"A roommate? Really, Kewin? That’s your play?"Antang’s voice had lost the robotic, static-filled rasp, replaced by a chillingly clear, monotone vibration. His hand, gripped around Kewin’s throat, didn't tighten, but it didn't let go either. It felt like being held by a statue carved from ice."It’s the truth," Kewin gasped, his vision blurring at the edges as the pressure on his windpipe lingered just below the threshold of unconsciousness. "Look at me, you stupid synthetic. I’m not Hantar’s men. I’m the guy who walked through a chemical fire to get you out of that lab. Do you remember the fire?"Antang tilted his head. The violet light in his eyes pulsed, erratic and sharp, like a failing fluorescent bulb in an abandoned office. "Data segment: Fire. Heat signature detected. Oxygen displacement… 40 percent. Why did you remain, Kewin?""Because you were there," Kewin choked out, his fingers digging into Antang’s metallic forearm. "I don't leave things behind. Especially not you."Anta

"Screw Aethelgard," Kewin spat, struggling to regain his breath as he pushed himself up from the damp floor. The moisture of the tunnel seeped into his jeans, cold and smelling of iron and rot. "They aren’t the ones deciding your worth anymore. I am. And right now, you’re worth the hell of a lot more than a piece of broken machinery."Antang didn't respond immediately. He stood rigid, his head tilted at an unnatural angle, staring at a patch of graffiti on the tunnel wall—a series of fading, spray-painted warnings about 'The Scrappers.' The violet light in his eyes flickered, settling into a dim, steady thrum. "You prioritize my functionality over your own safety. Why?"Kewin stood up, brushing off his coat. He felt the ache in his ribs, a souvenir from their earlier tussle. "Because without you, I’m just a guy hiding in a hole waiting to starve. With you, we’re a team. Or haven't you noticed? We’re still breathing.""Breathing," Antang repeated, tasting the word like it was a foreign

"Do you feel... afraid?" Kewin asked, his voice barely a rasp against the crushing silence of the tunnel.Antang’s head snapped toward him, the movement too swift, too fluid for a human. The indigo light in his irises pulsed, bright and then dim, like a failing neon sign. "Fear is a physiological response to imminent annihilation. I do not have a fear response. I have a threat assessment algorithm. It is currently oscillating between 'Optimal' and 'Catastrophic'.""That’s just fear with a bigger vocabulary," Kewin muttered, checking the magazine of his pistol. It was half empty. Always half empty. "If you can’t tell the difference, you’re in worse shape than I thought.""I am in a state of rapid degradation, Kewin. Why are you stalling?" Antang stepped forward, the heel of his boot echoing like a gavel strike against the concrete floor. "Every second we remain stationary, the probability of intercept by Aethelgard tactical units increases by 4.2 percent."Kewin sighed, stepping into t

Kewin shoved the beam of his flashlight directly into Antang’s face. The light caught the artificial iris, making the indigo glow flare with a blinding, ethereal intensity. "Never say that again. Not in my presence. Do you understand me?"Antang didn't blink. His eyelids, layered with synthetic dermal tissue that felt disturbingly like cool wax, remained frozen. "I am calculating the logic of your refusal. It lacks optimization. In a high-risk encounter, the survival of the primary subject—you—is logically superior to the retrieval of an obsolete unit.""You aren't a unit," Kewin spat, pulling the light away, his hand trembling with a mix of exhaustion and genuine fury. "You’re a person. Or at least, you’re the closest thing to one I’ve got left in this godforsaken hole.""I am a bio-synthetic construct, Kewin. My memory banks are fragmented. My structural integrity is at thirty-two percent. And yet, you insist on tethering your survival to a machine that cannot even define the sensat

Kewin let out a ragged breath, the damp air of the tunnel catching in his throat. He shifted his grip on the pack, his fingers aching from the cold. "Forget the source code for a second. Can you feel the vibration in the floor? That’s not a leak. That’s a pump station starting up."Antang remained motionless, his head tilted at a precise, uncanny angle. "Negative. It is a rhythmic frequency of 42 Hertz. It is localized. Approximately fifty meters ahead, behind the bulkhead labeled 'Sector 4'.""Sector 4," Kewin muttered, his heart hammering against his ribs. "That’s the transit hub. If the Scrappers are running the pumps, they’re digging for parts. We’re walking straight into a scrap heap.""Then we deviate," Antang said, though his voice flickered, the tone dropping an octave before snapping back to his default crispness. "There is a ventilation shaft three meters to your left. It is rusted, but structurally viable to sustain your mass."Kewin squinted into the gloom. He swung his fl