Alice turned back toward the house once Marcus disappeared down the road. She stepped inside quietly, her expression unreadable, and made her way upstairs to her room.
Closing the door behind her, she crossed to her desk and sat down, pulling a worn book from the drawer. Its leather cover bore faint creases, the kind left by years of being opened and closed. It was her diary.
She opened it carefully, took her pen in hand, and at the very top of the blank page wrote today's date, the ink sinking firmly into the paper before she paused, thinking about what to record next.
Her eyes drifted down the pages, skimming over entries from weeks ago. The first one she paused on was August 20th—almost two months had passed since then. She reread the words she had written, the unease and confusion still palpable even now:
August 20th: Today my brother… something has changed. His personality has taken a complete turn. He used to be shy, reserved, always cautious and kind. Now he moves with confidence, speaks coldly, and calculates every gesture. There's something in his gaze and the way he acts that doesn't match what I remember.
August 21st: I tested him to see if he remembered a detail only my brother would know. I asked about a game we used to play together as kids, and he got it wrong. He didn't seem stressed, he simply forgot. But know my brother would never forget that. A dark and impossible thought starts forming in my mind: what if it's not really him?
September 5th: Today he ate something he used to hate. He didn't grimace, didn't hesitate—he just ate it calmly. It's a small thing, but it feels wrong. Something about it doesn't match the brother I know.
September 11th: I decided to give him a test involving a memory only the two of us share. I asked him to describe in detail a secret hideout we built as kids. Hoping fervently that he would get it right, I gave him another chance when he stumbled at first. But he described it all wrong, as if it were someone else's story. My unease deepens. There is no way my brother could forget something so vivid.
September 20th: Today he said he got into a fight with some debt collectors. My brother would never do something like that. Even as a child, though he was big, he always avoided conflicts and almost always lost when he tried to defend himself. Now I hear him say he confronted someone with determination and strength. After seeing this and everything before, I can confirm without a doubt that this person is not my brother.
September 21st: Today we got a call from the hospital. They said he's stable, but we can't go see him or have him come home. I feel a strange mix of relief and confusion—relief that he's okay, but confusion and unease because the person I worry about isn't really my brother.
September 29th: Today the house is heavy with worry. That person has been missing—he's still in the hospital—and now his boss has called to say he wasn't paid for his sick leave. Mom paces the kitchen, anxious, worried both about how we'll get through the month without enough money and about her son. The tension is thick, and I can feel the unease settling into every corner of the house.
October 5th: Today my brother finally came home. He's changed—taller than before, with short gray hair, and a horizontal scar across his throat. He explained that he's become a Transformer and that he's been offered a place at the academy. They promised a good house for us, better schools for Tomás and me, and that Mom could finally quit her job. I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of gratitude toward this person who is pretending to be my brother.
October 19th: Today the person pretending to be my brother finally returned home from his so-called intensive training. He arrived with a cast on his arm and bandages wrapped around several parts of his body. Apparently, there was an accident during the training, which left him like this. Despite everything, he said he would still participate in the exam. I can't help but be amazed by the regenerative abilities of Transformers.
After rereading the notes from previous days and analyzing how her suspicion had developed, Alice began to write.
October 22: Today, the suspect asked me to go with him to the shopping center, probably trying to strengthen the bond with me. I agreed, though with some caution. During the ride on the motorcycle, I noticed a car following us. He decided to return me home to avoid any risk and left, probably trying to lose the tail.
Alice then closed the book. With a cold, calculating gaze, she reflected on who this person truly was, what had happened to her brother, and whether he posed a threat or not.
Marcus weaved expertly through the grid of cars, the tires squealing slightly as he threaded between vehicles with the precision only someone with his reflexes could manage. The motorcycle responded to every subtle shift of his weight, making the pursuit increasingly difficult for anyone following. With each turn and sudden acceleration, he felt the gap widen behind him, the city streets bending to his advantage. Once he was certain they'd lost sight of him, he eased the bike to a stop, parking it discreetly out of view, and vanished into a narrow alley.
Utilizing his enhanced Transformer abilities, Marcus began to scale the walls, leaping from one to another with calculated precision, slowly gaining height until he reached the rooftops. From this vantage point, he could watch his pursuers circling below, retracing the path where he had cleverly eluded them.
After a while, realizing the chase was futile, his pursuers finally gave up and returned to their base.
Marcus followed them from the rooftops, maintaining his distance as they moved through the city. When they reached the abandoned warehouse, he dropped down from the second-story roof and approached the warehouse directly, heading straight to the entrance without attempting any stealth.