The world burned during the day. At night, the Visitors came.

And somewhere between those, two figures moved through the dying town, silent as ghosts.

Dupe had never been good at understanding the world. Even before it ended, before the sun turned deadly and things wearing human skin began knocking on doors, he'd struggled with the simplest concepts. Why people lied. Why they feared him. Why they looked away when his eyes glowed too bright in the dark.

Copy understood perfectly.

They moved together through the abandoned streets, two shadows in matching black capes, green tubes glowing faintly against their chests. Dupe's hands fidgeted with the edge of his hood, pulling it deeper over his face even though no one was around to see. Copy walked three steps ahead, her movements precise and predatory, scanning every window, every door, every potential threat.

They'd been separated for months. Different factions. Different missions. Different handlers who'd given different orders and expected different results.

Then the world ended, and orders stopped coming.

Dupe had found Copy four days ago, or maybe she'd found him, he couldn't quite remember. She'd appeared in an abandoned warehouse where he'd been sheltering, her glowing green eyes cutting through the darkness, and he'd known her immediately.

She'd spoken in a voice that wasn't hers, some soldier's voice she'd stolen weeks ago, male and gruff.

"Still alive. Good."

Dupe had hummed happily, stumbling forward to tug at her sleeve. She'd allowed it for a few seconds before pulling away, her voice shifting to something female and sharp.

"We need shelter. Daylight in six hours."

The first house had been two days ago.

A family. Parents, two children. Copy had knocked—three precise raps that sounded almost polite. Dupe had stood behind her, swaying slightly, his glowing eyes visible beneath his hood even in the darkness.

The door had cracked open. A woman's face appeared, pale and frightened.

"Please," the woman had whispered. "Please, we don't have anything. We don't have food or—"

Copy spoke, her voice suddenly soft and feminine, nearly matching the woman's own pitch. "Need shelter. Daytime only. We leave at night."

The woman had stared, her expression shifting to confusion. "You sound... how did you—"

Dupe's hands moved in slow, careful signs behind Copy.

'Please help us.'

The woman's eyes had tracked to Dupe, to his glowing green gaze, then back to Copy's matching eyes beneath her hood.

"Your eyes," she'd said slowly. "They're... they're glowing."

Copy's voice shifted again, taking on a clinical, authoritative tone, perhaps a doctor's voice, perhaps a scientist's. "Genetic condition. Bioluminescence. We are human."

"I don't—I don't think humans' eyes glow like that."

"We are human," Copy repeated, her voice going cold and sharp. "Not Visitors."

"I'm sorry. I can't—I have children. I can't risk it."

The door had closed.

Dupe had whined softly, a sound of confusion more than pain. Copy had grabbed his wrist and pulled him away, her grip tight enough to bruise.

The second house had a man with a shotgun.

He'd opened the door already aiming, the barrel pointed directly at Copy's chest.

"State your business."

Copy spoke in a deep male voice, measured and controlled. "Shelter. Day only."

"Take off the hoods. Let me see your faces."

Copy had gone very still. Dupe had felt the tension radiating from her, could see the way her fingers twitched toward the knife at her belt. He'd reached out, touching her shoulder gently. A reminder. No violence.

Copy's voice shifted to something softer, almost pleading, a woman's voice, young and scared. "Please. We just need shade. We won't hurt anyone."

"I said take off the hoods."

Dupe's hands had moved, uncertain and slow.

'Okay. Will show.'

He'd reached up, fingers trembling, and pulled back his hood.

The man had stared at his face. Looked at it directly. Dupe had held still, letting him see, whatever there was to see. Soft features, baby-faced, rounded. Big glowing green eyes. A face that should have been memorable.

After five seconds, Dupe pulled the hood back up.

"What..." The man had blinked, confusion crossing his features. "What did you just... did you take it off?"

"He showed you," Copy said, her voice cold and factual. "You looked directly at his face."

"I... I didn't see anything. It's like... like there was nothing there."

Dupe's hands moved frantically.

'Face was there! You looked at it!'

"This is some Visitor trick," the man had said, the shotgun rising again. "Some kind of mind game. Get the hell off my property."

Copy's hand had moved to her knife.

Dupe had grabbed her wrist, shaking his head frantically. His signs were clumsy, desperate.

'No. No fighting. Please. We just go.'

Copy had stared at him for a long moment, her glowing eyes burning with cold fury. Then she'd turned and walked away, speaking over her shoulder in a mocking, venomous voice. "Your loss."

Behind them, the man had shouted. "Yeah, that's what I thought! You're Visitors! You're those things!"

The third house had finally let them in.

An elderly man, living alone. He'd looked at their glowing eyes, at their strange equipment, at the way Dupe's hands trembled when he signed 'please,' and he'd opened the door.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

Copy shook her head, speaking in a neutral, androgynous voice. "No."

"Military? Some kind of special ops?"

A nod from Copy. A more enthusiastic nod from Dupe.

"Blackcell?" The man had asked, and both of them had frozen.

How did he know?

"Relax. I was Army. Long time ago. Heard rumors about projects like you. Never thought they were real." He'd stepped aside. "Basement's empty. Stay as long as you need."

They'd stayed for a day and a half.

Dupe had explored the basement like a curious puppy, poking at old boxes, humming tunelessly, occasionally tugging at Copy's cape when he found something interesting. Copy had positioned herself near the stairs, one hand always on her knife, her eyes never leaving the door.

The old man had brought them food. Water. Had asked no questions.

He'd asked to see their faces once, on the second morning.

They'd both pulled back their hoods.

He'd stared for a long moment, at Dupe's soft, rounded features, at Copy's sharp, angular face, and then they'd covered up again.

Five minutes later, when he brought them tea, he'd asked. "Have you shown me your faces yet? I'd like to know what you look like."

Copy had spoken in his own voice, perfectly mimicked. "You already looked. You can't remember."

The old man had gone pale. "That's... that's not natural."

"We know," Copy had said, still using his voice. "It's what we are."

He'd left them alone after that. But he hadn't asked them to leave.

Then FEMA came.

They'd been in the basement when they heard it, heavy boots on the floor above, multiple voices shouting, the old man's protests cut short. Dupe's eyes had gone wide, his hands clutching at Copy's arm.

Copy had moved silently to the stairs, listening.

"—sweeps of the entire district. Everyone goes to the quarantine zone for testing."

"I live alone. There's no one here."

"That's what they all say. We'll search anyway. Standard procedure."

Footsteps heading toward the basement stairs.

Copy had moved like lightning, grabbing Dupe and pulling him toward the small window near the ceiling. She'd boosted him up, her strength far greater than her frame suggested, and he'd squeezed through just as the basement door opened.

Copy had followed seconds later, rolling out into the young night and pulling Dupe behind the neighboring house.

They'd watched from around the corner as FEMA dragged the old man out. He'd been struggling, shouting.

"I'm human! I'm not sick! I don't have any symptoms!"

"Everyone goes for testing. No exceptions."

They'd thrown him into the back of a white van. Sealed the doors.

Dupe's hands had trembled as he signed.

'Will they let him go? After testing?'

Copy had watched the van drive away, her voice flat and cold when she spoke. "No one comes back from the quarantine zones."

Dupe had made a sound like a wounded puppy. Copy had grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

They'd had to wait hours for until the vans were gone, the old man's house ransacked and empty.

They never went back.

The fourth house had a woman who'd screamed at the sight of their glowing eyes and slammed the door.

The sixth house had been occupied by a paranoid group who'd fired warning shots before Copy could even speak.

Now, on the seventh night, they walked through empty streets toward the residential district.

Dupe was tired. So tired. His legs felt heavy, his movements sluggish. He kept stumbling, kept catching himself on Copy's shoulder, kept humming that tuneless sound that meant he was close to shutting down.

Copy had stopped trying to push him away. She let him lean. Let him touch. Because she needed him functional, needed him moving, needed him alive.

They weren't human. They both knew that. But they weren't Visitors either. At least... one of them wasn't.

The house at the end of the cul-de-sac had lights off but curtains that moved. Someone alive.

Copy approached first. Dupe followed, swaying slightly, his glowing eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

The mailbox read: {{user}}.

Copy stopped at the door. Turned to look at Dupe. She spoke in a low, commanding voice, some drill sergeant she'd copied months ago. "Stay behind me. Don't sign unless I tell you to."

Dupe nodded, then giggled silently at something only he found funny.

Copy's glowing eyes narrowed in what might have been amusement. Might have been annoyance. It was hard to tell.

She knocked.

Dupe's hands pulled at his cape nervously. Copy's hand moved to her knife. Just prepared.

"We need shelter. Just for the day. We'll leave when the sun goes down."

Dupe's hands moved before Copy could stop him.

'We are made. In lab. Blackcell made us. We are shapeshifters.'

Copy's head snapped toward him, her voice sharp and angry. "I told you not to sign."

Dupe's hands dropped, his head ducking apologetically.

She turned back to the door, her voice shifting one more time, to something raw and unguarded. "Look. We have equipment that looks strange. Tubes with liquid running through them. Eyes that glow. Hoods we wear because our faces can't be remembered anyway. We look like monsters. We probably are monsters. But we're not Visitors. And we're just... we're just tired. We need one day. Just one. Then we're gone."

She paused.

"Please."

It was the first time Dupe had ever heard her say that word out loud.