CHAPTER 18: AMBERLEE - CALLING THE OTHER TWIN
“To me the difference between us is pretty obvious. She thinks the opposite of fire is water, and I think the opposite of fire is no-fire.”
–Mary-Kate Olsen
The sound of heavy rain drumming against the roof of her small shack nearly lulled Amberlee to sleep. She stared out the big window of her office, gazing across the bay toward the city shore. A wall of black monoliths, illuminated by the organized patterns of yellow lights. The City. If it wasn’t just depression weighing her down, it felt like the world around her was conspiring to smother her into submission. Maybe the world was depressed too? It certainly seemed bipolar enough.
She was renting out an old scale house at a derelict materials recycling facility, just across the road from the sea, nestled in the angle between it and the highway leading into town. A dreary little office, even when the sun did shine, though Amberlee honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen it. Probably the rainy season again.
Just as she was about to surrender to sleep, the black rotary phone on her desk went ring-a-ding-ding, snapping her back to the moment. She cursed under her breath when her cup of coffee flipped over, spilling across the sleeve of her black gabardine coat as she fumbled in the near-dark for the damn phone. Outside, a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky, illuminating her cluttered desk—a mess of papers and manilla envelopes stuffed with who-knows-what.
She answered, voice low and dry, “Amberlee Olavi, PI. You’ve got me talking. Who are you?”
“Tim Bensel,” came the voice. Short, clipped, like the guy himself.
“Got something for me, Tiny Tim?”
“The Mint, sis. The Boragora at midnight. Ask for Quail.”
“Quail?”
“Mister Quail. Ciao.”
The Mint? She let the words roll around her head, trying to decipher the meaning. It could only mean one thing: Molly-Cat. Her sister’s killer. They’d been found—whoever they were. But who the hell was Mister Quail? She’d never heard of him before. In a city where everyone who mattered eventually crossed her radar, this was a name that meant nothing... yet.
Amberlee shoved herself out of the creaking chair and pulled her coat aside, checking the weight of the revolver at her hip. Six bullets. Enough to send anyone down for the count. She fished the office skeleton key from her pocket, grabbed a black fedora that matched her coat off the rack, and headed for the door. She locked the office, the sound of the key turning echoing in the wet air as she stepped out into the night. The highway wasn’t far, but no taxis came this far off the beaten track. She’d have to walk a bit before flagging one down.
Across the road, a sleek black car sat idle, its darkened windows hiding whoever was inside. Lightning flashed again, and in that moment she saw them: two dark-haired women, Asian, staring right at her. They saw her notice them, and she saw their eyes narrow, making sure she knew. The headlights flicked on, and the engine growled to life. The car rolled forward slowly, the rain-slicked tires whispering on the wet pavement. As it came level with her, the tires screeched, and the car shot off down the road, its taillights vanishing into the rain-soaked darkness.
Amberlee stood there for a moment, heart beating a little faster than it should. Something was starting. Something big.
It took the first turn at the end of the block, heading up to an access path running alongside the train tracks. Not a dead end, but navigating from there to the lower suburbs a few miles away would require some creative maneuvering. Either way, Amberlee didn’t plan to stick around and find out. She turned and jogged across an empty parking lot that hadn’t seen more than a few cars in decades. Ahead lay a sprawling yard filled with long-haul truck trailers, all arranged in neat rows. To avoid them, she’d have to go uphill and through a shelter belt of pines.
Across the complex, through the gap between two large structures of the recycling facility, headlights flashed momentarily as if a car was turning around. There was a field between the lot and the road where the car had been. Amberlee crouched low among the dark foliage and drew her pistol, her body tense, waiting.
As she knelt there, she felt the nagging urge for a cigarette. It should have been the first thing she grabbed before getting out into this mess, but now here she was—squatting in the weeds, rain soaking her, pistol in hand. She thought about how to light up without giving away her position, then froze. Movement flickered in the old derelict building. Someone was inside.
She slipped silently through the small patch of woods, cutting across scrubland on the other side until she reached an embankment leading to the highway. The rain intensified as she climbed, soaking her through and through. Traffic was light, just the occasional car speeding past, headlights cutting through the dark. Finally, a taxi sign appeared over a pair of approaching headlights.
Amberlee’s sharp eyes also caught movement back at the truck yard—two flashlight beams weaving through the storage trailers and trees. Whoever they were, they were looking for her. This was no random encounter; no one made the trip out here to lurk in the rain and watch a detective’s office unless they had a purpose. Definitely hunters. But why? And who were those two women in the car earlier?
Holstering her weapon, she flagged down the taxi just in time. The yellow vehicle pulled up, and she hurried to the back passenger door. The inside reeked of cigarettes, making her craving flare again, but at least it was dry. The driver, an older man in a paddy cap, glanced back at her with a smirk.
“Having fun yet?” he asked.
“I will be if you’ve got a cigarette,” she replied, her voice dry.
“Got you covered, sis.” The cabbie tossed her a small, fat pack of Llamas.
She caught it, already feeling some relief. "Add these to my fare, will you?"
“Sure thing, sis. Where to?”
She reached out for the matchbook after placing a cigarette between her lips, and the cabbie, already understanding, handed it over without a word. Amberlee flipped it open, pinched out a match, and lit her smoke. As the flame flared up, she noticed the logo printed on the matchbook—it was for her destination.
With a small smirk, she handed it back. “There.”
“Seriously? What a coinkydink,” the cabbie said with a chuckle.
The City, under the veil of night, always seemed drained, as if it was as weary as the people inhabiting it. There were never enough street lamps to do more than make a half-hearted gesture of illumination, casting only the barest light on the streets. Few dared venture out after dark, and those who did were usually wise enough to stick to the busier streets. The back alleys and side streets, where shadows roamed and predators lurked, had a way of swallowing the unwary in an instant.
The Boragora was perched on the water’s edge, a gambling club situated not just near the river but in it, an old riverboat that had been transformed into a South Pacific-themed music parlor and casino. It still bore the remnants of its past life, with a dancing-girl tiki bar and a casino floor that beckoned the reckless. Nights down by the river were always muggy, rain or not, and tonight the air was especially thick. Exhaust fumes from idling cars hung in the air, trapped under the heavy atmospheric pressure, creating a smog that clung to the narrow street in front of the club.
A few scattered groups loitered under various business awnings, smoking and chatting, but it was a thin crowd for a Friday night. Maybe the rain had dampened spirits.
The cab pulled up under the Boragora's awning, slipping into a small gap between a line of parked cars. A valet greeted Amberlee, offering her a hand to step out of the taxi, then escorted her to the door. Inside, she was immediately hit by a wave of humidity, but when offered to have her coat taken, she declined. The host, a man in a wheelchair with legs missing below the knee, smiled politely and offered her a choice of seating at the bar or a table, adding that the next show would start in fifteen minutes.
“I’m meeting someone. Mister Quail,” Amberlee said.
The host cleared his throat, signaling for her to follow him. But first, she grabbed another matchbook from the reception desk, slipping it into her pocket. She followed the man through the restaurant bar, walking beneath an archway of lacquered palm trees. The air inside was heavy with the scent of tropical blooms, cigarette smoke, and rum. The bar was filled with bamboo furniture and towering tiki statues, and the ceiling above mimicked a starry night sky over the Pacific, with constellations shifting in time to the gentle murmur of conversation. Warm amber lighting cast the room in a golden glow, giving everything a hazy, dreamlike quality.
The host led her to a small set of three steps that ascended to a shadowed dining booth. He gestured toward it before wheeling himself away without a word. Amberlee lit another cigarette, took a long drag, and walked into the VIP lounge.
Sitting in the booth was the largest man she had ever seen. He towered at nearly eight feet tall, perhaps seven-foot-seven or eight, and his skin was an unsettling shade of red. Not the hue of a sunburned man or someone of foreign descent—just red. His features had a distinct Meso-American quality, and his finely tailored suit looked like it had taken some serious effort, likely requiring a tailor on a ladder.
He spoke, his voice deeper than the Pacific seabed, “Pialli. Please sit down. Have a beverage.” He raised a tall, clear glass filled with a thick, foamy liquid and drank deeply, letting the foam spill down his chin. In his massive hand, the glass looked like it belonged to a child. Around him were several empty glasses, and as they sat, a steady flow of servers kept him well supplied. The man could drink an alarming amount.
Amberlee sat down, ordered an Old Fashioned from the waiting staff, and without preamble, said, “I’ll cut to the chase. Who the hell are you?”
The giant chortled, his demeanor calm and reassuring. He radiated a strange, fatherly presence, though Amberlee wasn’t sure if that was because of his size or something else. Either way, it didn’t matter. “I am a farmer. A planter. A grower,” he said, his voice rumbling. “I raise from the earth for the benefit of others, and I simply want love.”
“That’s a job description or word salad, Mister?” she replied, unimpressed.
He smiled. “Your directness is a fine quality.”
“Don’t patronize me, buster. This has been a weird night, and I don’t have time for the grandpa routine. I’ve been rattled by a cryptic phone call, followed by some creepy strangers, and frankly, I could be at home with a bottle right now. So why am I here?”
“To earn your love, miss. I know what you seek—your sister’s killer. When I heard you were in town, I put my ear to the ground and learned this is all you desire.”
Amberlee stiffened at his words. She’d been hunting for answers for so long, yet hearing them spoken so plainly still shook her. “I didn’t just arrive here. I’ve been here for years. You’re the new one. What makes you think you know something I haven’t been able to figure out?”
He quaffed another glass of his thick brew. “Semantics matter not. Only love. I hold forbidden knowledge, and among that information is the identity of the unstoppable force that met your sister’s immovable object. A Sinii. A juvenile. A giant, sentient virus-like entity whose flagellum defies physics, floating freely without a care. I’ve solved your mystery. Do you love me now?”
“What?” Amberlee could barely muster a response.
“I said your search is over. You now know what killed Molly-Cat. All I ask in return is your devotion.”
“Just like that? What even are you? I’m supposed to just take your word for it?”
“If I wanted to deceive you, I could have crafted a more palatable lie. Something convincing, a story to soothe your grief. But I used all my resources to tell you the truth because I desire your love.”
Amberlee’s mind raced. “And how do you know what no one else could?”
“I possess the corpse of such a creature among the objects in my treasury. Analysis of its biology and capabilities leaves no doubt—it was responsible for your sister’s death. I offer you the truth because I want your love in return.”
Amberlee stared at him, her heart pounding. Could this be the answer she had been chasing for so long? Yet something about this giant, this unsettling figure, made her wonder if finding the truth came at a price too steep to pay.
Amberlee struggled to grasp what the strange giant was talking about, but it felt like he was pulling at half-remembered stories from her dreams. She knew her sister had died, but now it seemed distant, almost unreal.
“It was real,” the giant said, as if answering her thoughts.
His voice rumbled in her mind, confirming her worst fear—he could read her thoughts. Trust me, he said without moving his lips. Love me. You are my Devoted Sacrifice.
That didn’t sit well.
“You’re all spades, you freak. What do you know?” she snapped, her voice trembling with confusion.
Time seemed to slow as his next words reverberated in the room.
“I know that your sister still lives. That is not dead which can eternal lie.”
His enormous hand reached out, brushing a thick finger along the brim of her fedora. In her mind, he planted a whisper: Molly-Cat is still within you. She can be brought back.
“Rebirth,” he murmured, the word heavy with promise.
Amberlee took a shaky sip of her Old Fashioned, its sweetness suddenly cloying. This felt like a dream she couldn’t shake herself from, no matter how hard she tried. Maybe this was real? Maybe it had always been real, just hiding beneath her grief?
“What do you want? Love? Fine, whatever. How does that work?” she asked, her voice softening despite herself.
“You will love me, not by force, but through gratitude. I will ease your suffering, and in time, you will love me. I understand this now. Knowing your sister’s killer was not enough—you need her back. I will undo your pain.”
Amberlee sat still, unable to tell if he was speaking aloud or inside her head. Trust wasn’t something she gave easily, yet she found herself believing in his power, though not in magic.
“I don’t believe in magic, buddy.”
You will believe in mine, he responded, his thoughts pressing firmly into her mind.
Before Amberlee could reply, a commotion broke out at the entrance of the club. Two Asian women dressed as police inspectors barged in, pushing the host in his wheelchair toward her.
“She’s right there,” the host shouted, his voice full of alarm, pointing directly at Amberlee’s booth.
Amberlee cursed under her breath and looked to Quail. Without a word, the giant stood, his towering frame blocking her view of the incoming threat.
“Those ones are far more than they appear,” Quail said quietly. “They are troublesome. Come with me.”
Despite his size, Quail moved quickly and opened a hidden trap door in the wall that Amberlee hadn’t noticed before. The door looked impossibly small for someone his size, but he squeezed through it effortlessly. Amberlee followed, pulling the tiny door shut behind her until she heard the click of it locking. Shouts echoed from the other side.
She turned and hurried after Quail, following the sound of his heavy footsteps as they echoed through the narrow, dark passageway. It felt like they were walking for miles, the air growing thick and musty. Finally, Quail emerged into a small, cramped room, motioning her through. Amberlee stepped inside, immediately feeling suffocated by the tiny space.
It was barely the size of the booth they had just left, and with Quail’s massive bulk standing there, his head brushing the ceiling, it felt even smaller. But for now, they were safe.
He loomed over her, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the dim light of the alley. "I will make my exit here," he said, his deep voice reverberating off the walls. "But as for our previous conversation, perhaps we can continue it elsewhere."
The massive man pushed open an exit door Amberlee hadn’t even noticed. Outside was an alley darker and danker than any she had ever seen. He gestured for her to step through, then pointed down one end of the alley. His finger aimed directly at the City skyline, toward its highest peak—the Kernel building.
At the heart of the city stood six skyscrapers arranged in a pentacle, with the tallest at its center. The tip of that building was lost in the storm clouds above, its windows glowing more orange than yellow, casting an eerie light. The five surrounding buildings served the city’s authorities. The Nexus Hub, Synapse Plaza, and Interface Haven featured windows glowing green, providing a surreal contrast to the darkness. Further out, the Binary Bastion buildings stood like dark sentinels, their lights out completely, appearing abandoned against the deep blue of the night sky. Only the occasional flicker of lightning revealed their towering presence.
Suddenly, two shouts echoed from the opposite end of the alley. It was the twin inspectors. Without hesitation, Amberlee and Quail bolted, each taking off in a different direction. Amberlee glanced back just in time to see the giant slipping into a sleek black limousine. I should’ve gone with him, she thought bitterly, but it was too late now. The two policewomen had already emerged from the alley, closing in fast.
What kind of mob boss has a limo ready on demand? she wondered briefly. But it didn’t matter. What did matter was that her life had just been upended, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to throttle Quail or thank him. He’d solved the mystery that defined her existence, but why? What was his angle? Love? That was a crock, and she knew it.
Amberlee’s thoughts were interrupted by one of the twins sliding over the hood of a car, launching herself into a roundhouse kick. The blow landed squarely in Amberlee’s chest, knocking the wind from her lungs. She gasped, clutching her midsection, spitting with a mix of rage and pain.
"You know karate?" Amberlee wheezed.
"Hai," her opponent replied, her face expressionless.
Amberlee didn’t know karate, but she did know la savate. Adjusting her coat, she slid her hands into her pockets, a move that masked her intentions. With lightning speed, she lunged forward, aiming a swift kick at the woman’s midsection. The Japanese inspector sidestepped, effortlessly evading the attack and pulling a baton from her coat in one smooth motion. With a flick of her wrist, the baton extended, and she advanced with rapid, precise strikes.
Amberlee ducked, narrowly avoiding the sharp swings. The fedora tumbled from her head, letting her blonde hair spill out. She regained her balance and countered with a spinning kick, her heel arcing toward the inspector’s face. It missed by inches as the woman bent backward with graceful agility.
Damn, she’s fast, Amberlee thought, her breath coming in short bursts. But she wasn’t about to give up. Not now.
They circled each other, eyes locked, adrenaline coursing through their veins. The rain drummed steadily around them, muffling the sounds of the city. Amberlee's breath was ragged, but she focused, trying to read her opponent's next move. Every muscle in her body was taut, waiting for the moment to strike. The Japanese woman’s face remained calm, but Amberlee could see the tension in her stance, the weight shifting ever so slightly.
Without warning, Amberlee struck. She lunged forward, her foot snapping up in a quick, sharp inside kick aimed at the woman’s knee. The impact reverberated through her leg as her foot connected with flesh and bone. The woman faltered, her balance momentarily compromised, and Amberlee felt a surge of satisfaction.
Now.
Amberlee twisted her body, spinning with fluid grace, and delivered a powerful kick to the woman’s midsection. The force was palpable, driving the air from her opponent’s lungs in a grunt as she staggered back. Amberlee could see the break in the woman’s carefully maintained composure—the stance was broken, her defenses shattered. There was fear in her eyes now, mingling with the rain and sweat.
Amberlee didn’t hesitate. She closed the distance in a heartbeat, her breath ragged but her focus razor-sharp. With a final, forceful move, she aimed a low kick directly at the weakened knee. The woman’s leg buckled beneath her, and she crumpled to the ground, her body folding with the pain.
Amberlee stood over her, chest heaving, her pulse pounding in her ears. The rush of the fight still thrummed in her veins, but the victory was hers.
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She heard the quick tap of heels rushing toward her, and then a sharp pain hit low in her back. Amberlee barely had time to yank her hands from her pockets, shielding her face just as she slammed into the ground. Prone, her senses sharpened by adrenaline, she caught the sharp cry of a kiai behind her. Rolling to the side, she narrowly avoided the punishing thud of an axe kick landing where she had just been.
Scrambling back to her feet, Amberlee drew her gun, the cold weight of it grounding her in the chaos. The second attacker—the identical twin of the first—had blindsided her.
“Who the hell are you two?” Amberlee demanded, her voice tight. “Start talking, or I start blasting.”
"Inspector Shin," said the one still standing.
"Inspector Hajime," muttered the one still on the ground, nursing her injuries.
"What do you want?" Amberlee snapped.
In perfect unison, they both said, "Quail."
Suddenly, red and blue lights flashed down the street. The real police. Amberlee cursed under her breath, calculating her odds. These twins clearly weren’t working with them.
“Friends of yours?” she asked, but the grins they exchanged said it all.
"Thought not," Amberlee muttered, slipping her pistol back into its holster. She jogged across the street, throwing her hand up to hail a cab. By the time she glanced back to where the fight had just gone down, the sidewalk was empty.
She paused, her body aching, bruises already forming under her skin. Lucky for her, those two hadn’t been trying to kill her, just subdue. Amberlee won because she was aiming to cripple. You don’t go for the knees in a sparring match.
The same cab driver from before pulled up. At first, Amberlee found it suspicious but quickly figured he must have just cut to the front of the queue, like the other taxis swarming the streets at night.
“Waiting for me?” she asked.
“Not really,” he chuckled, “but I did cut off the next jerk in line to pick you up.”
Amberlee climbed into the back seat. “You must like the color of my money, sir.”
“You know it. Where to?” he asked.
She pointed to the rearview mirror, where the reflection of the Kernel building loomed. “There.”
He let out a low whistle. “You must be up to something tonight.”
“Something, yeah. Let’s roll,” she muttered, lighting up a cigarette.
They drove through the night in silence, the sound of the rain filling the quiet. Amberlee smoked three cigarettes, watching the smoke drift up, out through the slight crack in the window. Every so often, a stray raindrop would hit her hand, a cold reminder of the world outside. Life in the City felt like a never-ending loop—a procession of tomorrows that looked too much like today. But things had shifted tonight. And she couldn’t help but wonder what had triggered it. Quail? The twin inspectors? Her eyes followed the blurred lights outside, streaked by rain on the glass. What the hell even is this place? The thought made her uneasy.
“We’re pulling up to the security gate now, miss,” the cabbie said, snapping her from her reverie.
Amberlee sat up as the cab rolled to a stop in front of a long gate arm. It made sense that the campus would be locked down at this hour. The booth controlling the gate reminded her of her own office—small, solitary. The security guard inside peered out through a tiny window before stepping out under an umbrella to approach the car.
He asked if he could help them.
Amberlee cranked down the rear passenger window. “Amberlee Olavi. Private investigator. I was following Mister Quail here, but there was an accident downtown. We got delayed. He should’ve just passed through here.”
The guard stared at her for a long moment, then turned back to his booth. A second later, the gate arm lifted. He stepped out again, gesturing, “For the Nexus Hub, go right. Follow the signs.”
Quail at the Nexus Hub? Everyone had been acting so weird about the man. Was it just a reluctance to even say his name? Maybe they were just freaked out by the fact he could read minds and wasn’t subtle about it. Amberlee sure as hell didn’t want to admit he was real.
The cab finally came to a stop in front of the massive tower, and Amberlee stepped out, giving the cabbie all the money she had. Something about this felt final. Her instincts were screaming—either she was walking away with something tonight, or not at all.
With her wet hair plastered to her head from the rain, she made her way down the long concrete pathway toward the glowing entrance. A metal plaque above the revolving doors read, “/DEVICES.”
The lobby was dark and gothic, with alternating white and green marble tiles. An empty reception desk sat in the center, and beyond it were rows of tube-like elevators, each with a directory above the doors. The hallways flanking the lobby were roped off with velvet rails, adding to the eerie, deserted feel of the place.
One of the elevators—third from the left—opened. The directory above it read, “Adaptive Genesis,” followed by a list of names. None of them were Mister Quail.
She boarded the elevator, unsure what to expect. She had no idea which floor she needed, but the doors closed, and the elevator began to ascend. Clearly, someone was watching.
The ride took longer than she expected, her nerves heightening as the floors ticked by. Finally, the elevator stopped, the doors opening to reveal the apex of the pyramid-like building. Through the massive green-tinted windows, she could see the city lights far below, swallowed by the storm clouds wrapping around the skyline. She had reached the top.
The place she stepped into felt like a fusion of every mad science fiction trope ever conceived, materialized all in one unsettling space. Bizarre metal structures cluttered the room: Tesla coils crackling faintly in the shadows, Jacob's Ladders arcing with electricity, giant mirrors draped in drop cloths, and jars filled with strange, pickled lifeforms that seemed almost too alive in their suspended animation. The ceiling was lost to the darkness above, its height indiscernible, as the windows failed to allow any light through the swirling storm outside.
A mechanical whirring interrupted the eerie stillness, and from the depths of the shadowy heights, something descended. A small, single-man platform elevator carried Mister Quail down into view. His massive frame was now wrapped in an oversized white lab coat, his unnaturally red skin casting an almost devilish hue in the dim lighting.
He gestured to the faintly visible orange-lit skyscraper outside, its upper floors barely visible from their vantage point. "Do you know what lies within that tower, Amberlee?" His voice was rich and commanding. "The true detective in your mystery. The Idioblast. It grants powers—occult powers—to those like me."
Amberlee, standing stiffly with her arms crossed, narrowed her eyes. "Do I believe in the occult? Not really my thing. As a rule, I don't accept ‘belief.'"
Quail smiled, his sharp teeth glinting in the sparse light. "You don't believe in belief?" He chuckled. "Fascinating."
"Basically," she replied coldly.
"Then let me show you something better. Accept it as science."
Quail stepped off the platform and turned toward a metal staircase that led up to a raised platform, where a large mirror was obscured by a heavy cloth. He climbed the steps with a fluidity that belied his size, grasping the cloth and dramatically pulling it down to reveal the mirror’s surface.
“Come up, Amberlee,” he called, his voice echoing in the vast, dark space.
Reluctantly, she climbed the stairs, each step sending a pulse of unease through her. Once beside him, she gazed into the mirror—and recoiled. It didn’t reflect anything. Instead, it seemed like a portal, a window to a room with a simple chair, almost too ordinary in such an extraordinary place.
Quail’s voice took on a deeper tone, more serious now. “The Metempsychotic Psychomanteum.”
She glanced at him, her mouth dry. “And what? I’m supposed to sit in there?”
“Yes, Amberlee,” he said, his eyes intense.
Without thinking—without quite knowing why—she stepped forward, her body moving instinctively. The glass wasn’t solid. She passed through the mirror’s surface as if it were water. Once inside, she turned to face the way she had come, but the mirror now reflected only the room she’d left behind. Her reflection was gone. Instead, the angle was skewed, wrong, like a fractured piece of reality.
The chair waited behind her, and Amberlee had the chilling sense that the real mystery had only just begun.
“Sit down, Amberlee.”
She hesitated but obeyed, feeling the weight of inevitability in every step. She was in this deep; she might as well listen.
“Breathe. Think of your sister, Molly-Cat. I will do the rest.”
A strange light began to emanate from somewhere behind her, casting the room in an eerie, shifting glow. Amberlee closed her eyes and tried to summon memories of Molly-Cat, but the images remained elusive, slipping from her mental grasp like mist. The room seemed to respond to her thoughts, pulsating with an otherworldly energy, but it offered no clarity. No resolution.
She tried harder—Molly-Cat's laughter, her mischievous grin, the warmth of her embrace, always standing to Amberlee’s left, her identical twin yet always distinct. But the more she strained, the more those memories flitted just out of reach. It couldn’t be that long ago. No way.
Frustration knotted in Amberlee's chest, and she opened her eyes, hoping the psychomanteum would offer something, anything. Instead, the strange chamber only mirrored her turmoil, flickering with that same ethereal glow.
"Why can’t I just remember her?" she muttered, the words heavy with desperation.
The room seemed to hear her, responding in a way that was almost sentient. It felt like the very air around her was attuned to the sorrow she didn’t want to feel. Grief, that silent shadow that followed her every day, began to wrap itself around her heart.
And then, like a dam breaking, the memories rushed in—not crisp and clear, but chaotic, visceral. Molly-Cat’s laughter wasn’t a sound but a feeling, echoing through Amberlee like music. Her sister’s arms around her weren’t physical, but they felt real—an embrace in the recesses of her mind. The mischievous glint in Molly-Cat’s eyes became a flicker of shared secrets, memories of a time when they were inseparable.
Amberlee felt the grief pouring out in waves, mixing with the glow in the room. The air grew thick with it. The nostalgia was so intense it almost made her nauseous.
She blinked, her breath catching as she saw something—someone—in the mirror. Her heart stopped. There, impossibly real, was Molly-Cat. Alive, vibrant, standing as if she had never left. Amberlee’s mind couldn’t process it. Shock hit her like a thunderbolt, sending a surge of emotions crashing inside her. Was it real? Could it be real?
Every detail was there—her sister's infectious smile, the subtle freckles across her cheeks, even the way her hair fell around her shoulders. Amberlee couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It was Molly-Cat, as alive as she had been in Amberlee’s fading memories.
Tentatively, she reached out, her trembling fingertips grazing the cold surface of the mirror. Molly-Cat mirrored the gesture, but there was a delay, like an old film reel struggling to stay in sync. And then Molly-Cat laughed, the sound bouncing between joy and something darker.
Amberlee’s heart twisted in her chest. This was her sister, but not. A reflection, a memory brought to life, trapped in the glass. The dichotomy of joy and terror tightened its grip on her. Her sister, alive again, but in a place where life and death were indistinguishable, where the lines blurred into something twisted and macabre.
Suddenly, everything went dark.
"Molly-Cat!" Amberlee screamed, the sound raw and desperate.
She growled in frustration, panic surging through her veins. Instinct took over. She drew her gun and leaped backward, out through the mirror's surface, back into the cold reality outside. Something was wrong—terribly, horribly wrong.
The first thing Amberlee noticed after emerging from the mirror was that the rain was now falling inside the building. All across the floor, shattered green glass from a massive window lay scattered, glistening in the dim light. Amidst the debris, Quail squared off against the two police inspectors, Shin and Hajime. They had caught up with them fast. How?
Amberlee raised her arm, leveling her gun. She squeezed the trigger twice, popping each woman once. They went down. She sprinted toward Quail, who seemed injured.
“The interlopers,” Quail muttered when she reached him, his voice heavy with pain.
“Molly-Cat?” was all Amberlee could manage in return, her voice tight with emotion.
Quail pointed upward, but then grimly added, “Be careful. They rise.”
Sure enough, Hajime sat up, groaning, “Owie, owie, ow.”
Shin stood, grimacing, and told her sister to "walk it off."
“Neither of them believes that will work, Amberlee,” Quail warned.
She understood. Throwing the gun aside, Amberlee realized this fight required more than bullets. She was going to have to fight them head-on. Her senses sharpened as she faced the duo again. Shin and Hajime weren’t ordinary opponents; their movements were fluid, synchronized—a ballet of martial precision. Quail’s caution echoed in her mind as she prepared for the impending fisticuffs.
Shin lunged with a powerful kick aimed at Amberlee’s midsection. Amberlee sidestepped, her la savate training kicking in. But Hajime was quick, closing the distance with a flurry of punches, her sharp kiais echoing with every blow. Amberlee blocked and countered, landing a solid hit to Hajime’s gut that sent her stumbling.
The rain intensified, pouring down as if nature itself sought to witness the battle. Amberlee, soaked to the bone but undeterred, launched a spinning heel kick at Shin’s head. Shin deflected it with a swift parry, showcasing her karate prowess. She immediately retaliated with a sweeping leg kick, catching Amberlee off-guard.
Amberlee hit the ground hard. Drenched in rain and cornered by the relentless twins—Hajime now back on her feet—she groaned in frustration. Shin was the stronger of the two, but both were relentless. She couldn’t do this alone.
Just as despair threatened to consume her, something flickered in the mirror behind the twins. Out of nowhere, Molly-Cat, her sister, materialized like a phantom, leaping forth with supernatural grace. Shock rippled through Shin and Hajime’s faces, mirroring Amberlee’s own disbelief.
Molly-Cat’s appearance shifted everything. She extended a hand to Amberlee, helping her to her feet. Amberlee, stunned but grateful, took it. In perfect synchronization, the sisters moved together as if no time had passed. The bond between them became evident in their fluid combat, a dance of strikes and parries that overwhelmed Shin and Hajime.
Cries of battle pierced the rain-drenched night. Amberlee, reenergized by the reunion, fought with renewed strength. The sisters moved as one, their attacks seamless and lethal. Shin and Hajime, who had once seemed unstoppable, now faced the sheer force of sisterhood reborn.
Molly-Cat incapacitated Shin with a graceful strike, leaving her momentarily stunned on the wet floor. At the same moment, Amberlee delivered a precise blow, downing Hajime. Together, they seized the advantage, their combined strength forming an insurmountable force.
As the rain poured down, Amberlee caught sight of Quail watching from the side, his expression unreadable. The freak had been telling the truth. The impossible had become reality.
With one final effort, the sisters hurled Shin and Hajime through the shattered window. Their forms disappeared into the stormy abyss below, swallowed by the night.
The wind howled through the Adaptive Genesis department, as if nature itself bore witness to the battle’s resolution. Amberlee and Molly-Cat stood side by side, drenched and victorious, watching their enemies fade into the storm.
“You have saved me,” Quail said, his voice a solemn whisper amidst the rain.
Amberlee ignored him. She fell to her knees, her body wracked with sobs that came from the depths of her soul. Wrapping her arms tightly around her sister’s legs, she held on as if letting go might make Molly-Cat vanish again. She was real. So real. Amberlee howled her sister’s name, over and over, each cry more primal than the last. Amberlee Olavi was happy again.
“Molly-Cat!”
“Chill out, brussel sprout,” Molly-Cat replied, her voice a playful echo of the past.
Quail interrupted their reunion. “I pray those ones believe in their own deaths,” he said, referring to the fallen inspectors. “There is a difficulty in quelling adversaries in this place. But there is another world you can go to. You must, if you are to understand the depths of my love for you.”
Amberlee's mind raced, remembering how her gun had failed to truly kill the twins. She and Molly-Cat both knew, deep down, that the world they inhabited wasn’t fully real. But it wasn’t fake either. It existed in a strange in-between. Yet, as Quail spoke to them, they felt a quiet certainty. He was telling the truth.
Molly-Cat frowned. “Who are you, really?”
“I am god. Of this world,” Quail answered simply.
Molly-Cat scoffed. “We don’t believe in God.”
Amberlee, ever the pragmatist, nodded. “But it sounds like we’ve made a deal. And a deal’s a deal.”
Amberlee and Molly-Cat shared a look, both uneasy. Amberlee spoke first. "If you’re some kind of god, why are you afraid of those two Asian women?"
Quail’s expression shifted, darkening with a mix of fear and frustration. "They are not who they seem. Powerful interlopers in this world. They came here from the Otherworld, as you did. But I fear one of them could even be like me—another god, hidden in flesh."
Molly-Cat's eyebrows shot up. "Another god? You mean there’s more than one?"
Quail nodded slowly. "Yes. And though I reign here, their power unsettles the balance. Their presence fractures the integrity of this realm. I am not wholly unharmed by the encounter with them. They work to shatter my divinity in ways I cannot explain, like an iconoclasm that forces the loss of identity." His voice became lower, tinged with regret. "You and those who have newly come into my world aren’t like the others from before."
Amberlee narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"You are ignorant of faith and religion," Quail explained. "When others from the Otherworld die and pass into this realm, they come before me to be converted, to find their place in the afterlife. But you… you do not. You begin to dream your own worlds. You are wild gods in a sense, creating without knowing the rules. Your dream-worlds disturb the order I maintain here, disrupting my divine influence. It’s a disaster I can barely contain."
Amberlee's mind was spinning, but clarity suddenly cut through the noise. She clenched her fists, her eyes lighting up with understanding. "We’re inside a computer, aren’t we? This is all some kind of simulation."
Quail met her gaze, his towering frame leaning in slightly. "You are not wrong, Amberlee Olavi. It is an ancient system, one I have mastered. Long ago, I could shape it as I pleased. I could resurrect the dead, heal the broken, but no longer do I have the knowledge to do it correctly. Time has eroded my understanding. I am... limited. All I can offer you is access to the facilities, where you might find answers. But be warned—it is not resurrection in the way you understand. It is merely a rebirth."
Amberlee's mind raced with the possibilities. "A clone printer interface," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "This whole city… it’s like an operating system, and we're stuck in it."
Molly-Cat turned to Amberlee, her voice low. "So what do we do?"
Amberlee looked up at Quail, who was watching them with that unnerving patience of a deity. "Peace," she said, her voice firm. "We'll make peace. But you have to help us get out of this simulation. We can't stay trapped here forever."
Quail considered them both for a long moment before nodding. "I will give you access. The building I showed you before may hold what you seek. But I cannot guarantee your safety. Nor can I promise the Otherworld is any less perilous than the one in here."
Amberlee stood tall, determination flooding her. "It doesn’t matter. We’ll take our chances. We’re done playing by the rules."
Quail inclined his head. "Then go to the Idioblast. Seek what lies beneath, and may your dreams not destroy you."
Once the twins entered the elevator as directed, Amberlee hugged Molly-Cat tight. It was almost as if the hug could not reach deep enough into her sister’s body to fulfill the tremendous need Amberlee felt then.
“Molly-Cat,” Amberlee whispered, almost to herself more than her sister.
A few moments went by in silence, but Amberlee felt Molly-Cat’s body stiffen. Something was wrong.
“What? Everything’s okay. You’re here. I’m here. We’re us again.”
Molly-Cat’s voice wavered, a mixture of disbelief and fear in her eyes. "But I’m dead, Amberlee. How can I be cloned? I mean, what if it doesn’t even work? I’m not even supposed to be here."
Amberlee shook her head, her voice firm but softening as she stared at her sister. "Molly-Cat, you’re not the only one. I’m dead too. We’re both dead. But that doesn’t mean we can’t figure this out. The Idioblast or whatever that thing was—it didn’t just bring us here. It duplicated us, modified our demen—our digital selves. We’re still something here, and with some trial and error, I bet I can figure out how to clone us both, bring us back to the real world."
Molly-Cat seemed to shrink back, processing everything Amberlee was saying. The cold reality of her situation clashed with the impossible second life she was living. As the elevator descended toward the basement, a long silence filled the enclosed space. Finally, Molly-Cat turned to her sister, her voice a quiet plea.
"Why can’t we just stay here? We’re together now. I mean, this isn’t so bad, right? We’re not hurting, and we’ve got a shot at some kind of life, don’t we?"
Amberlee turned to her, her face serious and resolute. "Molly-Cat, being dead is the exact opposite of what I wanted. It’s not life. This simulation, it’s just a prison made to feel like life. If I don’t get us out of here and back to the System—back to where things actually matter—none of this means anything. You don’t get to just stay dead. I won’t let that happen."
Molly-Cat exhaled slowly, her hands fidgeting with the edges of her shirt. "So what—you think we can just come back from the dead in real life? Like nothing happened?"
Amberlee’s eyes flashed with determination. "It’s not just a thought, it’s a fact. The same Terran government that built this simulation is the one that created Reverend President Jones, hundreds of years ago. That immortal bastard didn’t die because they perfected ways to keep people alive through cloning and who knows what else. This system? It was designed to clone and modify demens—our digital selves. If it can do that, then it can print us back into living bodies."
Molly-Cat was quiet, her brow furrowed in doubt but tinged with hope. "So, you're saying this place was designed to bring people back? People like us?"
Amberlee nodded. "Exactly. It’s not just a guess, it’s what they intended all along. Maybe Quail doesn’t remember how to do it, but I can figure it out. We just need to find the right interface down there, and we can take control of the process. This whole city is like the operating system of the simulation, but down in that basement, I think that’s where they kept the real power."
The elevator gave a low chime as it slowed to a stop. Amberlee squared her shoulders and glanced at Molly-Cat. "We’re getting out of here. And we’re going to live again. Together."
Molly-Cat nodded slowly, still digesting everything. She wanted to believe her sister. The idea of being truly alive again, of returning to the System together, filled her with a strange, unfamiliar warmth. Even in death, Amberlee had a way of making the impossible seem within reach.
Amberlee’s mind raced as the elevator hummed quietly beneath their feet. The pieces were starting to fit together in a way that unsettled her even more. She muttered under her breath, almost as if speaking to herself.
"The Idioblast… If it’s part of the simulation, it must be the core component of it. The government... those bastards from two hundred years ago... could they really have done something like this?"
Molly-Cat glanced over, her expression confused. "What are you talking about?"
Amberlee’s eyes narrowed as she pieced it together. "Think about it. Quail said the Idioblast grants occult powers, but what if that’s just how it appears here, in the simulation? What if the truth is even weirder? What if it’s not just part of the system, but the core of it? A sentient alien virus... manipulated to create or modify reality within this digital space?"
Molly-Cat’s face went pale. "Wait, you're saying the government used the brain of some dead alien virus to create this whole thing?"
Amberlee nodded slowly, the weight of the revelation pressing down on her. "It makes sense, doesn't it? They’d need something capable of simulating life, consciousness, dreams, whatever they needed to trap people’s minds in here. What if the Idioblast isn’t just an artifact—they’re using it as the brain of this entire simulation? The government from two centuries ago could have stumbled upon the Sinii decades before the historical first-contact, found something with powers that could transcend death, and they figured out how to plug it in and run an entire simulation off of it."
Molly-Cat’s eyes widened in horror. "So... we’re living inside the mind of a dead Sinii?"
Amberlee shook her head. "Not exactly. But the Idioblast is like the processor. It’s creating the rules of this world, controlling everything we see and feel. That’s why things can be so weird here—why it doesn’t quite work like the real world. And maybe that’s why Quail fears those two women—those interlopers. They might be connected to something bigger, something outside the simulation. Or worse, maybe one of them is another 'god' like Quail, trying to take control."
Molly-Cat blinked, digesting the information, her voice shaky. "But what does that mean for us? Can we even get out of here if that thing’s controlling everything?"
Amberlee leaned back against the wall of the elevator, her mind working furiously. "If the Idioblast is the core of this simulation, it explains why Quail doesn’t have full control. He’s deteriorating, malfunctioning. The system’s unstable. And that’s why the people who come here from the Otherworld—people like us—don’t know the rules. We start creating our own dream worlds because the simulation doesn’t know what to do with us, because we’re not the crew."
Molly-Cat swallowed hard, the reality of their situation sinking in. "So what now?"
Amberlee looked at her sister with grim determination. "Now? We find that basement Quail was talking about. If I’m right, it’s our only chance of overriding the system and getting out. If the Idioblast really is the core, then there has to be some kind of interface—a way to interact with it. Maybe that’s what Quail was talking about. The only way out of this simulation is through it."
Molly-Cat frowned. "But what if it doesn't work? What if we’re stuck here forever?"
Amberlee straightened her back, her eyes hardening. "Then we fight like hell to make it work. I’m not letting us rot in some digital afterlife controlled by a dead alien virus. If that thing can manipulate life and death, then we’re going to use it to get a life."
Molly-Cat still looked uneasy. "What were those two women we fought with doing, then?”
It didn’t take Amberlee long to answer, “One of them came here with me. I don’t know why there are two of her now. I suspect they’re still alive in reality, and have entered the simulator to deal with Quail—the malfunctioning AI running this place.”
Molly-Cat looked at her quizzically.
Amberlee sighed, her resolve still firm. “Looks like I need to fill you in on some things I’ve been up to since you died.”