Page 139 of Red Scale Daddy
Longer this time.
He steps back.
“Survival,” he says, almost to himself. “You mentioned it earlier.”
“Yes.”
“I can offer that.”
“I am listening.”
“In exchange for cooperation.”
The words settle into place with cold clarity.
A transaction.
Not mercy.
Never mercy.
“What kind of cooperation?” I ask.
“You will assist my engineers,” he says. “You will analyze systems, refine processes, improve efficiency where applicable.”
“And in return?”
“You continue to exist.”
I let the silence stretch just enough to make it feel like a consideration rather than a concession.
“And my autonomy?” I ask.
“Limited.”
“My safety?”
“Conditional.”
“My objectives?”
His gaze sharpens again.
“You have one,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Your father.”
The word hits harder than anything he has said so far.
I hold steady.
“You intercepted my signal,” I say.
“I intercepted your pursuit of it.”
“Then you know where it leads.”
