Chapter 25: A Mind That Isn’t Mine

Alden blinked rapidly, his vision blurred and doubled, the sensation of his own body feeling more like borrowed clothing than his own skin. He swayed slightly, the echoes of the mental battlefield still lingering like a bad dream. He briefly considered pinching himself to make sure he was awake, but then again, the splitting headache pounding like Felix's music playlist in his skull made things painfully clear—he was definitely awake.

Specter, still annoyingly calm, watched from their place near the wreckage, hands neatly folded behind their back like a parent waiting patiently for a child's tantrum to subside. "Struggling, are we?"

"No," Alden snapped, swaying slightly. "I always look this terrible after getting mind-hacked by my evil doppelgänger. It's the new trend, didn't you know?"

Specter's mask flickered once, data lines shifting as if they were silently amused. "Interesting. Humor under stress. That's new."

"Call it a coping mechanism," Alden groaned, rubbing his temples. "Better than crying, right?"

Specter tilted their head slightly, the gesture infuriatingly reminiscent of a curious cat. "Your resistance is impressive. Most subjects would have been entirely overwritten by now."

"Lucky me." Alden forced a sarcastic grin. "Should I be grateful that I'm losing my mind more slowly than the average guinea pig?"

Specter's head inclined slightly forward. "Sarcasm, humor, denial—they're all signs your consciousness is intact, but ultimately futile."

"Good pep talk," Alden muttered. "You should consider motivational speaking if the evil scientist gig doesn't work out."

Despite his bravado, Alden's heart raced. He could feel the foreign presence pressing at the edge of his mind, a digital ghost echoing his every thought, ready to take control. It was still there, still watching him, learning and adapting just as his own Overclock always had. But this was different—it wasn't helping him, it was pushing him out.

"Come on, Alden," he whispered to himself, half-heartedly slapping his cheeks. "Get it together. You've fought cyborgs, failed experiments, and the worst cafeteria food known to humanity. You can handle a weird psychic doppelganger."

Specter seemed amused—or at least, Alden assumed they were, behind that unreadable mask. "Talking to yourself won't change the outcome."

"Maybe not," Alden admitted, breathing heavily. "But it helps with morale. You should try it. Oh, wait—no, you've got plenty of voices in that creepy mask already, don't you?"

Specter didn't respond, but Alden felt the intensity behind their silent stare. Time was running out, and he knew it. He couldn't keep pretending this was just another fight. If he lost here, he wasn't just going to lose a battle; he'd lose himself entirely.

With shaky breaths, Alden tried to center himself. He had to fight smarter, not harder. He couldn't brute force his way through this. Not when every exertion risked another glitch, another loss of control. He had to do something Specter wouldn't anticipate—something even he wouldn't anticipate.

He glanced around the ruined lab, scanning quickly. Broken monitors, shattered equipment, a cracked vending machine—he paused. Even in the middle of a high-tech nightmare lab, someone had thought snacks were necessary. He might be losing his mind, but the universe still had a sense of humor.

Alden reached out and grabbed a chocolate bar lying conveniently near his foot, its wrapper torn and slightly burned from the chaos. "Emergency snack," he murmured, taking a quick bite. "If I'm going down, it's definitely not going to be on an empty stomach."

Specter actually hesitated, visibly taken aback. "You're eating? Now?"

Alden shrugged, chewing quickly. "Yeah, you know, blood sugar gets low after almost getting your mind overwritten. Priorities, you know?"

Specter paused, the mask's glowing lines momentarily frozen. "You really are an unusual specimen."

"Yeah," Alden said around another mouthful. "I've been told that. You're not the first masked creep who tried to turn my brain into pudding, you know. Well, you actually are, but I'm just trying to sound tough."

Specter shook their head slightly, seemingly at a loss for words. The distraction had worked—Specter's attention faltered, and the strange presence inside Alden's mind briefly receded, confused by the randomness of Alden's actions.

"Interesting," Specter murmured softly, apparently noting something new. "Your unpredictability disrupts the synchronization process."

Alden nearly laughed. "See, even your creepy computer-brain can't handle my chaotic genius."

He tossed the chocolate wrapper dramatically aside and flexed his fingers, feeling the edges of his Overclock returning, this time smoother, more familiar—more him. It wasn't stable, but it was enough. If he could confuse the digital ghost inside him, disrupt the synchronization, he might have a chance.

But before he could celebrate, the energy shifted again. Specter raised their wrist console, pressing something quickly. A low rumble echoed throughout the facility. Alden frowned.

"Did you really just summon backup?" he asked incredulously. "Do you actually have a bottomless supply of evil henchmen, or are you just bluffing now?"

Specter didn't answer, simply stepping back into the shadows, the glow of their mask fading into darkness. "Let's test the limits of your chaos, Alden."

Alden tensed, but before he could react, several large drones burst into the room. They were bigger, tougher than before, armed with suppression weapons that made his skin crawl just looking at them.

"Aw, come on!" Alden groaned loudly. "You can't just leave dramatically. We were having a moment!"

The drones closed in rapidly, surrounding him in a ring of mechanical hostility. Alden glanced around frantically, his bravado wavering as reality set in once more. He couldn't rely purely on chaos—not now, not against this. He needed something concrete, something real.

But just as the drones moved to strike, a familiar voice echoed through the facility's crumbling walls.

"Alden, heads up!"

Alden barely had time to blink before Felix burst through the nearest wall, an enormous grin plastered across his face as debris exploded around him. Iris materialized seconds later, appearing in a swirl of shadows, blades at the ready.

Felix waved cheerfully. "Hey, dude! Miss us?"

Alden stared blankly. "Did you just… literally punch through the ceiling?"

Felix shrugged. "They locked the doors. Seemed rude. Iris, back me up."

Iris shook her head, sighing dramatically. "He insisted. Kept yelling something about 'dramatic entrances being mandatory.'"

Felix grinned proudly. "It's a superhero rescue! You're supposed to make an entrance!"

Alden laughed despite everything. "You guys are unbelievable."

Iris flashed him a quick smile, eyes sharpening again. "We're rescuing you from certain doom. Show a little gratitude."

"Gratitude pending," Alden joked weakly, already feeling steadier. "How about we get out of here before we celebrate?"

Just as they regrouped, a low, ominous rumble filled the chamber. The floor beneath them vibrated violently, cracks splitting open along the ground. Felix frowned, his bravado momentarily faltering. "Uh…what's that?"

Alden's heart skipped as he felt his own Overclock pulse erratically. Something beneath them had activated—something massive. A shadowy mass shifted beneath the floor, rising slowly from the darkness below, its presence so intense, Alden could feel it in his bones.

Then, without warning, the floor beneath their feet shattered, plunging them downward into the depths below. Alden grabbed desperately at empty air, his Overclock firing erratically as they fell into yet another unknown abyss.

As the darkness swallowed them whole, Alden managed one final, sarcastic thought before losing consciousness again.

"At this point, falling through floors is really becoming a bad habit."