Chapter 5 - The Altar BloodbathTime seemed to slow down to a crawl.
As the synthetic clone leaped toward Elena with the scalpel raised high, the real Max didn't hesitate. He vaulted over the low railing, slamming directly into the clone mid-air. Both men crashed hard onto the polished marble floor, sliding dangerously close to the baptismal font.
"Get back!" Director Vance shouted, drawing her sidearm with practiced precision. But she couldn't take a clear shot; the two identical men were locked in a brutal, desperate grapple, rolling over each other, trading vicious punches.
Elena stood frozen, the red collar around her neck burning against her skin like a brand. Every memory of the last five years flashed before her eyes—every romantic dinner, every sweet promise, every late-night conversation about the future. Were any of them real? Or was she just a pawn in a synthetic experiment?
With a guttural roar, the real Max pinned the clone to the ground, driving his knee into the clone's chest. He grabbed the clone's wrist, twisting it until the surgical scalpel clattered uselessly against the stone floor.
"It's over, Four-Hundred-Nine," Max panted, blood dripping from a cut above his eyebrow. "The system purge is already initiated. You can't run."
The clone didn't fight back anymore. Instead, a twisted, chilling smile spread across his artificial lips. He looked past Max, staring directly into Elena’s terrified eyes.
"You think he saved you, Elena?" the clone wheezed, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "Ask him what happened to the real Richard Vance. Ask him whose hand actually held the knife in that laboratory fire."
Max’s face turned instantly pale. He froze on top of the clone, his eyes widening in horror.
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"Shut up," Max whispered, his voice trembling. "Shut your synthetic mouth."
Elena stepped forward, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She looked down at the man she had loved—or thought she loved. "Max... what is he talking about?"
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