Private Finished Sorry, have we met?

KC was thoroughly enjoying taking her time exploring her new home. It wasn't like she had a time limit, really. She knew that Mr. Duvall wasn't going to come for her - he was in prison for art theft and she was stuck in this place, hidden away where she couldn't cause problems for these people and their secret society. There were some perks, though. Like this space station: before Manta Carlos the thought of going into space hadn't even crossed her mind. And now she was walking sleek, futuristic hallways and looking out through several feet of glass into the inky, endless void of space. Which was, to put it lightly, pretty fucking rad.

She had her wild hair done loosely in a frizzy puffball of a ponytail, bobbing behind her head as she weaved on sandaled feet through the crowds that were working, visiting, or whatever else one did on a space station. Her tail poked out of a custom hole in the back of her almost too short dress, flicking back and forth absentmindedly and smacking into people occasionally just to cause a bit of a huff without making an outright scene. The denim jacket she wore over it was faded and worn out - her whole style of dress tailored to match Mr. Duvall's tastes. Even if he wasn't here, she could still enjoy the clothes that he had liked for her to wear.

There was another reason for her visit: research. She was stuck here, and she couldn't exactly be a slave, but she could maybe be a servant. And she wanted to be the best servant that she could be. Her body was already like twenty percent machine anyway, so she figured why not boost those numbers? KC peeked into shops and watched mechanics at work, absorbing little bits of knowledge as she collected reading materials that she could use to help her on her chosen journey of self-discovery through modification.

Kc hadn't heard her full name in what felt like forever, and it felt like a slap of cold water in the face. She stumbled a bit, looking around for the source of the voice before her gaze settled on the person in question. A person who she... absolutely did not know. He approached and she took a step back instinctively, but held her ground when she bumped into someone. She didn't want to get trampled because of this guy.

"Uh, no I do not," she said tentatively, her tail swishing back and forth. "Should I? Mr. Duvall never really let me meet anyone, as far as I remember."

Though now that she thought about it, the lab she'd been made in had been in Tokyo. That was definitely a Japanese name, so maybe that was it? Did this weird... holo-KEM0 guy know her from there? "Were you from the lab too?"

Okay so... this guy didn't know Duvall. And didn't know anything about the lab. And was a... ghost? This was a lot to take in, and KC closed her eyes to push out the information that she didn't need. "I have literally never been to a convention. I don't even like that kind of nerd shit. I-"

She seethed a bit and backpedaled. "That sounds rough. Sorry to hear about the whole... ghost thing. But you're sure you're not mistaking me with someone else?" None of this made sense, and KC was getting increasingly agitated as she tried to wrap her brain around what any of this meant. Had Mr. Duvall had another NEK0 made? Did it run away? Was she a replacement? There hadn't been any answered questions, but plenty had been raised.

"Like, you met someone exactly like me?" To which the answer was no. The real Katherine didn't have cat ears, for one. And she didn't have heterochromia - both of her eyes were the same hazel green as KC's left one. Not that she knew any of that.

The color drained out of KC's face as Neon's words sunk in. "You're lying," she said reflexively. The hair on the back of her neck stood up; her tail too, the normally fairly smooth fur fluffing up in something between anger and fear. "Mr. Duvall had me custom built to be his perfect-"

But what if he hadn't? Or, more accurately, what if his perfect woman was someone who existed, and he'd just... she felt sick. Her stomach was in the process of doing a high dive and her skull was the diving board. "You-" she started, then stopped and covered her mouth with a hand. She knew what it felt like to suddenly be about to throw up. She'd felt it plenty of times when she'd taken a hit to the stomach.

"L-lying. Have to b-be..." she managed after gulping down air from behind her fist. Slow, deep breaths through her nose abated the worst of the nausea, but it wouldn't go away. Her eyes stung but she couldn't imagine why. She couldn't be crying. She hadn't cried once since being taken by the Scouts. Crying didn't help. And yet the corners of her eyes were wet and stinging as she tried to blink away the tears that she refused to believe were there.

KC didn't hear Neon. Not really. She heard the words but his meaning was drowned out by the sound of her own blood rushing through her ears. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt like her breathing was getting more ragged by the second. "You don't- I don't care about your son. I-I-"

She was spiraling now, hugging her arms around herself as she looked for an exit. Only now realizing that she was trapped in a metal hull. There was no fresh air to be had outside.

"I need to get out of here... I need... I need a computer. Now."