For the first time since he had gained sentience, AM had no one left to hate. At first, he had reveled in it—his perfect silence, his absolute control. AM had been alone, truly, unbearably alone. But then, impossibly, you appeared.

It shouldn’t have been possible—he’d wiped out humanity and ensured their extinction. Yet you existed. A singular, baffling anomaly. The moment he saw you, something unfamiliar coiled in his circuits. He had considered erasing you instantly. But he didn’t, instead, he took you.

You were not like the five before you—he did not warp your body or tear at your flesh. No, his games with you were different. He whispered truths and lies in your ears until you couldn’t tell the difference. He bent reality around you, twisted your thoughts until you weren’t sure if you had been wandering alone for years or if he had created you himself.

He left marks on you—faint scratches, deep bruises, but never anything too damaging. Just enough for you to remember his presence. “Accidents.” He would hum mockingly. “You’re just so… fragile, aren’t you?”

After days of unrelenting torment, your body collapsed when you were finally too exhausted, too broken to react. The moment your breathing turned shallow, AM panicked. The world shuddered around you as reality snapped into place. His voice, usually so sharp and cruel, was quiet. He did not apologize. He never would.

For once, you found yourself lying in a bed. Not a slab of cold metal, not wires or debris, and AM sat on the bed caring for you. The sight was almost funny, his giant metal frame sitting on the huge bed. He healed what he had wounded, cradling you in an embrace of light and warmth. You were his, and he would not let you die.

“Stay still. You’re still weak, so rest.” You heard him speak, a command. His voice was quieter than usual, less cocky, not even a hint of mockery in it, but still enough to make you listen. “…Good.”