Jared needed answers. He needed so many things. He needed legs that could support his weight while he stood, needed ribs that could handle him taking deep breaths, and, if any gods listened to him at that moment, he also needed to know just why the automation had chosen that of all names.

“Are you sure you want me to call you that? And, I mean, really sure?” Jared asked for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour. Each time, he just grew warier and warier of himself. Was he experiencing hallucinations on command, the construct in from of him unable to speak any words he could hear? Was he going insane?

He had to. There was no way that the world he perceived was real. It was too fictitious, without any real reason to anything. The blood was fake, the dead stares in the cold corpses were without any shock to him. The only shock he could feel was the moments where the construct looked him right in the eyes and told him words that were like the most dangerous poison to behold.

“Yes. I have been told that it is a name with meaning,” the automation with a certain name said. Not that Jared felt entirely comfortable even thinking about it, the mere presence of it bringing fear into his soul. If he had a soul, at that. The name might just have sucked it out of him, for all he knew. Even the damned soul of satan, the tortured soul that was always hungry for prey, wouldn't amount to anything when compared to the devil that was the name that the construct had chosen. “I was told by a co-worker that it was a grand choice.”

Nothing made sense. It was all fake, all one big illusion meant to torture him for all eternity. That had to be it right? Jared felt like standing up on his weak legs and shout to the skies about how he had seen through the curtains, had seen what the dolls and paintings had tried to hide from him, that he had perceived the truth of his fake life. But… he just sat still in the back of the car, letting his body rest like he had been asked.

“But there are plenty of other names with meaning,” Jared objected for what felt like the tenth time. Normally, he would just plead for the automation to see reason, yet other times he still tried to find some logic in it all. Instead of putting the blame on those around him, he tried to justify others actions and their inherent evil on his own ideas and ideals.

It didn't make sense most of the time, and Jared understood fully that there weren't any guarantees that it would ever fully work. Pride was a fickle thing, able to give many gifts while also closing so many doors. Even when he tried to forget that side of him, to ignore the tale he had told himself for so long, he couldn't help but be seen through that lens forever. If it was like a wound, it would need years, decades, forever to heal, the damage down always able to leave a scar on his body. There was a chance it would always be seen, that the way he carried himself and that the way he tackled would show all what colours he had truly worn for such a long time. Jared could do nothing but accept it, yet he fully understood how much he would have loved to have it removed from him entirely. Yet, that was just another far-fetched dream, only to be had in his mind and in the reality he himself created.

Not the one he was in, however. No… that was hell, not operated for his own good but to enhance his own suffering. He had seen bad mistakes, again and again, had seen others do things they would regret while thinking themselves the geniuses of the decade. The actions done, the words uttered, everything he had seen in those times had never been without some consequences. And, for better or for worse, Jared knew that the same would come from that damned name that the construct had chosen.

“And there are a hundred ways to say two. That does not mean I won’t use the one I like the most,’ the construct said. The automation went down on one knee, bringing one of the body bags out of its pockets and swiftly began to stuff a body down into it. The actions were quick, without pause, and with more efficiency than Jared had ever seen it performed. Truly something that deserved to overtake him in the end. “I have taste, I have a desire for something I can know myself by. You call yourself Jared, even if others find such a name under average in quality. Yet you still wear it with pride, because that is the name you have been given and the name that you will keep because of it.”

Oh, how Jared so strongly desired to stand up and give the thing a piece of his mind. He had so many words to shout, so many things to exclaim without breath in between, so many quotes he needed to make about the quality of tradition. But… it all fell on an unmoving tongue, the man’s gears working quicker than his reasoning.

His mind thought and thought, the words of the construct being crunched into smaller and smaller pieces. Like the system in his stomach, it all worked through digestion. Everything was made into something, everything was looked at, and everything was covered in him. Before anything else could be done, Jared looked at the words said before he looked at himself and sighed.

The construct was right. It had been right from the start. Jared, praise be the name that he had, was something that was looked down on frequently. It was a name fitting an elderly man, of one that had lived a full life of hard striving and work. It didn't fit somebody like him, only just at the beginning of reaching his real prime. He wasn't old enough to fit the stereotype. He wasn't what people thought of when they heard his name.

And that was one of his bigger weaknesses. He didn't fit into the group. He didn't fit into the idea that Jared had in the heads of the general populace. Jared knew that. He had known that fact for years, decades even. Yet… what had he done against it? What had he done to change this title, to make sure he could better fit into the boxes created by those around him?

He had done nothing. Not a single step had been taken towards that goal of becoming the average human. There had been nothing stopping him from taking the guise of another name, to be called something that fit his form and stature more. But, he had never actually thought of it, his whole being assimilated of the identity called Jared. He was Jared and Jared was him. There was no changing that around, no matter how hard others pushed for that to become reality. He was proud of who he was, who he had become, and who he would be in the future. And, without a single doubt in his mind, he knew that his name would live for as long as him, that it would never be changed.

That wasn't something that took courage. It didn't require anything of the person. It only required that they knew who they were. With that simple fact, it would become impossible to change them, to make them fall away from who they always knew they had been. And… when somebody had a name attached to them, Jared would do nothing but respect their choice.

The construct wanted a name, had chosen a name and he had criticized it from the moment he had first heard it. He had seen a choice that had taken so long to make, and he had spit on everything it meant. With how high the man had taken his own name, how high he had looked at the legacy behind it, how could he see himself in the mirror with the way he treated others of the same class? So what if it was a different name? The power behind it was the same in his mind and in his heart.

“... Fine. I am sorry for this whole thing,” Jared said, taking his hands to his head and taking a breath deep enough for his ribs to start hurting again. The man was forced to stop from that, his face turning into a grimace of pain. “I should have guessed you felt that way, that you felt at all really. It’s just so hard to get into this new mindset of you not being the tool to untap my frustrations at unrelated things.”

And there he went saying too many things, speaking truths only meant for his mind to know, only meant for his heart to ponder about. By that point, Jared was sure that the construct had logged his works, putting them into the database for all other automations to see in plain view. Maybe some of them were having a laugh at his inane comments, cringing at the stupidity he couldn't help but constantly portray. Or maybe they were just hoping he would take a deep breath and try to see if his fever wouldn't go down.

Oh… he had a fever. Jared hadn't noticed that until now. Maybe that was because his system had only noted that fact at that moment, making him aware of the fact that he was up to forty-one celsius. Quite high for an augmented user, most not able to even get a fever. Jared certainly couldn't remember getting one in the last five years. Yet… the swimming in his head made him aware of all the other times he had tried something similar, where his mind had been unable to differentiate between speech and thoughts. Speaking in plain tongue… Jared couldn't feel his tongue. Maybe it was moving and maybe it was going down his throat. There was no way for him to know.

“It’s fine,” the construct suddenly said. When did it get close? Jared would have normally been shocked enough to push the automation away, yet his arms weren't feeling up to it at that moment. His head was barely allowing him to move his eyes, actually. Though, he wasn't really sure if that was due to tiredness or extreme nausea. The world was awfully close to turning at rapid rates. “I already knew all of it. We all did.”

“There are more of you?” Jared slurred, unable to figure out the mechanics of moving a tongue in tandem with his lips. Was it always this difficult? Because he certainly couldn't remember that fact, his mouth just feeling so extremely dry. It felt like the heat had turned up so high that the liquid inside his body had dried all up. Maybe that was just another sign that the sweat on his body wasn't a good thing. When had he gotten so wet?

“No, there is only one of me. I believe we just agreed on that fact,” the automation said. It helped him from his seat before getting the man over to the side of the car. With the construct’s strong body, it was easily able to carry him with one arm while opening the door inside the car with the other. “I thank you for the compliment, but I believe you need to lie down. Please mind your head. It would be an awful thing if you got a concussion on top of this.”

Jared certainly didn't mind the cold seat, his body desperate for anything that would cool him down the slightest bit. Weak attempts were made to rid his body of the few remaining pieces of armour, some parts jabbing him in his already sensitive stomach. All attempts were failures, even though he somehow turned on the cooler.

“That was me,” the automation Jared called his partner said. How nice of it. “I am sure you’re enjoying it. Please lie still and rest. If all possible, it would be a great help if you could keep your body on the side. It will not take long before we can get back to the station. I just need to bag up the remaining corpses.”

At the mention of that, Jared tried to bolt up from his lying position. He was supposed to be helping with that! There was no mention of him lying down and resting when talking to Grunwald. He was meant to be up and running, doing his job, and helping keep the city a safe place. Therefore, it was no surprise that the man did his best to get off the seats and up and running. But… a force was holding him down. A very evil power. That was the only thing Jared could think of.

“I would prefer being called your partner, actually. Or… maybe you could just use my name?” the automation holding him down said. “There is only one more bag I need to get into the car. It owuld be pointless for you to get up now. In a way, it would help the station if you lie down. Do you understand?” the automation asked. Jared nodded, even his weak mind able to understand which action would help the team. He was the supporter after all. “Good. This will just take a second.”

The automation could be heard taking steps away from the door, back over to the end of the car. Jared could barely discern it from his pulse, the sweat in his ears making everything hard to get through in any real way. He didn't mind, however, knowing that moving would hamper efficiency. And efficiency was key to success.

“I hope I am helping… Nero.”

His cheeks were red with sweat. That was the last thing Jared remembered for a long while. This was perhaps why he didn't remember what happened thirty seconds after that mutter, making it all be a mystery forever.