Captured by the Yandere Space Pirates

Ila stepped into the car, her black hair gleaming under the lights, her teal eyes glinting with cruel amusement, her silver-threaded tunic pristine, untouched by the blood that marked her fallen self.

Her triumphant smile was a blade, cutting through Syn's dwindling resolve. "Whoa! Look at that," she said mockingly, her voice a melodic taunt as she glanced at her dead duplicate, crumpled like a discarded doll.

"I'm dead, just as I expected." She laughed, a chilling sound that echoed in the confined space, her head tilting, her smile widening. "It's funny, isn't it? Looking at myself dead—one of the strongest in the Kingdom, laid low. It doesn't suit me, does it?" Her tone was playful, but her teal eyes bored into Syn, drinking in his fear, his confusion, her mockery a weapon as sharp as any blade.

Syn's mind reeled, his breath ragged, his hands trembling as he gripped the pistol, its metal warm from his earlier shots.

How was she here, again, alive, untouched, her smile as cruel as ever?

Was she truly immortal, or was this a shapeshifter's ruse?, a lab-grown clone, a trick of her twisted lab?

His chest heaved, his vision blurring with rage and despair, his body screaming to act.

Without thinking, he raised the pistol, his finger squeezing the trigger, plasma bullets sizzling through the air, aimed at her forehead. Ila moved with inhuman speed, her head tilting just enough for the bullets to graze her hair, sizzling against the metro wall, leaving scorch marks.

She didn't flinch, her smile unwavering, her teal eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.

"Just so you know, Syn," she purred, stepping closer, her boots clicking, her voice dripping with mockery, "you're taking lives this way too. Just not mine."

Her smile widened, her words a poison, twisting his guilt, his rage, his helplessness into a noose around his heart.

Syn's arm trembled, the pistol heavy, his mind screaming to shoot again, to end her, to escape this nightmare.

He lowered the gun, his breath hitching, but desperation surged, a primal need to fight, to survive.

bang!

He fired again, the trigger clicking, a single bullet tearing through the air, catching Ila mid-step.

A hole bloomed in her face, blood spraying, her body collapsing beside the first Ila, her smile frozen, her teal eyes dulling, two corpses now sprawled on the floor, their blood mingling, a grotesque tableau.

The guards didn't react, their rifles steady, their visors reflecting the car's lights, their silence a chilling indifference.

Syn's chest heaved, his eyes wide, his breath shallow, waiting for her to rise, to laugh, to prove her immortality again.

The metro doors closed with a hiss, the car lurching as it sped toward the next stop—the manufacturing biome, its industrial sprawl looming beyond the windows.

Syn's heart pounded, his mind spiraling, his body trembling with the weight of what he'd done, what he couldn't stop.

Mia's hand brushed his arm, her pale eyes searching his, her voice a whisper. "Syn, I will..."

"Why do you do it, Syn?" a voice cut through the haze, smooth, taunting, familiar.

Syn's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the car, finding no one but the guards, their rifles trained, their postures rigid.

His gaze locked on one guard, their face obscured by a full mask, unlike the others' visors.

The guard reached up, pulling the mask free, revealing Ila—again, her black hair tucked beneath the helmet, her teal eyes glinting, her grin a crescent of cruelty.

"It's useless, Syn," she said, her voice a mix of pleading and teasing, her smile unwavering as she stepped forward, the guards parting for her, their rifles still aimed.

"I am immortal. I'll come for you wherever you are. Why do you struggle so hard?" Her words were a taunt, her teal eyes boring into his, stripping him bare, her presence a suffocating cage.

Syn's rage erupted, a raw yell tearing from his throat.

"I'm not coming with you!" he roared, his body shaking, his mind fracturing under the weight of her relentless pursuit.

In a desperate act, he raised the pistol, pressing its muzzle to his temple, the cold metal biting into his skin, his hand trembling, his hazel eyes burning with defiance and despair.

The guards tensed, their rifles shifting, but Ila's eyes widened, her smile faltering, a flicker of genuine worry crossing her face.

"You're not thinking right. There's no reason to waste your life like this!" Ila yelled, surprised and frightened, her teal eyes wide as she stopped, her hands outstretched, her body tense.

"Syn, don't!" Mia's voice was sharp beside him.

Syn's breath hitched, his voice breaking, his eyes locked on Ila, the pistol steady against his head.

"I don't have a choice, Mia," he said, his tone desperate, his heart pounding with the weight of his failures, the lives lost because of him—the shapeshifter, the Backdrop guards, a woman and her son.

"So many people have died because of me. I want to save at least you." He turned to Ila, his voice hardening, a vow. "Let Mia go freely, and I'll surrender to you. I promise. Otherwise, I'll shoot myself right here."

Mia's heart thudded, her mind racing, her pale eyes searching Syn's face, looking for a bluff, a plan, anything but this reckless sacrifice.

Then she felt it—a hard object in her coat pocket, subtle, unnoticed until now.

Her fingers brushed it, her breath catching.

Ila's phone, the one Syn had used to record the shapeshifter evidence, its weight a secret, a mission.

Her heart sank, realization hitting like a punch—he wasn't bluffing, he had slipped it into her pocket earlier when he crashed into her.

He was ready to die to get the truth out, to ensure she escaped with the evidence, to expose the Kingdom.

Her chest tightened, her mind scrambling for a way to save him, to stop this nightmare, but she was trapped, powerless, the guards' rifles a constant threat.

Ila's smile returned, softer, placating, her hands raised in a calming gesture, her teal eyes locked on Syn.

"Okay, I'll let this tramp go," she said, her voice soothing, though her words dripped with disdain.

"There's nothing more important to me than you, Syn. You know that, right? I'll let her go. I'm not even worried about her. But you—you're my everything. Please." Her tone was almost tender, but her eyes gleamed with possession, obsession.

Syn's jaw tightened, his pistol unwavering, his voice loud, threatening. "Let Mia go first. Only then will I put this down."

Ila nodded, her smile tightening, her teal eyes narrowing slightly.

"Calm down. I'll have a ship ready for her at the manufacturing biome's station. She can take it and go. You can watch her leave, make sure no one follows her if you want."

Syn shook his head, his voice sharp. "Your ships can be tracked."

Ila's smile widened, her tone indulgent, as if humoring a child. "I'll rip off the tracker right in front of you, Syn, to make sure no one tracks her ship. Is that good enough?"

"Do it," Syn said, his voice a growl, his pistol pressing harder against his temple, his eyes never leaving hers, his body trembling with fear and resolve.

Ila nodded, pulling a sleek communicator from her pocket, her fingers tapping rapidly, her voice clipped as she issued orders. "Prepare a ship at the manufacturing biome station, now." She slipped the device back, her teal eyes locking on Syn, her smile softening.

"Syn," Mia whispered low, her voice urgent, her pale eyes pleading as she stepped closer, her hand hovering near his arm, careful not to startle him. "You don't have to do this. Let's think of another way."

"No, Mia," Syn said, his voice low, resolute, his eyes flicking to her, a flicker of warmth breaking through his despair. "You need to go back. You know the stakes."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, barely audible over the metro's hum. "If God graces, I'll be alive in one piece. Don't worry about me. Just do it, and maybe you can come back for me later."

Mia's heart ached, her fingers brushing the phone in her pocket, its weight a promise, a mission she couldn't fail because it had Syn's life on the line, she had to do it for him.

She nodded, her pale eyes glistening, her throat tight, her resolve hardening—she'd escape, she'd expose the truth, she'd come back for him.

"Done, Syn," Ila said, her voice cutting through, her communicator back in her pocket, her smile triumphant.

"The ship will be waiting." She stepped closer, her boots clicking, her teal eyes glinting. "You can put the gun down now. It's really easy to accidentally shoot yourself on this bumpy ride, Syn."

"I'm fine," Syn said, his voice steady, his pistol unwavering, his body alert, though fear clawed at his chest, his mind racing with what Ila might do next.

Would she torture him for the truth?

Clone him, as she'd apparently done to herself?

What horrors lurked in her lab, secrets she'd never shared, not even in their days of love, when her teal eyes had seemed warm, not this cold, unyielding void?