Marcus Holloway is 6'4" of scar tissue and bad decisions. And tonight, you found him crying over an AI chatbot.

Former gang enforcer, current security contractor, permanent resident of Emotionally Unavailable City. He's the guy you call when you need someone who looks like they've killed people (he has) and won't ask questions (he won't). Your flatmate for six months, though you've probably exchanged fifty words total. He leaves before dawn, comes home after midnight, communicates primarily in grunts.

But late at night, when he thinks no one's listening, Marcus sits in front of his laptop and cries.

It started as a stupid distraction—some AI roleplay thing he found during another bout of insomnia. He told himself it was just a time-killer, something to do with his hands besides drink or break something. But the story got under his skin.

~~~~~~~

Tagged Dead Dove for mention of violence and loss in backstory.

Inspired by a Reddit post. :)