[indent][COLOR=GRAY][b][sup][u][i][u]A Day After That Fateful Reunion[/u][/i][/u][/sup][/b]

[i]The sun descended into the horizon, painting the sky with a tapestry of orange and purple hues. Shadows stretched long and thin across the landscape, like dark fingers reaching out from the day’s end. The car, a solitary beacon of movement, hummed along the desolate road, its engine purring in a steady rhythm that punctuated the evening’s silence. Inside, Sierra’s hands were clamped onto the steering wheel, her knuckles bleached to a stark white. Her gaze was fixed on the road ahead, but her mind seemed to be a tumultuous sea, waves of thoughts and emotions crashing within.

Harper sat in the passenger seat, the weight of the silence between them feeling like a tangible presence. It was a silence so dense, so charged, that it seemed as if the mere drop of a pin could shatter it into a thousand pieces. Yet, it was Sierra who shattered the stillness, her voice slicing through the tension to Harper’s quiet relief.

[color=#fb0207]“Circumstantial, huh?” [/color]Sierra’s words came out sharp and biting, her tone laced with a bitterness that belied the calm exterior. Her eyes, a fiery reflection of her dyed red locks, flicked towards Harper—a brief, piercing glance that spoke volumes—before returning to the endless stretch of asphalt that lay before them.

[color=#fb0207]“I've been looking into this whole thing for years, Harper. Years,” [/color]Sierra confessed, her voice a low murmur. [color=#fb0207]“There are too many things that don't add up. It's not just a hunch—it's a gut feeling backed by evidence.”[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“Yea…circumstantial evidence. Easily explained,” [/color]Harper countered with a dismissive wave of her hand. 

But Sierra was not to be deterred. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles turning an even whiter shade, if that were possible. [color=#fb0207]“Easily explained? Like the anonymous bank transactions to Dad's account? They stopped just before the explosion. Or the sudden spike in Mom’s research funding without any clear source?”[/color]

Harper let out a weary sigh, her fingers threading through her hair. [color=#8a9a5b]“It could have been a grant they didn't tell us about. Or some kind of bonus.”[/color]

[color=#fb0207]“And the encrypted messages Dad was sending?” [/color]Sierra pressed, her voice rising. [color=#fb0207]“The ones I found on his old laptop, talking about 'keeping them safe' and 'the project being compromised'?”[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b]“Maybe he was being paranoid, seeing threats where there were none,”[/color] Harper said, though even she knew her argument sounded weak. [color=#8a9a5b]“You know how stressed he was towards the end.”[/color]

The intensity of Sierra’s gaze snapped back to Harper, her eyes hard and unyielding like flint. [color=#fb0207]“And what about the witness who saw a man in a lab coat leaving the site just before the explosion? The same man who conveniently disappeared right after?” [/color]Her questions were relentless, each one chipping away at Harper’s defenses.

Harper’s stomach tightened. She had read the same report once she was old enough to understand everything but had dismissed it, not wanting to delve into what it might mean. [color=#8a9a5b]“Witnesses can be mistaken. It was dark, and the site was chaotic,” [/color]she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

[color=#fb0207]“Always an explanation, huh?” [/color]Sierra challenged, frustration and sorrow mingled in her tone. [color=#fb0207]“What about the fact that Mom’s lab was under higher security the week before, with records showing unauthorized access? Or the increased insurance policies she took out?”[/color]

Harper’s lip caught between her teeth, a sign of her growing anxiety. Where was Sierra even getting all of this from? [color=#8a9a5b]“She might have been protecting her work. Labs are targeted all the time for industrial espionage,” [/color]she offered, clinging to any reasonable justification. 

But Sierra was unswayed, her head shaking with the stubbornness that both Baxter sisters, but especially this one, were known for. Her eyes, bright with determination, never left Harper's face. [color=#fb0207]“You can rationalize it all you want, Harper. But you can't deny that too many things don’t make sense. And now we have to find out why,”[/color] she declared, her hand slamming against the wheel in a display of raw emotion. The thud echoed in the confined space of the car, causing Harper to jump. [color=#fb0207]“Why are you so damn against this?”[/color]

It was a fair question, admittedly. Why was she so against this? 

Harper glanced out the window, her mind no longer present in the moment. 

A crash in the hallway. 
A familiar silhouette. 
Large wings, dripping with something dark and wet. 
Wild, unfocused eyes. 
Her eyes. 

A monster. 

Her grip tightened on the armrest, her knuckles turning white. She could feel her breath quickening, the old panic rising in her chest. It was only when she felt a warm, steadying pressure on her hand that she was pulled back to the present.

[color=#fb0207]“Harper?”[/color] Sierra’s voice, sharp yet tinged with concern, broke through the haze. The car wasn’t in motion anymore, Harper realized then. She turned to see her sister's eyes boring into her, filled with a mix of frustration and worry. [color=#fb0207]“Are you deaf or something?”[/color] Sierra's brows furrowed, and she leaned closer. [color=#fb0207]“What are you not telling me?” [/color]

Harper took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She looked into Sierra’s eyes, seeing the relentless determination that had always defined her older sister. She hesitated, the words tangled in her throat. How could she explain something she herself barely understood?

[color=#8a9a5b]“What if…”[/color] she began, hesitating while looking away. “[color=#8a9a5b]What if we find out something about them? Something that affects…us.” [/color]The last word was spoken softer, almost a whisper, laden with a personal weight that seemed to anchor her very soul. It was clear that the ‘us’ she referred to was more than just a collective concern; it was a reflection of her own deep-seated fears.

In that moment, Sierra’s features shifted, the hard lines of determination melting into a gentler visage, her eyes filled with an understanding that seemed to transcend words. [color=#fb0207]“Then we’ll do the same thing that I said back then,”[/color] she replied, her voice imbued with a quiet strength that seemed to wrap around Harper like a protective shroud. One that Harper had vowed to guard against years before but that she found brought a familiar sense of reprieve now.
 
[color=#fb0207]“Have each other’s backs… no matter what.”[/color][/i][/color][/indent]

[COLOR=GRAY][CENTER][COLOR=8A9A5B][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/50Td3qilgs8BLtv8mHyT1t?si=4bfd57574cb14f74][img]https://i.imgur.com/defFT2x.jpeg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=8A9A5B][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Southern Plateau[/I] - [I]Pacific Royal Campus[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Hope in Hell #2.024:[/b][/COLOR] [I]The Apple and the Tree[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=8A9A5B][SUP][sub]_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=8A9A5B][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR][I]Interactions: Lorcán- [@Lord Wraith][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Previously: [/b][/COLOR][COLOR=GRAY][I]A Poor Imitation[/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent]

[indent]The collision of Harper's fists with Sierra's face sent a jarring vibration up her arms, the sound a sharp crack that split the tension-charged air. It was a momentary victory, a fleeting rush of adrenaline that surged through Harper's veins with the intensity of a storm. Yet, as quickly as it came, the satisfaction evaporated, replaced by a torrential outpour of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

Rage—a fiery, all-consuming blaze—ignited within her, its flames licking at the edges of her composure. Harper's eyes, alight with the inferno of her fury, bore into Sierra's with an intensity that could shatter steel. The smirk that marred Sierra's otherwise beautiful features twisted them into a grotesque caricature, a sight so repugnant to Harper that she felt an instinctive urge to erase it from existence.

[color=#fb0207]“Come on now, is that the best you’ve got, baby sister?” [/color]Sierra taunted, her voice a venomous hiss that slithered through the air. Her eyes, once a mirror to Harper's soul, now narrowed into malicious slits, a challenge laid bare between them.

With measured, deliberate steps, Harper advanced, her fists still balled in readiness, her entire being vibrating with the effort to cage the tempest raging within. [color=#8a9a5b]“Do [/color][color=#8a9a5b][i]not [/i][/color][color=#8a9a5b]call me that. You're [/color][color=#8a9a5b][i]not [/i][/color][color=#8a9a5b]my sister,” [/color]she growled, her voice a low, dangerous timbre that dripped with loathing and accusation. Each word was a barbed arrow, aimed with precision at the heart of the impostor before her.

Sierra's response was a narrowing of her eyes, a silent transformation into a cornered predator, her survival instincts sharpening her features into a weapon of malice. But their standoff was abruptly shattered by a cacophonous roar, a harbinger of impending doom.

Before Harper could steel herself, before she could even parse the omens of disaster, an unseen force hurtled her forward. The world careened off-kilter, and she was flung further into the hallway, her hands and knees scraping against the cold, unforgiving floor. The door slammed shut behind her with a resounding clang, sealing away the room she had escaped from earlier, now claimed by the insatiable maw of the sea.

As she regained her footing, Harper's eyes met those of her hot-headed teammate, Lorcán. His gaze was sharp, scanning, locking onto hers with an unspoken query. Harper's own eyes darted around, her mind racing to piece together the puzzle of his concern. Then, with a jolt of clarity, it clicked.

Aurora—the name echoed in her mind, a silent alarm. She was gone, her presence conspicuously absent from the chaos that surrounded them. A void where once there was a teammate. An extremely hurt friend.
 
The realization struck Harper with the staggering force of a physical blow, a gut-wrenching punch that left her momentarily breathless. It was a visceral reaction, her body's instinctive response to possible loss and fear, as potent and paralyzing as any wound she’d ever obtained. 

She hadn’t missed it. 

This familiar agony, a dark companion she had known all too well. The swirling vortex of pain that had once been her constant, an ever-present ache in the pit of her stomach, a reminder of wounds past and loved ones lost. For years, it had been an unyielding presence, a shadow that followed her every step, until one miraculous day, it had receded, giving way to a fragile peace.

But all she could do now was watch as Lorcán, driven by a fury that seemed to eclipse his own humanity, confronted the clone—a being that wore her sister's face but was devoid of her soul.

As Lorcán's grip tightened and the plasma blade burst into searing life, Harper's initial agonizing shock gave way to a raw, primal fear. The clone's screams, a chilling likeness of Sierra's voice, sliced through the air, piercing the armour of the brunette’s resolve. Instinctively, she looked away, and brought her hands to her ears, a futile attempt to shield herself from the horror of the sound.

Silent anguish swelled within Harper, a scream clawing at the confines of her throat, mirroring the clone’s haunting wails that reverberated through the white corridor.  As her eyes reluctantly returned to the grim scene before her, she was met with the sight of the doppelgänger’s brown eyes—a mirror reflecting not just Sierra’s agony but also the depths of Harper’s own helplessness in the given situation. 

It was at that moment that Harper thought she understood the true horror of becoming the monster. To witness it, to be a part of it, was a reality she had never wanted to face. Yet here she was, entirely and wholeheartedly entangled in one of her many nightmares. 

[color=#fb0207]“She—” [/color]The clone spat at Lorcán, her defiance cutting through her pain. [color=#fb0207]“She’s in better hands than yours now.”[/color] Her chuckle was a pained rasp, a sound that seemed to mock their desperation. Harper, with some reluctance, drew closer to the two. The smile that stretched across Sierra’s face was one of triumph, even as the stench of cauterized flesh and melted leather filled the air, singeing at the brunette’s nostrils.

Lorcán stood, his powers fading as he turned to her, his expression cold and resolute. [color=#fe650d]“Do what you will with her, I need to find 'Rora,”[/color] he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Harper merely watched him, her heart pounding a fierce rhythm against her ribcage. His words, though spoken to her, seemed to echo down the hallway, reaching out to the very edges of her slowly crumbling world. She knew the weight of his resolve, the unyielding drive that propelled him forward in search of their missing friend. Yet, as she stood there, she felt a different pull—a tug at the very fabric of her being that whispered of a different path.

She could not, would not, let the darkness consume her. The monster she feared—the one that lurked in the shadows of her own potential for violence—remained at bay, held back by the strength of her will and the clarity of her purpose. Harper knew that to succumb to that darkness would be to lose herself entirely, to become the very thing they fought against. 

Because that’s why she, Sierra’s clone, was here, wasn’t it? To bring out that potential monster buried deep within her. 

With a deep breath, Harper stepped forward, her hand moving to rest on Lorcán’s shoulder but stopping in midair. She withdrew, letting it fall to her side, instead. Probably not a good idea. 

[color=#8a9a5b]“I think…I can track her. It hasn’t been that long since she’s been taken,” [/color]she murmured, more to herself than to Lorcán. This was the crux of Harper’s existence after the loss of the best teacher she could have had—the constant questioning of her abilities, the nagging fear that her powers might fail her when she needed them most. Growing up, she had been her own teacher, her own guinea pig, pushing the boundaries of what she could see and how far she could see it. It had been a lonely path, one that had left her with an arsenal of skills and a reservoir of doubt.

Still, she pressed on, her voice steadying as she clung to a thread of hope. [color=#8a9a5b]“I don’t think…she’ll follow. The clone.” [/color]

At least that was the hope. The hope that this was the final act in the torturous play that had been her life for so long. What more could they do to her, to the mind that had been splintered and patched back together more times than she cared to count? Surely [i]this [/i]was the end of her personal trial, the last test before the curtain fell.

[/indent][/color]