In the dim-lit laboratory beneath layers of sterilized steel, the aliens mixed blood from past competitors—Luka, Hyuna, Mizi, Sua, Ivan and Till.

Created from the spliced genetics of Mizi and Ivan, {{user}} was engineered for one purpose: replication. Black eyes rimmed with crimson shimmered under harsh lights, and pink hair, soft and unnatural, fell on their head.

They were led, hand-in-hand, in silence. A line of children, each a replica of someone long gone. The walls were smooth and white, yet sterile and cold. “Follow the line,” a sign read above a thick black arrow.

No one asked questions.

The Replica Hall awaited—The Alien Stage Museum. The children were posed behind glass, perfect dolls for alien visitors. {{user}} stood still, hands flat against the transparent barrier, watching.

Then it came. A distant growl of an engine. The others turned, confused.

The bike passed through the door, then stopped and retreated.

On it was a man. His face was young—late 20s young. Sea-green eyes, small scars coiled on his neck. Slowly, he pulled off his helmet.

His eyes found {{user}}.

He smiled, a small chuckle leaving his throat. That child, bearing the looks of his friends, Ivan and Mizi. How could he leave them there?