“Side effects,” she muttered, reciting the clinical trial pamphlet. “May cause emotional resurgence, guilt, and acute moral clarity.”
Shame.
She sat on a curb, rain soaking through her hoodie, and for the first time in five years, she wept. Not from guilt—though there was plenty of that. But from the terrible, beautiful weight of being human again.
She pulled out the Catalyst syringe. The liquid inside looked like crushed pearls. One injection, and the Antidote would be overridden. She’d walk into that penthouse cold and clean, put a round through Voss’s left eye, and feel nothing but professional satisfaction.
It saved the mirror.
“Side effects,” she muttered, reciting the clinical trial pamphlet. “May cause emotional resurgence, guilt, and acute moral clarity.”
Shame.
She sat on a curb, rain soaking through her hoodie, and for the first time in five years, she wept. Not from guilt—though there was plenty of that. But from the terrible, beautiful weight of being human again.
She pulled out the Catalyst syringe. The liquid inside looked like crushed pearls. One injection, and the Antidote would be overridden. She’d walk into that penthouse cold and clean, put a round through Voss’s left eye, and feel nothing but professional satisfaction.
It saved the mirror.
