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When Ivan opened his eyes, he automatically knew three things. One, his name was Ivan. Two, he was a performing pet. Three, he was empty. Ivan blinked a few times and took in the alien’s surrounding him, poking and prodding his naked body with cold metal and speaking just low enough where he couldn’t hear. He smiled politely, just the way he knew they liked. He knew instinctively not to speak but he was sure his gaze looked questioning. A cold four fingered hand suddenly grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into the Segyein’s eyes. Ah, this one was his owner.
“This one is an acceptable copy.” He grunted and tugged Ivan’s chin to one side to examine his face. “You're sure the rapid growth hormones will have no effect on its voice?”
Hm, so he wasn’t the first Ivan or even the first clone. He wondered if the memories he held were borrowed from the previous one, or if all the past clones held the same set of memories. He supposed it didn’t matter, he was the one here after all. He stayed obediently still and let his owner examine him thoroughly before his face was dropped from his grasp. Ivan just stayed still and kept smiling.
“Have you implanted it with faux memories? I’d like the maturity level to stay the same.” At least that question was answered. A smaller alien fervently nodded.
“Yes sir, we weren’t able to replicate the slums however normal children wouldn’t remember much of it anyway. We successfully implanted all needed memories of a full education at Anakt.” He chittered and Ivan dug back into his memories. Blurry faces of children, green fields, and singing crept into his mind but he was always in the distance, watching from afar. He wondered how many of the children were real and which were fabricated. He knew he didn’t crave human interaction and wouldn’t seek it so searching his memories for connection was pointless. And yet… Ivan felt he was missing something.
“You checked him? I don’t want a faulty one like the Luka incident. His eyes are lacking.” The Segyein seemed to steal the words from his brain. He listened intently, so he was missing something.
“Well, the connections the first one made were probably the cause. Humans are social little things.” He didn’t think he was. A connection? “I’m sure his eyes will light up again once he competes.” The competition. He had never experienced it but a shiver ran down his spine. Ivan kept his face neutral.
“Fine. My wife would be upset if he was broken.” He grunted and turned towards the door. “Get him dressed and deliver him soon, I need him ready in time to be gifted.”
The tiny aliens didn’t bother speaking after that. They removed needles from him and checked his eyes, teeth and reflexes. They then dressed him in a long sleeved black v-neck and dress pants. They tied belts around his right upper thigh and Ivan felt his skin crawl. Soon enough he was ushered out. He observed the scenery as they moved him from the building where he was apparently made to a fancy restaurant. He eyed the billboards of the city as they traveled. Luka, fighting again, they mentioned him. Faulty. There were wanted posters plastered everywhere for some rebellion and a ‘witch’. Then Ivan saw it.
‘Ivan is back!’ The billboard had bold letters under a photo of him he did not remember taking. Was it of the original? The Ivan in the photo didn’t look that much different from what he knew he looked like. He had the same cold controlled gaze and practiced smile. He frowned but looked away as he was ushered into his destination. His owner was sitting at a table with another grotesque being.
“See my darling wife? Now he can sing as many times as you’d like him to.” His owner purred, his voice magnitudes softer in front of his spouse. His wife drew a disgusting and wide smile.
“Thank you so much dear, his last competition was divine.” She paused to sip her drink and looked at Ivan with sharp eyes. “I hope he doesn’t throw away your good will this time.” She pouted.
The Segyein laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “That thing isn’t here this time around. I look forward to seeing his full potential this time.”
- -
Ivan stood in front of the mirror in the room he was situated in. He came into consciousness but a day ago and he was already staying in the stadium that would house their rounds. He learned quickly that he was a clone of a previous Alien Stage competitor. He had lost right before the final despite being a strong contender. Yet no one would tell him why, or even let him watch the recordings. He smiled at the mirror, trying to contort his face into something softer. He failed.
He had spent the day meeting the contestants he would be competing against. They had actually been raised in Anakt and knew each other. All except Luka. Ivan could barely remember how to distinguish them. He didn’t really need to, the only real competition was Luka. Still he could see the wary expressions of the other’s faces. One had outright called him creepy despite many observers no doubt reporting back their every move. Ivan tried again, he wasn't sure what he was trying for. What did normal look like? What did normal feel like? Ivan rubbed his cheek, it ached slightly from the practice.
He walked from the mirror to his bed and laid down. The room was dark but the pure white encompassing everything from the walls to his outfit gave him both a sense of familiarity and dread. The feelings in his chest weren’t entirely his own, while they had tried to grow him a new brain they had also been using preserved parts of the old ones for ‘authenticity’. He wasn’t sure how much this affected him but he had confirmed that some old habit stuck around. Ivan curled his palms to rest lightly on his triceps before squeezing. He was so achingly empty. His quiet obedience was purely instinctual but in the safe quiet of his dark room and compressive arms he wondered. Why was he doing this again?
Eventually his eyes shut and he came to courtesy of a rough knock waking him up. The day sped by, he was dressed in promotional material to give one last round of interviews before the competition officially started. The tight collar of the turtleneck made every swallow and movement of his Adam's apple uncomfortable. He was so tired already. Regardless he kept his demure smile and waved kindly to flashing cameras, exuding practiced grace. His gaze flicked to his competitors. A few girls and a few guys, his eyes trailed a head of blonde before the first microphone was shoved into his face.
“Ivan! Is it true you plan to release your singles as the competition goes on?” Ivan smiled, an easy question to start.
“Yes, any song I sing will be heard for the first time on stage. Then once the show is finished they will be available for purchase.” He kept his voice honey smooth and his eyes focused on the camera lens.
“What if you lose? Will all songs be released at once?” Wishing for his death already? Ivan couldn’t have that. He was careful not to let any annoyance he felt rise to his eyes.
“That won’t happen, don't worry” He cooed and tilted his head to the side. He heard the screeching of some over excited fans in the background. The reporter chucked and shook his head enthusiastically in agreement.
“I suppose that's true, your only downfall last time was yourself wasn’t it? Many fans disagreed with your act of sacrifice but it is appealing to be such a romantic.”
What?
“So how do you feel about competing against Luka? He is a well known 2 time champion and has quite the lead in popularity.” Ivan was still struggling with the newly learned fact that the reason he failed, died, last time was because he threw himself into death. He died to save another person? He loved someone? He felt himself grasping at the loose end of some strand that might unravel him entirely. Show him who he really was. Ivan focused on controlling his breathing. Focus, focus.
“Well, people get bored with monotony, like you said I have only ever been brought down by myself.” He baited. He wanted the reporter to talk more. Who was this person? How much did they know? He knew they had to be dead. If it was Luka they’d just say so, and since he was the winner there was only one logical solution.
“What confidence! This is truly an amazing cast to bring back Alien Stage after the unfortunate incident that ended the last one.” Another answer that brought only more questions. Ivan found himself getting weirdly irritable. He stamped down that useless emotion.
“Yes, I hope you all will root for me until the end.” Ivan leaned towards the reporter and cupped a half heart shaped hand to his own cheek. The lights and faint screams of the crowd felt damped. Ivan could only feel the claw from the void in his chest. It was contradictory. He was only just given what felt like a new shot at life. He wanted to live, to beat all of his competitors and keep breathing. Yet this emptiness ate at him. He had no desire for social relationships, it was useless anyways as other humans saw him as uncanny. His skin crawled under the eyes and hands of humans and aliens alike. Why did he want to live so bad to continue such a monotonous existence? How annoying.
Ivan turned his eyes upward and met gold. Luka stared at him with the same blank indifference Ivan felt. He looked different from his posters, more tired. Weirdly he felt some kind of kinship. The Segyein mentioned he also had been cloned, and came out diseased from the amount of times. Maybe if anyone were to understand this emptiness it’d be him. Luka looked away and Ivan felt the presence of another reporter.
- -
“You look less fun without him.”
He looked up from the food he was mostly just pushing around. Luka hovered over him with unblinking and blank eyes. Ivan put down his fork.
“Oh? Did you know me before?” A smile started to stretch across his face before he caught a flash of something sharp in Luka’s eyes.
“Stop that. It’s disgusting watching you pretend.” His lip curled back as he took the seat opposite from Ivan. He let his face fall flat, relieved he wouldn’t have to keep up pretenses. He probably should but he was growing more weary by the day, plus if this man was about to talk to him about the past he’d do almost anything to get him to stay.
“You were in my last competition, of course I knew you.” Luka reached over and plucked a piece of bread from Ivan’s tray. “How much did they tell you?”
Ivan shrugged. “That I lost.”
“But you know more?” What a sharp one he was. Ivan made a note to be more careful around him as they ascended the rounds.
“Yes. Though I can’t picture myself as the sacrificial type.”
“You weren’t. You kept everyone at a polite arms length, though it was pretty easy in the beginning when you were still creepy. It was smart.” Luka tore off a chunk of bread with his teeth and spoke around it. His poised image nowhere to be seen. “You were obsessed with that Till guy though.”
Till. Something caught in his throat. He had never heard that name and yet.. And yet… Something in the core of his being screamed at the mention of that mere name. Luka caught this and leaned forward.
“I thought you were a clone?”
“I am.”
“When I was cloned I had no connection to my copies.”
“They used some old parts.”
“Ah.” Luka raised his brows and leaned back, taking another bite of bread. Ivan cherished the feeling of some of the endless well in his heart being filled finally. Till, he was the missing piece. How cruel, so much of his being was dependent on a corpse? Ivan sighed without meaning to.
“Do you remember anything?”
“Not at all.” Ivan cautiously looked at Luka. He was the only connection to this mystery person, he couldn’t afford scaring him off, but he couldn’t let his guard down too much either. He was still someone he would have to beat. Luka hummed thoughtfully and finished off the bread in his hand.
“It’s better that way.” Luka looked up at him. His eyes were abnormally vulnerable and swimming with deep sorrow. “My love is gone as well but I live with her memory.” he confessed, breathless and quiet. Ivan nodded, he couldn’t imagine the pain if he remembered. He was already enduring the throbbing pain of the emptiness left behind by someone he loved, someone who he will never get the chance to love. It would be much worse coming back to life with the knowledge of everything.
Days later Ivan completed his first round. The crowd below him was full of a blurry mix of human and alien faces. The light shone down on him as he sang and it felt strangely nostalgic. He hated it. The outfit was constricting, the eyes were burning, but he sang like a man possessed. The song was over quickly. 88. Not bad. His opponent was a mere 79. A shot rang out and a thud announced his victory. The roar of the crowd couldn’t overpower the heartbeat in his own ears. He walked off the stage, waving and smiling. In his room he threw up.
He watched the subsequent rounds live. It was the only opportunity he was given to watch the stage. The girl with the green hair beat the boy who had called him creepy. The boy with the lavender hair didn’t stand a shot against Luka. A silver haired girl killed another girl with short chestnut hair. He felt his arms come up again to comfort himself. He nuzzled against his own shoulder. Would Till do this? No, from brief interactions with Luka their relationship was extremely one sided. But in his mind the arms of a perfect stranger embraced him tight.
- -
His time came again. This time he was dressed in white and it made him irrationally sick. The fancy shirt had a cut out back which he could hear the crowd squeal at when he made his way onstage. It was relatively tight everywhere else. A sheer shawl draped itself around his shoulders, shimmering in the light. His dress pants were plain but fit him nicely. A good body to show off does get points, no matter how sick it makes him. He caressed his mic, a translucent cylinder topping a gold stand. He didn’t pay attention to the warbling voice of the silver haired girl next to him. She had apparently lost her lover in the previous round. Ivan felt a small bit of sympathy. Not nearly enough to spare her however.
He began to sing, strong and smooth. The silver haired girl’s eyes were unfocused, she gripped her long elegant dress with white knuckled fists. Ivan wondered if she would even make it through the song. Smoke started to pour in from the wings of the stage. Huh, a detail he wasn’t briefed on but it fit the song. Ivan reached towards the crowd, smoke wisping up with his fingers as he pushed the air. A shot rang out as the track continued to play. Ivan paused and looked to the side. Guards were rushing the stage, the girl lay dead, candy red staining her gown. This wasn’t right. It was premature. He looked up at the scoreboard. 54 points and 42. It was far too close of a score and far too early in the performance.
A rough hand grabbed Ivan’s bicep and yanked him back. The guards raised their guns and yelled something. Oh, this wasn’t about winning or losing. Ivan obediently ran behind who had grabbed him, shawl discarded somewhere along the way. He focused on the head of blonde hair with dark roots ahead of him. A scarred arm was roughly tugging him through the labyrinth of halls, pulling him down to avoid shots that rang out behind them.
“Shit! I told him it was too soon!” The voice cursed and pulled him into a closet, waiting for guards to pass by before jumping out again. Ivan cleared his throat softly which caused the man to whip towards him.
“Would you like directions to the exit?” Ivan supplied, smiling softly. This man was human and given his reaction to the guards, probably part of the rebellion. His heart fluttered slightly, he hadn't even considered the idea of freedom despite knowing exactly how to leave. The man gaped at him for a moment before breathing in deep.
“Yeah man that’d be great.” He groaned and rubbed a firm hand down his face. “Once we are out of here we seriously have to work on all… this” He gestured vaguely to Ivan's whole figure but he couldn’t care less. He walked swiftly down halls, doors opening for him easily since he knew most of the codes and soon they were outside. He hadn’t appreciated the fresh air fully when he was first surrounded by it on his first day of real consciousness. This time he basked in it.
“We’re outside, we were tailed for a bit but apparently this guy didn’t need our help leaving.” The blonde man grumbled into a box he was holding. Ivan tilted closer, curious.
“Phht, yeah apparently that makes sense. Bastard did, wait he escaped before and then went back?” A voice spoke on the other end, clearly in a one sided conversation with someone else. “Whatever, yeah we’ll be there soon, we got out no problem. Where are you?”
“North entrance” He stuffed the box back into his pants pocket and stuck a hand out to Ivan. “Now for formal introductions, name’s Dewey.”
Ivan shook it and smiled. “Ivan. But you already knew that didn’t you?” Dewey smiled and withdrew his hand.
“Man you are just as off-putting as described!” He barked out a laugh and Ivan frowned. “Yeah we knew, as soon as it was announced you were making a comeback our little guy almost tore a hole into the wall of this place to get you.” Little guy? “I thought you were dead though.”
“Well I am. I’m just a clone, no memories except for fake ones.” He looked down coldly at the man, tilting his head. “Will you discard me now?”
Dewey faltered and once again sighed and ran a hand down his face. It came to rest over his mouth as he looked Ivan up and down. His eyes seemed pained. “No man, I-. God no we aren’t ‘discarding’ you.”
A breath he didn’t know he was holding escaped Ivan. He felt some tension leave his shoulders, he wouldn’t have to go back. Good. Just then the roar of an engine drew closer, two humans on bikes came screeching toward them. Dewey didn’t look frightened so Ivan stayed perfectly still as well.
One of the men practically jumped off his bike when close enough and ran. They must be in a hurry. But when the other man came to a much more relaxed halt Ivan grew suspicious. He didn’t have much time before the running man launched himself into Ivan’s chest. He had never been hugged before, other than himself. This guy seemed determined to squeeze the life out of him, his arms were trembling slightly.
“Till! Dude we gotta go save it for the base!”
Till?
Ivan’s eyes widened and looked down at the figure currently attached to him.
“You’re Till…?” he asked, he pleaded, his voice was softer than it had been since he woke up on that cold medical table. He thought he was dead. He was alive? His sacrifice didn’t fail? Dewey smiled and patted Ivan's shoulder.
“Yeah this is Till! I thought you said you didn’t have any memories?” At Dewey's response Till let go of Ivan. Come back he wanted to beg but Till(?) started to move his hands frantically. Till needed his hands, he wouldn’t take them right now.
“Yeah apparently he's just a clone.” Till walked over and smacked Dewey on the back of the head. “Ow! Hey! His words not mine.” Till looked back and forth between the two of them before grabbing a notepad from his jacket and scrawling on it.
[Is that true?] It said when he held it up to Ivan's face. Ivan smiled again but even he could tell it felt different.
“I… I don't have memories but..” Ivan reached out and caressed Till’s hand, still holding the notebook. “Till” He spoke fondly and he felt something slotting into place. “I knew something was missing” He spoke breathlessly and ran his thumb over the others' knuckles. Alarms started faintly ringing from within the stadium. No doubt they had found Ivan's path. He pursed his lips and turned towards Till again. He couldn’t bear to see him get hurt.
“We need to go.” Issac beat him to it and joined Dewey on his bike. Till nodded and put away his notepad tugging Ivan along by the sleeve of his shirt. Ivan followed obediently, his heart soaring and chest full. He settled behind Till on the bike and let his arms be dragged to grapple his waist. He leaned his weight forward onto the smaller man's back earning him a backhanded punch to the shoulder. He laughed, it was all so familiar, but new. He nuzzled his head into the crook of Tills shoulder, the wind in Ivan's hair as they rode away only made him feel more liberated.
- -
Teal, his eyes were teal. Ivan raked his eyes over Till once they had gotten back and he had taken off his helmet. His hair was short and silver, slightly messed from behind under a helmet. His eyes were a sharp teal and scanned him with ferocity. His throat was covered in healed scars that made Ivan’s heart ache. He had no recollection of this man but he would burn his hands plucking stars from the sky if he asked. Ivan wasn’t dumb, he knew from the secret hand language and notepads that his beloved couldn’t speak, but the scars that made him that way still stung. Ivan smiled again, or just wider? He wasn’t sure he ever stopped. Till sighed and shook his head. He got out the notepad again.
[You’re sure you lost your memories? You are acting similar] Ivan chuckled and shook his head.
“They gave me fake ones, for maturity.” He tapped his own head softly. “They used some of the old ones parts for me. My personality was a plus so they didn’t change it.” When Ivan looked back, Till was paler. He knit his eyebrows in concern. Where did he mess up? Till shuddered.
“Dude you can’t just say you have some of the old brain of a past version of yourself and expect a good reaction.” Dewey groaned and laid a heavy arm against Ivan's shoulders.
“...Why?” Ivan was still confused. It was the truth, and Till had wanted an explanation.
“Okay, let's practice empathy.” Dewey sounded like he was talking to a toddler. “Let's say Till here was killed. Then you meet someone who claims that he cut up your friend's old body to use as their own.” Dewey pointed towards Ivan. “How’s that make you feel?”
Ivan hadn’t thought about it like that. He must look like a monster, an imposter wearing the face of a ghost. He sighed deeply. “Terrible. I do apologize.”
[It’s fine. You’re still him I guess. Even more so now with your lack of tact.] Till wrote down and Dewey smiled wide.
“Tact? Seriously? Our Till is so cute! You’re trying to make a good first impression on this new Ivan!” Dewey strolled over to Till and tried to put him in a headlock before being shoved off. “Where’d that potty mouth of yours go?”
“Don’t worry Till. I could never dislike you.” Ivan reassured and smiled fondly. Till, he had a chance to get to know him now. He’d learn everything he could. His heart burned. Up until now everything had felt dull. Till scoffed and stared at him before shaking his head, his own smile starting to form.
Ivan watched with awe as silent laughter overtook his silver haired star. All was right in the world if he could make him smile like this. Everything would be okay now.