A middle class couple stand uncomfortably across from Nyx.

Caption: Last week a couple asked me to source their dead kid’s analog.

“You know, it won’t be the same.”

“We know.”



Action panel: Nyx escaping with the analog, which looks like a normal child except for its vacant expression.

Caption: Wasn’t easy busting him from R&D, but I’m not paid for easy.



The parents grasp the analog, looking imploringly at it. The analog stares blankly into the distance, arms by its sides.

Caption: It wasn’t the same. They didn’t know.

“Kit? It’s us. Kit?”



Nyx stands behind the analog. They are in a scum filled alley with neon grafitti. She is pointing a weapon at the back of his head.

Caption: So I told them I’d take care of him. I always keep my word.



