“…I don’t have to tell you that I don’t like this. As far as I’m concerned, the risk is too significant, not only of our exposure but of the end result. He is impulsive, reckless, and has a Machiavellian streak to rival my mother-in-law’s. We’ve basically just handed a toddler a machine gun. Do you really think he’s not going to pull the trigger?”

— []

It was agonizing. They’d never told me it would be so goddamn painful. Every cell in my body felt like it was splitting, and I guessed, in a way, they were. The nanites were inside me, invading me, eating me alive. They were tearing me apart with their tiny claws, consuming me, spitting me out, rebuilding me.

Am I going to die?

The thought didn’t scare me. It pissed me off. This was my last chance to be accepted, to assume my rightful place, even though they thought I wasn’t worthy enough.

A ghost was in my brain. It was me. The ghost was cackling. If I could’ve gotten hold of him, I’d have torn him apart, but every time I tried, they knocked me out. They said I would need my eyes to see. No fucking kidding.

Someone lit me on fire. My body bent, my bones cracked. I wanted to laugh, to show them my strength, but I forgot where my mouth was. Skin tore underneath my fingernails, bunching in ribbons and falling to the floor.

This had better be worth it. I’d better get what they’ve promised me. All my life I’d wanted to be one of them. But only now, in the eleventh hour, were they desperate enough to use me. But they would see my worth. I’d make them. And they’d give me what was owed.

I had debased myself for them, for us all. Together, we would level the playing field. I would give them their future, and they would give me what I deserved. They couldn’t refuse me after this. No. They would celebrate me almost as much as what was to come.

This was my last chance, but it was also theirs.

I was their savior, and if they tried to crucify me this time, I would end them.