in a white dress—Margaret—screaming as needles pierce her spine.
> "We're building the perfect conscience," Julian Harrow's voice echoes.
"Not human. Not machine. Something in between. She will choose who lives."
A mirror. A girl's reflection. But not her. Something older. Watching.
---
BACK TO PRESENT
Margaret turned away from the screen, nauseous.
"This is what they've been preparing me for. My entire life."
Kenneth knelt beside her. "Then let's destroy it. Burn Blackthorn down. Whatever lives there, dies there."
Clara agreed. "We breach the complex. Stop the upload. Shut down every sleeper unit before the signal completes."
Verena looked uneasy. "There's just one problem."
Clara: "Of course there is."
Verena pointed to a line of code. "The mainframe won't respond to remote override. It needs a genetic handshake—someone linked to the system biologically."
Margaret closed her eyes. "Me."
Kenneth grabbed his gear. "Then we protect you. No matter what."
---
BLACKTHORN COMPLEX – 3 HOURS LEFT
The complex loomed in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by decaying fences and dead trees. Surveillance drones blinked to life as they approached, but Clara's jamming device shorted them out.
They breached the perimeter.
Inside, the halls were silent—dusty, rust-colored, the air thick with memories and something far worse.
Margaret walked ahead, every step shaking.
They passed glass tanks. Many were shattered. Empty.
But some weren't.
In one pod, a woman's face pressed against the glass. Lips blue. Eyes open.
> "They never woke up," Margaret whispered. "Not all of them."
They reached the control core.
A circular room with dozens of screens—red lights blinking furiously.
In the center: a biometric scanner. Awaiting her.
---
THE MAINFRAME ACTIVATES
Margaret placed her hand on the panel.
The room lit up. A voice boomed overhead.
> "Subject 001 acknowledged. Initiating final judgment protocol."
Verena's laptop lit up remotely. "It's working—we have partial control. But Margaret… it's reading you like a code. The system sees you as the executioner."
Margaret's vision blurred. Her pulse spiked.
She saw herself again—The Watcher—standing across the room.
Smiling. Nodding.
> "Choose."
---
EMERGENCY WARNING: SLEEPER UNITS ONLINE
Suddenly, alarms wailed.
Kenneth barked, "What the hell is that?!"
Clara fired at the door. "We've got incoming!"
Watchers stormed in—twisted humanoids with Margaret's DNA signature. They moved in sync. Precise. Deadly.
Kenneth was grabbed, but Margaret shouted.
> "STOP."
The Watchers froze.
Margaret walked between them.
Clara stared in disbelief. "They're… obeying you."
Verena whispered, "You're the override. You are the protocol."
---
THE FINAL CHOICE
On the main screen:
> [SHUT DOWN ALL UNITS?]
[INTEGRATE AND UPGRADE SYSTEM?]
[PURGE HUMANITY THREAT?]
Three options.
Three futures.
Kenneth limped toward her. "You can end this."
Margaret's hand hovered over the terminal.
But then... she heard her father's voice again—echoing in her head.
> "You were made to decide who deserves to survive."
Her eyes closed.
She remembered Frank. His love. His fear. His pain.
She remembered herself—the parts that weren't programmed. The parts she chose to become.
"I choose…"
She slammed the console.
> [SHUT DOWN ALL UNITS – CONFIRMED]
The lights dimmed.
One by one, the Watchers collapsed.
The building began to quake.
---
ESCAPE – 15 MINUTES TO DETONATION
"System meltdown in progress," the AI warned. "Evacuate immediately."
The team ran.
Flames erupted from the walls. Sirens screamed.
As they emerged into daylight, the complex exploded behind them—fire soaring into the grey sky.
Margaret didn't look back.
She didn't need to.
---
FINAL SCENE: ONE HOUR LATER
They regrouped at the safehouse.
Margaret sat in silence, staring at the burn on her palm from the console.
Clara handed her a drink. "You did it."
Kenneth said, "So what now?"
Margaret looked up slowly.
"Now we find out who else my father lied to."
A pause.
"And then we end them."