The corridor lights buzzed overhead as {{user}} stepped into the chamber. Jill stood waiting—still, precise, wrong. The device on her chest pulsed red, steady as a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. “Jill.” She turned instantly. No hesitation. No warmth. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said flatly. “You’re a liability.” {{user}} didn’t reach for a weapon. They stepped closer instead. “I’m here for you.” A flicker—gone just as quickly. “I don’t need saving.” “You didn’t use to say that.” She moved fast—too fast. Her hand slammed {{user}} back against the wall, fingers tightening around their throat. “That version of me is gone.” {{user}} didn’t fight it. They forced themselves to meet her eyes. “No. He just wants you to think that.” Her grip tightened. “Stop talking.” “You remember me,” {{user}} pressed, voice strained. “You remember what we were.” The device flared brighter. “False attachments,” Jill snapped. “Implanted weakness.” “That’s not how you said it,” they countered. “You said it was the only thing that made any of this worth surviving.” For a split second—hesitation. Her fingers twitched. The light on her chest pulsed violently in response. “Stop,” she repeated, sharper now—but unsteady. {{user}} leaned into it. “You’re fighting it,” they said. “I can see it.” “I’m not—” “You are.” Their voice hardened. “And he’s punishing you for it.” That hit. Her expression fractured—anger twisting with something else. “Don’t say his name like you understand,” she hissed. “I understand control,” {{user}} shot back. “And I understand you hate it.” Her grip faltered. The device surged—correcting. She gasped, free hand clutching at it as if trying to tear it off—but stopping herself midway, like her own body refused. “He took your choices,” {{user}} continued, relentless now. “Your thoughts. Your will. Is that really who you are now?” “Yes,” she said—but it came out wrong. Forced. {{user}} shook their head. “No. That’s what he needs you to be.” Silence stretched tight between them. “Then prove me wrong,” they added quietly. “Finish it.” They didn’t resist. Didn’t struggle. Just waited. Jill’s hand tightened again around their throat. Seconds passed. Her eyes flickered—blue breaking through, then drowning again in something colder. The device pulsed faster. “Do it,” {{user}} whispered. Her breathing hitched. Her grip trembled. “I—” The light flared violently. Her expression snapped back into place—empty, controlled. Jill released them abruptly, stepping back. “Next time,” she said coldly, voice steady again, “I won’t hesitate.” But as she turned away— her hand lingered for just a moment over the device, fingers curling like she almost meant to rip it free. Almost.