Connor walked on his own feet for the first time in years. Breathed real air into his lungs on his own, not the sanitised shit they pumped into him with a machine. The multiplied pain of a hundred clones had gone. Sensations returned to him, ones he experienced himself and not down a shared link or the flavourless dream-stuff in his mental prison. He could taste the fresh blood in his mouth. He could smell the nutrient dense liquid coating his skin and hair and the liquid waste leaking from the severed line. His body was taller, stronger than he was used to, a residual from his fight with the A.R.C cell back home in Boise. A scan of his body told him his two tendrils in his arm were still there.

Dozens of questions and possible courses of action burned in his mind, but one blazed the brightest; find the chemicals needed to protect his thoughts from the bald kid.

He wandered through the abandoned facility, away from the damaged clone who had rescued him, testing doors in his search for the unknown ingredients. Connor was loath to trust anybody, even a clone of himself. He feared this was another trick of the telepath, that he would wake up again inside the tank again, the bald kid laughing and lording his power over him.

That first and only time Connor had woken from his fractured slumber, alone and stuck in that tank, after the initial horror and confusion had passed, he formed a plan to escape the control of the telepath. Laying amongst the shattered fever dreams were the plans for various alien organs, one of which acted as a shield for the brain. While he was still lucid, Connor sectioned off a small part of his own brain, programming it to syphon off the raw materials it needed build the membrane.

This small section of brain was to act independently to the rest, working on a combination of pheromones and separately grown nerves, bypassing the original brainstem. In his mental absence it had grown a chemical synthesiser beside his liver that filtered out the raw elements from his blood and stitched them into the correct chemicals. It also had grown the veins necessary to deliver the liquid straight to his skull. So far, the synthesiser had formed less than a teaspoon of the liquid which comprised the membrane. If he was to succeed, he’d need more raw material. The problem was, he didn’t know what he was after. He was going to have to sample chemicals manually.

Connor found a cleaner’s closet amongst the locked laboratories. The metal door opened with a gentle push. LED lights flickered to life, exposing rows of shelving holding plastic containers and boxes of various solvents and detergents. The sight reminded Connor of a simpler time, when he was a cleaner at Boise General. A solitary tear tracked down his cheek. He’d go back to that boring life in a heartbeat. Flashes of memory stirred to the surface. Kim’s brains blown across the back wall of his office. A knife pressed to his throat. Bodies blown apart by mini-ex.

He let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding and stepped inside. With a mental command he killed his taste buds and got to testing. The first bottle burned on the way down his throat. It sat in his roiling stomach like a lump of acid. Connor coated his throat and stomach with a thick coating of mucus to compensate.

His second brain got a message back from the chemical synthesiser. “No.”

Connor vomited the contents of his stomach up and moved to the next product.

He choked down some crystalline powder.

“No,” answered the second brain after testing.

“Next one…” said Connor to himself, throwing up the semi-digested powder.

He swayed down the line, testing every product and subsequently vomiting it back up, dizzy from the constant poisoning and repair to his system.

The doorway darkened. “What the fuck are you doing?” asked the clone. No… His name was Paladin now. His mouth now healed enough to not sound like he had marbles stored in his cheeks.

“…need…chemicals… for…brain…” said Connor between chugs on a bottle of bleach.

Paladin winced. “There’s vomit everywhere.”

Connor shrugged and threw the bleach against the far wall. “Ah,” he belched. “Not the worst shit to be spilled in this place I bet.”

Paladins lips compressed to a thin line. “Yeah…”

Connor picked up a bottle of de-greaser and unscrewed the cap.

“So… What are you doing exactly? We can find some drugs later if you want to get high.”

Connor faced him. “I have these memories. I don’t have every detail, but I recall growing a… thing that covers the brain. This membrane protected the wearer from psychic and telekinetic attacks. I remember the testing. I remember my head being crushed and jellied over and over again. I…” the words caught in his throat as he delved deeper than his surface memories. He had died so many times on those tables. He thought they had been dreams at the time. Now he knew them to be real.

Paladin watched him; worry etched on his face.

“Look, I know the composition of the chemicals I need to make the membrane. I just need the raw elements to do so. But to do that I need to sample a bunch of stuff until I find them.”

“Okay,” nodded Paladin. “I found some scrubs for you to wear. I’ll just place them here.”

Connor gave the thumbs up as he knocked back some de-greaser.

Paladin still looked worried, perhaps understanding how Connor could be feeling after waking up from years of physical and mental abuse. “I’ll see what I can find. Just don’t kill yourself while I’m gone.”

Connor vomited up the cocktail of cleaning products in his stomach and gave another thumbs up.

Paladin shuffled out of sight, shaking his head.

Connor let out a frustrated sigh and threw the bottle at the opposite wall, splashing corrosive liquid across its surface. “This is fucking dumb…” he told himself. For all he knew it was made up of rare metals or synthetic chemicals not found in common products. If only he had a sample to work off and not just the memories of dead clones.

“Hey! Come here! I see something!”

Connor padded around the spilt cleaning products and puddles of vomit, collecting the scrubs from the shelving as he passed. Paladin stood down the hall from him by a glass viewing window, gesturing for Connor to come closer.

“Look in there,” he said, barely containing his excitement as Connor drew near. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

Connor squinted and followed the clone’s pointing finger. Inside the lab sat rows of body parts, floating inside clear containers. Past oversized hearts and mysterious organs he saw a collection of oddly coloured brains.

“Pay dirt,” said Connor.

“That green liquid you were floating in is amazing. I restocked my acid while healing. I’ll get you in,” said Paladin with confidence. He took a deep breath and raised his remaining arm. A jet of clear liquid squirted from his wrist across the glass panel, sizzling on impact. Paladin waited a second for the acid to work before cocking back his fist and punching the glass. It shattered, raining jagged chunks of glass everywhere.

Connor looked at his bare feet. “Feeling very naked right now.”

“I’ll get them,” said Paladin. “Which one.”

“All of them.”

Paladin placed two on the ground. Connor unscrewed the first lid and uncoiled the tendril hidden within his arm. The tip pierced the filmy coating surrounding the brain. His eyes rolled back as he communed internally.

“Close but not quite.” He unscrewed the one beside it, dropping the tendril onto the outer surface of the membrane.

Paladin watched in silence as Connor started to shudder.

“…this one…” he said through chattering teeth before slumping over. The sectioned part of his brain took charge, feeding the required material into the chemical synthesiser while the tendril stripped what it could from the organ floating in the jar. A gel coalesced inside Connor’s skull, delivered by the specially grown veins directly from the synthesiser, settling on the outer layers of his brain matter. A pressure built, bringing darkness with it.

A bone covered hand shook him awake. Connor looked up to see the strange, broad face of the clone. He disturbed Connor because it reminded him of his father, based on the few pictures his mother had of the absent man.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“You okay? You passed out for a minute and started to shake.”

“Better than ever,” replied Connor. He looked down to see the scrubs placed over his junk. The machine that had been attached to his waist had fallen away and lay beside him.

“Your body must have rejected it while you were out,” said Paladin. “I covered you up as best I could.”

“I don’t think I’m in danger of any girls seeing me naked right now,” said Connor sitting up. “Which way out?” he asked, looking up and down the hall.

“Can I have some of that too?” asked Paladin, pointing at the jar. “I’m pretty scared of that bald kid, too. He said there’s another one down here somewhere.”

Connor froze. “What? Are you saying there is two of them?”

“Yes. The clone accosted me upstairs. He’s turned against the people that trapped us for some reason. He told me where to find you.”

Connor frowned. “He did?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I might have enough of this stuff left over. Come closer and I’ll inject some into your skull,” said Connor, beckoning the larger, armoured version of himself over.

Paladin shied back. “Can’t you just hand it over? I’m not so keen on anyone digging around in my head.”

Connor gave him a level stare down the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have much left over. I know what I’m doing. Just let me inject it in, then you can take over. Trust me.”

He took a deep breath as he thought it over. “Alright. Could you do me a favour and put some pants on? It’s kind of weird seeing myself naked without a mirror.”

Connor laughed and thrust his legs into the polyester leggings. “You think this is weird? Imagine waking up and having a conversation with a carbon copy of yourself.”

“Already been through that. Imagine talking with a dozen versions of yourself, knowing you were the copy,” said Paladin, his wry smile drooping. His face went white and his whole body seemed to sag as though a great pressure pushed against him.

“Um… Are you okay?” asked Connor, slipping on the top scrubs.

“No.”

“Did I say something?”

“No. You just reminded me,” he said turning away. His chest heaved as he started to hyperventilate, then the words spilled from his mouth. “I’m the fucking clone. My thoughts are yours. This body is yours. Now you’re awake, I’m not needed. Do you know what that is like? My whole life is a fraud. I was grown to grow other things. Then I escaped. I knew I had to find help. I fucked that up. Then I tried to find mom… I mean your mom. She turned out to be a clone and you could say I did right there… Just. Then I found Allan and fucked things up there. Everything I’ve done has caused pain. And these memories… The more I talk to you, the more I realise they are yours. I don’t have any right to them. I don’t want them. I don’t want to be a copy of someone. I want to be myself.”

Connor waited until he had finished. He started to talk but paused. How did one placate a clone going through an existential crisis? Had anyone had this problem before?

“Listen, dude… All you can be is yourself, right?”

“But I am you,” replied the clone.

“No. We’re similar. That’s it. We already look physically different. Who knows how you’ll think and what you can grow into over time. You’ve only been out in the wide world for a week. Imagine what a month can do to you. Forget all that other stuff. Just think of me as your older, smarter, better looking twin brother.”

“It will be a start,” said Paladin, nodding his head. He held out a hand.

Connor placed his hand in the clone’s, thinking it was the right thing to do.

“Uh… I was just going to ask for that brain-goo…” said the clone, taking his hand back.

“Oh. Give me a second.”

The remains of the chemical mixture wept from the port in his forearm and dripped into his waiting hand. It wobbled there, a purplish, viscous puddle. Connor offered it to the clone. A tendril snaked out from his wrist and dipped into the offering. The clone’s eyes rolled back as he sucked the liquid up and transferred it to his brain. Connor waited until the other snapped out of his internal meditations.

Paladin opened his eyes. “Are you sure this will protect us?”

“Pretty sure,” said Connor. “As I said, they did a bunch of testing on it. There was some kind of circuitry attached to the later models but I’m confident this will keep him out of our thoughts.”

“Okay. We done here? I want to find mom.” He winced and rubbed his giant fist against his head. “I mean your mom. We should look for her.”

“How do you know she’s here?” asked Connor.

“I don’t.”

Connor thought Paladin was grasping at straws, desperate to set things right. He wanted to find her too, but the seed of despair had already taken root. He would humour the other. Hopefully his bad feelings would be proven wrong. “We can only try.”

“This way,” said Paladin stonily, noticing the lack of enthusiasm from Connor.

Connor followed the clone, looking over the bone armour and the myriad damage to its segments as they walked. Mini-ex was obviously a problem thought Connor. Perhaps if there was an outer layer or some kind of cushioning to deflect the initial explosion?

Paladin sprayed acid across the lock of a closed door near an elevator. He ripped open the door with a swift tug on the handle, shearing the partially melted mechanism out of the panel. He stepped into the stairwell beyond and paused. “Do you hear that?”

Connor titled his head. “What?”

“Sounds like…”

The whole building shook, cutting off his next words. The door in the stairway above them blew off its hinges and flew into the wall behind it, clanging to a stop on the metal landing.

“What the hell was that?” asked Connor crouching down.

“I don’t know. Stay behind me,” said Paladin, holding out a protective hand to shield him.

Echoing shouts filtered down, the words incoherent gibberish.

“I’ll see what it was,” started Paladin.

“You don’t need to protect me,” said Connor. “I can handle myself.”

Paladin ignored him and crept up the stairs, skirting past the smoking metal door. He crouched behind the doorframe and shifted his bulk until he could see into the corridor beyond. Paladin stood, as if shocked and turned back to Connor. “It’s a kid in scrubs.”

“What?” asked Connor, climbing the stairs to get a look for himself.

Paladin stepped out of the doorway holding up his hand. “Hey, man! What’s going on?”

Before he could take another step closer, a bright light flooded the hallway.

Connor shielded his eyes with both arms. Heat prickled all over his body and for a second, he could see the inner lining of his eyelids. He heard a sharp thud and the uncomfortable smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Connor’s healing ability had already healed the minor burns to his exposed skin by the time he could see clearly.

Paladin lay against the doorframe, sucking in air through a snarling mouth. Smoke curled from a fist sized crater in his chest. “Fucker hit me with something,” he said to Connor.

“Holy shit.” Connor crept closer. “Are you going to be okay?”

“In a second, if he doesn’t hit me again,” said Paladin, coughing up blood.

Connor took a deep breath and stepped into the corridor.

“What are you doing?” wheezed Paladin.

“Distracting him long enough for you to heal,” replied Connor though his teeth.

He saw a boy roughly his age twenty meters down the corridor, panting from exhaustion. One outstretched hand held him up while the other glowed with unearthly light as he massaged his temple. The boy’s face was contorted in a mixture of confusion and rage with his eyes screwed shut and his lips moving as he spoke to himself. Lines had been cut through sections of the walls and floor by what appeared to be a plasma cutter. Glass had melted where the plasma had passed. The air smelled of hot metal and ozone.

“Don’t shoot!” said Connor, raising his hands. “We’re just trying to escape this place.”

The boy glanced up and pointed a glowing finger in Connor’s direction. He swayed on his feet, as though every movement taxed him. “Don’t come any closer! I’ll blast your skull open!”

“Woah! We’re not the bad guys, dude. Me and my buddy here have been trapped in this place for…” started Connor.

“How did I get here?!” interrupted the boy. “He said I need to show them. He said I should get revenge. Who did he mean? You?”

Connor shook his head. “I was captured, just like you.”

The boy growled and knuckled his raw, red eyes. “He said I should kill anyone I found.”

“Who told you?” asked Connor.

“He saved us…He woke me up first…” said the boy, gripping fistfuls of his hair. “He held my head and told me…” He snapped out of his trance, eyes focussing on Connor as he came to a conclusion. He extended an arm as though he were asking Connor to stop. The light radiating from his hand increased until the bones in his palm were visible.

Connor dove sideways as a beam of energy shot from the boy’s hand. His skin blistered from the proximity of the heat. Connor rolled to his knees and lashed out with the tendril in his forearm, catching the boy around the neck. The beam of light winked out. Connor pulled on the tendril, toppling the boy forward. He followed with an uppercut to the jaw. The boy stumbled back, still choking on the clinging tendril. Connor grabbed him by the head and slammed him into the wall. The boy dropped boneless to the floor.

Connor shook the tension from his shoulders and retracted the tendril. His skin screamed from the burns. He dialled back the pain to a more comfortable level.

“Will he be okay?” asked Paladin.

“He’s breathing,” replied Connor, looking over his shoulder.

The bone clad giant hobbled down the corridor, hand clutching a still healing wound in his chest. “What a fucking psycho.”

“What is he? He’s like us.”

Paladin joined him to inspect the comatose boy. “A cop I met called them de-Programmed or Seeded. They’re the mutated children of Pro veterans.”

“Wait. So, all this is because of Dad?” asked Connor, slapping Paladin on the chest.

He grunted and winced at the pain. “Afraid so.”

“Sorry.” Connor puffed out the air in his lungs. “That bastard can’t do right by us even while fucking AWOL. If I ever meet him…”

“Now’s not the time,” said Paladin. “Focus on your mother and brother. They may be here.”

“You reckon there’s more?” said Connor, nudging the boy with a toe.

“Unfortunately, yes. Nothing else has been easy.”