Ryan had seen the worst of the world.
He'd walked through viral wastelands in the heart of Africa, gathering evidence of CIA-sponsored bio-tests.
He'd infiltrated Lolita Islands, capturing footage of elite perverts grinning through monstrous sins.
He'd even stood in a banquet hall where a "legacy bloodline" hosted a dinner party no human should ever survive.
Not once had he flinched. Not once had he vomited.
Until now.
Standing before Deputy District Attorney Katherine Martin, Ryan finally broke.
It wasn't just the garish makeup. Or the clashing perfume. Or the jarring mismatch of posture, pitch, and pretense.
It was the performance.
He'd seen it before—agents who pretended to be someone else long enough they started to believe their own lies. But this wasn't deep cover. This was ego politics in its purest, most weaponized form.
And it reeked of rot.
Ryan turned, doubled over, and vomited into the trash can.
"F* you just do?!" Katherine shrieked, voice caught between falsetto and growl.
"I asked you a question—"
She didn't finish. She didn't have to.
She knew why he hurled. And now, her eyes glinted with pure, vindictive rage.
"You little bigot. I knew your type. Yellow-skin hiding behind a badge, thinking you're safe."
"You hate what I am? Good. Because now I'm gonna bury your ass in court. Discrimination, assault, malicious intent... You're done, Officer Lee."
Ryan slowly wiped his mouth and stood straight.
Calm on the outside. Boiling on the inside.
This isn't about gender. Or race. This is power. Abuse of it. Hiding behind identity as armor...
And he was done playing polite.
"I didn't puke because of who you are," Ryan said coldly. "I puked because you're a walking ethics violation in red heels."
Katherine lunged forward, finger jabbing like a dagger. "I'm filing a full complaint with IA. You'll be on a desk so fast your ancestors will feel it."
That was it.
Snap.
Before he could stop himself, Ryan stepped forward—grabbed Katherine by the collar—and slammed her against the table.
THUD!
"Say that again," he growled.
"Help!" she shrieked. "He's attacking a DA! He's—!"
The door burst open.
Captain Alexander and Lieutenant James froze in the doorway—eyes wide as they caught the scene.
Katherine, bruised and screeching. Ryan, looming over her like a lion.
"Ryan!" Alexander shouted. "Stand down, now!"
Ryan released his grip and stepped back, hands raised. Breathing hard.
"She threatened to fabricate charges," he said.
"She said I killed that suspect out of hate. You want to go check the bodycam footage for that?"
Katherine was already screaming into her phone, eyes manic. "LGBT hate crime! Assault! Witness intimidation!"
James pulled Alexander aside, whispering, "We're screwed. She's got every progressive group on speed dial. This could go nuclear."
Alexander swore under his breath.
Goddammit, Ryan. Of all people to punch...
By the end of the hour, Ryan was officially suspended.
Administrative lock-up. Internal Affairs would review it. Katherine was pressing formal charges.
Alexander looked at Ryan like he wanted to punch something. Or drink. Maybe both.
"Stay off the radar, Officer Lee. You're not helping your case."
Back in his holding room, Ryan finally sat down.
Calm. Breathing slow. Cold.
Can't fight this one head-on.
Too much politics. Too much theater.
But he had a weapon they didn't know about.
Clone Card.
System Notification:
— Special Item: "Clone Card"— Status: Unused— Target Template: [Choose from Memory]— Duration: 24 hours (Pauseable)
Ryan's lips curled into a sharp smile.
You want a show, Katherine? I'll give you a damn masterpiece.
Because while one Ryan sat in lockdown, the other?
He was about to walk free—and burn the whole corrupt game to the ground.