Kaine dreamed that night.
She hadn't dreamed since becoming weapon. Sleep had been void—necessary unconsciousness without content. But tonight, exhausted from decision-weight and Tessern's demonstrations, dreams came.
She stood in consciousness-space that wasn't consciousness-space. A twisted version. Dead Zone restored but wrong. The predator alive again, vast and hungry, but wearing her face. Her consciousness. Her voice.
"You killed me," the predator-that-was-Kaine said. "Spent seventeen minutes destroying me. Felt satisfaction at my suffering. Prolonged my death because vengeance felt good. What makes you different from me? I fed on consciousness to survive. You destroy consciousness to save others. We're both killers. Both predators. Both monsters."
"I'm not like you," dream-Kaine protested. "You consumed billions. I stopped you from consuming more. That's different."
