The Bigshot's Superstar Wife

Athena's head ached as the memory crashed into her like a tidal wave. The sterile white walls of a laboratory, the hum of machinery, and the unmistakable scent of antiseptic filled her mind.

She saw herself standing there, dressed in a form-fitting black suit, speaking to someone she couldn't quite make out.

The words slipped past her lips like a pre-recorded message, calculated and devoid of emotion.

"If I fail my mission, you may launch several puppets crafted like me and continue my mission in killing the greatest Mafia leader. Make sure to kill him."

Her own voice echoed in her mind, sharp and commanding. But who was she talking to? And more importantly, who was this Mafia leader she had been so desperate to eliminate?

Her pulse quickened, and she clenched her fists as if trying to ground herself in reality. The problem was, this was her reality.

She wasn't just a soldier. She wasn't just someone who had been thrown into this war.

She was an assassin, one so dangerous that whoever had created her had deemed it necessary to have backups, copies of herself, puppets that could take her place if she failed.

The implications sent a shudder down her spine. How many of her existed? Had she been one of the originals, or was she merely another copy following a script written long ago?

Xavier's grip tightened on her arm, pulling her back to the present. His golden eyes were unreadable, but the tension in his stance told her he had seen the way she froze.

"Athena," he murmured, his voice low, "what did you remember?"

She hesitated. She wasn't ready to say it out loud. If she told him the truth, would he still look at her the same way?

Or would he see her as nothing more than a weapon? Someone who had been designed for death, a ghost of the past resurfacing in a world already drowning in chaos?

"Nothing important," she finally muttered, shaking her head. "Just fragments. Nothing that makes sense yet."

Xavier narrowed his eyes but didn't press her. He turned his attention back to the containment pod, where her other self was slowly regaining consciousness.

The scientists had already fled, leaving behind a room full of unanswered questions. The woman inside the pod looked so much like her, yet at the same time, something about her was… off.

Then, the glass shattered.

The liquid spilled onto the floor, and the woman inside took a sharp, ragged breath. Her pale skin was almost translucent under the artificial lighting, and her long black hair clung to her frame.

But when her eyes snapped open, Athena felt the air in her lungs freeze. They were red. Not the dull crimson of blood, but something deeper, something unnatural.

The woman, her clone, her double, her other self, locked gazes with her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

It was as if they were sizing each other up, two reflections standing on opposite sides of a broken mirror. And then the clone smirked.

"Athena," she purred, tilting her head. "Or should I say… Subject Zero?"

Athena's heart slammed against her ribs. Subject Zero. That was what the decrypted files had called her. But who was this woman in front of her?

"You seem confused," the clone continued, stepping forward, completely unbothered by the shards of glass beneath her feet.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, you're the failed experiment."

Athena's grip tightened on her gun, her body instinctively shifting into a defensive stance. "Failed experiment?" she echoed, her voice dangerously low.

The clone chuckled, a sound that sent ice through Athena's veins. "Oh, you don't remember, do you?"

She raised a hand, flexing her fingers as if testing them. "You were supposed to die in that lab.

When the synchronization failed, you were discarded. But somehow, you survived, and now here you are, trying to play the hero."

Athena felt the world tilt around her. Discarded? Failed? The implications of those words gnawed at her mind like a parasite.

Had she been left for dead, thrown away like a broken tool? And if so, then… what was she really?

She forced herself to keep her expression neutral. "And what does that make you? A better version of me?"

The clone grinned. "That's exactly what I am."

Xavier suddenly moved, placing himself slightly in front of Athena, his posture radiating quiet hostility.

"If you're so much better," he said coolly, "then why were you still locked in a cage while she was out here fighting?"

The clone's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but then she laughed. "Oh, you're good," she mused, looking at Xavier with intrigue. "You always were, weren't you?"

Athena's stomach twisted. The familiarity in the clone's voice, the way she spoke as if she knew Xavier personally, it was wrong.

"You know him," Athena stated, her voice steady but laced with suspicion. "Who are you, really?"

The clone's smile widened, but it no longer reached her eyes. "I told you," she whispered. "I'm you. The real you."

Athena refused to believe it.

She moved before she could think, her body reacting on pure instinct. Her gun was raised, finger on the trigger, but in a blur of motion, the clone was already in front of her. Too fast.

A sharp pain exploded in Athena's ribs as the clone's fist connected, sending her crashing into the nearby console.

Sparks flew as metal crumpled under the impact. Athena gritted her teeth, ignoring the searing pain as she pushed herself up.

Xavier was already moving, his blade slicing through the air. But the clone was just as fast, dodging with inhuman reflexes.

The two clashed in a deadly dance of blades and fists, neither gaining the upper hand.

Athena wiped the blood from her lip, her mind racing. She's strong. Maybe even stronger than me.

But strength wasn't everything. If this clone really was meant to replace her, then she must have the same weaknesses. The same vulnerabilities.

Then she remembered something. The synchronization process.

If this clone had just awoken, then she wasn't fully synchronized yet. Which meant…

She had limits.