Grey felt the black-gold corruption crawling deeper through his Neural Frame, severing pathways one after another until even the pain started to feel distant. Prometheus flickered somewhere far away from him, reaching for a soul it could no longer touch, while Grey watched the light fade from his own vision and realized that, for the first time since this all started, dying didn't feel like much of a shame.
That was new, and Grey knew it even through the haze swallowing his thoughts. Ever since the first time Prometheus dragged him back, he had died unwillingly, and every death after that had been the same no matter how much he complained about it.
Even when the Genesis System's wrath tore him apart so completely that every second made him wish the pain would stop, there had still been some part of him underneath all of it screaming that he wanted to come back.
This time, there wasn't.
