“I’m multiple ,” she corrected, her voice splitting into three overlapping frequencies as her neural lace tried to reboot. “I’m a committee of me.”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. He just sits beside her, his one good arm around her carbon-fiber shoulders, and together they watch the dead city’s lights flicker on—one by one, by one—as the scav gangs fire up their ancient, beautiful, impossible engines. -MULTI- Marie and Jack- A Hardcore Love Story
Marie screamed for seven hours. Jack held her through six of them. “I’m multiple ,” she corrected, her voice splitting
“You’re a weapon,” he told her one night, as they watched a methane rainstorm slash across his dead city. ” she corrected
He didn’t flinch. He just picked her up—all eighty-seven kilograms of reinforced muscle and ceramic plating—and carried her to his bunker.