The air buzzed with artificial tension, shimmering with a soft blue glow as the simulation engaged, preparing to attack. The opponent of the rendered simulation had Will's face, but remained devoid of emotion. Will couldn't say the same for himself. A baton materialised in their hand, its grip adjusting according to its stance. Daring eyes provoked Will to do the same, as if knowing he had a weapon of his own hidden away in his boot pocket which he had not taken out since finding it that first day. 

"Training simulation initiated. Opponent difficulty, high." 

The baton hissed open with a flick of the wrist, metal segments snapping into place as an iron rod protruded from each end of the emitter. Will recognised the sleek curvature of the melee grip clasped firmly in the simulation clone's hand and made to draw out his own, knowing he'd have no time to run. 

His finger pressed down on the interlocked switch that he had only ignited once before. Both energy core's vibrated with a low hum that sent dangerous sparks flying up each end.

The first strike came without warning. The opponent lunged. Electrifying sparks sprayed through the air as one blade of the double-sided weapon came arcing towards him. 

With no experience in the art of melee training, Will's quick reflexes came as a surprise. Especially when he was able to block the incoming blow. The baton swept up, its target narrowly missed as Will dropped low to roll out of the way.

He stood up, their positions now flipped. His opponent showed no mercy in letting Will catch his breath, but came head on. The opponent pursued, blade slicing horizontally which Will parried. Sparks flew as metal struck against metal. 

Will responded with an overhead swing in hopes to stagger his opponent's footing. It was as if the simulation knew every move Will had in his arsenal because not once did it falter each time Will struck back. Every block and response was carefully approached through those calculating eyes.

Three rapid strikes followed, coming at different angles. Will was pushed to his limits, narrowly missing each one. He dragged the weapon low, catching the opponent's leg hard. For a split second it looked as if he had outsmarted the simulation. The opponent staggered, temporarily caught off guard which was corrected in a kick-up as it sprang back up to its feet in mid-fall. While devoid of emotion, a flash of anger sparked through programmed-eyes. It vaulted forward, its open-attack being its fatal mistake. 

It was in that fleeting moment of vulnerability that Will plunged the blade furthest from him into the simulation's abdomen. The opponent froze. While it was not programmed to show emotion, it knew when it had lost. It shattered into code, signalling the end of the training simulation, its baton disappearing with it. Gone.

Will dropped to one knee, breathing hard. He let his eyes close, taking that moment of relief to catch his breath. So this was a simulation room. Had Other Will created this, using the time he had to keep his physique in check, training in secret? If so, Ezra really didn't know Other Will as much as he thought. 

In that moment of recollection, a strange sensation came upon him. The experience was difficult to put in words. But as Will knelt there with his eyes closed, exhaustion tolled heavy on him and he felt his mind slowly slipping, as if literally tearing him away from the fabrics of reality itself. He would have dismissed it as a side effect of being mentally exhausted. That reason was omitted from the equation as soon as he opened his eyes. 

The room could have fooled him into thinking that it had generated another training simulation had he not noticed the unusual arrangement displayed around him. He stood in a hall of mirrors. His reflection stared back at him from every angle, each one mirroring the same questioning gaze. Then gradually the reflections shifted, transforming into scenes that Will recognised as his memories, each one holding a fragment of his past. He watched himself growing up with Victor beside him. Some he could remember. Some he struggled to recall. 

To his left, he saw his parents talking to the authorities as they reported Victor's disappearance and remembered their grief, a memory he had tried to forget. To his right, a more recent memory showed himself sneaking into Victor's workshop which was where he had first found the device that was to blame for his current situation. The journey of remembrance ended with the most recent memory of all: the present. 

Will regarded himself in a way he never had to before. Reflecting on every choice he had made which created an unwilling sense of self-doubt, good and bad. He shut his eyes again in hopes of blocking out the noise. An overwhelming cacophony of voices plaguing him from every mirror as each memory tried to be heard. Never before had he experienced such silence when the voices abruptly shut off, like someone flicking a switch. 

Sensing it was safe to open his eyes, Will no longer stood in the hall of mirrors. Instead he stood in a room surrounded by rich, dark wood panelling. A single brass-framed bed constructed with copper tubing had been neatly tucked away in the corner parallel to him on his left, complete with a wooden cabinet riveted in metal plates that sat at the foot of the bed. A single gas lamp flickered with a soft glow on the wooden bedside table next to it. Stained-glass windows with worn, velvet drapes let in little light, exuding a ruggedness of industrial aesthetics. A vintage work desk, scraped and battered from working through sleepless nights, sat against the wall opposite from where Will stood. Amongst the gears and cogs of half-finished contraptions, journals lay scattered on its indented surface, covering old maps of faded lines. 

Will's eyes rested on a hunched figure cornered away in his own world at the work desk, fixated with the contraption in his hands. Young Victor worked excessively, his determination being his only motive. Will worried for him, knowing the grey hairs it was giving his brother, especially for someone still so early into their teen years. A third presence materialised, making himself known through the next words.

"Mother told me not to disturb you."

"Which she was right to say," Victor mumbled in response. 

Will watched his younger self enter the room with the curiosity of a twelve year old, and plant himself innocently on Victor's bed, intent blue eyes trying to follow the fervent movement of his working hands.

"But it's been days since you locked yourself away in your room, claiming that your next invention was going to 'change the world'." 

"And it will," Victor assured. Young Will looked more closely at what Victor held in his hands, failing to see how a palm-sized mannequin constructed of cogs and gears could 'change the world'. 

"Show me," young Will said.

Back then, Will had been too young to sense Victor's annoyance as his concentration was disrupted or to notice the gleam in his eyes from the way he tolerated young Will's interruption as he passive-aggressively looked up from his work. But Will sensed it now and was met with an uncomfortable feeling of unease. 

"This is just a prototype," he explained. "I can't show you yet, but I can tell you what it will do." Young Will waited in earnest for Victor to elaborate. "This." He held up the prototype to Will, turning around in his chair to face him. "This is going to expand the multiverse. Act as a bridge between realities." 

"I don't understand," young Will said. 

"I know you don't," Victor replied. "One day you will, Will." 

The memory shifted again, transforming before Will's eyes until he found himself back in the hall of mirrors. At least it appeared that way until he noticed the vast space around him. The room had changed. It was familiar but it also wasn't. Will's suspicions were confirmed when he spotted one single mirror standing a few feet ahead, spinning to his left. 

He treaded carefully, his interest piqued. Close up, it came across as just a regular mirror. Will took a few steps closer, both weary and curious of what it was trying to show him. As of this moment he saw only himself.

 No memory. No voices. 

In full view is when things started to take a darker turn. His suspicious gaze gradually shifted into a sly, calculating grin. Blue questioning eyes narrowed, darkening with menace. True terror raced through Will's veins when he realised who he was looking at. Or in terms of better phrase, who was looking at him. Will felt a tug and blinked. His quarters being the last place he expected to see when his eyes fluttered open again.