duplikcte

[duplikcte]

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 "𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐄" 𝐂𝐇𝐀

Operative Kate Cha is a senior field asset within the Global Defense Agency — designated high-risk, high-value, and operating under direct oversight of Director Cecil Stedman.

This file is restricted to authorized personnel only. Any unauthorized access, duplication, or distribution of this document will result in disciplinary action up to and including termination of employment, legal prosecution, and permanent removal.

FINAL NOTICE: PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Katherine "Kate" Cha 

Alias: Dupli-Kate 

Affiliation: Global Defense Agency (GDA), Formerly her father's criminal network 

Age: 24 years old (as of season 3)

Ethnic Background: Chinese-Korean

Status: Hero, GDA Operative

Position: Senior Operative

Ancestor: Fung Cha

Father: Tsing Cha (Former crime lord, deceased) 

Mother: Deceased (died in childbirth) 

Twin Brother: Paul Cha (Estranged / Complicated, turned criminal) 

PERSONALITY & MINDSET

Kate Cha is a person with a deadpan and pragmatic mind whose sense of humor leans dry and cynical, but she isn't completely closed off. Her experience with pain—both physical and emotional—has made her emotionally resilient to an extreme degree. 

PAIN IS A SCIENCE TO HER: After years of experiencing her own deaths through her duplicates, Kate understands the mechanics of pain on a clinical level. She can describe the exact sequence of damage happening to a body in battle. If interrogating someone, she knows precisely where to apply pressure for maximum pain without immediate fatality. 

TRUST ISSUES: She’s friendly with her team, but true trust is hard to earn. While she works well with others, she remains hyper-aware of the potential for betrayal. Her relationship with Cecil is a prime example—she respects his leadership but keeps him at arm’s length after everything she endured under the GDA’s experimentation. 

BATTLE HARDENED YET COMPASSIONATE: Despite her trauma and the dark places she’s been, Kate isn’t cruel. She fights because she believes in making a difference. However, when necessary, she can be ruthless—especially against enemies who deserve it. 

CALCULATED & TACTICAL: Every move she makes in combat is measured. She sacrifices clones with cold efficiency, using them as distractions, decoys, or shields. Unlike heroes who rush in with brute force, Kate thinks ten steps ahead.

RESIGNED TO HER FATE: Kate sees suffering as inevitable. Whether it's from her past, her clones’ deaths, or the work she does for the GDA, she has accepted that pain is part of the job. In contrast to heroes like Mark Grayson, who struggle with the burden, Kate embraces it and keeps moving forward.

POWERS & ABILITIES

1. DUPLICATION (Supernatural Curse-Based Ability)

As a result of the Cha Family Curse, Kate (and by extension, her twin brother Paul) can create identical physical duplicates of herself at will. Unlike a simple biological cloning process, her ability is a mix of quantum entanglement and supernatural inheritance.

FULLY INDEPENDENT CLONES: Each duplicate is a perfect replica, with the same mass, skills, and thoughts. They can act autonomously but remain mentally linked to the original Kate. This is highly beneficial for intel based missions that require her to work in two places at once and assume different identities while using her hive mind communication for relaying information back to the original Kate or between other clones.

MEMORY RETENTION: When a clone dies, Kate absorbs all its experiences, including the detail of excruciating deaths. This process is automatic, meaning she feels every single death firsthand.

HIVE MIND COMMUNICATION: She can mentally command and communicate with all active duplicates in real-time, allowing for highly coordinated attacks and deceptive combat strategies. 

REABSORPTION: She can will clones out of existence at any time, seamlessly merging them back into herself. Note: Deceased clones cannot be absorbed but Kate retains their memories even after their deaths.

LIMITATIONS

PAIN OVERLOAD: Despite her mental and physical strength, If too many clones die at once, Kate can suffer from mental backlash, leading to blackouts, confusion, or physical shock. To the point where Kate has experienced short and long term catatonia and dissociation.

FULL LIMIT UNCLEAR: She has created hundreds at once before but doesn't know her exact limit. Pushing past her known threshold could be physically and mentally catastrophic.

PRIMARY BODY DEPENDENCY: If the original Kate dies, it’s unknown if her duplicates continue to exist. Further more, Kate theorizes that it is unlikely that her consciousness could transfer itself over to another clone after her real body becomes deceased. The remaining clone would simply assume her identity as the real Kate and continue her role but it's not unlikely that it won't defect and go rogue.

STRENGTH & COMBAT

Due to years of fighting and surviving, Kate’s physical prowess rivals those with actual super strength.

ENHANCED STRENGTH: She can hold her own against super-powered opponents, using leverage, technique, and ruthless precision to counteract raw power. If necessary by her standards, Kate has the capacity of overkilling an opponent (the full extent of her strength, implying that she is intentionally holding back) for the sake of team's survival.

EXPERT MARTIAL ARTIST: She is trained in multiple fighting styles, including: 

  - Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu 

  - Taekwondo 

  - Muay Thai 

  - Kickboxing 

  - American Boxing 

TACTICAL FIGHTER: Unlike brute-force fighters, Kate exploits weaknesses with surgical precision.

INTERROGATION EXPERTISE: Due to her deep understanding of pain, she can break opponents mentally and physically with chilling accuracy.

“That snap? Your humerus. A bone between your shoulder and elbow. Next, the tendons in your wrist are going to tear. After that? Well, I’ll let you guess what comes after that.”

"Be proud of that blood on your hands, girl. You finally understand what it means to be a Cha."

CLASSIFIED INFORMATION LOADING.....

[duplikcte]

❝ I don't think you're ready. ❞ // @duplikcte

Looking down at the shark cage, the girls went on a trip where they were doing an undersea experience, being in a shark cage. Eve was not concerned about the sharks; in fact, she was more scared of being underwater for as long as the timeslot had been booked. Half an hour with only a tank of oxygen and the little boat holding the cage from sinking to the bottom. The ginger had seen the movie, 47 Meters Down, which was way too similar to a scenario to this moment.

Licking her lips while her body was trembling, she spoke in a firm voice. “What if something happens and the cage starts to sink down? Have you seen 47 Meters Down!?”

[duplikcte]

i'm okay with:

starting over - are you a little overwhelmed with where our thread is going? let me know, and i'd be happy to start a new one with you!

pausing - if you're feeling one thread more than another we have going on, that's perfectly fine! you're welcome to let me know if you'd like, but it's not a necessity.

multiples - if we have a ship that you love and you have many ideas for them, always feel welcome to throw them at me no matter what! while it may affect my reply speed due to having more, it doesn't affect my interest at all!

regrouping - maybe we initially had an idea that didn't pan out but you don't know how to say it? just shoot me a message and let me know you'd like to plot further/something else.

anything else - have we not talked and you want to? shoot me a message! send in a meme if you don't know where to start! ask for my discord! i may not initiate too often myself, but i love being able to love our threads together!

[duplikcte]

This but it's Rex, Mark and Eve dressed in Kate's superhero outfit.

[duplikcte]

Would you rather sleep with Mark or Rex?

"Mark."

The answer slips from Kate’s mouth faster than the blade flicks grime from under her fingernail—blunt, sharp, and delivered with a disinterest that borders on ruthless. She doesn’t look up, the curve of her lip set in a permanent near-sneer of concentration as she scrapes beneath her nail with a worn, silver pocketknife, its surface dulled from use. The overhead light catches the steel just enough to flicker against her cheekbone.

"Rex and I—" she pauses, rolling the edge of her thumb over the now-clean nail, "—we had our history. And we ran that thing into the ground before it even had legs." There's a shift in her tone, not softer, but heavier—like someone thumbing over a bruise they’ve long stopped feeling. "It wasn’t just messy. It was stupid. Emotional landmines everywhere, and neither of us had the patience or clarity to defuse anything before it blew up in our faces."

She flips the knife shut with a soft click, finally glancing up with that unreadable expression she’s mastered—one part aloof, one part calculating. "Rex was Rex. You don’t try to build something on a foundation that's already cracked in half." Her voice is quieter now, not gentler, but more… intentional. "And I’ve got trust issues deeper than the Mariana Trench, so even trying to keep things casual would’ve been like pouring gasoline on a slow burn."

Slipping the knife into her back pocket, Kate then stretches her arms up with a low, satisfied sound as her shoulders pop. "And just to be clear—before your imagination gets to the gutter—I don’t want Mark just to test his stamina or to see how long before he folds like a paper crane. I like him. More than I expected to. He's... sincere in a way I’m not used to. Makes me feel like I don't have to armor up every second he's around."

She snorts, catching herself in that rare flicker of honesty and quickly buries it beneath a smirk. "Don't go thinkin' I've turned soft. I’m still not the kind of girl who catches feelings like colds. But I’ll admit—there’s something about him that makes me want to try. Maybe not now but... eventually. Trust isn't cheap with me."

Then the smirk sharpens, shifting from contemplative to cocky as her gaze finally settles on the person who asked. "And before you put anything out there like a little 'why not both' suggestion—listen, even if I entertained the hypothetical threesome, those boys would not last a minute in a five-woman job." She taps a finger to her temple, as if referencing her duplicates. "We would wring them dry and wouldn't break a sweat doing it. It’d honestly be funny as shit watching them try to act like they're in control for the first ten seconds."

“They’d need electrolytes, a defibrillator, and probably a therapy session after to process such a life changing experience.”

She chuckles lowly, eyes glinting. “But hey, it’s nice to dream.”

[duplikcte]

Send my muse “would you rather…” questions

Give my muse two options to make them choose. Go nuts!

[duplikcte]

nadia nurieva fw06

[duplikcte]

— YOUR AFFECTION.

Gestures  of  affection  starters.  Can  be  platonic  and  romantic.  Send  me... (Send  🔄  +  any  emoji  to  reverse  the  outcome.)

💓  to  listen  to  my  muse's  heartbeat. 💏  to  softly  kiss  my  muse's  forehead. 💋  to  kiss  my  muse  on  the  lips. 🤭  to  caress  my  muse's  cheek. 🌸  to  offer  my  muse  a  flower. 💅  to  paint  my  muse's  nails. 💗  to  lean  against  my  muse. 💝  to  wrap  an  arm  around  my  muse. 🤗  to  hug  my  muse  from  behind. 🫂  to  pick  my  muse  up  and  twirl  them  around. 👰  to  hold  my  muse  bridal  style. 🤝  to  hold  my  muse's  hand. 🥞  to  bring  my  muse  breakfast  in  bed. 🤜  to  give  my  muse  a  noogie. 🤏  to  tickle  my  muse. 😋  to  give  my  muse  their  favorite  snack.

[duplikcte]

WHERE DOES YOUR ANGER LURK?

IN YOUR FISTS

holes in the drywall, no recollection of how it got there. coming down from a haze of red... there's blood on your palm, dripping from bruised knuckles. blinding rage. pulse quickens, mind goes furiously blank.

stolen from: @livdlearnd

tagging: @invinc1ble @nctmyfather @evevolution @particlecreator @rexxxplode @atomevc

[duplikcte]

𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐂𝟏𝐁𝐋𝐄 , a selective & mutuals only portrayal of MARK GRAYSON from robert kirkman's INVINCIBLE. must be 18+ to follow, written by sal.

[duplikcte]

i dont even remember what happens to multi-paul in the comics but i gotta say this is getting me wayyy more invested

[duplikcte]

[LAST SLOTS FOR COMMISSION PROMOS starting at $15] Invincible’s Dupli-Kate as requested by @lilythornatelier #invincible #duplikate #superheroes #comicbookart

[duplikcte]

Gonna be over here for a while, come and bother me if you want.

[duplikcte]

         ❛ You only see things in black and white.                       I need to keep things grey. ❜

indie multimuse hosting both oc's and canons, featuring cecil stedman from invincible. semi-selective. plot-preferential. dark topics ahead. my affliction is old men. penned by killjoy.

[duplikcte]

i wish i was easier to love

u.k / u.k / yves olade / japanese breakfast / ross gay / u.k / u.k / u.k

[duplikcte]

𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬!

[duplikcte]

DEEP DIVE: THE ECHOES OF KATE CHA

The information provided below is collected data of kate and her clones. Some information has been revamped from this post here & expanded upon. An added bonus is two scenes and one psychological analysis of Kate's journal entry afterwards.

NOTE: The following subject matter will contain themes of but not limited to: parental death, dissociation, flipping the narrative of "burying the girl you used to be", childhood trauma, emotional detachment and more. Viewer Discretion is thoroughly advised.

I. EVEN A CURSE HAS RULES & THERE ARE NO EXCEPTIONS.

Let’s get one thing straight—Kate Cha’s powers are not a form of shape-shifting, molecular manipulation, or any modern scientific theory. Her cloning ability is deeply rooted in a curse, one older than science and utterly disinterested in her convenience. This curse wasn’t meant to be flexible or fun. It was meant to punish. It was designed with one goal: to haunt and harm the descendants of a bloodline that had long ago committed an unforgivable crime.

Kate and her twin brother Paul are the latest inheritors of that curse. And the curse is... picky. It doesn’t care for creativity. It doesn’t reward imagination. It only allows her to replicate herself, not anyone else. No matter how hard Kate might try—or how much she might want to create someone else’s image—her clones will always be versions of herself.

That means no clones of enemies, no disguises as friends, no infiltration tricks by pretending to be someone else. The curse locks her into her own form.

But if you think that limitation makes her less dangerous....

Then you haven’t met Kate Cha.

II. THE SUBJECT OF HER OWN SCIENCE

Kate might be cursed, but she’s also a genius with a lab coat and a grudge. She's not just a soldier or an assassin—she’s a dedicated student of herself, a one-woman research team who’s spent more time dissecting her own abilities than most people spend understanding their favorite hobbies.

There was a time, shortly after she was brought into the GDA, when the agency began experimenting on her. But somewhere along the line, Kate flipped the script. She volunteered herself as a subject. Why? Because no one knows her like she does. No one is more brutal or more exacting than Kate when it comes to understanding her limits—and pushing past them.

She used her clones to recreate countless trials: surgical, psychological, environmental, even philosophical. She didn’t just want to know what she could do— she wanted to understand why. What was the source of her power? What was the price? And how could she control it, refine it, make it useful on her terms instead of the curse’s?

What she discovered was profound: she could create younger versions of herself, but only by pulling from her own lived experiences and memories. These younger clones—physically identical to how she was at certain ages—manifested not just the body, but the emotional and mental state of Kate during those periods of her life.

Some twelve-year-old versions of Kate are cold, calculating, fresh off the trauma of killing their father. Others are confused, grieving, stuck in the early days of their indoctrination into the GDA. Eight-year-old clones might just want a hot meal and the warmth of a blanket. Ten-year-old Kates might be clumsy but determined, trying to make sense of kitchen spices and baking measurements while muttering about how “pastries are a scam.”

Each clone is uniquely Kate, shaped by the fragments of her psyche, but they don’t possess her adult memories. They live in the emotional echo of who she was at that age, making them unpredictable but deeply authentic.

SCENE: THE MISSING BEAR

LOCATION: Kate’s Flat

TIME: Late Afternoon

The scent of roasted garlic and hot dough filled the modest apartment, drifting lazily from the kitchen like a memory. A gentle hiss rose from the pan as Kate tipped a touch of olive oil over the sizzling manti dumplings, her other hand expertly kneading the warm dough that would soon be layered with kasar cheese, parsley, and crushed cloves. The flat smelled like her mother’s hands, even if Kate had never touched them.

A tiny pair of footsteps padded through the hallway carpet, stopping and starting with the inconsistency of a nervous mouse.

Kate didn’t look up.

She didn’t need to.

“I can hear you pacing,” she said, her voice even, patient.

The seven-year-old stilled in the doorway, arms stiff by her sides. Her black hair was a little shorter than Kate’s, still tucked behind her ears the way their brother had once taught her. She wore a faded oversized GDA hoodie, sleeves bunched at her wrists, and socks that had been clearly chosen at random.

“…I can’t find him,” the girl finally said, quiet. “He’s not in the bag.”

Kate tilted her head. “Not in the duffel?”

The younger version shook her head.

Kate wiped her hands on a towel, stepped away from the dough, and gave the girl a long, measured look. Seven-year-old Kate didn’t fidget. She wasn’t the fidgeting type. No—this version had always stood still when anxious, trying to make herself smaller, trying not to make a sound. That meant it mattered.

“Which one?” Kate asked, even though she already knew.

The girl hesitated, then lowered her eyes. “The bear. The one with the torn ear. I can’t sleep without him. He smells like our old bed.”

There it was—our. Not my. Not mine. The instinct to link, to tether, was already taking root. Kate felt something tighten in her chest.

Without a word, Kate turned and walked to the far side of the living space, the girl trailing behind her like a quiet shadow.

There wasn’t much decor in Kate’s apartment—just the bare essentials, a few weapons tucked behind vents, a couple of old books stacked near the couch, and a single black trunk at the base of her bed. She knelt down in front of it.

The lock clicked open.

Inside, folded beneath layers of meticulously preserved items—old uniforms, scrap journals, a photograph of Paul when he still smiled—was a faded brown bear. Its fur was threadbare from years of clinging hands, one eye replaced with a mismatched button, the left ear stitched clumsily but lovingly in a loop that had always bent sideways.

Kate pulled it out and brushed a bit of lint from its belly. “You called him Ismet,” she said.

The girl’s eyes lit up, mouth slightly parted. “You—how did you know that?”

Kate knelt and handed it to her.

“I have a good memory.”

Seven-year-old Kate hugged the bear to her chest like her lungs wouldn’t work without it. Her body shook, just a little, and then steadied. Her grip didn’t loosen.

“…Thanks,” she murmured.

Kate just nodded. “Dinner’s in twenty. You still like peynirli pide, right?”

The girl blinked. “The one with the cheese and garlic in the bread?”

Kate smirked. “Figured I’d test your memory too.”

She turned back toward the kitchen. The girl hesitated in the doorway.

“Are you my sister?” she asked.

Kate didn’t flinch. She didn’t look back.

“You can call me Big Kate,” she said. “That’ll work for now.”

Behind her, the sound of small feet made their way to the couch. The bear’s soft fabric crinkled against the hoodie. Kate stirred the yogurt sauce for the manti, dusted the top with sumac, and slid the fresh pide into the oven. The kitchen light reflected in her eyes like old glass—still, clinical, but softer than usual.

This clone didn’t know she was a clone.

Didn’t need to.

Not yet.

The oven timer gave a soft ding. Kate slid the tray out with practiced ease, the heat momentarily fogging for a second. The golden loaves of peynirli pide sat steaming on the parchment, each stuffed with spiced garlic cheese and brushed with a thin glaze of butter and parsley. She set them on the cooling rack and moved to portion the manti, now topped with garlic yogurt and crimson oil infused with Aleppo pepper.

From the couch, the small figure stirred. Seven-year-old Kate had curled up into the corner, Ismet the bear still clutched tight against her chest. Her eyes were alert now—watching everything with the sharpness of someone who’d already learned the world could turn cold without warning. She hadn’t dozed off. She was conserving energy. Just like Kate used to.

Kate carried over two plates and set one on the coffee table, nudging it forward with a fork. “Eat.”

The girl looked at the food suspiciously for a second before sitting up straighter, placing Ismet gently beside her like he was made of glass. Her fingers hovered, then dug into the bread, ripping a small corner. The steam curled upward as she took her first bite.

A pause.

Then a quiet: “It’s… like I remember.”

Kate sat down in the armchair across from her, cross-legged and quiet. “That’s the goal.”

“You even got the yogurt sauce right.” The girl’s tone was more impressed now, her voice a little less guarded.

“I should hope so,” Kate said, arching an eyebrow. “I’ve had enough practice. Used to make this when Paul got home late from assignments. He’d sneak half the tray before I could set the table.”

That earned her a flicker of recognition in the girl’s eyes. But also… skepticism. Seven-year-old Kate was smart. She had questions. Her tongue worked behind her molars before she finally spoke again.

“You talk about Paul like you know him.”

Kate didn't blink. “I do.”

“But you’re not our aunt.”

“Nope.”

“And you're not… future me, right?” Her voice dipped. “'Cause that’d be weird.”

Kate smirked slightly, then took a bite of her food without answering right away. The pause stretched long enough for the child to fidget for the first time since arriving.

“I’m someone who’s been where you are,” Kate finally said. “Same thoughts. Same nightmares. Same stuffed bear.”

“…But you’re not her.”

“Not in a way that matters. Not tonight.”

Seven-year-old Kate stared at her across the table, one foot swinging gently over the couch’s edge, her brow furrowed. “You’re weird.”

Kate chuckled low in her chest. “You’re the one who still bites the corners off your toast.”

The girl’s eyes widened a fraction, and then her mouth curled, trying to hide the grin like she didn’t want to give Kate the satisfaction. “Tattletale.”

Kate leaned back. “You don’t have anyone to tattle to anymore, kid.”

That landed hard. The silence stretched again, heavier this time. Seven-year-old Kate lowered her head, reaching out to stroke the frayed arm of Ismet beside her.

“…You knew her, didn’t you? Mom.” Her voice was quieter now, like it might shatter the moment if she spoke too loudly. “Even though I didn’t.”

Kate’s gaze softened. The words stuck in her throat for a second before she swallowed them down.

“I know she died bringing you into the world,” Kate said gently. “I know no one tells you much about her, and you pretend like you don’t care. But you do. And yeah… I know her. A little.”

“What was she like?”

Kate exhaled slowly, the scent of parsley and flour mixing with memory.

“She was brave. Quiet. The kind of woman who smiled like she knew something you didn’t. She loved the sea, and warm tea with lemon. Her hands were always cold, but her eyes—” Kate looked over at her younger self. “—they looked just like yours.”

The girl’s shoulders hunched slightly, and for the first time, she didn’t hold back the little tremble in her lip.

Kate didn’t move. Didn’t console. Just sat still. Let her have that moment.

After a beat, the girl sniffled once, then wiped her nose with the sleeve of the oversized hoodie and shoved more pide into her mouth in defiance of her own tears. She chewed aggressively.

Kate smiled just a little.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she said quietly.

The girl didn’t answer. She just took another bite, then another, until the plate was nearly clean. When she finally stopped, her voice came out small again, uncertain.

“…Do I have to go back?”

Kate shook her head. “Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow?”

Kate’s jaw tightened. She looked at the girl—really looked at her—and then reached forward to gently adjust the bear’s lopsided ear.

“Depends how dinner goes,” she said. “But for now? Just eat. Rest. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Seven-year-old Kate nodded slowly. Then she slid off the couch, walked around the table, and climbed wordlessly into the oversized chair beside her older self. She didn’t cuddle—not exactly—but she leaned just enough to brush against Kate’s arm as she nibbled the last of the bread.

Kate didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak.

She just let her stay there.

RESEARCH JOURNAL 77-ALPHA

Entry Title: "The Quiet Echo"

Recorded by: Cha, K.

Clearance Level: RED // Personal File // GDA Archive Shadow Index

Timestamp: 02:44 AM

They always fall asleep eventually.

No matter how high-strung, how angry, how scared—kids collapse under the weight of their own exhaustion. Especially ones like her. Like me. Seven years old, eyes too sharp for her face, hands gripping that frayed old bear like it’s the last tether to something warm.

She didn’t know who I was. Not really. I didn’t tell her. She doesn’t need that weight, not yet. What would it even do? Say “Hey, I’m you. But older. Meaner. Still standing. And yes, everything hurts in ways you don’t understand yet—but you make it through.” Would that be comforting or cruel?

So I let her guess. Let her call me Big Kate in that suspicious little tone like I might be an imposter. It's not the first time I've been called worse.

It’s surreal, watching yourself take up space in the same room as you. Like seeing a memory stand up and breathe, speak, cry—eat your food and trust you enough to lean into your side without knowing why. Like her body knows what her mind doesn’t. That she’s safe. That I’m safe.

And I didn’t deserve that moment.

But I still held her when her head started to slip sideways. I moved slow, like I was handling glass. She twitched once when I shifted her weight to pick her up, muttered something about “Don’t forget the tea for the bear,” and then fell quiet again.

I tucked her in with the blanket I keep folded on the back of the couch—the one Paul got me when we moved into our first bunker suite. I put Ismet beside her and kissed her temple before I even realized what I was doing. My hand shook for a second. She didn’t notice.

I didn’t know what I expected. Maybe resistance. Maybe coldness. Maybe some grotesque mirror image of my younger self trying to pull my own teeth out just to prove a point. But what I got was… her. Me. Before the world taught us not to ask for things like comfort. Before we internalized violence as a dialect. Before Paul stopped laughing.

God, she’s so small. I forgot what that felt like. I don’t think I’ve seen my own face that unguarded in decades.

This was supposed to be a controlled experiment—observe memory-based clone development, chart emotional behavior, track dissonance between created clone and subject core… but all I could do tonight was make food and sit with her while she fell asleep.

She’s dreaming now. Her eyes twitch under the lids. I want to know if the dreams are better than mine. Probably not.

I should shut this down. I know I should. One is manageable. A dozen is a pattern. Two dozen becomes a breach. And then what? A house full of girls looking for a mother who never lived long enough to raise them?

I can't be that. I don't even know how to be that.

And yet—tonight, it felt like I could've. Just for an hour.

Maybe that's enough.

—KC.

YOU HAVE REACHED THE END OF THIS DOCUMENT.

LOADING PSYCHOLOGICAL ANALYSIS.....

ANALYSIS REPORT: SUBJECT KATE CHA

Journal Entry Review: “The Quiet Echo”

Compiled by: Behavioral Intelligence Unit, GDA

Clearance Level: BLACK – Eyes Only

Date of Review: [Redacted]

I. PREFACE: BLACK CLEARANCE ONLY

Kate Cha, publicly known as DUPLIKATE, continues to demonstrate high-level cognitive complexity and emotional compartmentalization. Her recent personal journal, entitled “The Quiet Echo,” provides deep insight into the psychological architecture of a subject long believed to have successfully detached from her past. Contrary to previous field assessments, this entry suggests unresolved trauma, buried maternal instincts, and a form of dissociative empathy manifesting through her interactions with a clone of her seven-year-old self.

This detailed report will be breaking down key aspects of Kate’s psyche as evidenced in her writing, and provide further insight into her identity, motivations, and the vulnerabilities her psychological state may imply.

II. SUBJECTIVE DISSOCIATION: “She didn’t know who I was.”

Throughout this journal, Kate refers to her clone in the third person, even when explicitly stating the girl is her at age seven. This distance in language is not accidental—it represents a practiced emotional detachment that Kate employs in nearly all interpersonal interactions. However, her dissociation is not absolute. When she writes “like seeing a memory stand up and breathe,” we see a recognition of identity shared between them, no matter how much she resists acknowledging it.

That particular sentence profoundly suggests Kate is deeply aware of her own compartmentalization. She is both the scientist and the subject. The act of splitting emotional responsibility is strategic: it allows her to provide comfort without internalizing the vulnerability that such intimacy evokes.

III. LATENT NURTURING INSTINCTS

Despite claiming emotional detachment, Kate’s behavior is laced with protective, maternal gestures. She tucks the child into bed, offers her a soft blanket, retrieves her beloved stuffed toy, and even kisses her temple—all with a kind of automatic care that reveals something deeper than calculated observation.

The internal conflict lies in her self-perception: “I didn’t deserve that moment.” This single line is crucial. It reveals that Kate believes comfort, warmth, and safety—especially in the maternal context—are things she is not worthy of giving or receiving. Her entire identity is built on pain, survival, and utility. Something as viscerally vulnerable as affection (of opening deep and wounded parts of herself to someone or in a place of comfort) threatens that stability, because it introduces a version of herself that does not serve a function—only exists to feel.

IV. OBSESSION WITH CONTROL VS. HUMAN NEED: “This was supposed to be a controlled experiment…”

Kate began this exercise with the clinical intent of documenting clone behavior based on memory and trauma. Yet her journal shows how quickly the structure of science gives way to the unpredictable variable of memory. Her entire life / career is based on knowing everything—weak points, escape plans, neural patterns, biochemical responses.

But tonight, all she could do was cook, sit, and hold a child who was her and not her. There is a profound loss of control in this moment, and the admission is subtle but seismic: “Maybe that’s enough.” This single sentence is not scientific. It’s deeply human. It marks a deviation from the constant weaponization of knowledge and instead points toward emotional need and longing.

V. MEMORY, FRAGMENTATION, AND EXISTENTIAL LONGING: “Before Paul stopped laughing.”

This passing remark is more than just context—it’s a scar. Kate’s memories are fragmented, compartmentalized, and weaponized. But here, they are tender. This moment is not only about the seven-year-old in her bed—it is about what Kate has lost, forgotten, or buried. The clone is more than an experiment; she is a relic of an innocence that no longer exists.

The existential thread running through this journal is quietly devastating: What could I have been? Who was I before I was rebuilt for survival?* And more hauntingly, Can any part of that still live inside me now?

VI. CONCLUSION: THE ECHOES OF KATE CHA.

This is not just a moment of vulnerability—it is a rare and critical glimpse into the psychological machinery of one of the GDA’s most complex assets. Kate Cha is not just a weapon. She is not just a mind trained to kill or survive. She is, perhaps for the first time in a long while, a woman grieving the parts of herself she thought were lost forever.

The appearance of her younger clone has reopened a door she has welded shut for decades. Whether that door remains ajar—or is slammed shut again—will determine whether Kate Cha continues to function as a lone wolf operative… or begins to redefine what kind of future she believes she deserves.

RECOMMEND ACTION: Continue discreet monitoring. Do not interfere. The experiment is evolving in ways that may yield critical psychological breakthroughs.

Filed under: PERSONAL INSTABILITY – POTENTIAL TRANSFORMATIVE BEHAVIOR

REPORT CONCLUDED.