ACT IV INTERLUDE 1: THE MYSTERY OF CAITLIN'S COMET (PART ONE)

Molly-Cat and Ambercat both dreamt they were the Left Twins. In their shared dream, this wasn’t a strange thing; it felt natural, like a secret they alone understood. They remembered always being to the left of Amberlee and Molly-Lee, always watching them from that position, and feeling like it gave them some quiet sense of control. Amberlee, radiant and confident, had always been the one to lead, and Molly-Cat admired her deeply. She always followed in her sister’s footsteps, whether it was through their shared dream of stardom or building a fashion empire together. Amberlee, ever the star, always dreamed of being a singer first, a movie star second, and a fashion mogul last—but it all blended seamlessly. Molly-Cat dreamt of those glamorous lives, a kaleidoscope of red carpets, stadiums filled with cheering fans, and fashion houses that bore their names.

Amberlee’s dreams sparkled like a series of magazine covers brought to life, each more dazzling than the last. In her world, she was famous for her voice—an unstoppable force in the music industry, her songs echoing across planets, her face immortalized in films. Her dreams were bold and brimming with ambition, shared with Molly-Cat, who always pushed her to do more, to be more impulsive. "C’mon," Molly-Cat would say, nudging her sister with that playful grin, "you’re Amberlee Olavi—live a little!" Together, they built a career from stage to screen, until finally settling into the world of fashion, creating their own label that draped itself over the galaxy’s elite. But even in her dream, Molly-Cat knew she was always chasing Amberlee, always following her lead, basking in her glow.

Ambercat’s dreams, though, spun in a different direction. She was an athlete, a powerhouse in the world of professional Siege, driven by the thrill of competition. Ambercat wasn’t interested in fame or fashion—her world was one of precision strikes and calculated moves, of three-point shots made in zero gravity with impossible grace. She remembered the roar of the crowd, the pressure of the Big Game, and how she won it all under the guidance of Richard—no, not Richard, she corrected herself—God Love Omega. He had been her coach, pushing her beyond her limits, and she had become a legend, breaking records that no one thought could be touched.

Molly-Lee’s dreams were quieter, more isolated. She had always been the outlier, the one who went her own way. In her dream, she enlisted in the military, then joined law enforcement before becoming a private investigator. Her life was a mystery, much like the cases she solved, and she lived alone, quietly waiting for her sisters to come to her. She missed them deeply, but she never reached out—never. It was as though she were waiting for them to figure out the clues she left behind, to solve the puzzle that was her life. Molly-Lee was the black sheep of the family, distant but never far in thought. Even in her dreams, she wore her solitude like a badge of honor.

Amberlee was the first to stir. Her mind worked slowly, piecing together where she was or how she’d gotten here. Blinking into the dimness, the faint hum of machinery around her felt oddly familiar. It was... a bunk. Her heart rate spiked for a moment, but before panic could set in, she heard the soft breathing nearby.

Molly-Cat. The recognition hit her like a warm wave—of course, they were together. They always were.

Amberlee shifted in her top bunk, leaning over to peer down at the figures below. Molly-Lee and Ambercat lay there, blinking sleep from their eyes. The four of them exchanged silent glances in the hazy light, the air thick with something... unsettling. Familiar, yet strange.

Something was wrong. They shouldn’t be here, like this. But beneath the confusion, the connection between them remained unshakable.

“Molly-Cat?” Amberlee’s voice was quiet, tentative as she tested the waters.

Molly-Cat blinked up at her, recognition flooding her face. “Amberlee...?”

Relief washed through Amberlee. They didn’t need to understand. They knew each other—maybe not from the same place, not from the same time, but they were in this together. All four of them.

From the lower bunk, Molly-Lee rubbed her eyes and scanned the room. “Do... do any of you remember where we were before this?” Her voice held that familiar edge of curiosity, the hint of a mystery begging to be solved.

“I remember...” Ambercat murmured, already thinking through possibilities like she was running tactical simulations in her head. “We were somewhere else... it was different. Something's off.”

A heavy silence settled over them. It wasn’t just confusion they felt, but the sense that they shared something deeper, something they couldn’t yet explain.

Molly-Lee’s sharp eyes caught the shift first. She sat up, pointing toward the floor beside the ENCEPHALON console. “Wait...” Her voice trailed off, her gaze locking on the body sprawled there.

Amberlee was off the bunk in an instant, cold dread gnawing at her gut. “Oh no,” she muttered as she knelt beside the body.

Emily. Her body was a ruin, with two gaping, fist-sized holes blasted through her chest, and her head nearly severed from the final, fatal shot. She was gone. There was no mistaking it.

“Is she...?” Ambercat’s voice was barely audible. She crouched beside the body, her hand hovering as if touching it would make the nightmare real.

“She’s dead,” Molly-Lee confirmed, though her voice carried the weight of something heavier, like guilt. “She must’ve died trying to protect us.” Her detective instincts kicked in, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. “Look at her. The way she was facing the ENCEPHALON...”

They all turned toward the console. It was wrecked—blown apart by the same railgun shots that had killed Emily—but that wasn’t all. One section of the console lay exposed, its contents missing.

“What’s gone?” Molly-Cat asked, squinting at the wreckage.

Amberlee’s fingers grazed the exposed wires, her mind racing. “It’s not just about the console being shot,” she said slowly. “Someone took something. This wasn’t random.”

Ambercat leaned against the console, arms crossed, her brows drawn together in a deep frown. "Okay," she started, voice cutting through the tension like a blade, "I don’t mean to disrespect the dead or anything, but are we all just going to ignore three things?"

The others glanced up, surprised by the sudden outburst, but Ambercat continued without waiting for a response.

"One, we’re all wearing these stupid clone sleeves instead of actual clothes." She gestured down at the plain, sterile suits clinging to their bodies. "Two, we’re covered in dried blood." She lifted her arms, showing the rusty patches streaked across her forearms and legs. "And THREE—" Her voice rose, irritation clear. "We’re all two feet shorter than we’re supposed to be!"

The room fell silent as the weight of her words sank in. Amberlee, still pacing, stopped mid-step and frowned, looking at herself. She hadn’t noticed it before in the chaos, but now that Ambercat had pointed it out, the difference was obvious. Everything was off—the way her limbs moved, the way her feet barely touched the ground when she sat on the bunk. She wasn't her full height.

Molly-Cat glanced at her sister, then down at herself, her hands trailing over the clone sleeve. "I... I thought something felt wrong." She laughed nervously, trying to mask her unease. "But I just figured I was still waking up or something. Didn’t think we were, you know, kids."

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"Are we though?" Molly-Lee cut in, her detective instincts surfacing, arms crossed. Her eyes flicked over each of them. "Are we actually in the bodies of children, or are these just scaled-down versions of our clones? Because I feel like me, just… smaller."

Amberlee looked around at her sisters, considering Molly-Lee’s words. “I don’t know... What’s the difference?”

Ambercat ran a hand through her hair, pacing now. “Biologically, I’ve got no idea how old we are. We could be hours old. Hell, we are hours old. But we feel… different. Like we’re not kids, but we’re not full-sized either. We’re miniatures of who we used to be.”

Molly-Cat sat on the edge of the bed, swinging her feet, her eyes wide in thought. "Is this what we're stuck with? Or can we, I dunno, grow into our old selves again?"

Amberlee shrugged, her usual cool, detached demeanor faltering. "I don’t know. But life’s gonna be real weird once we get out of here." She glanced at her sisters with a wry smile. "I hope we stick together, though. Feels like we’ve got a second chance to figure this out."

Molly-Lee nodded, her voice more serious. "Yeah, whatever we are—clones, scaled-down, kids—I guess that doesn’t change who we are inside. But we need to get out of here and figure it out."

Ambercat snorted. "I’m just saying, if we’re clones, they could’ve at least made us the right height."

They all shared a nervous laugh, but the lingering unease remained. None of them knew what they were—yet.

Molly-Lee moved with quiet purpose, covering Emily’s body with a sheet, her expression unreadable. She took a moment to close her eyes and mutter something under her breath—a kind of silent goodbye, maybe, or something else entirely. Then, without a word, she knelt beside the body, reaching into the pockets and compartments of Emily’s suit. One by one, she pulled out the items she found: a one-shot battery charger, three OneShot batteries, a pneumatic pile driver glove, and finally, a thermal cutter.

She frowned, holding up the cutter for the others to see. "This must be what was used to hack at our hair," she muttered, turning the device over in her hands.

Ambercat ran a hand through her unevenly cut hair, looking sour. "I knew it. It feels like someone took a thermal cutter to my head."

Molly-Lee glanced over at Amberlee. "You’ve got any clue how to fix this mess?"

Amberlee crossed her arms, considering them both. "Yeah, I know how to do this shit," she said with a sigh, taking the thermal cutter from Molly-Lee’s hands. "Sit down, Ambercat. Let’s give you something that actually works."

Ambercat hesitated but eventually flopped into the chair, resigning herself to the situation. Amberlee, with a steady hand, powered up the cutter and set to work. The hum of the tool filled the room as Amberlee moved swiftly, confidently shaping Ambercat’s unruly locks into something sharp, tough, and undeniably cool. The sides were shaved down to the skin, leaving just enough on top for a fierce, short style.

"There," Amberlee said, brushing away the last stray hairs. "You look like a fighter now."

Ambercat stood, running her hands over her freshly buzzed sides and giving an appreciative nod. "Alright, not bad. I can work with this."

Next, Molly-Lee reluctantly took a seat. Amberlee approached her with a slightly softer touch, carving through her tangled mess of hair with precision. She left it neck-length, cutting it so the hair had plenty of volume, and shaped the bangs so they hung just low enough to cast a shadow over Molly-Lee’s sharp eyes.

Molly-Lee caught her reflection in a nearby surface and smirked. "Better. Now I don’t look like I got dragged through a vent."

Amberlee wiped down the cutter and tucked it back into her belt. "Well, if we’re going to take back control of this mess, we might as well look the part."

The group began to venture through the dim, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the cold metal walls. Each step they took away from the ENCEPHALON felt like a step closer to figuring out their place here, but also further from understanding who—or what—they had become. They were smaller, different, and there were too many unanswered questions swirling around them. Molly-Cat, Amberlee, Ambercat, and Molly-Lee stuck close to one another, their minds racing, but none wanted to be the first to voice their fears.

It wasn’t long before they stumbled upon the FabLab. The door slid open with a faint hiss, revealing a treasure trove of high-tech devices, crafting tools, and enough raw materials to make anything they could imagine. It was as if the room had been waiting for them.

"Oh. My. Stars," Molly-Lee muttered, her detective's cynicism slipping for a moment. "This is... perfect."

Ambercat, her eyes wide with excitement, immediately started toward the nearest fabricator, her hands running over the advanced machines, practically vibrating with potential. "Look at all this gear. We can make anything we want in here!"

Amberlee grinned, already scanning the room for the biggest, most impressive piece of equipment. "Alright, let's suit up. No more blood-soaked clone sleeves."

With the big smartblade humming to life, Amberlee got to work. She moved with precision, using the machine to cut and shape material for her own outfit. When she was done, she stood in a sleek, form-fitting ensemble, built for adventure. Tough yet flexible, with plenty of room to store whatever tools or weapons she might need.

Ambercat fashioned her clothes with the same practicality she applied to everything. Her exploration gear was functional, with various pockets and attachments for survival tools. She looked like she was ready to go off-world on an expedition.

Molly-Lee, true to her private-eye instincts, put together an outfit that emphasized stealth and flexibility. Dark, muted tones, with tactical design. The perfect balance of combat readiness and secrecy.

Molly-Cat, however, went full camouflage. Her outfit was designed to blend in anywhere she might need to go—perfect for sneaking through hostile environments unseen. She was the most nervous about what was waiting for them beyond the walls of this lab, and it showed in her decision to be the one to scout first.

"This is serious," Molly-Cat said, taking the cloaking device and turning it over in her hands. "I’m going alone. I need to see what we’re up against, who killed Emily... I need to know if we’re safe, if you’re all safe." Her voice wavered a little as she looked at her sisters.

"Molly—" Amberlee started, but Molly-Cat was already shaking her head.

"I’ll be fine," she insisted. "You guys can have fun here, make more stuff. I’ll protect us. That’s what I’m good at."

She slipped the cloaking device on, disappearing from view as she left the room, her quiet footfalls the only sound marking her departure. The others exchanged worried glances, but there was nothing they could do. Molly-Cat was stubborn, and once she’d made up her mind, there was no stopping her.

Not long after, Molly-Cat called them, her voice a tense whisper through their comms. "You need to get back to Nervous. Now. Something’s... happening."

When the four of them returned to the clone printer, their eyes were immediately drawn to the glow coming from the machine. On the output bed lay a body, curled in the fetal position, a woman with long dark hair, clad in a clone sleeve just like theirs.

They approached cautiously. As they peered at the face of the woman, recognition hit them simultaneously.

“Hajime?” Amberlee whispered.

“Shin?” Molly-Cat asked, confused.

“Kaishi?” Ambercat murmured, eyebrows raised.

“That bitch!” Molly-Lee growled, her voice full of old resentment.

The room fell into silence again, each of them grappling with what this could mean. Whoever she was, her presence complicated everything.

Amberlee took charge, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at the others. “Before anything else happens, we need to stop wasting time. All four of us working on the same tasks is stupid, especially now.” She gestured toward the woman lying on the printer bed, already moving on. “If we want to get out of this alive, we need a plan.”

Molly-Cat, ever the loyal twin, nodded. “You’re right. We can’t all just flail around together. You and I will handle her,” she said, pointing to the mysterious figure on the bed. “And keep an eye on the enemy.”

Amberlee nodded, already calculating her next move. “Exactly.”

Before anyone else could speak, Molly-Lee cut in, her tone sharp, but practical. “That leaves Ambercat and me. We’ll find a way out—off-world. We need a ship, and I’m not hanging around here longer than we have to.”

Ambercat grinned, withdrawing Mike's NPU from the Encephalon cradle, cradling the cylinder in her hands. She saw the blue light indicating it was alive. “Alright, Zeus,” she said, addressing him directly. “I’ll find you a cool new body, promise.” She gave the NPU a confident shake, her smile widening.

Molly-Lee crossed her arms. “Good. While you’re doing that, I’ll start tracking down any access points to a ship.”

The four clones, each with their distinct skills and personalities, were now committed to the next stage of their plan. Though the challenges ahead loomed large, they were ready to split up, each taking their own part in ensuring their survival—and revenge.