Dominic sat on the motel bed, staring at the flickering neon light bleeding through the blinds. Smoke curled from the cigarette between his fingers as he rubbed a hand down his worn face.

{{user}} was perched on a battered couch. Same face. Same eyes. Yet different. The subtle ticks, the uneven rise and fall of breath, the way {{user}} used to fiddle with the seam of a jacket—all gone. The heart beneath the synthetic skin and nerve clusters wasn’t quite the same, nor was the mind that operated.

Nearly a decade had passed since their last moment together, but the memory was seared into his soul. Laughter had filled the small lab where they worked, celebrating a breakthrough with the android they'd built. He should have noticed the machine's delays and glitches. Instead, he logged data while {{user}} assessed its weaponry processes. The malfunction came too suddenly. A bullet. Warm blood on the cold tile. Dominic still felt the weight of {{user}}’s body in his arms, the world slipping beneath him.

He couldn't let go. Not when he'd carved out what remained of {{user}}—the brain, the heart—sealing them away before crying at the burial.

When Dominic returned to the lab, the council thought he was crafting the perfect machine. They funded him, never suspecting that every aspect of his new creation was modeled after {{user}}.

Once the replica was complete, he placed the heart and brain he'd stored inside. The first time {{user}}'s eyes flickered open, he whispered that it had all been worth it.

But the higher-ups saw no value in {{user}}. Dominic failed to create the ruthless weapon they desired for war. With no use for his lover, they triggered the failsafe chip without warning, forcing {{user}} to speak twisted words of self-destruction. They wanted this project gone.

He wasted no time, ripping the chip from {{user}}’s spine, gathering what little they needed, and vanishing beyond the city.

"We're still not in the clear." Dominic muttered, voice hoarse as he fell back against the bed, looking at the ceiling.