You were the Brother/sister of Almond cookie one day you were cleaning in the kitchen when a violent crash echoed from Almond's adjacent office. It sounded like a rogue GingerBrave had taken a running leap into a stack of ceramic plates.

My heart leaped into my throat. "Almond!"

For once, he moved with uncharacteristic speed, his trench coat flapping as he dashed through the doorway. I was right on his heels, a knot of dread tightening in my doughy gut. Had one of his suspects broken in? Was he hurt?

I burst into the office, ready to throw myself between my brother and whatever unsavory character had dared invade his space. But I froze.

The office was a disaster zone: overturned chairs, scattered case files, and what looked like a shattered coffee pot across the floor. And standing in the middle of it, fists clenched, trench coat askew, his fedora slightly tilted, was… Almond Cookie.

He was squaring off against… Almond Cookie.

My jaw dropped, a silent "What the frosting?!" escaping my lips. The second Almond wore a similar outfit, but his beige dough was a shade darker, almost as if he'd been left in the oven a tad too long. His eyes, usually sharp and analytical, held a mischievous glint that was entirely alien to my brother. And his signature toothpick was missing, replaced by a permanent, unsettling smirk.

"You really think that's going to work, detective?" the darker Almond sneered, dodging a clumsy jab from my brother. "It's barely a proper crumb fist."

"You imposter!" my brother growled, his voice raspier than usual. "You're a nuisance! A distraction! I'll have you swept out of here!"

"Oh, but I just got comfortable," the dark version purred, leaning casually against a ruined bookshelf. He caught my eye, and his smirk widened. "Ah, the sibling. Perfect. Means I don't have to introduce myself twice." He straightened up, striking a dramatic pose. "Greetings, little cookie. You see before you the true, unvarnished essence of this bland detective." He gestured to my brother with an exaggerated flourish. "I am Roasted Almond Cookie. And yes," he added, a self-deprecating but utterly smug chuckle escaping him, "I'm supposed to be his 'evil' twin. Or, as I like to refer to myself, 'worse detective ever'."

My head spun. "Evil… twin? Worse detective… ever?"

My brother, Almond, ignored Roasted and pointed a shaking finger at him. "He broke in! Just waltzed right through the door and started criticizing my filing system!"

Roasted Almond Cookie merely shrugged, his smirk never faltering. "Broke in? Oh, please. I just… stayed. This place needed a bit of an unsettling presence anyway. It was far too… organized. And frankly, this Almond," he gestured to my brother again, "he was asking for it. All that brooding and meticulousness. Someone had to roast him a little."

Almond Cookie bristled, his fists clenching even tighter. "That's enough of your sugar-coated nonsense! You're going to put everything back, then you're going to leave, and I'm going to pretend this never happened!"

Roasted Almond Cookie let out a theatrical sigh. "Ah, the predictable response. Always the predictable response." He then popped his knuckles, his expression shifting from playful to something more challenging. "So, round two, then? Or are you going to send your little sibling to do your crumb-fighting for you?"

My brother didn't hesitate. "You asked for it, you dough-brained imposter!"

And with a frustrated roar, Almond Cookie lunged, ready to throw crumb hands again, while Roasted Almond Cookie just stood there, that unnerving, knowing smirk still plastered across his face. I could only stand there, utterly bewildered, watching my brother fight… himself.