Through the Looking Glass

Ryan drifted in a void of nothingness. No sound, no light—just the unsettling sensation of floating through the dark. He couldn't tell how long he had been like this, whether it had been seconds or hours. All he knew was that the world had gone out from under him, and he was left suspended in the space between reality and… something else.

Then, slowly, things began to change. He wasn't sure at first—it was as if his mind was playing tricks on him—but gradually, the darkness around him started to flicker. Soft, pulsing lights danced in the corners of his vision, too faint to be solid, but enough to make him aware of them. He felt a pulling sensation deep inside his chest, like a thread tugging him in every direction at once. The weightless floating turned into a slow spiral, and Ryan became aware of the sensation of his body again. The faint flickers grew stronger, and suddenly, with a sharp jerk, reality snapped back into place around him.

He was no longer in the lab.

Ryan stumbled forward, his knees buckling as the ground beneath him suddenly felt solid again. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus his eyes. The blinding light that had swallowed him was gone, replaced by the dull, gray light of a cloudy sky overhead. For a moment, the world felt unreal—his surroundings sharp but distant, as if seen through a layer of glass. Then his senses kicked in, and he realized where he was—or at least, where he wasn't.

This wasn't the lab. This wasn't Westview. In fact, this wasn't anywhere he'd ever seen before.

Ryan stood up shakily, his legs still unsure beneath him. He was standing in the middle of what looked like a city street, but something was off. The buildings that lined the street were familiar in their shape, but they looked like they had been abandoned for years. Windows were shattered, doors hung loosely from their frames, and creeping vines had worked their way up the sides of once-tall skyscrapers. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of damp concrete and rusted metal. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the faint sound of water dripping, echoing off the empty streets like a whisper.

"What the hell..." Ryan muttered under his breath, his voice sounding strangely loud in the otherwise silent city.

He turned in a slow circle, trying to make sense of it. The last thing he remembered was the portal, the flash of light, and then—this. He wasn't dreaming, though he wished he were. His heart was racing, and a cold sweat clung to his skin as he took a tentative step forward. The asphalt beneath his feet was cracked, with weeds poking through the jagged gaps. He could hear his own breathing, quick and shallow, the only sound in the eerie stillness.

Ryan glanced up at the sky. The clouds overhead were dark, churning in a way that made him uneasy. It looked like a storm was coming, but there was something unnatural about the way the clouds seemed to twist in on themselves. He couldn't shake the feeling that the sky itself was watching him.

"Where am I?" he whispered, the question hanging in the air as if the broken city might answer.

He wasn't alone for long. A sudden noise—distant but unmistakable—cut through the silence. Footsteps. Not just one pair, but several. Ryan's heart jumped in his chest, and he instinctively ducked behind the shell of a burnt-out car that had been left in the street. He crouched low, his eyes scanning the area, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. The footsteps were growing louder, closer. Whoever—or whatever—was coming his way wasn't bothering to be subtle.

Ryan's mind raced. Should he run? But run where? He had no idea where he was or what might be lurking beyond the next street corner. Staying put seemed like the safest bet for now. He held his breath, his muscles tensed as the footsteps drew nearer.

Through the cracked windows of a nearby building, he caught sight of them. At first, his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. They looked human, at least in shape, but there was something off about them. Their clothes were ragged, their skin pale, and their eyes—there was something wrong with their eyes. They moved in jerky, unnatural motions, as if their limbs were struggling to keep up with the commands of their bodies.

Ryan pressed himself tighter against the car, willing himself to become invisible. His heart pounded in his ears as the figures shuffled closer, their eyes scanning the street with a blank, predatory intensity. One of them paused near the car where Ryan hid, its head cocked slightly to one side, sniffing the air like an animal. Ryan's breath caught in his throat.

Don't move. Don't breathe.

The figure lingered for a moment longer, its head turning toward him, and for a split second, Ryan was certain it had seen him. But then, just as quickly, it turned and continued down the street, following the others. Ryan exhaled slowly, the tension in his body loosening just enough for him to move again.

He waited until the strange figures had disappeared around a corner before he dared to stand up. His legs felt weak, and his hands were shaking. What were they? Were they even human? He didn't know, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.

Before he could process it any further, a voice cut through the stillness.

"You're lucky they didn't see you."

Ryan spun around, his heart leaping into his throat again. There, standing at the entrance of a nearby alley, was a figure. They were dressed in dark clothes, a hood pulled low over their face, but there was something familiar in the way they stood, in the sharpness of their voice.

"I wouldn't stand out here if I were you," the figure continued, stepping closer. "Those things don't stop once they catch your scent."

Ryan stared at the newcomer, his mind racing. "Who… who are you?"

The figure pushed back their hood, revealing a face that stopped Ryan in his tracks. It was his face.

Or at least, almost his face. The features were nearly identical—same sharp cheekbones, same messy dark hair—but there was a hardness in the other Ryan's eyes, a grimness that made him look older, more weathered. His clothes were worn and patched, his posture tense, like someone always on guard.

Ryan's mouth went dry. "What the hell…?"

The other him raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, it's a lot to take in, I know. But trust me, we don't have time for that right now. You're not supposed to be here."

Ryan shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "Who are you?"

"I'm you," the other Ryan said, matter-of-factly. "Well, sort of. From a different reality, a different dimension. Call me Rebel if that helps. The point is, you've landed yourself in a pretty bad place, and if we don't get moving, those things you just saw will be the least of your problems."

Ryan felt like his head was spinning. "This… this is impossible. How are you me? How am I—how did I get here?"

Rebel—the other Ryan—looked him dead in the eye. "You went through the portal, didn't you? The one Blake's been working on?"

Ryan nodded slowly, still trying to piece everything together.

"Figures," Rebel muttered, more to himself than to Ryan. "Listen, we can talk about this later, but right now, you need to trust me. This isn't your world. It's mine, and it's falling apart. If we don't move, you're going to get stuck here, or worse."

"Stuck?" Ryan repeated, his throat dry.

"Trapped between realities," Rebel said, his voice grim. "Lost in the in-between. Now come on. We have to get you out of here."

Ryan hesitated for only a second before his feet started moving. Whoever—or whatever—this Rebel was, he seemed to know what was happening. And right now, that was more than Ryan could say for himself.

As they darted into the alley, Ryan couldn't shake the feeling that he had just taken his first step into something far bigger than he could comprehend. And there was no turning back.